#We really want to invest in a King mattress

[theloveinc]

i know i keep coming to ur askbox but i’m being plagued with thoughts of kiri..,, i wanna kiss and hug up on him.,, maybe bite i dunno smth about a big muscle man (this feels like cheating on sero 🥲🥲)

First of all, happy birthday kirishima! loml. our king. 

Second, no bc  l i t e r a l l y........... i miss him so much. every day i think of him and just lament, basically, bc i want him so badly. big, beefy, hunky chunky, piece of STEAK you could climb like a goddam TREE. my eyelashes flutter, thinking about it. 

and yeahhhh, he absolutely makes me wanna bite. people always talk about bakugo and cute aggression but i seriously get it for kiri, too. the fact that you could hit him, kick him, bite him, whatever, and he’d just laugh? Not even feel it, really, and just want you to tease and play with him more........... 🥲

meep..... what if i die??? what if we die???????? when he gets a little too invested and ends up slamming you down onto the mattress. Makes your brain shake a little and he’s so apologetic at first but really it’s just........ so sexy. 

i could roughhouse him forever. my panties are already wet. thank you for reminding me. all of us, actually. 

[twilightown]

I want............. more tattoos..................

[bloodpacks-archive]

HOMES OF THE RFA (+V AND SAERAN) HEADCANONS

alright we’ve got zen’s bachelor pad first - generally zen tends to be a pretty minimalist guy with his house. part of it is honestly because he couldn’t really afford to completely deck out his house for a while, and now he’s just grown used to the look of it so he really likes having spaces that are a little less cluttered. the one exception to this, unfortunately, is his kitchen. he doesn’t use his kitchen often, and as a result, he often forgets to do his dishes until the end of the week. monday? that shit is spotless. his kitchen is cleaner than anything has ever been and the dishes are neatly put away. do not even look at that kitchen on wednesday. it’s become a disaster zone and he’s embarrassed. but once the mc starts to come by more, i think he ends up cooking for himself a lot more because he starts to realize that he actually really enjoys it. he loves being healthy, and now that he has the motivation to cook for himself (and her, of course), he starts to realize how much he likes control over what he eats. so now his kitchen is a lot cleaner bc it just has to be.

two different places for yoosung !! - the one on the left is yoosung’s dorm :) it’s actually really cool in there. he spends a lot of time in that little room, so he decides to invest a little bit and make sure that he’s happy with the place he lives. he likes alternative lighting (mainly because it helps his eyes a bit when he’s playing lolol) but also because overhead lights can be a little harsh for him, especially after a long day of school. when the mc’s there, he always makes sure that the lights are just right. it’s very common for both of them to fall asleep while the LEDS are still on, a movie playing on the projector he bought a while back. when he moves out of college, though, his house is a bit of a different story. he still keeps some LEDS and neon signs in a little gamer/office space, and for the most part he’s actually pretty neat, but his house can definitely get messy. surprisingly enough, the mattress on the floor is not for him. in fact, it’s for zen. he comes over so often that yoosung ends up setting up a little mattress for him so that he can stay over whenever he has drinks with him. the mess honestly isn’t terrible though, and he and the mc are both good about making it an organized disaster.

jaehee’s cozy little apartment - rather than art posters, jaehee actually has a lot of framed broadway and other musical posters on her walls. she branches out a bit from zen’s musicals over time, and she actually really loves decorating her home with something that she loves so much. she likes her small apartment, and it means that she and the mc are never really that far away from each other. she places her hand on the mc’s back whenever she squeezes past her in the kitchen, and when they have their coffee in the morning she can lean over and grab her hand during conversation. she always has candles lit, and she prefers really earthy and woody scents. tobacco is a common scent, but as is sandalwood. even with the candles, their apartment constantly smells like fresh coffee beans and sourdough bread. it is a very rare day if there isn’t dough rising in the window somewhere, and even rarer if there isn’t a baked loaf hidden away in the kitchen.

two homes for jumin as well !! - the first picture is of his penthouse when the mc moves in with him. she adds little throw pillows, some rugs, and some plants to his stupid penthouse and makes it feel much more like a home. he gets rid of that stupid circular bed the second he realizes that she feels a little cramped in it and upgrades to a beautiful king sized mattress. there’s about a million and one windows, and that’s actually something he really loves about the penthouse. so it’s really no surprise when he and the mc move a bit out of the city and they keep the big windows and the big open spaces, but make it feel like something that’s meant to be lived in. jumin discovers his love of wood and tall bookshelves with a mix of occult novels and old classics, and the mc convinces him to add a little more color into his interior. their new house has a big garden out back so he can still visit the roses (though they aren’t the same ones from his old rooftop garden, but he’d argue that he planted them with her, so they’re so much better). they built the house themselves so it’s perfect for them, and elizabeth the third has her own little space for playing.

hmmmm. saeyoung choi’s new home <3 - saeyoung eventually leaves the bunker. it’s a hard move, and it’s definitely not one he takes lightly (he’s used to moving, but not away from a place with so many good memories). but, he builds this new home from the ground up with the mc. he makes the plans and hires architects to help him, and he starts to fall in love with this new home even while it’s still a blueprint. he never gives up his complicated security system (the arabic dictionary really starts to feel heavy sometimes), but he does start to realize how much he loves windows. he still ends up getting them reinforced, but he loves the natural light and he actually really likes being able to see outside so easily. it’s a stupid thing, but sometimes the mc will catch him sitting on their couch and just looking out at the secluded little forest they ended up moving to, and he seems really happy. similar to yoosung, saeyoung cannot stand overhead lighting. at first, his solution was to just have no lighting at all, but one day he came into his office and there were these little lamps everywhere and they actually made his office feel a lot less daunting. ever since then, he’s started using lamps more often than the lights installed into his ceiling. he also says they help to reduce any sensory issues he might have from the light, which also means a lot less headaches for him. he starts to really love thunderstorms while he lives there, and so he and the mc always curl up whenever it starts to rain and they sit on the couch, watching as lightning cracks across the sky and counting the seconds until the thunder together. whenever it rains, saeyoung knows he can take a break from everything for a while.

jihyun kim’s beautiful little apartment - his apartment is tiny except for his studio. similarly to jaehee, he likes the small spaces because one, he loves how cozy is feels, but two, because it means he can reach out to his mc a lot more often. his studio, however, is the biggest and brightest space imaginable. all of his apartment is big on natural light, but he loves having a huge window in his studio because it means he’s able to see actual life even when he’s wrapped up in his work. it’s also big enough that the mc can sit in and watch him work without ever feeling like she’s in the way, which he absolutely loves. it’s really common for her to be sitting on one of his extra stools, flipping through some of the drawing drafts he’s made with delicate fingers. he’ll turn then, half-dried paint on his fingertips and go to kiss her. she’ll laugh when she feels the coolness of the wet paint on her cheek, and he’ll feel terrible about it, but there’s not many worries that can be had when you’re standing in the shine of the afternoon sun, surrounded by art that you’re proud of and standing in front of the girl who brought you back to artistry. as far as the rest of his apartment goes, jihyun is very particular about color. he likes things to look nice and he appreciates things to be very calming in nature. the green kitchen is perfect for him because of this, and everything is always spotless. the only part of his home that’s ever a mess is his studio, but he knows where everything is.

and lastly we have saeran’s little getaway :) - of course, saeran stays close to saeyoung. they both end up moving to a really nice, secluded area where they feel safe. even after the issue with their father has been resolved, both of them feel safer if they’re away from the public. this actually ends up being great for saeran though, because it means that he has access to so many plants. so many. he can walk though his pretty summer garden outside to get to his greenhouse, and he loves being able to tend to all of the flowers there. it really is something that’s calming for him. plus, whenever he walks outside he can see saeyoung’s house and he can be reminded that he’s only a few steps away, so he’d make the trip often even without the flowers. his house is pretty small, but he can’t imagine wanting anything too big. it always smells really fresh in his house, like clean linens and citrus, but not the artificial kind. he just always has oranges somewhere in his house so fresh citrus is always there in the kitchen. he and the mc enjoy a really quiet life together in their house, and it’s honestly at this point that he feels the happiest. he likes being able to wake up in the morning and sit at their kitchen island together, a homemade breakfast in front of them and her head leaning on his shoulder.

[trulyinspiringmovies]

The Black Phone

“The Black Phone” has a few great moments, but everything in between feels restrained.

Finney Blake is constantly being abused by everyone in his life, whether it’s by his school bullies or his alcoholic father. The year is 1978 and a serial child abductor called, The Grabber, is on the loose. Unfortunately, Finney finds himself being his latest victim. He wakes up in a sound-proofed basement with nothing but a mattress and a disconnected black phone. Through the phone, Finney hears the voices of The Grabber’s previous victims and works with them to try and escape.

I didn’t really have high expectations for this movie and I still came out a bit underwhelmed. I saw a lot of reviews for this movie that were positive and I think I might know why. A lot of those people giving glowing reviews were also highlighting the fact that this movie was made by Scott Derrickson, who also made “Sinister”. I personally really liked “Sinister”, but I didn’t know “The Black Phone” was directed by the same person. The short story this movie is based on is also written by Joe Hill, who is the son of Stephen King. This was another fact I wasn’t aware of before watching the movie. I think maybe knowing the team behind this movie really got people already thinking positively. Without that knowledge, there’s a lot to say about this movie. First off, I didn’t really like the child actors. Maybe I’m spoiled by the performances from the kids in “Stranger Things”, but I felt like the kids in this movie were flat. Mason Thames plays Finney with such indifference throughout most of the film that it was hard to get invested in the stakes. There’s a point in the story where Finney is at his lowest and feeling hopeless. He starts to cry, but there were no tears to be seen. To make matters worse, the camera does a closeup to confirm that there were no tears. I really want to give the benefit of the doubt and say that he was dehydrated from all the work her was doing, but something tells me that wasn’t the case. Madeleine McGraw, who plays Gwen, feels like she has the most potential, but still doesn’t quite hit the mark. Gwen gets beat by her father in one scene and the tone in her voice is just right, but the body language and facial expressions were off. The most egregious example was Miguel Cazarez Mora as Robin. There’s this one scene with Robin and Finney talking in a bathroom and the deliveries from both actors were so dry. Jeremy Davies plays Finney and Gwen’s father and he’s just serviceable. I would’ve loved to see something other than the kidnappings explored in this movie. I would’ve loved to see the backstory of Finney and Gwen’s mother. She clearly had some powers and passed them down to her kids. Maybe revealing the motivations of The Grabber would’ve been cool too. I get that it would take away from the mystique and ruin the horror, but I’m begging the movie to give me something at this point. This movie had a choice to either explore more of the supernatural aspect or the psychological aspect and did neither. Ethan Hawke is obviously the star of the movie and brings the best performance, but there’s so little he’s able to do in the movie that it feels a bit like wasted potential. James Ransone seemed like he’d be a cool character, but ended up feeling super out-of-place for a movie like this. I wish I could’ve seen an actual interaction between him and Ethan Hawke’s character to connect the location together, but we never really get that either. Still, what we do get are some great moments of tension and I think that’s worth something. I do have to admit that some scenes had me holding my breath. Other than that, I think this movie is skippable until they inevitably turn this into a multi-movie franchise.

★★★

Watched on July 13th, 2022

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.08

11/07/2020

The Warriors Three

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,298

Warnings: talks of pregnancy, sex, smut, very slight angst, jealousy

A/N: Enjoy! Not much to say about this one except that I’m setting things up! Get read for the roller coaster y’all! As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me sprad my work! xoxo

Tuesday morning you open your eyes and catch Thor watching you sleep.

You stare right back at him, eyes searching his pleasant smile. What is he thinking that’s making him give you such a sappy look? Not that you mind it. You’re a little seduced by it. Emotionally seduced.

Fucker’s got you wrapped around his little finger.

His smile grows wider, almost as if he can read your mind.

“Were you watching me sleep?” You wonder, a whisper so quiet you’re not sure he can hear it.

“Yes.” Thor admits, supporting his head with his hand, elbow buried in his pillow.

“Was I snoring?”

“Yep.” Thor chuckles. “You most certainly were.”

Groaning, you reach down to yank the blanket up over you. It gives you a peek at his glorious naked body lying beside you as it drifts up and falls slowly back over you.

Your mind is attacked with images, memories of last night’s needy bout of lovemaking. Thor had been hungry for it. For you. For his promise to fill you up and get you knocked up with his babies.

The very idea of you pregnant with his heir had him so excited he’d accidentally bitten a little too hard a time or two, then apologized by kissing the assaulted spots until you were trembling and quaking beneath him.

He’d kissed every inch of your body and taken you up and down the room, devouring you in every way he could.

The bed had been the most visited spot, but his desk is still a mess. One of the long flowing curtains that lines the wall of windows is torn and abandoned on the floor.

He pushes you against the wall, as flowing yet slightly scratchy fabric slides across your naked back, you realize he’s got you pinned to the wall of windows.

It’s taking your mind and body a second to catch up to what the other is doing or feeling. It’s been a night of ecstasy. Of orgasms and sweet kisses and the hope that this will last forever. That this isn’t just sex. That maybe it started out as just that but now that your futures are so set in stone, that Thor is committing to this just as much as you are.

He’s invested. He has to be.

Your mind suddenly realizes that even if this floor is high up, the palace tall and looming, someone might be looking up. Someone might be hoping for a chance to get a look at Thor, King of New Asgard, God of Thunder. Instead, they’ll get a full moon. Your ass plastered against the glass.

You twist in his grip, turning to look out and see the distant ocean, black and endless. Thor kisses your neck, his hands reaching down between your legs to pull another whimper.

You’re slick and slippery in his hands. Your knees go weak, and you fall forward. You brace yourself on the window and your eyes are brought to the flickering lights of a house close to the palace walls.

Palace staff probably. Maybe even Estrid’s home? She’ll have a nice view of your tits at this angle.

“Mmmf, Thor…” You gasp, pushing back against him, suddenly embarrassed.

He eases up, giving you space. It’s enough that you slip out from between him and the window. You turn and scamper towards the bed. You jump on it, pulling the sheets up around your body to cover yourself in a delayed attempt at modesty.

As you look at your future husband, you can’t help but laugh. It’s a burst of sound, a hiccup of amusement as you watch him struggle against the curtain. It’s tangled around his left arm and hips. Wrapped around one leg as he steps on the end with the other.

He’s gotten himself all covered in it when he’d suddenly thrown himself around to follow your escape.

“Looks like I’ve caught you, God of Thunder.” You tease, and chuckle again.

Thor’s brow furrows, a deep guttural growl ripping through his throat as he simply walks forward. A simple flick of his wrist across his body where the curtain is wrapped tears it and he’s tackling you onto his mattress before you can understand what’s happened.

You give one small yelp before his lips are pressed to yours and with his kiss, he takes all your shyness.

“Hey,” He begins, gripping the edge of the sheet and he pulls it down until he can see your eyes. “Don’t hide from me so early in the morning.”

He pouts, folding the sheet up just above your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and then leaning down to kiss your clavicle.

You shut your eyes, relishing in the feeling.

“I love the way you kiss me.” You tell him, suddenly feeling bold.

Probably because it’s early and your body is still reeling from last night.

“Is that so?” Thor asks, laying down properly with his arms still around you.

His eye is trained on yours, searching them for proof that you’re lying.

“Yes.” You nod, reaching over to caress his bearded cheek, turning onto your side to look at him better. “I love your kisses and your touch. I love your voice and the way you laugh.”

Thor’s cheeks are suddenly bright red, barely hidden by his golden scruffy beard. He hasn’t trimmed it in a few days. It’s getting thicker.

“That’s a lot of things to love, cherub. One might think you’re falling for me.” It’s a tease, but hopeful.

The way his voice leaves it open for you to respond to despite being a statement makes your heart pound. You scoot closer, moving until your nose tip is touching his.

You shut your eyes because admitting this face to face is hard. If only because you don’t want to remember saying it and then regretting it later if he should ever hurt you. Because with this arrangement the two of you have made, this marriage? How can you not get hurt at some point?

“I am falling for you, Thor. I’ve already fallen for you.” You whisper that last bit, afraid to speak it too loud. What if someone else hears you say it?

He doesn’t say anything and for several really long seconds, you just wait.

Unable to take it anymore, you open your eyes and find him staring at you still, his brow scrunched, a little pucker between his eyes.

The look is intense, but mostly vulnerable. He looks almost insecure, which is stupid because he’s Thor! How can he look the way you feel?

“What? What did I say?”

Thor gives his head one shake, then he rolls you over, laying over you as his hands push the hair at your temples back, loving your face the way he’s been doing all night.

“How is it that I’ve always needed you and never knew it? How is it that I’ve been searching for you my whole life, and only now just realize it’s you I was searching for?” Thor sighs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You take a deep shaky breath, inhaling until your lungs give up. When you exhale, your voice is surprisingly relaxed, a playful tone in comparison to the intensity of these confessions.

“You’re such a sap.” Voice at a decent volume with a bit of exasperation thrown in.

Thor buries his face against your chest and his body begins to shake with laughter.

You laugh with him, bringing your hands to the back of his head to stroke his messy short hair. You absolutely love the way it sticks at odd angles when he wakes up in the morning.

“You’re making it awfully easy for me to love you, cherub.”

There’s that word again. And it steals your breath just as much as the first time he’d said it, though before, it hadn’t been so straight forward.

“You’ve known me for less than a week, Thor.” You’re absolutely stunned.

You’ve heard of whirlwind romances, but never in true life. None that ended well.

“I know.” Thor sighs, laying on you more snugly. “And I know that it makes no sense, but when you told my friends at dinner that it was inevitable for you to fall for me, I had no idea that the possibility of being with you and knowing that you could love me would make me so happy.

“So, I made up my mind to try. Just as I told you. And then those kisses in your room…”

He drifts off, thinking back to those first liplocks when the two of you had been surprised by the chemistry that had suddenly shot off between you.

“I know.” You nod, bringing your hands down to rest along the sides of his neck. “I felt it too.”

Given that it was your first few kisses ever, even you’d felt something click beyond the initial pleasure they gave you.

“And you’ve been so open, so understanding. Jealous a bit—which I like, to be honest. Probably shouldn’t.” Thor admits, and you think you know what he means.

It’s nice to feel like you’re wanted, so long as it doesn’t smother and hurt.

You smile, despite the anxiety of the moment.

“You’re much more than I ever hoped you’d be, cherub. Much more.” He sighs, placing his index finger on your temple and running it down to your chin. “I’m starting to love you. And I’m certain that with time, that will only grow.”

“Thor…” You’re apprehensive about taking him at his word, fearful that you’ll wake up and it’ll have all been a dream.

“Why don’t you believe me?” He asks, exasperated as he grabs you and rolls over onto his back.

You land on top of him, your legs automatically straddling his hips, hands pushing against his chest to sit up.

“You just broke up with Jane, Thor. A woman who you’d wanted me to pretend you weren’t going to be having an affair with if we got married.” You remind him, and he screws up his face.

A knowing grimace as your anxious timidity makes an appearance again.

“I-I know that I made a mistake.” He nods, hands finding your hips to give them a firm squeeze. “I never should have asked you to do something so deceitful. It was heartless of me. I’m sorry.”

He means it, and his sincerity brings your body down further, hands placed on his bearded cheeks again.

“I don’t make excuses for myself. The only thing I can say is that I wanted Jane and I to work. I have loved her for a long time. For humans.” He clarifies, “And if there was a chance to make us work, I wanted to be certain that I tried. I didn’t want it to end without me having given it a good try.

“But Jane and I have been over for almost half a year. Her true love will always be her work. As admirable as that is, I’ve known that I would need a wife who could give not only myself, but the people of Asgard her full heart.

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t know that your work as a writer is important. I will give you time and space to do what you love. Because I want you to be happy here, cherub. I want you to love living here with me and our people. I want you to love being here. I want you to love me.”

His voice suddenly cuts off, slightly surprised at the honesty of that last sentence.

You’re not. In fact, you know exactly how he feels. You hadn’t expected him to feel it or be the one to say it out loud. You’re so glad he did though, and you lay over him, holding his face still as you press your lips to his softly.

He shuts his eye, kissing you back as his hands find your waist to take firm, possessive handfuls.

When you pull back, he follows you up a little, stretching his neck until you’re sitting too far up to reach, and he falls back onto his pillow.

“I already do, Thor.” You shrug one shoulder, giving into what’s been growing since the moment you met him, and he made you picture both of you together. “I think I’ve loved you since you downed an entire stein of ale and then went for a refill.”

Thor’s smile is small at first but grows as you wait for him to respond.

“I won’t waste it.” He gushes, sitting up and taking you with him, wrapping one arm around your waist, the other holding the back of your neck. “I won’t waste your love.”

He’s so determined, how can you not believe him?

“Promise?” You whisper, licking your lips.

“I swear it.” He replies, pulling you towards him to kiss you softly.

Wet lips lap over yours, massaging softly before you slide your tongue into his mouth, and he groans against you.

You slide one hand down between your bodies, searching until you take hold of his cock and lead him in.

He goes rigid beneath you, body tight as his hands squeeze you hard as you sink down onto him.

He grunts, reaching down to grab a handful of your bottom as you lift yourself up and drop down again slowly.

“You said you wanted a baby.” You remind him, voice nothing but air as he stretches you and hits a delicious spot inside you that makes your hips twitch. “Let’s make a baby.”

That guttural growl from last night rips through Thor’s throat again, and he flips you, tossing you onto your back never once slipping out of you as he rails you into the mattress.

~~~~~~~~~~

It shows up in ways you don’t expect it to.

Quick peeks from across the garden. Sweet smiles over people’s shoulders. A quiet kiss shared before you both leave an empty room.

You and Thor have decided to try and be lukewarm in public. Respectful. Decent.

In private, this morning’s session of lovemaking is a good example of what you two would rather be doing together.

However, since duty calls, you and Thor are currently making your way onto a large stretch of land at the center of New Asgard.

With your arm around his elbow, he waits patiently for you to carefully gather your skirts a little so that you can walk without stomping on the bottom.

It’s a beautiful gown, black with an illusion bodice absolutely covered in beautiful pink, red, white, and orange florals. The same pattern is prevalent throughout the tulle skirt, a thicker cotton skirt underneath keeps you warm. Over the spaghetti strap bodice, you wear a black cloak. It feels more like a cape.

An intentional choice by Thor, it turns out, because you match. Thor in his black Asgardian suit, the same one he wore on the night of your dinner with his closest friends.

The two of you make a lovely pair and the crowd that has gathered around the plot of land you’re on seem to notice and approve.

Some of them wave at you, others simply stare and share excited conversation.

“They’re staring at us.” You smile nervously, waving at a pair of beautiful Asgardian boys no older than ten who wave at you with such enthusiasm, you can’t help yourself.

“They’re staring at you, cherub. You’re the pretty jewel on my arm.” He flatters, and you laugh at him.

“You really don’t like being complimented.” He observes, his eye only for you.

“It’s not that.” You shake your head, meeting his gaze. “I’ve just never been told such…no one’s ever talked to me like that before. It’s super weird.”

“Weird? Then I will have to do it with more frequency.” Thor whispers, leaning in towards you. “And you can’t fight me on it.”

You bite your bottom lip, giving him a quick and private glare.

He chuckles, amused by your reaction.

“Are you warm enough?” He checks, reaching to adjust your cloak.

“Enough.” You nod. “I’d rather be in bed with you, though.”

Thor clears his throat, his hand brushing gently along your bottom.

A mere coincidence that he was adjusting the cloak there when you said that.

“You’re much warmer than this cloak.”

Thor sighs heavily, taking his hand back to scratch at his head.

“Are you trying to torture me?” He wonders, avoiding your gaze and waving at his people.

“No.” You protest. “But you are. It’s a simple fact.”

“You’ve grown increasingly bold in these past few days.” Thor whispers, leaning in towards you to speak quietly.

“Whose fault is that?” You wonder, feeling shy in front of the Asgardians, not so much Thor in this aspect after the way you spent the early morning. “I think I’ve had more sex in two days than most women have in two years.”

After a moment to consider, you smile and meet his eye.

“Can we keep trying for a baby after this? I read somewhere that if you do it on your side, it helps with a girl. Or if we want a boy, you can take me from behind again.”

Thor’s face is crimson as he coughs loudly, choking on his own spit probably since he’d opened his mouth to respond but your question seems to have rendered him speechless.

“Is that a yes?”

Thor takes a minute to catch his breath, clearing his throat before reaching up to pull at the neck of his shirt and armor.

“Vixen.” He accuses. “When I get you back to our room, I’m not letting you out until the morning of our wedding.”

This time, it’s your turn to be speechless. You stare at him, eyes searching, heart pounding, completely emotional. You’re the true sap.

“I’m…Our room?” Had you heard him correctly? “I don’t have to go back to my bedroom?”

“My bedroom is your bedroom. I’m not letting you out of it ever again.” Thor assures you. “I need you there to sleep now, cherub.”

You wrap your arm around his elbow more tightly, tucking yourself in against his side.

“Can I have a kiss?” You ask him, unsure if it’s polite or normal for the two of you to be so affectionate before you’re married or if it’s frowned upon by the Asgardian people.

“Of course, you can, love. You never have to ask.” He leans down as you push yourself up onto your toes, lips puckered and eager.

His kiss is gentle, just as pleasing as ever, but chaste, and innocent.

It’s perfect for what you’re feeling, and you have to pull back first but go in for a second, quicker kiss.

“Well, it looks like you were worried for no reason.” You turn to watch David walking up to you both.

“David!” You gasp, excited at the sight of him. “I thought you’d left back to London.”

You release Thor and hug David, who happily returns the gesture. He pushes you back to get a look at you in your pretty dress, and nods with approval.

“I did but came right back after my meeting. I wanted to make sure the God of Thunder was keeping his word. It appears he’s exceeded it.” David says the tone of approval to accompany the pleased smile on his face. “Might I borrow the future Queen of Asgard, Your Majesty?”

David gestures at your hand around Thor’s arm.

Thor takes your hand and holds it, offering it to David with that lovable goofy smile you’ve become quickly familiar with.

“Of course.”

David takes your hand and gently wraps it around his own suited up elbow. “Thank you.”

Together, you and David walk a few feet away, Thor turning towards the nearest group of Asgardians to greet and mingle.

“It seems things have progressed quickly between you and Thor.” David observes, his voice polite but you can hear the worry.

“We’re already trying for a baby, David.” You confess, stopping and tugging on his arm so that he’ll turn to look at you.

David’s face is full of shock. He blinks, trying to clear his mind or put the words you just said together in different ways until he understands them.

“You’ve slept with him already?” David asks quietly, always the model of good sense.

“It just happened.” You sigh, catching your breath after your impromptu confession. “He kissed me the night of the dinner and then he broke up with Jane and when I went to see him in his room, to show him my wedding dress for approval, he was so open with me about everything and we kissed again. One thing led to another and we just…it felt right, David. I didn’t want it to happen because it had to. Because he had to consummate the marriage?

“I needed to feel control over something.”

David moves a step closer, taking your hand in his two, tapping them to offer comfort.

“We really click, David. Like, in bed? And personally too. We’ve been so…it’s easy with him. To a certain point. I’m not a complete idiot. But I-I’m already loving him. And I think he feels the same. M-Maybe not love, even though he says he does, but he likes me at least. I’m sure.

“He said he wanted to start on our heir. Since we’ll have to do it quickly anyway.” You shrug.

To your surprise, David actually nods. “I think having his child is for the best too.”

You’re about to ask him why, but he explains without you needing to.

“The Ambassadors are eager for your marriage to commence. And I think it’s a good idea to solidify your place in their court with a child.”

Fear and a bit of anger begins to grow in your belly. It fills your chest with worries and the tightness of your anxieties makes it hard to breathe.

“You’re afraid he’ll change his mind?” You realize, so angry at David you almost want to rip your hand out of his grip and march back to Thor’s side…but this is your fear too. Your worry.

“No.” David rushes to reassure you, but the seed—while it had already been planted—has been watered by his warning. “No, I don’t think he will. The way he looked at you just now didn’t look like the expression of a man who is having doubts. In fact, he looks downright smitten.”

This helps you relax a little, or at least cools the rage you feel towards David.

“It’s all just happening so quickly.” David frets.

“It has to happen quickly.” You reason, annoyed but also understanding of his worry.

You’re worried too. After every sweet word, touch, and especially after every moment you spend wrapped in Thor’s arms, coming to pieces beneath him. Feeling him more deeply than you’ve ever felt anyone before. Literally.

You wonder to yourself, if maybe this is all too good to be true.

“You’re not pretending?” David asks, quiet since Loki, Sif, and three men you’ve never seen before make their way towards Thor at the center of the lawn.

“No, David. I’m really not. I like him, so much. I didn’t expect it, but I do. And he seems to like me too.”

“I’ll have to keep an eye on him, to make certain he really returns your feelings.” David smiles. “Would you like me to send for a fertility doctor? Someone who can keep an eye on you to assure that you and Thor are doing everything you can to produce an heir?”

“Yes!” You hug him tight, so pleased that he seems to be on your team.

He laughs in your ear as you hold him, hugging you back gently.

“You’ll wrinkle your pretty gown.” David worries.

“Cherub?” Thor’s voice calls to you and you turn towards him, his hand extended towards you from where he stands with his friends.

All of them in unison, save for Sif who instead looks down at the ground, mouth his pet name for you.

David too.

“Cherub?” He asks, amused.

But you don’t hear him. You move for Thor, taking his hand, then he pulls you against his side, wrapping his arm around your waist.

David moves to stand beside you, but clears his throat to draw everyone’s attention.

“I think I will retire to the palace. If that is alright with you Your Majesty?”

Thor looks to David and offers a quick smile. “Of course. We can offer proper introductions at dinner.”

With a nod, David takes his leave.

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet Volstagg, one of my oldest friends and a mighty adventurer in his own right. He also enjoys a good drink and plenty of well-seasoned food.” Thor whispers the second part in your ear, drawing your attention back to the newcomers.

“What’s that you’re saying about me to my future Queen?!” Volstagg demands, but he doesn’t wait for an answer as he reaches to take your hand.

He bows his head, pulls it to his lips, and kisses it chastely.

“Your Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He gushes.

“Nice to meet you.”

“This here is Fandral, another close friend. He-”

“Has conquered many hearts, and had I been here when you came to meet Thor, I may have very well conquered yours, Your Highness.” He smiles at you flirtatiously, his blonde hair falling loosely over his forehead.

He is very handsome, charming. A definite flirt.

He reaches for your hand but before he can take hold of it, Thor grabs it and pulls it against his own chest.

“He’s a flirt.” Thor’s frowning at him, and you can’t help but feel your stomach flip and your heart flutter at his refusal to let Fandral touch you.

“And I am Hogun of Vanaheim. It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I am at your service.” The third of the Warrior’s three is calmer, though you sense a general amusement floating off of him at his companions and their quirks.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, “All of you, for such a warm welcome.”

“We’re very sad to have missed your welcome feast.” Volstagg laments, rubbing his protruding belly.

He’s in his armor which makes his large stature menacing and comforting that his girth will be on your side of any fight.

“You’re just hungry.” Hogun tells him.

“Isn’t he always?” Fandral teases.

“As charming as this impromptu meet-up is, you three have new armor to be measured for, and if you hurry you might just catch the end of the lunch hour back at the palace.” Loki informs them, and like they’ve all been electrocuted, the Warrior’s Three give you a quick bow and shuffle off bickering about some disagreement from before they arrived.

“Brunnhilde, I think maybe you should go with them. Apprise them of the need for their quick return. The sooner they start planning, the better for us all.” Loki looks to Sif, frowning at the way she’s staring at Thor holding your hand to his chest still, cradling it there as if it were something precious. “Sif? I think you should go with her. Rest up. Tomorrow’s wedding will be a long day for us all.”

Sif gives you and Thor a passing look, Loki a quick glare before she turns and marches off after the Warrior’s Three.

Hilde looks after Sif then smiles at Loki before turning her charms towards you.

“Forgive Sif, Your Highness, she’s not used to defeat.” Hilde explains.

“I’ve never met warrior women before. I wish she’d let me get to know her.” You lament, Thor’s arm tightening around your waist.

“She’ll come around, Cherub. She just needs some time.” He assures you.

“Or a boyfriend.” Hilde jokes. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to bring her around.”

“Thank you, Hilde.” You truly appreciate her and her kindness.

“I’m glad this is going well.” She points at you two, sincerely pleased, looking almost smug.

Thor’s eyes narrow, and he hugs you closer.

“So am I.” He throws at her.

She laughs once, then turns and heads after the others without another word.

“Alright, so why have you brought us out here?” Thor asks Loki, who quickly pulls a small black folder from what looks like to you, thin air.

“This plot of land has been designated as a public park. As our Queen, the council has decided that this would be the perfect first task for you.”

“For me?!”

“Yes. We’ll give you plenty of experts to do the actual work. Your job will be to oversee the park’s construction. They will give you options, you pick what you’d like, and at the end of a few months, you will unveil the park to the public.” Loki explains.

“Doesn’t it seem like too much to take on?” Thor worries, “For a first project?”

You remain silent, too stressed suddenly with the pressure to get this place just right mounting.

“You’ll help her, Your Majesty.” Loki teases, “It will be a joint project. A gift form the King and Queen to their people in honor of their wedding. We don’t have any parks yet, and with the population growing again, this one will be an excellent place for families to come and pass the time, for whatever reason families seem to want to do that.”

“So, I’ll have help.” With Thor by your side and many experts, it doesn’t feel so daunting. Still stressful, but not as scary.

“Yes.” Loki nods, handing you the folder so that you can look at the plans and options he’s already set aside for you. “After tomorrow, you’ll have a week to honeymoon, and once you’re back, you’ll begin your duties. Together. As a unified front for all the world to see.”

Suddenly, you realize what this is actually supposed to be.

“So, this is really just a PR stunt for everyone to see that Thor and I are getting along in our new marriage? Because no one can believe in the arranged marriage thing?” You sigh, feeling slightly deflated by the rude way reality seems to be encroaching on your blissful new love bubble.

“We knew this would be a concern, cherub.” Thor rubs your lower back, trying to soothe you a little. “We’ll easily give them what they want. Since I already love you, we won’t have to pretend. They’ll see us as we are.”

You’re knocked breathless again, trying hard to catch it as Thor’s stupid love declaration in front of Loki absolutely sends your body and mind buzzing.

Loki is also shocked by this. His eyes are wide, slow blinking as he stares at Thor’s feet, replaying what Thor just said.

Loki wasn’t expecting Thor to say that and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Cherub?” Thor gives your body a little shake.

“I’m okay.” You assure him, swallowing hard, almost ready to lose your mind until you look up and meet his eye.

His concern and caring is there, true and real, and it calms you. It settles your worrying heart and with a slow sigh, you nod.

“Really, I’m okay.”

Thor frowns, almost not believing you despite the fact that you can see that he means his words.

You’re not sure if he does it for himself or if he’s doing it to prove his point, but he holds you tighter, pulling your body towards his and holding your head in place as he leans down to give you a not so chaste kiss.

You can’t help yourself when his tongue begs for entrance. You open up for him and readily meet him in his passion.

“Okay…” Loki mutters, neither you nor Thor hearing him. “…I’ll just…go.”

[e350tb]

The Owl House: A Blight on Gravesfield (Chapter Five)

Five

The sun rises over Gravesfield.

...so the first essay topic will be up online this afternoon. Now back to weird local myths!

In 1660, King Charles II was restored to the English throne, and the whole Civil War period came to a close. Sort of. There was still a lot of political and religious controversy in both the British Isles and in the colonies; but that’s mostly a topic for another course. We are going to be following the continuing adventures of the Wittebanes.

John died in 1672 of pneumonia, but before he did, he had a family house constructed on his estate; that house, the Historic Wittebane Home, is still, and access is free to all Gravesfield residents, so if you have some time it’s well worth a visit. Although it looks small and uncomfortable now, in the 1660s it was the height of colonial luxury.

John left his estate to his son, the confusingly named John Philip Wittebane. We’ll call him John Philip to avoid too much confusion. Before John Philip took over the estate, he had sailed both as a merchant and as a buccaneer in the Caribbean; we believe he sailed with Henry Morgan in the raid on Maracaibo in 1668-69. While there, he purchased investments in a number of industries, and while he divested from them when he returned to Connecticut to collect his inheritance, they had made him a very wealthy man.

He immediately put his wealth to use by buying up most of the small farmers around Gravesfield, and by 1690, it was reckoned that most people in Gravesfield were employed by him. It became effectively a Wittebane company town, with John Philip even serving as the city’s mayor several times.

This is where our next myth comes to play; that in 1687, John Philip Wittebane had a woman put to death for witchcraft, and that consequently, her ghost haunts the Historic Wittebane Home.

Now, I’m a historian, I can’t tell you ghosts are real. That’s a job for ghostbusters. But was a woman really hanged in Gravesfield for witchcraft, nearly twenty years after the end of the Connecticut Witch Trials?

The local newspaper tell us that on June 13th, 1687 - a Friday - a ‘vagrant, suspected by some of heresy and witchraft, was duly hanged by the magistrate on account of the cruel and vicious murder of Henry Finch, who had been struck down while attending the ‘pigges’ on the Wittebane estate.’ So we have a clear cause for the hanging, and a ‘suspicion of witchcraft,’ but we don’t have a connection.

Frustratingly, this newspaper doesn’t tell us how poor Henry Finch died. Was he cruelly hexed? Well, if we go digging about in the archives, we might find a different story…

----

A brisk and foggy dawn was breaking over Gravesfield.

Ben Frakes was not a man of means by any stretch of the imagination, and as he stepped out into the cold air, he wished he could afford a car. (Well, he could, but it was hard to justify the expense.) It had been an uncomfortable night. Life in his one-room apartment had its charms - chief among them proximity to the college - but on cold nights it could be miserable, especially when his radiator was still broken.

Still, he was in fairly good spirits. His course on Gravesfield’s myths, and the truths behind them, was going very well, and the students seemed engaged. And it was a very good time of year to be in the history business; the annual Gravesfield History Fair was coming up, something he always looked forward to. It was always a riot; apart from a small county fair, there would be historical talks and tours of the old battlefield and the Historical Wittebane Home, and even the yearly battle reenactment; one which Ben had taken part in every year for his whole time in Gravesfield.

He was always on the Redcoat side and therefore always lost, but having fun was the main thing. Even if it was a bit of historical revisionism on the part of the townsfolk.

He was just starting off down the sidewalk to the college grounds when he spied a rustling in the nearby bushes. For a moment, he was prepared to dismiss it as a rabbit or a bird, but then, to his astonishment, a little white head poked out.

“Is that a cat?” he asked himself.

Slowly and gently, he crept forward, leaning down behind the bush. The cat emerged, gently headbutting his outstretched hand.

“Hmm… too much grooming to be a feral,” mused Ben. “Have you gotten out of someone’s yard?”

Carefully, he picked up the cat.

“Am I gonna have to print out a wanted poster for you?” he asked, chuckling. “I’ve got some milk in my fridge, maybe… what the?”

His gaze turned to the cat’s paws. Just under one of the back paws, he could see a peculiar mark, almost like a lock. He frowned.

“That doesn’t look healthy,” he mused. “Okay, pre-class prep can wait, I think you need a vet.”

He started off in the direction of the vet. He wasn’t concerned about making it to his class; that was still hours away, and he’d been planning on spending the morning doing some marking. But that mark… cats did not have marks like that.

At least, not in his world.

----

Camila was not an oblivious woman, especially when it came to her daughter.

She had had some suspicions the night before; most people wouldn’t jump through a portal into the unknown to get their friend to help, after all. But things were messy and upsetting, and people did irrational things under stress, so she’d shelved that thought.

When she walked into her living room the next morning and found them sound asleep in each other’s arms - well, suffice it to say, her suspicions grew a bit.

When Luz eventually blinked open her eyes, she found her mother sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hand, smiling wryly down at her.

“Good friends, are you?” she asked.

Luz blinked, and then glanced over to Amity.

She yelped and pulled herself out of her friend’s arms, which in turn woke her up with a start. Both sat up, Luz turning bright red.

“What’s going on?” demanded Amity. “Are we being attacked?”

Camila took a sip of her tea.

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “If we are, I’m sure Luz is very well protected.”

“Mooo-oooom,” groaned Luz, burying her head in her hands as Amity turned red too.

“Uh, Ms. Noceda, it’s… I’m…” Amity scratched the back of her head. “Please don’t get mad, Luz…”

“Mad?” Camila tilted her head. “Why would I be mad?”

“I… um… I…” Amity stammered.

“I need to take a shower!” exclaimed Luz. “Far away from here! Goodbye!”

She darted off the inflatable mattress and out the door.

Amity buried her head in the blanket, moaning softly. Camila frowned, moving a little closer to her.

“Amity,” she asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Sure,” sighed Amity. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Camila reached down and put a hand on her shoulder. She was surprised to see Amity jolt away from her; her frown deepened.

“If you ever need to talk,” she said. “Just remember that I’m here.”

“Thanks,” replied Amity, looking away, “But I don’t think I will.”

She got up and walked away.

----

Luz spat her toothpaste out into the sink (she was surprised at how much better-tasting human toothpaste was than the stuff they used on the Isles, although it probably didn’t provide the same magical plaque protection) and washed her hands, whistling to herself. She didn’t know why - it wasn’t as though she was calm or cheerful - but perhaps music calmed the soul.

“Okay,” she said to herself. “Gotta go back to the historical society. Maybe there’s a lead to getting Amity home on that creepy curator guy’s conspiracy board… also wanna see if the bookstore’s still there. I think Amity would like it.”

She turned to the door and immediately froze.

Camila was leaning against the closed door, arms crossed.

“I think it’s time we talked, mija.”

Luz pursed her lips.

“...do we have to do it in the bathroom?”

[contemplativepancakes]

where to, cas?

Castiel hears Dean talking, sees his mouth moving, knows he should reply, but all he can do is stare at Dean blankly. The words rattle around in his brain, too empty now that it’s devoid of all the voices of his brothers and sisters. 

Where to? It’s a reasonable question, a good one, but one Castiel has no answer for. Nora had just found his things at the Gas n’ Sip earlier that day, so he doesn’t want to try and press his luck there, but he has nowhere else. A shelter, maybe? He had stayed in a few while he was making his way to the bunker, and while they’d be okay for a couple nights, maybe, if they have room, it’s not a long term solution. 

“Cas?” Dean prods, shaking Castiel out of his thoughts. 

Castiel bites his lip. “I’ll…I’ll just tag along with you, if that’s all right.” 

Dean’s not making eye contact, so he takes the chance to give Dean a doleful stare, admiring his profile and the way his stubble turns a reddish blond in the glow of the streetlights. “I’ve missed you,” Castiel admits softly. 

Dean finally turns his head to look, really look, at Castiel. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Dean lets out a deep sigh, then. “Look, Cas, I—”

Castiel cuts him off. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m not an angel anymore. What use am I?”

A look Castiel can’t quite identify crosses Dean’s face. Even after several years, Castiel still isn’t the most versed in identifying human emotions. “What? It’s not about that. You don’t have to be useful to be worth something to me, man.” Dean huffs and runs a hand through his short hair. “And of course it’s fine that you stay with me for the night, but how about you show me your place, huh? It’ll help me sleep better if I know you’re doing okay.”

“Well, I don’t exactly have… a place.” Now Castiel is the one avoiding eye contact. 

“What do you mean? Where have you been staying?”

“At the store,” he answers, glancing over at Dean as shame washes over him in a bright blaze. 

“Oh, Cas,” Dean murmurs, before clapping one of his hands against the Impala’s dash. “Well, we ought to get you some better digs, then, right?”

Castiel coughs awkwardly, not wanting to upset the delicate balance of Dean’s now-forced good mood. He looks out the window and leans his head against the cool glass, closing his eyes and trying to pretend he has his wings again, but it’s a poor substitute. His wings never rumbled, or hit potholes, or expelled fumes. Castiel’s nose wrinkles in distaste when Dean cracks his window. 

Eventually, after an amount of time Castiel has completely lost track of, the Impala rumbles to a stop and Dean reaches over to shake his shoulder. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re here.”

Castiel doesn’t bother to waste his breath protesting he wasn’t asleep. He’s not an angel anymore, so it was a reasonable assumption for Dean to make, he supposes. He squints out at the bright lights proclaiming vacancy refracting through the window. The driver’s door slams shut, followed shortly by the trunk squeaking open, and Dean presumably retrieving his duffle bag. Castiel opens his door and slowly gets out, feeling the crunch of gravel beneath his thin soled shoes.

Castiel trails Dean into the lobby, trying not to look out of place as Dean talks to the clerk. “One king,” he says gruffly, and Castiel’s head whips up in surprise.

keep reading or read on AO3 here!

“I’m paying for the month.” Castiel’s head drops just as quickly.

Dean’s just going to dump him here and move on, since Castiel is obviously no longer a worthy investment of Dean’s time now that he has nothing left to offer. To Castiel’s surprise, Dean doesn’t just press the key into Castiel’s hand, but brushes past Castiel and out the door, ignoring the questioning look the desk clerk sends the two of them.

Castiel stumbles out after him, the cool night air biting his skin. Dean looks down at the number on the key and mutters to himself, looking around before he spots the door and walks up to it. Dean pounds a hand against the door, as if testing its sturdiness, and he must be satisfied because he unlocks it and gestures for Castiel to go in.

Dean follows and closes the door behind him, tossing his duffel on the bed before pointedly moving it to one side. “I—I figured we could share for the night. That way you’d have more space to stretch out the rest of the time, when I’m not here.”

Castiel may not have angelic hearing anymore, but he can still hear Dean’s hard swallow. “Sure,” Castiel says awkwardly, turning away from Dean and unbuttoning his shirt. He drops his slacks as well before he climbs into the bed, using the covers as a shield for the uncomfortable emotions swirling around in his gut.

Everything is so much more intense now that Castiel is a human, but at the same time, it’s not. His emotions overwhelm him more than they ever did when he was an angel, but his head feels empty without the voices of his brothers and sisters constantly swirling around and the world seems dull and flat now that he can’t perceive souls. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to see a sight as beautiful as Dean’s soul again, and the thought is more than a little depressing.

While Castiel's thoughts have been occupied, Dean has slipped into the bathroom, and Castiel can hear the shower running. An urge possesses Castiel to open the door, pull back the shower curtain, and join Dean, like he’s observed many humans do in the years since they’ve invented indoor plumbing, but he stomps down on it.

Castiel lays there staring at the ceiling for what seems like hours, but is probably a few minutes. His patience is just one more thing that evaporated into thin air when he fell. Finally, the bathroom door opens, and Castiel wilts back from the cool air. He was expecting steamy warmness, but he’s left shivering.

Castiel tries to keep his eyes on the ceiling, tracing the cracks and water stains, but his eyes keep shifting towards Dean, tracing drops of water as they run down his back, highlighting the muscles. Castiel swallows hard. He’s lost count of how many times he’s cursed being human in the past day alone.

Castiel snaps his eyes back to the ceiling, turning over for good measure when Dean drops the towel, but not before he gets a good look at Dean’s ass. Castiel remembers shaping the curve of it, placing every freckle with care after he raised Dean from Hell. It’s different, though, now.

Everything is different, and Castiel hates it.

His throat is scratchy. Castiel considers getting up to get a drink from the sink, but then he would have to walk past Dean, and there’s a rapidly developing situation under the sheets that would make that mortifying. Castiel’s newly human body hasn’t seemed to have received the memo that Castiel is not a teenage boy. Castiel holds his breath as Dean lifts the sheets and slides in next to him. There’s a rush of cold air, and Dean shifts as he settles in the bed. “Is this okay?” Dean whispers.

Dean’s presence draws Castiel towards him; it always has, and now Dean expects Castiel to resist his pull when he’s less than six inches away from him. No, it’s not okay.

“It’s fine,” Castiel grunts.

“Just don’t stick your cold feet on me in the middle of the night, okay?”

Castiel always runs cold now that he’s human, and he can feel Dean’s heat radiating even from his spot on the mattress. “Of course, Dean.”

Castiel stays resolutely still, not wanting to bother Dean with his fidgeting. He can’t seem to fall asleep without tossing and turning, and it’s so pathetically human that Castiel hates himself for it. For not being able to fall asleep, and needing to sleep at all in the first place. It’s not until Dean’s breathing evens out that Castiel allows his body to relax. His back and jaw ache from holding himself so stiffly. His wrist throbs from where Ephraim had brutally twisted it. He thinks it has a slight fracture, and he knows he should do something for it, to make sure it doesn’t get worse, but he can’t seem to summon the motivation. He cradles it against his chest and stares at the wall.

The passage of time is marked by the headlights of cars sliding across the walls as they drive by and the slow turn of the flip number alarm clock. His heart pounds in his ears, but he can’t hear Dean’s, which is an uncomfortable change. He turns so he can see the rise and fall of Dean’s chest. Castiel lets the sight soothe him to sleep.

-

Castiel wakes to a pleasant friction. His hips are slowly rolling into the mattress, and his eyes flutter back shut. Since becoming human, he has discovered the peculiar phenomenon of morning erections, and although they can sometimes be an inconvenience when he’s running late for work, they’re largely enjoyable. He moans a little as he lets the sensation wash over him.

A choked sound comes from next to him, and Castiel freezes, stilling the movement of his hips. The last night comes rushing back to him, and he realizes he’s not as alone as he thought he was. Blood rushes to his face, making it uncomfortably warm. He cracks his eyes open and is relieved to find he’s facing away from Dean. Maybe he can pretend he’s still sleeping.

“Cas?” Dean whispers.

Damn it.

“Good morning, Dean,” he grates out, his voice sleep-hoarse.

The mattress shifts as Dean moves, and Castiel expects the dip of Dean’s weight to disappear, for him to go to the bathroom, or even more likely, say goodbye and take his leave, vanishing from Castiel’s life forever, but all of a sudden, there’s heat pressing against his back instead. Dean reaches over, and his fingers trace a path down Castiel’s chest, ghosting over his hip bones, down to his groin. Castiel stiffens, unsure of if he’s still sleeping or not. This doesn’t happen to him when he’s awake.

Maybe he got thrown against the wall harder than he thought.

“What are you doing?”

Dean’s hand stills. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Why, then?” Castiel is puzzled as to why Dean hasn’t left. He had had no qualms telling Castiel he couldn’t stay in the bunker, so he’s not sure why Dean wants to spend extra time with him now, and he has absolutely no idea why Dean would be trying to initiate this with him. Castiel is still new to feeling emotions in their most potent form, but he doesn’t know which cocktail of them could lead this.

Dean swallows hard, and his hand retreats. “I—I just thought—”

Castiel turns over to face Dean, to look at the microexpressions that flit across his face. Now that he can’t see Dean’s soul, this is all he has to rely on when it comes to gauging Dean’s mood. Dean’s eyes catch on Castiel’s for a second, before he looks away, staring at the curtain instead. He licks his lips nervously. “I thought you looked like you could use a hand. And, you know, you look sad. Sex always makes me feel better.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “Does it?”

Dean huffs. “Most of the time. Well, I just thought I’d help you out, but you obviously don’t want that, so that’s fine. That’s cool.”

Dean stumbles out of the bed, accidentally dragging the covers with him, and Castiel winces at the blast of cold air.

“I’m, uh, I’ll go, then. You probably have to be at work, anyway.”

Castiel looks over at the alarm clock. “I have until ten.”

Dean follows his gaze. It’s six. “I suppose you need a ride?” he sighs, tugging a hand through his hair.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not, just— Fuck, Cas. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Castiel looks on in alarm as Dean takes a heavy seat back on the edge of the bed, bringing his hands up to his head and burying his face. Castiel can barely handle his own feelings, much less someone’s else.

Nevertheless, he sits up and puts a hand on Dean’s back. “Are you okay?”

Dean laughs ruefully. “I’m pretty far from okay. I miss you, man, and Sam’s up my ass all the time, and—”

“And what?”

“Nothing, it’s not important. I’m just… stressed, I guess.”

“Ah. So you wanted a relaxation?” Castiel asks. He’s heard of humans using intercourse for anxiety management.

“What? No. Just forget it.”

“Forget it,” Castiel echoes. “Right.”

He turns away from Dean, swinging his legs off the bed and letting his toes wiggle into the scratchy carpet. He wrinkles his nose as the smell of cigarette smoke wafts up.

“Wait, Cas,” Dean says, and Castiel can’t help the way his mind jumps back to last night, when Dean had said the same thing. Castiel had thought Dean was going to tell him to stop, to not go to Nora, to quit his job, to come back home, but there was no such luck last night, and Castiel doesn’t allow himself to get his hopes up now.

He turns to look at Dean, and Dean wilts. “Nevermind.”

Castiel huffs and darts his gaze away, standing up and retrieving his clothes from where they’re a puddle on the ground. He pulls them on, and Dean clears his throat behind him. “Looking a little wrinkly there, buddy.”

Castiel shrugs. “This is all I have.”

“Well, here.” Dean reaches into his army green duffel bag and unfurls an impressively unwrinkled pair of jeans and a shirt. “This ain’t amateur hour, dude,” Dean says, responding to the questioning raise of Castiel’s eyebrows.

Castiel watches intently as Dean folds his clothes from the day before into his duffel, trying to learn the technique. He needs to be able to keep his clothes looking presentable. Dean finishes his folding and looks up to see Castiel’s eyes fixed on him. He grunts. “You ready to go?”

Castiel looks back at the clock, ready to protest and fight for more time with Dean, but he jostles his arm and hisses. Dean is on him in a second, his hands warm and gentle on Castiel’s arm.

“Did this happen last night? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Castiel shrugs.

Dean pokes at it with two fingers. Castiel flinches away.

“All right, all right. Let me wrap this up, okay? A splint probably wouldn’t hurt either,” Dean muses.

Dean pulls out his alarmingly large first aid kit and sifts through it until he finds what he’s looking for. He holds Castiel’s hand like he’s afraid he’s going to break it, and something shifts in Castiel’s chest.

Castiel crushes it deliberately, and as he waves at Dean from just outside the Gas n’ Sip after Dean drops him off, he knows he made the right choice. There’s no ember to be stoked from their ashes.

He wonders if he’s just seen Dean for the last time. He restocks the dairy case, and tries not to think.  

-

“Boyfriend?” Nora asks, making Castiel jump as she appears behind his shoulder as he refills the nacho cheese dispenser.

“What?”

“That guy you left with yesterday. Is he your boyfriend?”

Castiel swallows hard. “No.”

“Oh,” Nora says knowingly. “Your ex.”

“Dean and I have never been together,” Castiel protests, his voice a little more high pitched than normal.

“Oh,” Nora says again. “Hmm. You know, I don’t know much about your past, Steve. I’m here if you want someone to listen.”

Castiel’s throat is dry. “Thank you.”

-

Later, he stands in the doorway of Nora’s office where she’s hunched over her desk doing payroll. “We were… in the military together.”

Nora looks up, and Castiel sees confusion cross her face, swiftly replaced by understanding. “You must have been through some real shit together, then.”

“You could say that,” Castiel hedges.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Steve. I saw the way you looked at him.” Nora squints at him.

“We’ve saved each other's lives.”

Nora doesn’t respond, just looks at him steadily with a knowing smile, and Castiel retreats back to the register.

He pastes on a smile as he serves the next customer.

-

That night, he goes back to the motel where Dean had paid for him, and he’s disappointed to find that Dean’s scent is already gone, replaced by the smoke that seems to permeate the whole motel. Castiel figures it’s fitting, at the very least.

He stares at the ceiling and wonders what life has left to offer him.

-

Nora catches on to his mood the next day. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

Castiel sighs and drums his fingers against the countertop before giving her a wry smile. “Boy problems.”

Nora doesn’t react, and Castiel doesn’t know how to feel about that. “Want to talk about it?”

“Maybe.”

She hums. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

After a millennia of impermanence, of empires rising and falling and everyone Castiel cares about leaving him or pushing him away, Castiel knows Nora can’t promise that, but he appreciates the sentiment.

-

Castiel’s days fall into a pattern. He scrounges up enough money to keep living out of his motel room and afford some canned fruits and vegetables to supplement his diet that largely consists of peanut butter and jelly and what Nora shoves on him from the Gas n’ Sip. She squints at him and says he looks like he’s getting skinnier, and that’s not going to happen on her watch.

Castiel can’t say he’s too surprised when the pattern breaks. He’s coming from a long day of work, and the door to his motel room swings right open. Castiel freezes. He knows he left it locked. He fumbles in his bag for his angel blade, his one last reminder of his old life. He has a feeling whatever is inside is going to want to compete for that title.

Castiel wonders if it’s too grim to speculate if this will be the thing that finally puts him out of his misery. Although, he supposes it’s not fair to say he’s living in misery. The amount of time he spends staring at the atrociously papered motel room wall might say differently, but Castiel prefers to think of it as monotonous rather than any of those other descriptors.

Angel blade in hand, he walks through the door, scanning for any disturbances. He’s never been more surprised to see Dean. Dean’s propped against the pillows, his legs crossed at the ankles. His flannel is draped over the back of the desk chair, leaving him in just a threadbare t-shirt.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel lowers the angel blade with shaking hands. “Dean. What are you doing here?”

Dean shrugs, and Castiel notices just how beat down he looks. Dean has always seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it finally appears to be taking its toll. He’s paler than Castiel remembers, more drawn, and even more worried looking, if that’s possible.

Castiel sets his bag down on the ground. “Do you need something?” Castiel asks, even though he doesn’t know what he has to offer now.

“Is it a crime to want to see you?”

Castiel lifts his chin. “I was under the impression you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

Dean looks at him in surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“You kicked me out. You told me I couldn’t stay! All I wanted to do was stay,” Castiel says, his voice cracking on the last sentence.

Dean uncrosses his legs and stands up, moves into Castiel’s space. He puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and Castiel realizes just how much he’s yearned for touch since leaving Dean last. The most he’s gotten is a brush of fingers as he hands someone their change, and his human body craves more than that.

Nevertheless, he jerks away from Dean. This way, it’ll sting less when Castiel is inevitably dropped from Dean’s life again.

Dean steps back, hurt flashing across his face. Castiel doesn’t let himself feel bad. He’s not the one who should be apologizing. “I missed you,” Dean says weakly.

Castiel desperately returns the sentiment, but he doesn’t voice the thought.

At Castiel’s stony silence, Dean points to the windowsill. “I brought you a housewarming gift. Well, motel warming.”

Castiel follows his finger to where a tiny cactus sits, soaking in the feeble rays of evening sunlight. “I can barely take care of myself,” he jokes, but it lands flat.

“Don’t worry. Sam says they’re impossible to kill.”

“How is Sam?” Castiel asks, seizing on the new topic.

Interestingly, Dean clams up. He’s never not wanted to talk about Sam before. “He’s fine. We’re fine.”

Castiel hums. “That’s why you showed up here, right?”

Dean’s glance flits away before it comes back, making eye contact with a vengeance. Dean’s always been a skilled liar, so Castiel doesn’t give it much weight.

“Can I stay?” Dean asks. “For the night?”

Castiel agrees, and tries not to think of the irony.

-

When he wakes up in the morning, Dean is gone, and only the lingering scent of his cologne betrays the fact that he was there at all.

-

Nora notices. “You seem… more melancholy than usual today,” she says carefully, and Castiel tries not to snort.

“Melancholy? Really?”

Nora waves a hand. “You know what I mean.”

Castiel bites his lip. “I saw Dean yesterday.”

“Oh?” Nora asks, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

“He just showed up. And now he’s gone again.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much. He seemed stressed.” Castiel shakes his head. “He brought me a cactus.”

Nora looks puzzled by that, and frankly, Castiel is, too, so he lets Nora redirect the conversation, giving him all the latest news about her daughter.

Back at the motel, he runs his fingers over the tiny spines of the cactus, and wonders.

-

Nora helps him get a bank account, and Castiel watches the numbers slowly add up. Dean drops by periodically, always topping off Castiel’s motel credit. Until, one day, it runs out, and Castiel begins to worry. He and Dean don’t text; Castiel doesn’t even have a phone. Castiel pays for the next week at the motel and frets through his day at work. Nora has the day off, so Castiel has no one to confide in.

He’s never been so relieved to see his motel room broken into, but his relief is quickly shattered when he sees the blood seeping onto his bed spread.

Dean is pouring whiskey on to a wound on his side, and Castiel feels affronted for a second at the disregard Dean has for his sheets, but he rushes forward to take the bottle from Dean. “What happened?” he demands.

“Werewolf got the jump on me,” Dean says weakly. “You got any floss around here? Preferably not mint? That shit stings like a bitch.”

Cas just stares at him.

“Well, you gonna stitch me up, or are you going to let me bleed out?”

By this point, Cas knows better than to ask where Sam is, so he lets his feet carry him to the bathroom where he finds a sewing needle and the requested floss. Unflavored, thankfully for Dean. He digs through Dean’s jacket pocket where he knows he keeps his lighter, ignoring Dean’s comment about buying him dinner first.

Castiel sterilizes the needle and soaks a washcloth in whiskey before wiping at Dean’s wound. Dean hisses. “Don’t be a baby,” Castiel says, and Dean’s mouth flaps up and down, but he doesn’t come up with a response because by then Castiel has the needle threaded and pokes it through Dean’s skin.

Castiel makes neat stitches under Dean’s close supervision. The only time it wanders is when he takes another swig of whiskey.

By the time Castiel has finished and takes the bottle back from Dean to douse the whole thing, Dean is nearly asleep. Castiel puts a bandage on the wound, taken from Dean’s painfully familiar first aid kit. Dean watches Castiel clean up with hooded eyes, and when Castiel curls up beside him, he pets his hand through Castiel’s hair. Dean mumbles something, but he slurs it so much that Castiel can’t understand what it was. He falls asleep with a hand fisted in the sheets.

-

For once, when Castiel wakes up, Dean is still there. He prods at Dean’s bandage-covered wound, and Dean slaps his hand away and rolls onto his stomach. Castiel gets up to start getting ready for work. When he leaves, he tries to memorize the shape of Dean’s sleeping form. Castiel doesn’t allow himself to hope that that will be the case when he returns.

-

To Castiel’s shock, there is still a Dean-sized lump in his bed when he finishes his shift. Dean notes his gobsmacked look and rolls his eyes. “Baby’s not exactly the smoothest ride. Did you want me to get all jostled around and open up my stitches?”

“Um. No?”

“That’s what I thought. Now what do you have to eat around here?”

-

Dean stays the night, and the night after that. Castiel can’t believe his luck, but he doesn’t want to let himself get too used to this, either.

Surprisingly, it’s not Dean that shatters Castiel’s idyll, but Castiel himself. Castiel jerks awake, panting, and Dean is right there with his hands all over Castiel, asking if he’s okay. Castiel flinches back, still seeing the Deans from his dream with their unseeing eyes. He hasn’t told Dean about how Naomi made him kill all those versions of him, and he doesn’t intend to now.

Dean runs a soothing hand down his back, and Castiel melts into the touch, deliberately slowing his breathing. “You good?” Dean asks softly.

“I am now.”

-

When Dean finally leaves, he presses a worn paperback into Castiel’s hands that he says he picked up at a second hand store. Castiel squints at the cover curiously. Stranger in a Strange Land, it proclaims. “Thought you might be able to relate,” Dean says, shrugging.

“Thank you.” Castiel sits it next to his cactus, and he almost misses the way Dean swells in pride.

-

Castiel buys a car, Nora by his side and glaring at the salesman until he lowers the price. Castiel smiles at her gratefully. He pats the hood as the salesman walks away to get the paperwork. “What do you think?”

Nora looks over the golden Continental. “It’s, uh, it’s nice.”

Castiel beams.

-

Castiel knows how Dean takes care of the Impala, so he tries to do the same to his new car. He buys a phone so he can learn how to change the oil on youtube. He carefully plugs in Dean’s number from memory and texts him, letting him know Castiel’s new number. He doesn’t get a response, and Castiel tries not to let it bother him.

His car never seems to become imbued with the same sense of home that Baby has, but he likes it regardless. It’s something that’s solely his, with no influence of his siblings or Dean carved all over it. Nora makes fun of him for it, but he doesn’t mind.

-

Eventually, Castiel gets a phone call that some part of him knew was inevitable. No one ever really gets out, that’s what Dean has always said.

“Cas, it’s bad. It’s Sam. Just… I need you.”

“Okay. It’s going to be okay, Dean.”

“I know,” Dean says, and Castiel graciously doesn’t call him out on the falsehood.

“You know I love you, right?” Dean asks, rushed and all of a sudden, like it’s something he’s been working towards for a while.

“I know,” Castiel lies.

Whatever happens next, he’s excited at the prospect of being able to learn that for himself.

tags (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!): @urbankat82 @that-one-fandom-chick @youcancallmeanet  @nineteensevetyfour @1stborneve @good-things-do-happen-dean  @no-frigging-idea

[jetaime-jespere]

3, 12, 22, 37!

3. what color are your eyes?

they are a mix of blue-green-grey, and will look different at certain times. If I cry, my eyes are bright blue. but most of the time they are bluish-green. I like them 🙂

12. what size bed do you have?

King 😇 my husband is a big guy, so ... it's necessary. We can both sleep without touching each other at all if we want .. ah marriage. We slept in a double for almost four years so when we moved into our house ... we decided it was necessary. The one downside is finding sheets that actually stay around the mattress without popping off in one corner is a challenge. and king sized bedding is always more expensive.

22. do you go to the gym?

I do (well, my basement gym. I'll never go back to another gym LOL). I workout almost every day (I used to be an exercise addict and went to therapy for awhile to address it .. I went almost eight months in 2019 without taking a single day off). I used to be a big runner ... I ran two half marathons ... but now mostly spin (I got a Peloton during our first lockdown in March 2020 and it was the best investment I ever made). I lift weights a lot too. It helps keep my head clear-ish... I workout every morning before work. I find a lot of joy in exercise but hate group fitness classes, so I always workout on my own.

I also really like to eat ... so ... I have to stay active. (especially around the holidays, LOL)

37. do you read a lot? what is your favorite book?

I don't read nearly as much as I should, I have to admit. I don't find reading all that relaxing, which I know is an unpopular opinion. I read more fanfiction than books. All of my IRL friends read and are constantly sharing book titles and I just hide in the corner. Some of my favorites are The Millennium Trilogy (Girl With The Dragon Tattoo) , The Princess Diarist (Carrie Fisher) The Kite Runner (Khalid Hosseini) and The Great Gatsby.

[littlemisskookie]

Love Me and Leave Me

Love Me and Leave Me Ship: Princess!Reader | Prince!Jin | Maid Description: Royalty!AU, Arranged Marriage!AU. You had no objections when you heard of your engagement to a faraway prince. In fact, you were elated! Especially when you caught sight of his handsome face and charming personality. You could see yourself falling for him easily. The only problem? He’s in love with someone else. Warnings: Impregnation Kink, Virgin Kink, Voyeurism, Dirty Talk, Intercourse, Oral, Multiple Orgasms, Cum Play, Handjob, Overstimulation, Infidelity? Angst, Slight Fluff, Slight Crack Word Count: 9,964

When you were told you were engaged to the eldest prince of a nearby kingdom, you had no objections.

Not as in you simply were quietly submitting because it was your duty- you were genuinely looking forward to it.

The quicker you were married the quicker you could get to the throne. Sure, some other princesses were distraught by the news, scared they'd be married to some old king, but you were lucky enough to get a prince. You liked to look on the bright side of things. Besides, arranged marriages have instances where they work- maybe if you were lucky you'd fall in love with the mystery man. A girl can dream, right? It would be just like the fairytales.

You heard he was the most handsome of them all. Prince Seokjin, eldest of the seven brothers. This marriage would align your two kingdoms and would be a joyous celebration.

So sure enough, upon your first meeting together you were absolutely ecstatic.

He was more beautiful than his portrait- a true show stopper. Plump lips and broad shoulders? Yes, please. He was as polite as he was handsome, kind as he insisted on pulling out your chair, instead of just having the staff do it. He made good conversation, with corny jokes you couldn't help at laugh at. Not because they were funny, but because they were stupid.

You really hit the jackpot with this one. The two of you agreed to get married immediately, your parents relieved to have no protest from their children.

As you sat there, seeing him animately laugh at his own joke as your families collectively shake their heads in playful disappointment, you only had one thought.

I can see myself falling in love with this man already.

There was only one problem, though.

He was in love with another.

You were approaching his bedchambers, his lounge for the time being before the two of you would be moved to the King's chambers, the coronation taking place with the wedding. Might as well save money and have two ceremonies in one, right?

You were about to ask him if he'd prefer your dress to be cream or pure white- (He was always so involved in your wedding planning, wanting to truly make it belong to the two of you instead of just hiring some wedding planner. You were so relieved to find out he wouldn't leave you to your own devices.)- when you heard something strange.

A moan.

No, not just that. A female moan.

You halted your footsteps, deathly quiet as you stood before the bedroom door, already slightly ajar. You were paralyzed.

A breathy sigh was followed with a grunt, the sound of skin slapping against skin along with the creaking of a bed as the headboard knocked ever so lightly against the wall.

"You're so tight, you feel incredible like always."

"Jinnie, oh my God-"

"Feel good baby?"

"Feels so great. More, Jinnie, please-"

"Anything for you."

The moans get louder along with the knocking of the headboard against the wall, and you wonder how no one else had come to discover the two. Creeping forward you look between the crack to see your prince with his lover.

You recognized the woman. She was one of the servants that came with Seokjin's family when he moved in for wedding preparations. You noticed she gave him a longing look- but that's what everyone gave him. Who could blame her? He was stunning, charming, and a prince no less.

Perhaps you should've noticed how he looked at her.

The two of them were naked, the sheets a mess and pillows tossed on either side of them. He was on top of her, her feet dangling on either side of his head, hanging on his shoulders. Her legs were spread and her head was hung back, mouth agape as she moaned, overcome with pleasure. Jin gripped her thighs, his hips moving fast in a familiar rhythm, sweat covering his forehead. He looked beautiful, even when he was sweaty and grunting anomalistically.

You couldn't help but feel yourself blush, face turning red as you brought your hand over your mouth, attempting to suppress any noise of shock. You could feel your face burning up beneath your palm, along with a betraying knock of arousal in the pit of your stomach. It was unlike you, looking at such a scene, and it felt like an invasion of privacy.

Still, you couldn't pry your eyes from the pornographic image, the intimacy between the two. You had no experience with this sort of thing- staying a virgin with the full intent of giving it to your future husband, just as you were raised to.

You should be appalled by this scene. Instead of being the lady you were raised to be, to silently walk away from the scene, you stayed watching, feeling your entire body ignite.

Maybe it was the scent of sex that hung in the air. Maybe it was the moans. Maybe it was simply because you had no frame of reference when it came to sex, and this was to sate your curiosity. More than likely it was all three.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-" The girl let out a whine as Jin leaned forward, pinning her more firmly into the mattress as her legs bent back with him. His lips met hers, a sloppy kiss as the two interjoin more completely, chest to chest.

"I love you," he says breathlessly, the moment the kiss breaks.

"I love you too, Jinnie. I'm gonna cum, I-"

"Me too, love. Come with me."

Her eyes roll back and he presses his hips more firmly into her ass, letting out a low groan as he empties himself into her. The two stay like that for a moment, still joined together, breathless and sweaty as they stare into each other's eyes.

"I love you so much," he says tenderly, touching her face with a soft caress, as though he weren't fucking her into the mattress seconds before.

"I love you too, Jinnie," she says, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Why the tears, love?"

"Oh, you're getting married!" she cries, voice cracking. The two break apart, but he holds her in his arms, tight against his chest as she softly cries. For one who wasn't raised a lady, she sure knew how to cry daintily. "How am I supposed to feel?"

"I know, I know. I wish I could marry you, I really do."

"You're getting married to a princess. What need will you have with me?"

"Don't say that."

"I'm just going to be the nanny to your child, watching you play house with your pretty little wife! I can't just be a side piece."

"Hey, hey! Don't say that. Don't. You'll never be that, understand? I love you. I've been in love with you since we were little kids, I grew up with you. You know that."

"I know, but," she sniffs, wiping away a tear, "what about her?"

"What about her? She's a stranger. We're doing this because it's our duty."

"But she's pretty, she knows how to read. She's beautiful and educated and refined and rich! What am I? I'm a grubby little servant."

"You're the one I love. You're the one I choose."

"Then prove it."

"How?"

She thinks for a moment before turning to him. "Run away with me. Don't marry her. We can take some of your family heirlooms and run to some estate or something in a faraway kingdom. We can start our own family and forget all of this."

Jin's silent at that, simply staring at her in the dark.

Her face crumples. "Oh, I knew it. You want me to just act as... as some concubine! To be-"

"Let's do it."

"...What?"

"I'm serious. We can run away. We'll have to come up with a plan, but let's do it."

"You really mean that?" she asks softly.

"I do," he says, cradling her face in his, giving her small pecks all over her face. "I choose you. I choose you over a kingdom, over a crown, over a princess. That's how much you mean to me. I'll always choose you."

With that, you walk away.

You had to come up with a plan.

-

"Prince Seokjin, darling," you greet, a fake smile plastered on your face as you waltz your way over to him.

He was busy smelling different flowers that were offered, the maids before him beaming and urging him to pick their own, as though it would indicate he was truly choosing one of them. Once he heard your call, though, he turned, beaming at you with that brilliant smile of his.

"Princess Y/N! You look radiant as always," he says, your hand coming up in a familiar motion as he lets his plump lips press against it.

He's a marvelous actor, you think to yourself. You supposed he had plenty of practice. There was no way his parents would tolerate him being in love with a mere servant girl- he had to have snuck her around his own palace for years.

"How's the wedding planning going?"

"I think I've gone nose blind. It appears I cannot distinguish between even roses and tulips!"

You smile at that. "Why, you must truly be going mad."

"Oh, not at all. I find it a good pastime, actually. Feels easier to plan a wedding than to plan a war."

"Well, we can only pray we won't be entering one of those in our lifetimes," you muse.

"Gift for the grandkids, I reckon," he winks.

You can't help but chuckle at that. "I, too, have found myself invested in the planning. I was going to ask you what color dress you'd like me to wear. It's approaching so soon- the seamstresses are getting anxious for my decision. The dress appears to be the most difficult of all, though."

"I do think the color silver suits you. Iridescent, like the moon," he says.

Ah yes, his lover was the sun, outshining you always as you hung in the background, always there and always leering, only visible to him when she was away. You were sure, however, that she thought the same about you. The truth was, however, that she was Juliet and you were Rosaline.

"Sounds perfect. I'll notify them immediately."

"Best to hurry the wedding along. Seems the sooner in approaches the more hectic the castle gets. Everyone's so busy, they have hardly any time to even pay attention to the bride and groom," he notes.

Clever. With how busy everyone was, no one would notice his disappearance. By the time someone did, he and the servant girl would be far gone.

"I truly cannot wait to get married," you beam.

"As am I, dear," he smiles.

"Might we take a break from these busybodies and take a walk around the quarters? I still have much to learn about my future husband," you say.

He offers his arm, which you link your own around. "But of course! Perhaps along the way, I'll regain my sense of smell."

The two of you depart, slowly trickling out of the crowds, out of ballrooms and hallways and into passageways. All of the servants were too busy to know where you were, or to occupy these small spaces. It was the perfect place to whisper into each other's ears without the worry of being overheard. Whether those whispers were sweet nothings or secrets, no one would know.

It wasn't until you were sure no one was near that you unlinked your arm from his, your false, cheery demeanor dropping immediately.

"So, tell me about your lover, Jinnie."

The prince freezes in his tracks, stunned. He raises his hand, opening his mouth to say something, but you're quick.

"Don't make another move."

You lift your skirt, the hem reaching to your waist as you bunch up the fabric, revealing the knife strapped to your thigh.

Seokjin gulps, taking a step back. "Do you always carry a knife on you, Your Highness?"

"Not always," you admit. "Only when I'm alone with a man. A lady like myself should know better than to be in closed quarters with one and engaged or not, you're a stranger. I don't know what your reaction will be to knowing your secret is revealed."

"How much do you know?"

"Enough. She's a servant girl from your palace, one you grew up with. You love her, and she loves you. The two of you plan to run away together. Am I incorrect?"

"Not in the slightest," he says, shaking his head. "I truly got the brightest bride, didn't I?"

"Enough with the flattery, Seokjin. We can cut the bullshit with each other now," you say bluntly.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Princess. I promise you that." He raises his hands in surrender. "Secret or not, I wouldn't dare lay a hand on a lady."

You look at him skeptically, quirking a brow, your hand hovering over the knife. "Why should I believe a word you say?"

"I'm simply a man in love, who wants the freedom to love. Is that such a crime?"

"It is, and you know what the consequences are," you remind him. Still, you release the fabric, letting the skirt flow back down to cover your legs. "Surely you know the danger there is. It would cost both of you your heads- hers, at the very least."

"So what? Are you going to turn us in?" He still holds his hands up, searching your eyes, trying to find answers. "Are you scorned to know you never stood a chance? That I wasn't the faithful prince you dreamt of?"

"Once you leave I'll be humiliated. I've been groomed for perfection, to marry the best. So when the best runs away, it'll only be presumed that I'm not perfect enough. Shame will be cast on my family and kingdom, and I'll be forced to marry another. It might not even be one of your brothers, and perhaps our kingdoms will war against one another."

Seokjin hangs his head. "You'd have every right to turn me in."

"There would still be shame, perhaps even more. To know I was replaced by a servant girl- there'd be public outrage. The Cinderella concept doesn't work as well in real life as one might think."

"So what're you going to do? Kill me here before anyone finds out? Cover it up and frame it as something else and carry on the wedding with one of my brothers?" Seokjin's eyes harden as he clenches his jaw. "You can do whatever you wish with me, as long as you promise me she stays out of it. I want her safe and happy. You can send her far from this kingdom if you so wish, but I want her safe. Do that, and even if you kill me I'll die a happy man."

"Don't be barbaric," you say, huffing. "I'm going to help you."

The prince's eyes widen in shock, and he sputters, lowering his arms. "Wait- wait, what?"

You finally let out a genuine smile, amused by his reaction. "I'm going to help you two escape, my dear Prince."

"I- thank you so much- but why?"

"You two are going to need help. All of the known exits are going to be blocked by guards- an effort to prevent incoming assassins from crashing the wedding. This is my palace, not yours. I'm not sure how things run in your kingdom, but our security is top-notch. You'd never stand a chance, even now. And I'm not doing this to save just my own reputation, mind you. I find you charming, handsome, and a suitable husband. I could see myself falling in love with you, Prince Seokjin."

"Then why do you wish to let me run away with another?"

"Because I refuse to be the evil queen who prevents love from blooming. You deserve the freedom to love. You found the real thing- who am I to stop you? You'd be unhappy as my husband, and so would your lover. They say, happy wife, happy life, but what about the other way around?"

"You're truly doing this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"Not quite. As with all things, there's a catch," you admit.

"Name your price. I'll do whatever you wish," he promises.

You hold up your hand, silencing him. "Hear my conditions before you make any promises, Prince. Surely even you should know negotiation tactics. First and foremost, you'd still have to go through with the wedding and coronation. We still need our kingdoms joined, and the title will grant me far more power than I would have as a princess. I'd rather not wait until the next wedding to gain the crown. It'll make your escape run much smoother, which we'll start after all is said and done. Soonest we can do is about three months after the wedding and coronation when all of the guests are gone and things have simmered down. We'll need to prepare food, money, carriage, and living arrangements in the meantime to prepare for the escape."

"I can understand that much. I'm sure that'll be fine," he says.

"That's not quite the catch, though. I'm not sure your lover will be too fond of this one, either," you tell him. "There's another reason we'll have to wait until three months for you two to leave. It'll take at least that long for me to find out if I'm pregnant."

The prince's eyes widen comically at that. "Pregnant?"

You nod firmly. "Once you two have escaped, saying either you ran away or faking your death, they can always cancel the alliance or marry me to another. With a baby, however, the kingdoms would still remain permanently joined, and I won't be forced to marry another, on account that I'll no longer be a virgin. My main purpose anyway is to raise an heir, so this will give me at least 18 years to rule until they're of age. There would be no need for a king so long as I do the job myself. I also refuse to let rumors run amok about my baby being a bastard, for that matter. Once I show signs of pregnancy, it'll be your indicator to leave."

"So you mainly need me to knock you up?" Seokjin questioned. "Make sure it's me?"

"I have no doubt the baby will grow to be as beautiful as you, Seokjin. Genes like that don't just skip a generation," you say, trying to lighten the mood. "As I said, those are my conditions. They are non-negotiable. Unless you wish to continue sneaking your lover around for, perhaps, the next 18 years. And considering the fact I had simply stumbled upon one of your trysts during the night, I'd say you're lucky you haven't gotten caught sooner. I suggest you talk to her about the conditions and gain her approval."

"She'll agree, even at the price. Neither of us will be necessarily thrilled about the ordeal, but it's well worth it." Seokjin laughs for a moment. "You're a beautiful princess, anyway."

"And you're alright with everything? You do realize that we'd have to consummate our marriage several times to increase the likelihood of pregnancy."

"I'm well aware."

"And you'll be alright with abandoning your child?"

Seokjin's quiet at that.

"Perhaps I'll sneak in a visit once or twice," he says quietly. "Should a kid really be without a father?"

"They'll have to be," you say. "I'll raise them splendidly, though. I'll give them father figures to spare. And maybe I'll let them visit a quiet manor once in a while to visit a lord and a lady, perhaps faraway cousins. And maybe, just maybe, they'll look into your eyes and see their own. Maybe they'll even think of you as the father they never had."

Seokjin's eyes soften as he looks at you. "You're a far better person than I am, Princess."

You smile weakly, reaching forward to brush your fingers against his cheek. "I know."

You slip away, gliding at a familiar pace already, but stop. You turn your head to the side to look at him. "Tell them roses are overrated and to try and get something periwinkle. I think the color will compliment my dress."

-

It was the eve of the wedding, and anxiety was starting to overtake you. Why were you nervous? You had planned everything out. It wasn't like you'd even have to commit to the man, dreading a life with him. The concept of you having cold feet would be utterly ridiculous.

You were in the middle of a relaxation period, one maid combing your hair and another massaging your shoulders when there was a knock at your door.

"Come in," you call, not bothering to look their way.

Surprisingly, you see Prince Seokjin with his lover, though she stands demurely behind him, head bowed the same as any other maid.

"Why, my betrothed, what a surprise," you say, smiling to him. "You're lucky I wasn't trying on my wedding dress."

"Never took you as the superstitious type, darling," he chuckled, nodding to his lover to close the door behind him.

You turn to your own maids, waving your hand. "You're dismissed. I wish to speak to my fiancé. You needn't worry about us partaking in wedding night shenanigans- I'll make sure his maid is present. I'm sure neither of us will have trouble refraining ourselves from tomfoolery."

The maids bow deeply, quickly departing from the room.

You turn to the couple, a warm smile on your face. "Getting cold feet, Seokjin?"

"Not at all- simply pre-wedding jitters," he assures you.

You look over to the maid, stepping closer. You tried to keep your interactions with her scarce- the less you knew of her the better. Still, you tilted her chin up with your hand, urging her to stop staring at her feet and instead into your eyes. "And you? You're still alright with the arrangements?"

It had come to no surprise that she had agreed to your conditions, despite the fact she was unsettled with some of the standards. Still, she was compliant.

"I am, Princess," she confirms. "It's a happy compromise."

"If only lords had that wisdom," you muse to yourself. You clap your hands, remembering something. "Speaking of! Your manor is almost done. It'll take two months to complete, so by the time your murder or departure is announced, whichever you choose, you'll have a home all ready."

"Are you sure three months will be enough time for them to believe you hadn't murdered me for power?" the prince questions.

"That is a good concern, but I don't think there'll be any turn about. No matter how much time passes, there will be rumors. The most we can do is act as in love as possible during your stay here. An endless honeymoon phase."

"I've heard some of the other servants gossip already about how the love is legitimate," his lover mentions. "They say it's something straight out of a fairytale."

"At least we know we're on the right track," you confirm. "So are we confirming it'll be a murder?"

"Less shame. It'll be cleaner that way. I may be leaving my family, but I know they'd grieve more over their own misfortune than my death. This will have the least amount of casualties," he answers.

"And we can claim that she was the one who killed you, perhaps? It would explain her disappearance as well."

"How will we stage the fake death, then?" Seokjin ponders over it. "We've been thinking about it for days now, and I can't come up with anything."

"That's why I'm the planner in this relationship, my Prince," you chortle. "Type A, remember? I've been thinking about it as well. I was thinking we could go hunting, perhaps a game of chase. We can bring a few servants, and I'll separate with you two momentarily. By the time my own ladies in waiting catch up with me, I'll be mourning, claiming that the maid that had come along with you pushed you into a rushing river, sweeping your body away and that she had run away. I'd most likely have to get a cut or two to make it seem as though I was also attacked. While the rest are looking for either Seokjin's body or the murderess, you two will be departing in a nearby carriage, where new clothes, food, and whatever else you'll need for the journey will be provided."

"You're brilliant!" Seokjin exclaims, giving you a peck on the cheek.

His lover's eyes brim with tears, and in a rush of emotion, embraces you, her arms wrapping around you as she pulls you close. "Thank you, Your Highness. You're a blessing to us, and you'll be a blessing to the people. We owe you our lives."

"Well, it'll be in exchange for a new one," you remind her, stiff as you were unfamiliar with the feeling of a hug. "Need I remind you we'll begin tomorrow?"

She stiffens as well at the reminder, releasing you. "Oh... yes..."

"And you're still on board?"

"It must be done. It's a small price to pay."

Was it though? It was a child.

You compose yourself, smoothing your hands over your clothes to get rid of wrinkles. "Well, I suppose I must get ready for bed. We have a long day ahead of ourselves, don't we?"

"Indeed. Tomorrow we'll be husband and wife," Seokjin says.

"We'll be king and queen," you add.

"And in three months we'll be gone," the maid whispers lowly.

-

Your dress was truly enchanting, an iridescent glow keeping all eyes on you as you walked down the aisle. It had a long train and high neck with a low back, all of it shimmering with every move you made. The veil you wore concealed your face, though beneath you wore golden lids and a tint that made your lips look like flower petals. One arm was linked with your father's, the King, and the other held a bouquet of periwinkles.

Any whispers or talks were immediately quiet, a shush amongst the people as you approached the altar, the oh so handsome prince waiting eagerly. You kept in beat with the tune the musicians played, hoping the song would be enough to mask the sound of your racing heart.

You reached the altar sooner than you would've hoped, and soon your father placed your hand in Seokjin's. The two of you interlocked fingers, giving one another a familiar, anxious smile before turning to the minister.

You could feel Seokjin's pulse through his hand, and you were sure he could do the same. You wondered if either of you were even listening as the minister questioned him about if he intended to stay true to you, caring for you in sickness and in health, as well as serve the kingdom as the new ruler. He asked you the same, and you were all too eager to answer "I do!" to every question he threw at you, though you knew you had no intention of keeping true to the promises made in regards to your husband.

The first to be crowned was Seokjin, a velvet cape being draped over his shoulders and a golden scepter in his free hand. A golden crown was placed upon his perfectly combed hair, fitting perfectly. You felt your heart race impossibly faster once it was your turn, a lighter cape being placed upon your shoulders. You couldn't help but shudder at the feeling of the crown on your head, a silver one to remind the people that though you were Queen, the King came first. It was beautiful, though, silver and littered with diamonds and emeralds.

"I now present to you, for the very first time, your King and Queen! You may now kiss the bride!"

Funny, that you were about to kiss Seokjin for the first time when tonight you'd be doing a lot more. You didn't think to ask before, considering it disrespectful to his relationship, but now you regret it.

Seokjin lifts your veil to reveal your face to both him and the public. You blink up at him expectantly, eyes trained on the plush, parted lips.

"You look beautiful," he says beneath his breath.

Hurry up and lay one on me.

As though reading your mind, he presses his lips against your own. They're softer than you dreamt of, enveloping yours, his mouth firm against your own. Your own lashes flutter shut as you pull him slightly closer, your hand coming up to his face to cradle his cheek.

The two of you break apart, gleeful smiles on your faces, almost as though you had gotten the hardest part over with.

But that was yet to come.

-

You look over to your husband, the two of you sitting on the lavish, silk sheets, neither of you moving. You weren't sure what was preventing you from taking action. After all, virginity was truly, at its core, a concept. You were a woman who liked to take charge and had more than enough confidence in herself and her capabilities.

The room had been set up as one would expect- candles, petals, chocolates. You had eaten three pieces already.

What was the hold-up?

You turn to Seokjin, taking in a deep breath as you finally made the first move, slowly removing your clothes. His eyes raked down your figure, Adam's apple bobbing up and down the column of his throat, seeing you in your unmentionables, your impeccable clothes now discarded to the floor.

"Do you like it?" you question, combing your fingers through your hair in an attempt to loosen it up.

"I..." He licks his lips. "I do. I like it a lot."

"I'm glad." You inch closer to him, reaching for his hand and pressing it against your cheek, slowly getting on top of him. "You know, I won't get pregnant if you can't touch me."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. It's just been a while since I've been with anyone else. It's new... like... fresh, I suppose," he explained.

"If it helps, you can simply think of it as a transaction. Simply business. No offense to you, but I don't expect much. Or you can simply think of her in my place," you offer.

"No, that'd be unfair to you. I want to make you feel good, really," he says. As though mustering up the courage, he finally leans in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is tender, sweet. It's slow and builds up, letting you two take your time at a leisure pace, knowing you didn't have to rush.

He breaks the kiss apart. "Also, I still take offense to the 'not expecting much'. I don't know what other guys you've been with, but I've been told I'm rather generous."

You couldn't help but snort at that. "Oh, please. I hope the baby doesn't inherit your cockiness."

He rolls his eyes, kissing you again, this time more firm as he begins to run his hands over your body. You're tense, but welcome the touch, the foreign sensation of having someone else's hands on you filling you with adrenaline. His hands squeeze your breasts, removing more garments from you before rolling the nipples beneath his thumbs, humming into your mouth as he felt them harden at his touch.

You find yourself enjoying the sensation, drawing him closer as he breaks the kiss apart, mouth on your breasts to simulate the hardened buds. You tilt your head back, concentrated on the feeling of his mouth against your hot skin, his hands along your back as he tried to push you further against his mouth.

Once he's done he pulls back, making you yelp in alarm as he flips you over onto the bed. "Fun fact, I prefer to be on top," he grins, causing you to swat him in the chest.

"Less talking and more doing. Take your clothes off too- it's weird if I'm the only one who's naked."

He complies, obviously having no sense of insecurity as he yanks his shirt over his head, pulling his pants down until he was only in his underwear. You couldn't help but let your eyes linger on his body, admiring the broad shoulders and smooth skin. You only tore your eyes away when you caught sight of the typical cocky smirk.

"Like what you see, Princess?"

"That's Queen to you."

"My mistake," he chuckles, spreading your legs apart before removing the last undergarment, leaving you completely bare before him. He settles between your legs, large hands spread against your thighs as he slowly inches them apart, revealing your wet heat.

"Wait," you said, suddenly nervous.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?" he questioned, hands immediately off of you.

"No, no, you did nothing wrong. I just..." You took in a deep breath. "You should know that I've never... done anything with anyone before. This is my first time."

He pauses at that, soaking in the information. "You're a virgin?"

"I... Yeah."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed from how you were climbing me like a tree back there."

You flush red, smacking him in the chest again as he laughs. "I did not, you buffoon!"

"I'm joking, I'm joking! Still, you have more confidence than most. I would've assumed you weren't."

"Just because I'm a virgin doesn't mean I'm completely 'innocent' and devoid of confidence and sexuality. Virginity is closer to a social construct and doesn't dictate purity in the slightest, but is instead a prudish and sexist concept that is meant to determine a woman's worth and a man's masculinity."

"I agree with that, trust me. You have a point," Seokjin admits.

"So... You're ok with me being a virgin? You being my first, I mean?"

"Are you kidding? It's... You're going to think I'm weird."

"Spit it out, already."

"Well, not going to lie, but it's really fucking hot."

"You're joking."

"I'm not!" Hesitantly, he takes your hand, pressing it against his clothed dick. You gasped in surprise, the erection far bigger than you had suspected it to be. He whimpers slightly at your touch as you press your palm down a bit harder, rubbing your hand against it.

"Why does me being a virgin turn you on so much?" you asked him, curious.

"I don't know. I guess it's the thought that you trust me enough to be your first? That I'll be the first man ever to do anything to you, with you. I'll be the first inside you." You felt his dick twitch under your palm at that. "I know you went on that whole shpeal about how it's a construct and doesn't determine your purity, but it really does make it feel like I'm going to corrupt me."

"Funny how your first time corrupting me is going to also knock me up."

Another twitch.

"You're going to make me cum in my underwear if you keep talking like that," he hissed. "We haven't even gotten to the fun part, yet."

"Alright, stick it in me then."

"No!" Seokjin swatted your hand away. "I've got to prepare you first so that it doesn't hurt. Especially considering the fact that you're a virgin. I'll be gentle of course, but it'll go a lot easier if you're wet."

"I'm already wet."

"Just trust me on this, ok? Spread your legs for me."

You couldn't help but shudder at his words, obeying his command as you reveal once again your core, hearing him let out a sharp hiss.

"You look really good like this," he says, licking his lips as he slowly descends down your body. "I'm the luckiest husband in the world."

"Does that mouth ever stop- ohh."

His mouth licked a stripe up your slit, hands pressed against your inner thighs as you attempted to cage him in. He let his tongue run over your folds, tasting what you had to offer before giving you a gentle suck on your clit, feeling your thighs already quiver at the action. He grins, coming back up. "What were you saying about my mouth?"

"Shut up and get to it."

He doesn't need any further instruction, proceeding as he eats you out, alternating between tasting you straight at the source and making your stomach twist with sharp sucks against your clit. He took his time, meticulous, french kissing your cunt with skill. He took the time to try and learn what you liked and didn't like, your moans getting louder when he paid more attention to your clit, and small whimpers emitting from your mouth when he proceeded to tongue fuck you.

Slowly he let one of his hands slide off your thigh, a digit circling your entrance before slipping in easily, the copious arousal preventing friction. Your body jerked slightly when he curled it, searching for your g-spot. When he found it you were letting out breathy gasps, fingers coming to his hair to push him further into you. As always, he complied, repeatedly curling his fingers as he ate you out, moaning into your head to send vibrations throughout your core.

"Oh my God, Seokjin, fuck."

"Mm?"

"More, please," you moaned, screwing your eyes shut as you focused on the pleasure.

"More what?"

"More fingers. Want you to fill me."

"That mouth is fucking dangerous," he growled. Slowly he inched in the second digit, your walls accommodating them as he scissored your cunt, stretching you out. It wasn't long before you could handle a third, his thick fingers providing a pleasurable burn you couldn't help but crave.

An odd feeling was brought up in the pit of your stomach, and you pulled harder at Seokjin's hair, heels digging into his back.

"I-I'm going- fuck, I-"

"That's right, cum for me," he growled, words muffled by your wet heat.

You felt it sooner than you could process it, an orgasm washing throughout your body in a wave of euphoria. It was better than even literature could describe, and despite how much you read and wondered about the real thing, even experimenting with yourself, it was nothing compared to the real thing.

Your breathing was hard, panting for air as he came back up. The visual stimulus of his handsome face smeared with your juices, his reward for eating you out as though you were his last meal on death row.

"How're you holding up, Your Majesty?" he chuckled, proud of himself. "I don't think you lasted even eight minutes."

You weren't in the mood to counter his gloating, instead reaching for his underwear, shucking them to the floor. He let out a gasp of surprise as you unapologetically wrapped your hand around his length, slowly pumping him.

"Fuck, you're so big," you said, mouth agape in awe. You were unsure if it was because you simply had no other frame of reference to compare him to or because he really was that big, but something told you that the sweet spots he'd be able to reach and the pleasurable stretch would be worth it. "Want you inside me."

"Yeah? Want me to give you a baby?" He groaned, bucking his hips as your hand continued to pump his length. "Tighter, just like that. Oh, fuck."

"Want you to fill me up with this big cock. Want you to fill me up with cum." Your mouth didn't seem to have a filter, your thoughts bubbling to the surface. You were cock drunk, it seemed, focused more on it than your own dignity. Oh, what your etiquette teachers would think if they saw you now.

"I'm ready," he said, removing your hand. "I don't want to blow my load too early. Want to cum inside you."

You laid back down, letting him climb on top of you, the head circling your entrance.

"I'm gonna go slow. Just tell me if it hurts, ok?" He seemed so sincere, staring into your eyes as though he was truly concerned he'd harm you.

You simply bucked your hips up against him, urging him closer. "I'll be ok."

He slowly pushes in, and you bite your lip, toes curling as he sinks the head in, the thickest part. You can already feel a bit of a burn as your walls stretched around to accommodate him. He studied your reaction, making sure you were alright before sinking in, slowly as he went inch by inch. You savored each second, eyes screwed shut as you toss your head back, lip caught between your teeth.

With each grimace or wince you gave, Seokjin placed a kiss on your forehead, assuring you that you'd be alright and that the pain would be over soon. You simply tried to concentrate on his voice, how low and oddly soothing it was.

It wasn't until he was balls deep in you, bottoming out, that you truly processed it. You were no longer a virgin, from this moment forward. Society saw you as tainted, taken, and impure.

And you loved it.

Seokjin buried his head in your shoulder, biting down as he tried to refrain from moving. "You're- fuck, you're tighter than I expected. I should've prepared you more. You feel so good."

Your pussy clenched around him at that, only making his arms buckle slightly above you.

"Move."

"You sure?" he questions.

You nod. "Yeah, I'm alright. Go."

He's slow, rocking his hips back and forth, the movements shallow. You couldn't help but watch where your bodies were connected, fascination evident in your eyes. There was a subtle pain, but not as much as you were expecting, and once it subsided you began to feel good. Before you knew it the two of you were moaning, his thrusts deeper and less careful, his more animalistic side creeping in to replace the sweet, tender lover.

You whimpered, nails digging into his back, raking down. He let out a hiss above you, gritting his teeth, though he showed no complaints. If you had drawn blood, he seemed to only let it fuel him further.

"G-Gonna fill me up? Get me pregnant?" you stammered, eyes rolling back. "Give me your baby?"

"Fuck, yeah, gonna make sure this tight pussy gets filled."

"You l-like fucking a virgin's cunt?"

"Feels like heaven," he grunted. "My dirty little virgin."

"You're so deep in me." You looked down, noticing the movement of his cock inside of you, evident at the pit of your belly.

"Gotta reach the womb," he explained. "Gotta fill it up with cum so a baby grows there."

"Want you to cum in me. Knock me up," you say, pleading. "Let me have it."

He groans, his pace getting sloppy. You could feel it- he was close. Still, he slithered a hand between the two of you, toying with your clit, sending sparks through your body. "Want you to cum with me. I won't give you my cum unless you cum first."

With how many places he could reach inside of you, hitting spots inside of you that you didn't even know existed, plus the stimulation of your clit, it didn't take long for you to do just that. As soon as Seokjin saw your eyes rolling back and felt your pussy repeatedly spasming and clenching over his cock, he became undone, making sure to bottom out inside of you and fill you up to the brink.

The two of you panted heavily, and it wasn't until he was milked of every drop that he rolled over and off of you, collapsing at your side. He snuggled against your side, however, kissing the side of your neck as he let his hand travel back down to your heat.

You cringed at the overstimulation, curling in on yourself. "Seokjin-"

"Shh, gotta make sure all my cum stays inside you," he says, voice soft as he murmurs against your skin. You tolerate the way his palm rubs against your clit as he pushes any trickling cum back inside of you with his fingers, sure to not let any drop go to waste.

He brings his hand back up, the digits glistening with both of your juices. "Suck."

You obey, mouth wrapping around it as you clean him off.

He smiled at that, letting his fingers escape your mouth with a lewd pop. "What a perfect, dirty little wife I have."

"What an idiot I've got for a husband."

-

Routine seemed to be your best friend.

You'd wake up in the morning with Seokjin at your side, the two of you getting ready for the day. You'd share breakfast together and go over paperwork and laws, planning negotiations. You typically did it, running the show, as most of your ideas seemed to be far more fleshed out than his. Between hours of work you'd have free time, Seokjin seeing his lover and you spending your time relaxing, often getting your hands massaged to ache the cramps in your hands from all of the writing. You'd typically go to bed alone, on the nights Seokjin didn't fuck you, but somehow he was always there when you woke up, snuggling by your side.

You couldn't help but feel a warm tenderness for your husband, enjoying the breakfast you spent with just him. Lunches were typically during free time, so he'd have his own hidden away, and dinners were with lords and ladies discussing what they thought ought to be done. (Most wanted to trample over one another to gain power, not even thinking about those who resided on their land. Countesses were vermin, in your opinion.)

You knew you were supposed to see Seokjin only in an analytical, logical light. A professional relationship. Perhaps it was how you shared the same bed, or how sweet he'd be at times. You felt yourself falling, however, before you knew it. Your parents would often note how happy you seemed together, pleased by how genuine your affection was for one another.

And he couldn't deny it either.

You stood before the mirror, trying to see whether or not you were showing yet. You weren't even three months in, but you were eager, wondering when you'd see the little bump. Soon enough you'd be inflated like a balloon, your feet swollen and back aching. Soon enough you'd feel tiny kicks and be picking out names.

Seokjin smiled, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around you, his own hands over yours as he pressed them a lightly against your stomach. "Feel anything yet?"

"No," you frowned. "I can't even tell."

"Maybe you just ate too much at dinner, sweetheart. I'm pretty sure I can feel a food baby right here." He presses your stomach for emphasis, and you swat him playfully, rolling your eyes.

"Like you're one to talk. Eat any more turkey and I'll start thinking you're the one who'll be eating for two."

You stare at the two of you in the mirror, his chin resting on your shoulder as you gazed at each other. This was nice. It felt so oddly domestic, as though you two were truly raising a baby together out of love and not necessity.

"I wish we could be like this all the time," he admitted, his voice soft. "I like this routine. I'm happy."

"I like this too," you admit to yourself. "It feels right."

"Doesn't it?" His mood dips a bit, his eyes sad. "Do you want me to at least stay long enough to help you through the baby? I don't like the thought of you having to deal with the pregnancy all on your own."

"Next thing you know you'll be saying you don't want me to give birth alone, or raising a child on my own."

"Maybe..." He lowers his eyes, pressing your back closer to his chest. "Are you happy like this?"

"I think I'm happier than I ever have been."

"Then why do we have to stop? Why can't we live every day like this?"

You knew what he was trying to say. Words he couldn't dare say out loud, for all of your sakes. You wanted to say it too.

I love you.

"You know why. You made a promise. We both did," you remind him, not wanting to humor him. "It wouldn't be fair to her, now would it? She isn't happy."

"She's eager. She doesn't see the attachment or the fear about the baby. It's all just going to plan," he explains.

"It is. I don't blame her. You know what they say- a woman becomes a mother as soon as she gets the news, and a man becomes a father as soon as he sees the baby."

"I don't want to be that kind of man, though. I'm a father."

"Seokjin, we don't even know if I'm pregnant yet."

"I know," he says. "I can feel it in my gut."

"I'm sure you can," you smile, chuckling softly. You stare at yourself in the mirror, hand running over your stomach once again, searching. "What should we name it?"

"Seokjin Jr. if it's a boy, of course."

Oddly enough you didn't object. "And if it's a girl?"

"I was thinking about that the other day. Unfortunately, I couldn't come up with a name related to periwinkles."

"Periwinkles?"

"Remember? It was the color you really liked, the kind of flowers you chose for your bouquet at our wedding."

"I'm surprised you remember," you say. "I was thinking something similar, in a sense. Selene."

"Selene? What does that have to do with periwinkles?"

"Not periwinkles. The moon. Like how you wanted my wedding dress to be silver? Silver as the moon. Selene was the goddess of the moon, at least in Greek mythology."

"I like the name." He laughs a little to himself. "Either way it's an S name. Seokjin Jr. or Selene."

"I didn't say it'd be Seokjin Jr.!"

"You didn't object!"

"I hope for your sake we have a girl, then."

"I'd love a little girl." Seokjin's eyes literally light up at the prospect. "She could have my lips and your eyes and little pigtails! Oh, could you imagine all the fancy little dresses she'd run around in? All of them periwinkle, of course!"

"You're obsessed with that color, aren't you?"

"What can I say, it reminds me of you."

Your smile is a sad one, and you squeeze your hand around his, looking down from your reflection. "You'd be a good father. You will be. I'll be sure to send our child over as often as I can."

There's a silence between you two, and you feel yourself start to tear up, your eyes getting glassy.

There's a lump in your throat as you slightly choke on your own words. "Is it bad I don't want you to leave?"

"No. I don't want to leave either."

"But you will, right?"

"You made a point- we both made promises. I can't keep her in this suffocating castle for much longer."

"Suffocating?"

"For her. It can't be easy to constantly hear about the one she loves being with another. She was first and... I still love her."

"I know."

"I don't want to leave you..."

"I know."

"...but you know I have to."

"...I know."

Another pause settles between you two, and you offer a weak smile, squeezing his hand again as you lock eyes in the reflection, small tears at the corners of your eyes. You reach back, caressing his cheek softly. "Let's enjoy the time we have left. Stress can't be good for the baby."

-

Morning sickness was a bitch.

It had been three days, in the middle of your third month, when it was confirmed you were pregnant. You had suspected, of course, with the sickness, but it could also be a bad case of the flu. The doctor assured otherwise.

When you told Seokjin he had a different reaction from you, leaping for joy and twirling you in the air. "I'm going to be a father! Can you believe it? Me!"

You smiled as brightly as you could, kissing him on the mouth with as much emotion as you could muster. You wanted to convey how much you truly did love him, and why today was the day you were letting him go.

He didn't have long to celebrate, as soon enough you had called upon his lover for a secret meeting, the three of you discussing plans.

"As I'm sure you're aware by now, I'm pregnant," you tell her, your voice soft.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty," she says, her tone wary, as though she was unsure of your next lines. It couldn't be easy for her, you knew, to know that you were carrying the proof of his trysts with you. "I'm sure you're pleased."

"I am. Everything's going according to plan," you nod. "Which is why the two of you must leave today."

Seokjin stands upright, shocked. "Today?"

"Yes. Today." You made eye contact with the woman, and she meets it for once, knowing exactly what you meant. If Seokjin stayed here much longer, with his excitement and absolute joy, he'd never want to leave. And all three of you knew it'd be best for him to be removed from the situation as soon as possible now that their end of the deal was complete.

"I've got a game on horseback scheduled already. Some of the ladies in waiting will be with me. You two will go off to the river- the one we planned for. Let one of the horses go free and escape to the hidden carriage. I've got everything set up, and the two of you will have to disguise yourselves. Remember, rub dirt on Seokjin's face and powder your own. You're a countess traveling back home with your favorite footman. The driver won't ask any questions and knows the way. I'll fix up the rest within ten minutes. Remember to leave Seokjin's horse by the riverside."

Of course, the three of you had practiced on multiple occasions, knowing exactly where the river was, where the carriage would be, and where to let the horse go. It didn't even feel real yet, and you were going to be doing it in but a few hours.

"But-"

"No buts, Seokjin. I'm pregnant. We don't have time to waste." You can't even meet him in the eye. "I'll get changed to prepare for the game, and I suggest you two do as well."

The maid nods, leaving the room to get ready. Seokjin is left staring at you.

"This is the last time I'm ever going to see you again, isn't it?"

"Seokjin, we both know you can't stay here much longer. We did what we had to do. It's time for what you were wanting in the beginning."

"Things are different now-"

"The plan is completed now," you finish. "We prepared for this."

His face crumples, and he looks like he's about to cry, holding back tears. He holds your hands, squeezing them as though through an act of desperation. "Y/N..."

"Seokjin." You can't even look at him. You know that if you do, you'll cry too.

"It's too quick. Give me a day or-"

"Seokjin," you interrupt. He's quiet, knowing that nothing he could do or say would change anything. You were stubborn, as was his lover. He had a type. This wasn't a battle he could win, and ultimately he knew that he had no other choice.

"I love you," he says in a sudden act of declaration. "I love her too, and I'll go with her. I just wanted you to know before I left."

You feel tears slip down your cheeks, your hands limp in his. You don't want to respond, knowing your voice will crack and get shaky if you even attempted to.

"Do... Do you feel the same?"

There's a lump in your throat that makes it hard for you to speak coherently. "You already know the answer to that."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I do." You look at him, staring him in the eye to let him know you truly, sincerely mean it. "I really, really love you. And that's why I'm letting you go."

He closes his eyes, tears clinging to his lashes as he kissed your forehead, pressing his own against it, the two of you just listening to each other's breathing for that small, intimate moment. "I know," he whispers.

Those were the last words you ever heard from Kim Seokjin.

-

"My Queen, might I say I'm surprised you want to celebrate your pregnancy with a game tonight," one of your ladies say. "Wouldn't you rather be laying down or hosting a party, rather than catching foxes?"

"Oh, well, you know how the King is. Something about catching some impressive game- promises a healthy boy- oh, I don't know. It's a tradition in his kingdom."

"You truly love him, don't you, Your Majesty?" one of the other questions, admiration in her tone. She seemed to be rather the romantic. You could remember when you were like that, once. "If you pardon me for asking."

"I do," you admit, your voice soft. "I couldn't have asked for a better husband."

"Speaking of him, where has he been? He and his maid have been up ahead for a while, now," the first questions. She pulls on the reigns, her horse stopping. "Do you suppose they've gotten lost?"

"I'm sure they haven't- but I'll go up ahead. Catch up with me later."

Before they can protest you speed up, making a beeline for the riverside. True enough, the only thing there was a horse.

They were long gone.

Your heart collapsed on itself, despite the fact you were expecting it. It made it finally feel real, knowing that you had now forever lost Seokjin. Your husband, your love, the father to your child, was long gone.

Only the harsh roars of the river drowned out your cry.

You sobbed, shaky as you got off your horse and approached Seokjin's, taking the saddle and retrieving the dagger. You add a cut or two to your shoulder and arm, making it draw blood but not deep enough to seriously injure yourself. Once the blade was messy enough you collapsed to the floor, overstruck with grief.

Your ladies in waiting find you curled in on yourself, immediately rushing to your aid, ripping the fabric of their dress to wrap around your injuries.

"T-The maid," you choke out, trying to remember your story, "s-she had killed Seokjin. Stabbed him and pushed him into the river. Sh-She came after me and I pushed back and she simply hopped on her horse and ran."

"My Queen, I'm-"

"He's dead!" You wailed, hands buried in your face. "He's gone. He's gone for good. I'll never see him again."

"We'll find the woman who killed him and see to it that she's put to death."

You only shook your head, rocking back and forth, overcome with grief. True, genuine anguish, but not the kind they could comprehend. With shaky legs, you stood back to your feet, your ladies attending to you and bringing you back to the castle, knowing the sad news would be a tragedy to the kingdom.

You clutched onto your stomach, the last piece you had left of him, and thought about how the father of your child was already on his way out to start a new life, with a new wife and perhaps a new family.

The two of you truly did love each other- and even now you didn't regret letting him go.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 17

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

~~*~~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16

~~*~~

Read Chapter 17 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge’s prediction that they’d be sleeping close in Rus’s narrower bed was proven very true, but so was his assertion that he wouldn’t mind. After they were done cleaning up the Rec room, their own mess and what the others left behind, they went back to Rus’s room to put his shower token to good use.

The bed itself was smaller than Edge’s and the mattress not quite as firm, but it had a definite bonus in that Rus was in it. Warm and sleepy, snuggling readily into Edge’s arms. Tired as he was, sleep did not come to Edge right away. He lay awake, quietly focused on listening to Rus breathe. He didn’t know what time he finally drifted off, but he woke when Rus’s alarm blared, or at least he thought it was an alarm. A loud male voice yowling out that it was ‘peanut butter jelly time’ certainly woke a person up. Edge might have leapt out of the bed and readied an attack if his limbs weren’t tangled with Rus’s.

As it was, Rus’s heartfelt groan was definitely a shared sentiment. He managed to free an arm from both the blankets and Edge, flailing out to find his alarm and turn it off. The clatter of it hitting the floor was a good indication that he was more invested right now in staying in bed than rising to face the day, and that was not an ideal that Edge shared.

He pressed a light kiss to Rus’s brow bone and murmured, “I need to get up.”

That got a reaction. Instantly, Rus’s arms tightened around him and through the muffling blankets came a surly, “no. you stay. here. ”

It was difficult not to smile. “I can’t. I have work. You have work.”

The wordless grumbles sounded less than enthusiastic at that truth and Edge decided to try a different approach.

“Breakfast will be ready soon,” Edge coaxed. “And as much as I don’t care about gossip, I would rather change my clothes beforehand.” Especially since they could use a good wash after that particular movie viewing.

A deep sigh came from the depths of the blankets, and finally Rus’s skull emerged from beneath the blankets like a creature from the deep, although his roar was more like a yawn. “okay, yeah, food would be good. lemme throw on some clothes and we can head out.”

The sensation of having Rus squirm free of the bed was a delightfully new experience, if an unexpectedly stimulating one, his bones scraping lightly against Edge’s in several rather sensitive places. They’d slept bare and a faint flush tinged Rus’s cheek bones as he stood by the bed in nothing but his own bones. Edge shifted to sit against the headboard to watch.

Rus paused as Edge made no move to follow him upright. “you gonna get dressed?”

“In a moment, thank you,” Edge said politely.

Rus’s mouth pursed suspiciously, his expression wavering between amusement and irritation, “are you really going to sit there and watch while i get dressed?”

“Yes.”

That blush brightened, a lovely honey orange, but his face settled on sweetly pleased, “heh, okay, but if you’re hoping for a reverse striptease, i couldn’t win a dance competition against a moldsmal.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Edge murmured, watching as Rus’s glossily pretty bones slowly disappeared beneath his clothing. The wriggle of his pelvis as he pulled up his pants, the complex shift of his spine as he slipped on a shirt. “This is perfectly fine.”

It was difficult to pull his gaze away from Rus to glance at the time, but Edge managed. Breakfast wasn’t for over half an hour. Hm.

“there!” Rus announced, sitting on the side of the bed to pull on his socks. “happy? now you can--eep!”

His startled cry was caught beneath Edge’s mouth as he was hauled back onto the mussed bed, but there wasn’t a single protest after surprise faded, only sweet enthusiasm.

The bed was quite a bit narrower than his own, but as it turned out, it was perfectly serviceable. For all their needs.

~~*~~

Despite Edge’s better intentions, they did end up a few minutes late to breakfast. All the researchers were already there and halfway to clearing their plates by the time Edge and Rus took their seats.

A few scattered greetings came their way, which he replied to in kind, along with Undyne’s smirk, which Edge resolutely ignored. Rus sat at his left on the end of the table to prevent a war of elbows while they were eating and when he boldly settled his right hand on Edge’s, those phalanges cautiously tracing his own, Edge simply turned his hand over and twined their fingers together.

He did not think of how little time they had left, focusing on the now. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself and while the sex was certainly enjoyable, very much so, this was very nice. Sharing the breakfast together that they should have had the first morning after, rather than painful arguments and accusations.

Thinking of which, it did not escape his notice that his brother’s chair was empty again. Something needed to be done about that.

Most of the researchers were already gone by the time they finished eating, though a few lingered, their laptops in front of them while they dawdled over their plates and coffee.

“Where are you off to today?” Edge asked as he and Rus washed their plates. The roster would clearly state where Rus was signed out to go, but he may as well simply ask rather than creepily slog through the paperwork.

“outpost #2 so i can pull the latest numbers,” Rus said, setting his dishes in the drainer. “be a couple of hours, then it’s back for calculations,” Rus heaved out an exaggerated sigh. “it’s a shame how much of astronomy is actually math. no one told me that when i was still in striped shirts. see ya at lunch, boss.”

His sockets widened as Edge leaned in, brushing their mouths together. “Be careful,” he murmured.

There was something charming about seeing him stunned by a simple kiss, considering what they’d done the night before. Rus swallowed hard and nodded, looking as if his skull was somehow wobbly on his vertebrae, then fled the room as if afraid Edge might try persuading him to stay. Or perhaps he was afraid he wouldn’t resist if Edge did.

Edge turned back to the table to find an entire studio audience watching, researchers and Undyne alike and every one of them wore an expression of great interest. He scowled at them, to no avail.

“If you don’t mind,” Edge said politely. One of the glaciologists,-- what was her name, was it Nadine?-- only beamed at him happily, for all the world as if movie night horror shows had morphed to an early morning rom-com.

“We don’t mind at all,” she grinned, but went back to her breakfast with a last sly glance.

Honestly, this was why relationships with the researchers was an awful idea. No one knew how to mind their own business.

Speaking of which.

Edge waited until after the others left, then headed into the kitchen. As he wasn’t given a ‘special plate’ today, he could only assume he was reasonably forgiven. But recent events were proof that assumptions only led to trouble and he honestly liked Bonnie. She was a private person and often kept to herself, but she was a very important member of their team. They’d always had a certain comradery that Edge found he was missing.

He found her at her workstation, ingredients laid out around her. Lunch often included some kind of soup, warming and filling, and she was dicing up root vegetables before tossing them into a large stock pot.

She pointedly ignored Edge even though he was standing well within her field of vision. He waited patiently until she sighed and laid her knife aside, her chin raised as she met his scarred gaze with her own.

Anyone who believed that speaking in hands was blandly impersonal was one who needed a great deal more experience in the language, because there was remorse in every word Edge signed, I know you were angry with me. I am sorry.

Bonnie’s mouth pursed, her good eye hooded as she looked at Edge consideringly. He wondered how much she knew about the argument, though he wouldn’t be surprised if she had a damned transcript of it. One couldn’t spend as much time around Red as they all did without picking up a trick or two.

Her hands were slow, reluctant, as she signed, He’s young.

That held an implication that he didn’t care for; Rus was no child or even a virgin, by his own word. By the name of the cursed dead King, he was working on his damn PhD. Edge forced himself not to bristle as he signed curtly, He’s no younger than I am.

That didn’t seem to be the answer she wanted, her frown deepening as she glared at him. You are older in knowledge! Bonnie signed agitatedly. He doesn’t know many things. He has a good soul.

That much Edge could agree with. He does.

He should stay here. Safer here than out there.

Ah, and there was the crux of it, wasn’t it. He didn’t know what she’d been through, what she’d suffered. But he did know that Buns usually came from very large families, many generations living together, and Bonnie had come to them alone. She’d kept her distance in one way or another for the entire time she’d been here, but something about Rus broke through her reticence and pulled the familial urges she’d set aside years ago to the fore.

Carefully, Edge signed, He can’t.

He could! You tell him to stay! Accusingly and there was a temptation that did not need to be considered.

He is not that young, he can make his own choices. As gently as he could, his fingers moving like falling petals. He deserves sunshine.

She blew out a noisy breath, seeming to realize there was no point in arguing. She turned back to her chopping but before she picked up her knife, she reached out and grabbed another cutting board, slapping it down on the counter and signing curtly, Help me dice the potatoes.

Allowing himself a faint smile, Edge began rolling up his sleeves.

~~*~~

Lunch was well underway by the time he left the kitchen, soup bubbling in the pot and bread dough set at the back of the counter to proof, a tacit indication that he would be welcome back that afternoon to help with kneading.

There was one more thing that needed to be done before he could start on the mountain of paperwork waiting for him.

Bonnie hadn’t offered a single comment when Edge left her to lunch preparations and began making sandwiches despite the still-early hour, smearing on plenty of mustard atop the leftover meatloaf. What she had done was disappear into the pantry, coming back out with one of her smaller canning jars that was filled with the pickles she made from the little cucumbers that grew in the hydroponic gardens. Red was particularly fond of them and the two of them had a lively ongoing battle of him stealing jars whenever he could sneak one while Bonnie came up with new and sometimes bemusing places to hide them. Edge still remembered finding one buried in the middle of a large bag of flour, carefully wrapped in plastic and nestled inside.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Red was skipping meals and no matter how annoyed she might be, Bonnie had her own ways of showing she cared.

Edge added several pickles to the plate before carrying it off in the direction of the living quarters, to a door that was the furthest possible from the researcher’s quarters without physically being in another building. The lock was changed frequently, but Alphys made sure to give him a new key just as often. She refused to keep one for herself and at least one of them needed to be able to go in without breaking down the door, if only for safety reasons.

Edge knocked once before unlocking it, saying loudly enough to be heard through the door. “I’m coming in.”

There was no response, but he truly hadn’t expected one. He took a deep breath, let it out, and opened the door.

His brother’s room was more like a cave than living quarters. He didn’t have a bed frame, only a bare mattress laid out on the floor covered in an overflowing pile of blankets and pillows. If Edge’s room was sparsely furnished, Red’s more than made up for it with sheer masses of clutter. Shelves filled with gewgaws and machine parts, one shelf was entirely filled with dusty shot glasses from every gas station they’d ever visited while they were living amongst the humans.

Another was filled with circuit boards, switches, and gadgets. Edge couldn’t begin to guess at what any of those little devices did and it usually seemed safer not to ask.

His brother was sitting at his workbench, the lamp there was the only light in the room, casting him in a sodium-yellow glow. His knit hat was off, revealing the full extent of the damage still on his skull. To Edge’s knowing eye, they looked a minuscule amount better after his last healing treatment. A few more and the bone would be healed. Any other healing would simply take time.

Red didn’t look at him, his attention on whatever he was working on. Edge watched him work for a moment, nimble fingers flying over whatever he was creating, tiny screwdrivers and tools chosen and then returned to their chosen spot. The rest of the room might be disordered chaos but his workbench was pristine, a place for everything and everything in its place.

It was honestly relaxing to watch, but Edge was here on a mission. He set the plate at Red elbow with a deliberate thunk. “You weren’t at breakfast. Or dinner last night.”

“i ate,” Red grumbled. That didn’t stop him from picking up one of the sandwiches, stuffing half of it into his mouth in one bite. Through his mouthful, he said even as he chewed, “saw you and the fashion victim are back on.”

“Yes,” Edge agreed, warily.

Crumbs fell to the floor, mustard smearing Red’s teeth, but despite his messy habits, Red kept back from the small device on his worktable. Red wasn’t the scientist Alphys is, but he was an engineer in his own right and he kept most of the machines and vehicles in top working order. None of the researchers here knew that Red had his own PhD, none of them realized the brilliance held in his small body and that was the way Red preferred it.

But Edge knew. His hand itched to stroke over that cracked skull, to take reassurance in knowing that his brother might not be quite whole but neither was he about to fall apart. He resisted the urge; Red likely wouldn’t appreciate it and he wanted his brother to eat.

Which he was, watching Edge suspiciously through the corner of his socket as he started on the second sandwich. “been thinking about what you said about your honey. about if i knew what he’d been through.”

Of course he had. “I also said to leave him alone,” Edge sighed.

How convenient that Red ignored that. He’d discovered the offering of pickles hidden behind the bread and the last sandwich was abandoned half-eaten as he snatched up the entire handful, popping two into his mouth at once as he spun his chair around to face Edge. “ain’t much in the information packet he gave us, you know. address is in ebott, goes to the university, no surprises there. so i hacked into the embassy records to get a better peek.”

“You what??” Edge sputtered. He swore his soul went still in his chest, skipping an entire beat, “the point is to not draw their attention, what were you thinking?”

Red’s easy grin did not fill him with any sort of confidence. “relax, this ain’t my first rodeo. i know how to cover my tracks and his file was easy to find.” He leaned in, pickles forgotten as he said, low, “bro, he didn't exist until two years ago.”

“What do you mean?” Despite his intentions, Edge was reluctantly interested.

“he didn’t exist,” Red repeated, “nada, nothing, no info from the underground. monsters have been up on the surface for four years now and change. so where did he come from before he showed up in Ebott two years ago and then took the long way around to our front door?”

Where, indeed. But for all his affinity for puzzles, this was not one Edge was interested in answering. “I don’t care.”

“boss—”

“I don’t care!” Edge insisted. “Brother. Please. He’s not stealing, he’s not sneaking around. If he’s hiding from something, it’s not on our account. Let him be.” He could see Red’s protests bubbling beneath the surface, his brow bone lowering, and Edge added, softly, “I’m asking you to let him be. Let me be happy with him while he’s here.”

It was a low blow and Edge knew it, watched the emotions fluttering across Red’s face until he looked away, stuffing the last pickle into his mouth and mumbling messily around it, “okay, boss. i’ll let it go. where is he, anyway?”

There was no reason not to tell Red, not when he could simply check the roster. “He went out to outpost #2, he should be back for lunch.”

“then i’ve got some time,” Red wiped his hands on his shorts and spun his chair back towards the table. “hit bricks, kid, i can’t think with you staring through the back of my skull.”

The thoughtless joke made Edge wince; once he would have been able to see through the back of Red’s skull and even if that horrific damage was mostly healed, he did not appreciate the reminder. He gave in his clamoring urge to settle a gentle hand on his brother’s skull, lightly tracing the remaining cracks.

Beneath his touch, Red stilled, then blew out an impatient breath, shaking him off. But it was gently done. “get your worry fondles in later, i’m busy.”

“Yes, boss,” Edge said lightly, teasing, and Red snorted loudly.

“don’t even fucking think it, that’s a threat and a half. i ain’t getting cursed being in charge of all these asshats.”

“I’ll see you at lunch?” It teetered between order and question.

“if you get out and lemme finish this, you will. Beat it.”

Edge reclaimed the plate and did as he was told. His soul felt lighter than it had in longer than he cared to remember, and despite having just eaten, he found he was looking forward to lunch so that he could spend a little more time with the cause of it.

~~*~~

That lightness lingered as he did his paperwork, surging when the lunch hour came and he went to the dining hall to find Rus already there. He was immersed in his laptop and only offering a quick, distracted smile, but even that was warming.

All the researchers were in attendance along with Undyne and even Alphys, all gathered in one moment of seemingly perfection. Until Red came in, pushing open the door so hard it knocked into the wall behind it.

His knit hat was pulled down over his skull, his sunglasses abandoned for once and a hush fell over the room as he stalked right up to Rus’s seat.

Who didn’t even notice until Red was standing right next to him, flailing back in surprise as he looked up to find crimson eye lights far too close to this own. Edge hastily caught him, steadying him before he tipped backwards off the bench. Red only waited patiently as Rus settled back into his seat and then set a device right next to Rus’s plate.

“heya,” Rus said, warily, and that he would speak to Red without anger or accusations settled some of Edge’s churning worries. He wouldn’t have blamed Rus if he’d chosen to stay away from Red for the rest of his tenure and Edge wouldn’t make excuses for his brother nor ask for apologies, but he...he cared for both of them. He didn’t want hatred between them.

“here,” Red said gruffly. It was what he’d been working on that morning, Edge realized, an unremarkable black box with what looked like several USB ports and a few dials. “should help you get your work done a little faster. hook it between your laptop and the telescope, and you’ll be able to run your calculations while you’re stargazing or whatever it is you’re doing.”

Rus picked up the box, turning it over in his hands first with caution, then disbelieving wonder, “that…that adapter costs a fortune, how did you—thank you,” Rus said dumbly.

Red lifted one shoulder in a shrug and hopped into his own seat, reaching for the serving spoons. His disregard didn’t stop Rus’s from blathering on excitedly, his smile bright, and Edge only watched, a smile of his own only barely held back.

“did you make this?” Rus demanded, holding it out, and Red shrugged again.

“something like that. ain't too bad with my hands, fashion victim.” Rus didn’t react to the nickname, only smiled happily, and it was obvious that even without the words the apology was given and accepted. Around them, the conversations slowly resumed while Rus inspected his gift, mumbled beneath his breath about calculations, his own plate forgotten.

“seriously, though, this is amazing!” Rus laughed. “my bro would flip over this, dings is always fighting for funding, he ends up making his own gear half the time, too.”

“dings?” Red’s head jerked up like a wintry prairie dog, mashed potatoes falling messily from the sagging spoon to his plate as he stared at Rus with shrunken eye lights, “your brother is wingdings?”

“um, yeah,” Rus agreed, some of his delight fading as he looked at Red with understandable wariness; he and Red hadn’t been besties even before the incident and there was no mistaking his shock.

“wingdings gaster?” Red said in disbelief.

“you know my brother?” Rus’s confusion only deepened, his pale eye lights flicking from Red to Edge, who could only shrug. The name wasn’t familiar to him.

“i ...guess maybe i do,” Red said slowly. His tongue flicked out over his teeth. “didn’t know he was your bro. how’s old dings doing, anyway, it’s been a while.”

“fine, i suppose,” Rus glumly. His eye lights drifted down to his own bowl where he stirred his soup listlessly. “we aren’t really talking right now, he wasn’t happy about me coming here.”

“heh, that sounds about right,” Red chuckled. To Edge’s hearing, it sounded forced, strain leaking through. “sorry to hear that, bet you don’t even have a picture of him to keep you company.”

Rus laughed and shook his head, “you’d win that bet. he never shows up right in pictures, something about his magic messes it up, doesn’t matter if it’s old school film or the latest iphone, he looks weird.” He hefted the device again and his smile was easier, filled with gratitude. “anyway, thanks again, this’ll speed up my calculations a lot!”

Red’s smile eased into something more genuine. “No problem, kid.” he jerked his head towards the door, “go give it a try, i’ll take care of your plate for you.”

Rus only hesitated a moment before hastily gathering up his laptop. He only paused when he turned to Edge, eye lights flicking to Red, but he still leaned in and took a light kiss, sweet and devilishly tempting, before fleeing out the door with his arms filled with his laptop and the little device in hand.

Edge watched him go, then wordlessly turned back to his own plate. Eating calmly, waiting until the last researcher left him and his brother alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind the back of the last one, Edge spoke, quietly, “You know his brother?”

Red nodded, slowly, and his expression was not one that Edge liked, strangely agitated, “yeah, but. somethin’ ain’t right here, boss.” He licked his teeth again, eye lights sliding aimlessly around the room, lingering over nothing as he whispered, “wingdings gaster is dead. has been for years, what the fuck is going on?”

Dead. That was a puzzle that could not be ignored. Edge closed his sockets, pressing a knuckle between them where a headache was starting to form.

“Could he have faked his death?” Edge asked, clipped and low, “That would explain why Rus only showed up in the radar recently, if his whole family was in hiding.”

“faked falling into the core?” Red chuckled unpleasantly and shook his head. “don’t think so. look, i know you like the kid, hell, i like him, he’s got jokes. and i’m sorry i hurt the kid before. but there is something fucked up going on here, bro, and i ain’t so sure rus is the one hiding anythin’. we can’t ignore this one, let me check into it. ”

Rus’s tearstained face, pleading his innocence to them. Begging for their trust.

That headache loomed, throbbing in Edge’s skull, “You bring anything you find to me, first. All right?”

“yeah, you got it. we ain’t going through a redo,” Red pushed back from the table and stood, saying with as much gentleness as Red possessed, “there’s more than your love life at stake, boss.”

“I know.” But if things went poorly this time, Edge didn’t expect forgiveness again.

His brother walked out, leaving his own plate along with Rus’s for Edge to wash, but he did not care. It was a simple, mindless task that was not enough of a distraction, not at all.

One day of simple happiness was all he’d gotten and Edge wondered with helpless, dark humor if it was worth it for a few weeks of Rus in his arms.

His answer came in a memory of that morning, of Rus’s soft cries and delightful sweetness as they made love. The smiles he offered Edge, the wonder in his expression as he gazed up at the aurora as it danced across the sky. Worth it, Edge decided, and he offered a silent, foolish prayer to an Angel he didn’t quite believe in that his brother found nothing.

“Please,” Edge whispered to no one at all. There was no answer, but that was all right. It was exactly what he expected.

tbc

[spookyold-saintjm]

Snow Storm

*throws handkerchief across the room* fucking HELL I miss Eric so much because it’s around that time of year when we first met him and I want to know if he’s okay. Anyways here’s a little holiday-themed fluffy something I wrote based on a shitpost brain dump I had a few days ago. This one’s dedicated to @aheistwithyaboi

Eric Derekson x reader

Warnings: None other than Eric being too good for this world (fluff)

Word Count: 1,875

--

“Uh…oh, no.” 

You were in your kitchen, finishing putting away the dishes you’d used from dinner with your boyfriend. He had stepped away into your living room to check the time on his phone when you heard him utter an exclamation of concern. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, stepping into the room as you finished drying off the last of the dinner plates. 

Eric’s back was to you as he looked out the window that faced the street outside your third floor apartment. 

“I-I opened the blinds to look at the snow…” he started, his voice getting quieter as you neared him, “and, well…” 

“Oh, wow.” You were staring out at the scene that had Eric so worried.  

The snow that had been falling slowly and steadily throughout the day had transformed into a full-blown snowstorm, so much so that it was difficult to see out the window at all. The sidewalks and road were buried, and the trees and rooftops of the buildings across the street were covered in a thick blanket of white.  

“It wasn’t supposed to get this bad, was it?” Eric asked, quickly pulling up the weather app on his phone and scanning the info on the screen. You peeked over his shoulder on your tip-toes to follow along, surprised to find that the forecast called for the snow to not let up for a good portion of the night. 

“It must have changed when we started making dinner,” you offered, thinking back to how much more calm the skies were when Eric had arrived just a few hours before.  

“Yeah…” he replied slowly, sheepishly turning to face you. You could sense him getting anxious—the stiffening in his posture and his hands suddenly shoving into his black pants pockets a dead giveaway. 

“I’m not letting you try to get home in this weather,” you assured him. “You can just stay here for the night.” 

His eyes nearly popped out of his head, and you couldn’t help but grin at his stunned reaction. “R-really? Are you sure? It’s only a few blocks… 

You leaned in to lightly kiss his cheek, unable to contain the giggle that had built in your chest. “You’re ridiculous. Of course it’s okay. We can watch one of those movies we were talking about last week!" 

He let out a light sigh, nodding at you with a small smile and a tint of pink in his cheeks. “O-okay…that sounds nice.” 

Shortly after the two of you were on your couch, sharing a heavy plush blanket Eric had gifted you for your birthday. The glow of candles throughout the room took the place of any of the other lights in the apartment, just in case the power went out in the midst of the storm coming down outside. The chocolate chip cookies you’d put in the oven to bake after dinner were now ready and sitting on the coffee table across from you, and you’d both been happily enjoying them as you watched an old Christmas cartoon that Eric had never seen before. 

You were much more interested in Eric’s reactions to the movie than you were in watching the movie itself; he was fully invested in the animated characters that danced along the screen. Your heart had never felt warmer at the sight of his eyes attached to the screen with his knees tucked into his chest underneath the blanket. He turned to you with a wide grin when the movie was over. 

“That was GREAT!” he exclaimed as you took a cookie from the plate, then offered him the last one. He gladly took it as you settled back onto the couch. 

“I can’t believe you’d never seen it before, it’s still one of my favorites,” you said, leaning in slightly more towards him. 

“Yeah, well, my dad never really let us watch that stuff…” he replied between bites. A small shrug lifted from his shoulders and he didn’t quite meet your eyes when he added, “But I’m...I’m glad I got to watch it with you.”  

You softly rested your head on his shoulder with a smile. “Me, too.”  

You both finished your cookies, and the huge yawn that escaped from you shortly after was all the signal you needed to know that it was time to get ready for bed. 

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” you told Eric, before walking into the bathroom down the hallway, after grabbing a comfy sweater and pair of shorts from your bedroom right across the hall. You washed your face and changed into the new, more comfortable clothes, then strolled back out into the living room, where Eric sat still wrapped up in the blanket.  

Shit. Now you had to figure out where he was going to sleep. Although you’d taken short naps on your couch before, it most definitely wasn’t comfortable for a full night’s sleep.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight,” you offered, not bothering to dance around the topic. Eric jumped a little at your sudden entrance into the room, and when he processed the words he shook his head. 

“No, no it’s okay! Really! I’m just fine right here!” he started to pick up the couch pillows you’d put in the floor while you were both sitting there, and tucked them into the opposite end of the couch he was sitting on. “See?” 

“Eric, you would be so uncomfortable! Really, I mean it. I don’t mind.”  

“I—I couldn’t take your own bed from you!” he replied, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. You considered this for a moment. 

“Well…would it make it better if you just joined me?” You asked, but immediately regretted the word choice when the color drained from Eric’s face as froze in place and stared back at you from across the room like a deer caught in head lights. 

You shook you head. “I mean, not like that—“ You alternatively felt heat rush to your cheeks as you waved your hand dismissively. “I mean, that way it’s a win-win. I’m not put out, and you can actually rest a bit...I know you’re tired.” 

“O-oh……” he replied quietly, his eyes sliding away from your gaze and to the floor. “I, uhh, I guess—I, yeah, yeah. That sounds, ah, good.” 

“Good,” you nodded. “Well, whenever you’re ready.” 

You turned and walked back into your bedroom. You pulled back the covers in your king-size bed and grabbed an extra blanket to lay on top, since it was getting colder by the minute. You had a battery-operated light on your desk that you chose to use to illuminate the room. You climbed underneath the covers at sat leaning against the headboard, scrolling through messages on your phone for a bit until Eric eventually entered the room.  

He’d only been in your room a couple times before, and definitely not to stay for an extended period of time. He stood just a step inside, unsure of what to do next. He had switched out his button-up shirt for a baggy white t-shirt that you’d offered to him, and he was already wearing a pair of black sweatpants. He’d taken off his shoes and held his glasses in his hands, cleaning the lenses to give himself something to do. 

“All ready for you!” you stated, patting the spot on the mattress next to you. 

“G-great!” He walked around to the opposite side of the bed from you, and gently placed his glasses on the table next to it before settling himself under the covers, at the very edge of the bed. You lightly smiled at him, and he timidly returned your expression with a slight smile of his own. His hair was slightly messy, a couple dark curls standing up off the side of his head, and his eyes were at a slight squint to look at you clearly without his round glasses. You held back the urge to kiss him; you didn’t want to make this any more uncomfortable than it might have already been. 

“I, ah, I blew the candles out,” he stated as you turned to place your phone on the nightstand on your side of the bed, a final, large yawn escaping your chest. 

“Thank you,” you replied, glancing over at him a final time before scooting down to lie on the mattress. “Need anything before I pass out?”  

“I’m good!” he answered quickly, shaking his head.  

“Alright. Don’t be afraid to wake me up if you need something,” you offered. You tucked the covers up high on your shoulders like you always did, and turned yourself away from him to face the bedroom door, like always. “Well, goodnight!” 

“G-goodnight, y/n,” he answered quietly. Your eyes were closed, the room hardly lit, but after a moment of stillness you heard Eric carefully shift under the covers so that he was lying down. He’d hardly moved at all, oddly enough. And you never felt him get any closer to you. 

After a few minutes that felt more like hours, you couldn’t take it. You lifted up on one arm and turned your head just enough to look over at him; he was lying with the blankets hardly even up to his waist, flat on his back, his hands resting on his stomach, making himself as small as possible.  

You sometimes forgot that this was Eric's first true, serious relationship with someone, and there were some things that he was still learning to be comfortable with. But you really, really, liked him. You’d never spent time with someone so genuinely themselves, so kind and caring of everyone around them, someone who knew so much about the most random things and could entertain you with his knowledge for hours. 

An idea occurred to you. You were just being practical, right? 

“Eric,” you muttered, barely over a whisper.  

“Hm?” he asked, and now your eyes had adjusted enough to see that he hadn’t even closed his yet. Oh, honey. 

“You’re gonna get cold.” 

“I’m okay,” he answered quickly, but you could already hear the slight shiver in his voice. You were glad he couldn’t see the warm smile that his damn adorableness forced on you. 

You considered your next idea for a moment, but decided to just go for it. You scooted yourself closer to Eric’s statue-still form and gently rested your head on his chest. You draped one of your arms over him, pulling him away from the edge of the bed ever so slightly. Your palm rested on the opposite side of his chest from your head.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. You could practically hear his heart trying to burst at the sudden and very close contact, but you felt him nod. 

“Yeah…this is...nice,” Eric replied. “Thank you, y/n.” 

You didn’t say anything, feeling no need for more words. You closed your eyes as you rested against him. His heartbeat descended into its normal pace, and eventually into only a slow, gentle thump in your ear as you both drifted into a warm, peaceful slumber. 

[darlingpetao3]

The Honeymoon (Harry Wells x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: When Harry whisks you away to a romantic beach-side getaway, your honeymoon kicks off right away into some steamy festivities to celebrate your marriage.

A/N: Basically shameless no-plot smut under the guise of a honeymoon XD The idea(s) came to me during my holiday in a super nice hotel room, so I couldn’t not write them into a story. I hope you all enjoy this xx

3,895 words

You and Harry are all hands and giggles and freshly-married grins as you both attempt to make your way into your honeymoon suite.

Married! You’re married!

Mrs. Harrison Wells!

Man, it feels nice to finally say. After a real-life slow burn, you and he have finally tied the knot. And it’s not just you that feels the relief of having made it official - Team Flash had been waiting for this for ‘eons’ according to Cisco.

When you reach your suite’s door, Harry is already leaving open-mouthed kisses to your neck and it’s suddenly like you can’t even remember how to open a door.

“Are you going to attack me right in this hallway, Hare?”

“Mm, thinking about it,” he replies. It’s impossible to tell whether it’s a joke or not. You wouldn’t put it past the man (your husband!).

Upon first entry into the exclusive room, you spot your luggage already waiting by the door thanks to the hotel staff. The place is swanky beyond all belief and how on all the Earths had Harry pulled this off? You suppose being a rich, famous, and celebrated scientist has its perks.

The view outside the floor-to-ceiling window is to die for. Curling waves crash onto the private section of the golden beach below you and the sunset looks so incredible that you’d think it was fake if someone only showed you a photo of this.

But it’s difficult to even take it all in because Harry’s hands are securely on your waist, lips on yours with delightful greed after he catches up to you viewing the sunset at the window. Your hand reaches back to hold his head of perfectly coiffed hair, still in place from the ceremony and reception. Though, it won’t stay that way much longer if you have anything to do about it. Harry peppers more kisses down to your bare shoulder.

“You’re not going to enjoy the view?” you ask.

“Oh, I am.”

“But that sunset, Hare!”

“Nothing will pry my eyes away from my wife.”

You turn around, and when you do, the strap from your romper slides off your shoulder and down your arm. Even your clothes want to come off already at the way Harry so much as looks at you. His fingers tentatively move to the strap, keeping his eyes on you, as if to monitor how far he can go with this until you’re out of your clothing before him. You say nothing and let him undress you. Your one-piece article drops to the floor. In closing the slight gap between you, your lips turn up as you unbutton his crisp white shirt. Intensely, he watches your fingers dance while they work the buttons.

“Honey, I think you need to invest in some sort of one-piece article,” you mention casually then proceed to his belt, “you have too many layers.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Harry chuckles. “Besides, it’s the best thing in the world to watch you undress me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You whip the belt out from the loops of his trousers like a professional. But a professional what? Porn star?

Harry lets out a playful growl-laugh at that and unzips his pants himself - now far too eager and needing to be in control of how quickly he can defile his new bride.

Romantically defile, though.

Okay, but with a dash of filth.

Marriage was going to be very magical.

Harry won’t stop smiling at you as he encroaches in on your space, essentially pinning yourself to the window. The coolness of the floor-length glass is very much welcome against your back, especially when your husband is making you so hot right now.

“You don’t think the bed would be more fitting?” you check, knowing in your mind the damn bed can wait its turn.

“We’ll get there, too, don’t you worry,” he assures you.

“Good answer.”

Harry plants a kiss on your wanting lips, restrained at first - as if wanting to savour the romantic bliss of spending these cherished honeymoon days and nights with you. But your kiss is like a poison to him; it always has been, turning your restrained and sensible man into this wild thing who wants nothing more than to please you and see and hear you being pleased.

Harry’s hand, which has been cupping your cheek, slides down the skin of your neck, over your practically-nothing-bra, to rest a moment at your hip. His fingers dance near the top of your panties (that you had picked out specifically for a moment like this for him to destroy). His mouth starts slow in its movements against yours again. He’s thinking.

“Harrison, you don’t need to think, remember?” you breathe against his parted lips. “But you do need to touch me or else I might have to ahhh-”

Your head tips back on the window at the feel of Harry’s perfect fingers between your legs. They explore and easily discover the intensity of your slick desire.

“You were saying?” Harry asks cheekily, leaning in to taste your skin just below your ear. You breathe out a laugh.

“Nothing, oh delicious husband.”

While one hand wraps around to clutch his rippled back, the other holds onto his equally impressive arm. And with one leg hooked around his, you suddenly wish you had more limbs to cling onto him with. God, his fingers… they’re so excessively coated with you now and they’ve found their perfect little plaything to swirl around. No amount of lip biting can save you from the whimpers Harry draws from you.

“I love it when you do that,” he whispers in your ear.

“Well, I love it when you do t-that, ugh…” Your eyelashes flutter at his attention to your begging clit. Reaching down with what mental capacity you still have, you reach into his pants to feel him. He’s hard and twitching and probably dying to delve inside you this instant. You take a second to shimmy out of your panties and pull his length (arguably yours now, in a sense) towards your throbbing centre where you coat him with your slickness. You watch in your task, but Harry continues to watch you instead.

“Ready?” you ask him.

“I like that you’re asking me that question.”

“Well, are you?”

“I’ve been ready for longer than you know.”

Just as you will never tire from hearing him bring you coffee in the mornings, say your name, or hold your hand, you will also never tire of the feeling of Harry entering you. Your body welcomes him in and holds on tight, never wanting him to leave.

Your moans effectively express the need in which your body wants more of Harry. It always wants more. It’s a good thing he’s yours now, ‘til death do you part.

“Harrison, God, yes…”

“(Y/N)...”

“More. More.”

“Hold on.”

He meant literally. Harry hoists you up so that you’re straddling him, back pressed to the window. You feel yourself sink further down onto his cock at this new angle. He fills you up wholly and easily slides repeatedly into you. Your hardly-covered breasts rub against Harry’s chest - nipples taut with the friction behind the scant white lace.

You moan at the ceiling, revealing your neck to him. Harry takes this as an invite and latches on, licking at your heated skin in between kisses to your collarbone. He sucks a fresh mark there, the first (of potentially many) honeymoon hickies.

It is also a good thing you both will likely not leave this room. You may get mistaken for a woman with a severe disease with how many love bites you’re expecting from this man given his and your bedroom history…

Harry’s driving you up the wall with each thrust you take eagerly and voicing it just as much. His heavy breathing fans down onto your chest, undoubtedly making you sweat all the more.

The coiling sensation flames within you almost too quickly, but luckily, thanks to those sounds Harry is making, he may not be able to hold off either.

“Almost…” you pant. “Almost…”

“Come for me, Mrs. Wells.”

You grin wildly as your eyes squeeze shut. “Give it to me, Harrison, yesss fuck-”

And oh, he does.

He strikes you inside perfectly and fully in his final few thrusts, all the while stimulating your clit at every motion in and out. Your legs tense around him and the heels of your feet dig harder into his lower back.

You choke out his name and bite his lip when you come, feeling yourself squeezing around his cock in a wordless, satiated beg for more even though he’s finishing inside you. His shaky sigh causes you to shiver. Good shivers.

After pulling out from you, you immediately cling to Harry again. He won’t let you touch the ground, and instead carries you over to the California King bed just a few steps away where you both topple onto the mattress, once more all giggles.

“That was…” he starts.

“It was…” you agree. Harry leans on his arm while resting his head in his hand and stares at you. “You’re doing it again.”

“Better get used to it, Mrs. Wells. You’re stuck with this now.”

“Thank God. There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with. Especially someone who’s fantastic in bed. Or… window, for that matter,” you joke.

Harry laughs and pulls you closer for a sweet kiss. He wipes his thumb gently over your bottom lip after.

“I love you,” he tells you, almost like he still can’t believe this is happening to him. Like he can’t believe he has found this happiness again. And you still can’t believe that he’s found it with you.

“And I love you.”

There’s a short pause - one where you are positive Harry is thinking again.

“You don’t think we should have, you know…?” He gestures to the bed. “Instead of…?” He motions to the window.

“Use your words, big boy,” you giggle.

“You know, the phrase you sometimes use.” It’s hard to tell if his cheeks are pink because of exertion or slight embarrassment.

You rack your brain for what that could mean.

“‘Make love’?” you offer, on the verge of laughter, but hold back because he really is so adorable. Even if he can’t utter that particular phrase. “God, you are the cutest man. Grumpy? Cute. Shy? Cute. But no, I’m quite content with what we did over there. Besides, we have all night to ‘make love,’ Harry.” You lean forward to press another kiss to his curling pink lips.

The two of you spend the next little while making out like crazed teenagers, though technically the term ‘newlyweds’ would suffice in this instance as well. At some point though, you do manage to pry yourself from your husband to unpack your bags a little. Harry watches as you do, eyes lingering on every inch of your nearly naked self. His face switches back and forth from awe to glee to aroused over the course of twenty minutes.

The toiletries were the last items to unpack, and you could practically sense the impatience diffusing from his pores. So with your man obviously raring to go again, you coo, “Oh, husband?” and drop the last of your lingerie to the bathroom floor in clear view of the open door for Harry to see. You hear his feet hit the floor and the sound of his pants hurrying to come off. Turning on the shower, you step in first to feel the spray of the water. Goodbye gross travel-sheen, hello cleanliness.

With a touch of dirtiness.

Harry gets under the showerhead with you, and you press your back against the tiles. He pushes his drenched curls back with his hand, and wow, yeah, okay, maybe he’s the sexy porn star in all of this. No, he’s better. He’s real.

And he’s all yours.

A fact that is always fun to remember.

You drag your teeth over your bottom lip. Slowly, you turn around to place your hands on the shower wall and turn your head to catch Harry’s eye. The man stands there, lips parted slightly. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. You fix your footing and back your ass up against his groin to make little gyrations. Harry looks up to the ceiling with his eyes closed, lets out a small groan, and instinctively sets his hands on your waist.

He presses himself harder against your ass and you can feel him growing stiffer once more. You make a knowing chuckle at how you’re able to turn him on like no tomorrow. Harry’s hands start to roam upwards on your wet body, one resting on your rib cage while the other cups your breast.

As he massages you, you let out a breathy moan and continue to rub up on his body. In return, your husband takes your nipple in between his thumb and forefinger to knead it. Harry presses a kiss to the crook of your neck, to which you are already feeling yourself turning to mush at his every touch.

While he continues to caress you expertly, you reach around to take Harry in your hand, feeling him rock-hard now. You play with him a little - pumping his shaft until his own hand finds yours on him. He aids you in guiding him to your ready heat from behind. You helpfully sink onto him as he enters you - your heady voice muffled from the water in your ears, but it echoes around the four corners of the roomy shower. Your hands brace yourself against the wall as Harry gives you precisely what you need in terms of roughness and speed. He leans in close so you can hear his heavy panting and feel his breath on your neck. One of his hands gathers your hair and moves it to one side over your shoulder. The simple and considerate action is enough to keep you melting inside.

“Oh, Harry, please-” you cry when you feel yourself nearing the brink of your imminent and likely stellar shower-climax. Harry’s fingers dig into your hip, and at your plea, brings one hand down around between your legs to spark your fiery orgasm so much quicker.

He positively pulses inside your core and you can feel your walls beginning to increasingly constrict and release around his cock until the point where your pussy squeezes so tightly around him, that it’s even more difficult to continue his push deeper inside. With erratically jerking hips, Harry curses, followed by another moan made in perfect staccato. He’s hot when he spills into you - a deep, glorious groan of your name surrounds you in your whitened, starry vision.

“Damn…” you exhale, taking a moment before turning around to kiss your man under the continuous spray of the water.

“How very eloquent,” Harry teases, hearing in his voice on the brink of a chuckle.

“Shush, you.” You press another kiss to his perfect lips. His and yours both inch upwards into grins between pecks.

Naturally, the two of you stay in the shower until the water runs cold - a rude interruption from the magnificent shower kisses. But that just leads to stepping into the hotel’s lavish, fluffy white robes, and laying in bed together. And arguably, this is just as pleasant.

Room service is most definitely ordered, of course - an amazing spread accompanied by a red wine and chocolate-covered strawberries. Your dinner even comes with a little note wishing you both congratulations on your nuptials. Mr. and Mrs. Wells.

Nope, still not over it!

Harry offers you a strawberry, holding it up to your lips.

“Oh, so you’re feeding me now, are you?” you tease. “Not scared I’ll bite?” 

“Not in the slightest.”

Wrapping your lips around the fruit, you take a bite and the sweetness bursts into your mouth like fireworks. You hum in delight. Harry’s eyes darken at your happy little sound as if on cue. His fingers still have a bit of the melted chocolate and berry juice on them, so you gently grab ahold of his wrist and pull his hand to you, taking his fingers in your mouth.

You don’t think he meant to let his mouth hang open like that.

You swirl your tongue around his fingers to lick off the rest of the lingering taste of the dessert until there’s nothing left. But it doesn’t matter. You keep it up anyway and start to gently suck at his fingers. Your eyes close and you smile.

His voice floats into your ears in a single word, “Bed.”

Standing up immediately, you take Harry’s hand, making him get up too, and lead him over to the bed. You undo his robe’s belt and shuck the hotel garment off of him. Harry, bless him, takes his time in disrobing you no matter how badly you know he wants to rip the damned thing off you. You know that look in his eyes.

He wants to take every nanosecond, he wants to be slow, and savour every part of this, and at this point - hell yeah, you want that, too. You want to get lost in your own little world of just you and Harry and let it last forever. Harry removes his glasses in one suave motion to the lounge chair beside the bed, eyes never once leaving you. They never do.

Crawling backwards on the bed, Harry follows you until he has you boxed in underneath him. You can practically feel his body radiate heat with how hot he is for you.

His mouth tastes your lips and takes his sweet time doing so. But it’s not just your lips - he tastes every part of your skin as he works his way downward, hands touching everywhere and burning little finger-sized holes into your skin. His hold on your thighs is gentle yet firm when he spreads your legs open for him. He bends down between them and plants a soft kiss to your sex.

And again.

And again.

Until they’re a little less chaste and slightly more ravenous. And definitely more focused on eliciting those whimpers he loves so much from you.

Harry’s open-mouthed kisses cause you to tremble - so tender, slow, and deliberately gentle. Your eyes flutter and you suck in a breath when he licks a stripe upwards. Your thighs may have clenched around his head for a moment there, but he looks up at you through those gorgeous thick lashes of his and damn if that isn’t an image you want to have photographed in your mind forever.

You bite your lip, and your husband dives back in for more to taste. You watch him enjoy eating you out thoroughly, or at least what you thought was thorough because just as he begins to circle his tongue around your clit, Harry expertly adds his fingers inside you as well. You toss your head back on the huge cloud-like pillow and let out a happy whine.

“Better than the strawberries?” you ask shakily, unable to hold back the tiny giggle after the question.

“Undoubtedly,” he answers, coming back up and making sure to kiss you to show you first hand. You hum into the kiss and roll Harry over so that you’re on top of him.

“Mm,” Harry hums back, “I don’t think so.”

“Hm-?” In return, he rolls you over onto your back again. You stare up at him with curious eyes. But he loves it when you’re on top…?

“I’m going to make this so good for you, (YN),” Harry promises. “This is about you tonight.”

“No,” you say, “This is about us.”

He steals a kiss from you so willingly given, and you feel him position himself at your entrance. You’d hold your breath if Harry hadn’t already stolen that from you too.

You accidentally bite his lip a little during the kiss as he pushes inside you. Harry lets out a surprised exhale.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you apologize with what little air you have in you.

“Don’t be,” Harry tells you, in which he continues to kiss you like they do in the movies. Your fingers rake up his back, leaving invisible lines in their wake. “In fact,” he says roughly, “you can do that again if you like.”

You giggle again until your kiss is all smiles and teeth. He slides inside you and out at such a calculated speed, you feel yourself around every perpetually-impressive inch of him. Your hands snake up to hold his head closer to yours, burying themselves in his wildly sexy and curly dark hair. His own hand caresses your leg on its journey north, then hitches your thigh up.

His eyes are entrancing, but you’ve always known that - a strikingly clear blue - it was the first thing you noticed about Harrison Wells when you met him. His eyes. They captured you from that moment and they’ve never let go of you. They never will and you’re thrilled about it. The way he’s looking at you now… you’d be almost embarrassed to say you could get off to that alone. His look is unwavering - like he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of his new bride when she comes.

His thrusts inside you have noticeably increased in speed, no longer the sensual, taking-your-time kind of pace. You can feel it whirling around like a hurricane as your body starts to jerk up and meet his thrusts each time, feeling desperate to have him hit that sweet spot. You take his face in your hands so that your foreheads touch, your lips merely ghosting each other as you breathe one breath. 

“I love you, God, I love you.”

“Harrison, Harrison, I love you, so, so, so much-”

Your shared confessions of love, gentle calls of each other’s name, and outcries of passion bring you together even closer than before. The previous times this evening were all fun and arguably dirty, but this was entirely different. This was the two of you finally coming together and taking the time to show and share the love so perfectly. You didn’t think you could love Harry any more than you already did, but every day, every moment you spend together proves you wrong. There’s always so much more to love about him.

Harry is looking at you again, the way he does, resting on his elbow facing you. He looks entirely too much like a sex-god for his own good. He doesn’t even need to try.

“What?” you ask.

“I just can’t believe how lucky I am,” your sweetie-pie, love-machine husband replies.

“You? No, I’m the lucky one, here,” you laugh. “I never thought I’d find love and then there you were, practically crashed right into me in the Cortex when you first showed up.”

“Well, I never thought I’d love again, and yet here I am- here we are.”

“You know? I think we’re both pretty damn lucky, my husband.”

“That we are, my wife.”

You rest your head on his chest, his steady breathing helping in making you drift off for the night. Harry never once lets go of your hand in his on his stomach.

And while you may have fallen asleep, he’s almost there himself but manages to give one last thanks to the Multiverse for making him indeed the luckiest man on all the Earths.

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Cursed G PT 13 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Cu Chulainn)

Previous Part: One - Haku POV / Gil POV, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve

_____

“I did and I just- You need clothes, remember?”

That excuse sounded so piss poor to her own ears. What the hell was she supposed to do with an excuse like that?

Her fingers released the doorjam, unable to keep a good grip.

Her body slammed against the bed, bouncing a moment before the man was over her person. His hands stole her own away, trapping them over her person. She turned her face, but-

He nuzzled her.

There were a great many things she’d expected when the great ancient king was tossing her onto her own bed. Her mind had gone to the worst possible outcome. She’d been- well, she wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking but it was gone the moment that the man started this rubbing.

Hakuno turned her face, locking confused gaze with surprised and confused returned gaze.

“…Ignore that.”

Gilgamesh pulled back, clearing his throat a bit and pulling away from her. The towel was abandoned, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been naked in her home before. At least this time, she didn’t have anyone here to think that she was having sex with Gilgamesh this time around.

Instead of that, she was stuck holding a hand to her cheek and staring after the naked idiot.

“Did you nuzzle?”

“It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t though and they both knew that.

Was… was she safe from that kind of thing?

No, her eyes drifted down the king’s person and it was clear that he wasn’t entirely lost to the mood. He just was thrown off kilter from what he’d done before. He was just confused and upset about what had just happened. There was no doubt in her mind that he had wanted to kiss her just now. He’d intended to do more than what he had done.

Actually, it’d been cute.

“Hakuno, the seamstress. Summon one here.”

“Seamstress? What are you talking about?”

Gilgamesh motioned to his person. “None of your attire will fit, woman. I need clothing to wear, unless you intend to have me wandering behind you in this state.”

“Could you stay home?”

He just stared at her.

It was actually kind of fair that he didn’t want to just stay inside the house all day. He would go out of his mind from the boredom and no doubt end up learning how to use the internet to order more things than she could pay for by remaining in her home.

Besides, she did host study sessions in her home. Her friends would end up coming over to find Gilgamesh draped on her couch like some fucked up hotline stripper.

Oh boy, she could already hear the questions really starting. Not to mention, Sakura had a deep love for petting G. She would notice that her cat had vanished with the sudden appearance of Gilgamesh.

“Woman-“

“I need my phone.”

Gilgamesh was starting to talk to her, but she really didn’t have time to listen to him. Not right now. She needed to contact someone who would be about Gilgamesh’s body structure. She needed someone who had the clothing that had enough elastic and stretch that Gilgamesh would be able to get comfortable enough for long enough to go to the stores with her and pick a few clothes.

Oh, but it was going to be one hell of an awkward get together.

If anyone would listen, it would be him, at least.

“Hakuno.”

Her phone was in the living room, sitting on the coffee table as she looked around for it. She was still dialing when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Hak-“

Her hand pressed to the man’s face, watching those red eyes bug out at her audacity.

“Shush.”

That look on the man’s face said that she might as well have gone ahead with informing him that he was fat and ugly while she was at it. Those eyes were spitting fire, his mouth thinner under her fingers than was probably advisable.

“Hakuno! What’s going on, sleepy head?”

Ah, he must have been with Rani and the others.

The king’s face said he was hearing that other voice. He was not appreciating it either.

“Cu Chulainn,” Hakuno had to close her eyes. She had to look away from the king or she’d never manage this. “I need a favor.”

“I’m down two, remember? What’s wrong?”

Right. He owed her for hanging out with Rin when Rin was in bitch mode. Twice.

“It’s a bit of a complicated story.”

Aka: she really needed a moment to gather her thoughts enough to make up something that would be even remotely possible.

“Dumb it down, I’m supposed to be shitting in here and the others’ll figure out that I’m having Rin set up a formula sheet for me without realizing it if I spend too long in here.”

“I have a naked man in my house and I need to borrow a set of clothes so I can take him out to get his own.”

“Oh…” Cu went quiet for a full minute. She could hear the clock nearby ticking away.

The gentle whirr of the heater could be heard as well before a chuckle came forth. Static hit the phone more than noise, with the man on the other end of the line bursting into laughter.

“A naked… Gods, alright. I don’t even give a shit why. I just want to see what guy you’ve literally ripped the clothes off of and pounded into your mattress. Does he drink?”

“Cu!”

Gilgamesh was glaring deeply at her as she felt her face heat up.

“You’re right. Ask him myself. Give me like… twenty minutes? I have a gym bag in my car he can use the clothes from.”

She was tempted to ask if they were clean, but-

Rin would have killed him for filthy clothes and she really didn’t want to piss off Cu. Upsetting the calmest member of your friend group wasn’t wise.

“See you soon.”

“Hold on!”

She held on.

“I have one, very important question.”

She was really not having time for that one question but- “Okay, what is it?”

“Would you go fishing with him for hours on end in a canoe?”

Her eyes drifted back to Gilgamesh at that question.

Honestly, she’d expected a stupid question about sex or positions or something along those lines. Fishing though…

Cu Chulainn was a fisher.

He was an avid fisher, actually.

Would she go fishing with Gilgamesh?

The man was waiting right now with her hand on his face, glaring at her but not necessarily stopping her from keeping him quiet. He wasn’t grabbing at the phone or touching her in any way that could have ended up making her regret having him in her home.

She’d been fishing before.

It required someone that would listen when things were going on and the important things were at stake. It required someone that wasn’t going to tip the boat over.

“I’d take him.”

“See ya soon.”

She hung up, pulling her hand away a moment before the king was heading back into her kitchen.

“Consider my leniency on your actions your reward for breaking half of this curse, Hakuno. Do not silence me again.”

“I was getting you clothes.”

Not that he was the most appreciative about that, but damn.

“I asked for a seamstress. You asked for another man to bring me his clothing.” The man was drinking.

It wasn’t morning. She really didn’t have a complaint in particular to be giving, but there was something wrong about seeing Gilgamesh pouring a glass of wine and drinking naked at her table. His eyes were locked with hers as he drank from his glass.

“There’s no such things as seamstresses that come make clothes at your house,” Hakuno told him simply, turning away and beginning to clean up the living room. “A few things have changed since you were around, Gilgamesh. You’ve seen a bit. We rode in the car together and attended my classes.”

“Audience halls and lessons on proper stories and propaganda was around when I was human before, Hakuno. You’re not unique for attending an old wanderer’s lectures and observational talks.”

“You had classes?”

He rolled his eyes. “We had teachers and we had wandering mentors. None of this gathering in a room and being graded on your memory, although I do see the benefits on a few things.”

His eyes were drifting to her mathbook.

“I will be looking into your tomes later.”

That sounded like a bad plan.

The only thing that could be worse was possibly handing him all the information that he could need to slaughter his enemies and invest for long after his passing.

“You should have something to eat with that.”

He raised a brow, watching her come into the kitchen and start perusing through the cabinets for something to eat.

She didn’t have too much, but a trip to the store could happen after a trip to the mall. Once they had a wardrobe for Gilgamesh, she could bite her tongue and swipe her card one more time to get them both food at the store.

“What are you planning to make?”

“I’m just going to make some toast and some coffee.”

Cu was coming over.

There was no need to go all out.

No, opting not to was the smarter choice in the end. Her toast was stolen, the king settling onto her couch and turning on the television as they waited for the Celt to arrive. His arm wrapped around her when set climbed onto the couch. His face pressed against her hair as she found herself held tight.

This was weird.

Her couch had company. Human company.

She was actually being held in the man’s arms and kept close. His hand was drifting through her hair a bit, massaging at her scalp, although she wasn’t sure if he was aware of what he was doing.

He was naked. She was in-

Right.

Changing clothes was probably the smarter idea.

Just as the thought came to mind, the universe threw her into trouble.

Her doorknob was turning before she could even get up. A familiar head of blue was sticking in, looking around a moment before the man snorted.

“I have the vague impression I shouldn’t linger.”

Hakuno grabbed the extra blanket from behind the couch, bundling in it as the Celt walked over and grinned.

“Yo. I’m Cu Chulainn.”

“I am Ki-“

“This is Gilgamesh King.” Hakuno introduced, interrupting the man before he could go on for thirty years about himself. “I ran into him while he was doing an architect job.”

“No shit?”

Gilgamesh shrugged.

To her surprise, Cu was grabbing one of the dining room chairs, dragging it in and pulling his bag around.

“I kid you not, this is probably the best news I’ve heard all damn week.” The man pulled out a set of paper, laying them out on the table. “I’ve been havin’ Rin look over these, but she hasn’t done anything with construction. I’ve been helping out, doing an internship, right? The building we’re working on ended up having a foundation problem, but we can’t figure out the source of the issue.”

“Cu, I don’t think-“

But Gilgamesh motioned her off, moving forward and looking at the mapping.

“Trees?”

“Marked. There’s nothing close so there wouldn’t be roots or anything like that to deal with.”

“How’s the soil.”

“More fertile than a girlfriend.”

Gilgamesh was a king. He wouldn’t know the first thing about this kind of stuff. Honestly, she was going to end up in deep shit for this.

Still, she found Gilgamesh waving a hand, dismissing her to dress for the day.

“Tell me what’s around the building.”

There went her one ally for this.

They really needed Cu Chulainn to be on their side for this. If someone didn’t like Gil, then she would have to deal with the end result of that. Gilgamesh could go home somehow, but she was going to be left behind with whatever was left. That was why they weren’t high rollin’ and maxing out her cards.

She didn’t spare a single moment, knowing full well that Cu Chulainn would realize the lie she’d tossed his way.

Yet, the man was laughing when she came back.

“So we just need to investigate the ground for water pockets?”

“Those tend to happen in swamp-like areas,” Gilgamesh told him.

“Smart. We didn’t really dig far so that’d make sense.” Cu tossed the gym bag onto the table and headed for the door. “I’m out. I need to talk to my head crew chief about this. Maybe he’ll let me get paid if I figure this out.”

Gilgamesh gave him a wave.

“Hakuno, he seems like a pain the ass. We’re two doomed idiots, aren’t we?”

“Goodbye, mutt,” Gilgamesh bid the man.

The door closed and Hakuno stared over at the man on the couch.

“Believe it or not, Hakuno, I know when alliances are needed.”

Indeed, it seemed that he did.

“So we’re going to go get you clothing?”

The king drained his glass a moment before nodding. “I will change into this peasant garment and we’ll head out.”

She would pray the entire time he was in the bathroom.

The man was a walking billboard for lost in time.

[iamwhelmed]

Honeymoon Due

Summary: Marinette accomplishes her dreams-- being a designer, owning her own boutique, and even marrying Adrien Agreste! What she’d always wanted just didn’t exactly happen the way she wanted it to...

RATED M

If you like my work, please support me on ko-fi! <3

“Loveless Marriage” wasn’t anything Marinette expected for herself. No, far from it. She imagined that she’d walk down the aisle in a fancy gown she made all by herself and he’d cry when he saw her, that she’d spend her time chasing her dreams, that her husband would support her wholeheartedly and love her with such ferocity that the world could feel it-- like her parents. To be fair, she got most of that. Her wedding dress was, in fact, a Marinette original, a sweetheart neckline that fell like silk over her shoulders and trailed behind her like a queen’s cape. White as snow, fit her body as though Tikki had magiced it out of the thin air. Modest in length but short enough to see her pointed kitten heels. She ran her own boutique, and her customers adored her every creation. She was fairly known locally, and had refused several offers to expand because she simply wasn’t ready. Her husband certainly supported her with everything he had, which was a large sum of inheritance and all the words of affirmation she could handle-- Adrien was always an amazing friend.

He just wasn’t a good husband, not in the emotional sense.

He did all the things husbands should do, like help with chores, work with her as a team (they were really efficient with taxes), and he never, ever forgot a birthday or anniversary. But love? Well, Marinette had doubts when he’d proposed. Nobody else seemed to, and if Nino nor Alya thought that maybe (just maybe) he wasn’t in love with her, then clearly she was just overthinking things, right? Tikki, who was never, with all her years of experience, lacking in advice,  always seemed to get quiet when Marinette mused aloud to her about the whole thing. “I think he loves you, Marinette,” she’d said once. “Just you wait, I bet he’s gonna sweep you off your feet!” Adrien didn’t cry when she walked down the aisle.

Well, he had swept her off her feet in the sense that she was still madly in love with him. The...intimacy… that came with marriage, though? Marinette, five months married, was ashamed to say their honeymoon was spent exploring the beauties of the world’s most touristy locations (Niagara Falls, the Leaning Tower, several century-old cathedrals…) and less breaking in a bed. Aside from sleeping. Which was the only thing they did together in a bed. She hadn’t had the heart to complain to Alya yet, not when she’d gone as far as helping her through the very stressful, very experimental process of helping her find Wifey lingerie. Adrien had never seen it, and to be honest she was considering throwing the set (a white lace bodice, strung up with panties that were certainly not meant to be worn so much as they were meant to be taken off and thrown across a room, tucked neatly in a drawer, under a few sleeping shirts so he’d never find it) away before something awkward inevitably happened. Knowing her, that time was approaching with teeth-grinding intensity. She could feel the sharp, hungry nails of impending embarrassment clawing down her back.

The kissing--er, Adrien kissed her cheek, and when his lips neared her mouth, he pecked and moved smooth as ice away from her. It killed her when he did that, because she knew it was for the paparazzi, that it was for appearances so everybody thought they were a happy married couple. She’d thought to herself, a few days into their vacation, if perhaps he was just shy, being as sheltered as he had been most of his life; those thoughts (hopes, excuses, whatever you wanna call them…) were dashed when they moved into their sleek uptown apartment and he still didn’t touch her. The idea that he wasn’t interested in sex crossed her mind, but that thought also… diminished… when she found several lewd Ladybug cosplayers saved on his computer whilst she searched for a work file he needed her to print. She’d blushed, and vaguely wondered if she should make her own cosplay and see if he had a crush on her alter ego, but brushed the thought away as the conflict of revealing her identity immediately clashed.

Maybe just… Ladybug-inspired lingerie, then?

Her whole body grew red hot and she threw her head uselessly against the desk a handful of times.

She’d known, honestly, for a long time. Adrien hadn’t ever touched her out on dates or kissed her, even if he did hold her hand. He had never loved her, not really, he was settling and they both knew it; he just didn’t know that she knew it. If Gabriel’s investment in their wedding meant anything, she had a running theory on her husband’s intentions. It was a formality, for him to get married, and all the better if the art of design stuck in the family. She wouldn’t be surprised if Gabriel started pushing for grandchildren soon, especially since her well-meaning parents were already getting antsy. She hadn’t broached the subject with Adrien, but considering their marital bed was far from active or explored, she figured that topic was best left alone.

She loved him, truly, she did. There was no other man she wanted so badly, no man who meant so much to her that she’d be willing to subject herself to months of affectionless, almost fake domesticity, but she had to wonder if her limit was fast approaching. She could only pretend to be happy for so long before it broke her. Being in an unrequited love was one thing, but constantly subjecting herself to a situation where her heart was as open as it bloody well could have been and receiving nothing for it… even Ladybug couldn’t stand to be an accessory for so long.

She sighed and dropped her bag on the floor, exhausted from the patterns she’d spent all day laboring over and the mental toll overthinking her hopeless marriage had taken. Adrien wouldn’t be home for at least three more hours, and Chat Noir was expecting her in ten minutes. Ladybug was surprisingly desperate to get away from her comfy apartment with her Model-Extraordinaire-Husband and get a breath of fresh air with her flirty kitty. She missed the muffled voice from the other side of their bedroom door as she pushed it open.

Upon flicking the switch, she found Chat Noir himself standing brazenly in the middle of the bedroom, looking for all the world like a cat with a half-eaten bird in its mouth. They both froze.

Moments ticked by, wide green eyes pointedly staring into slanted, confused blue ones.

She sighed. “Chat Noir, what are you doing in my house?”

“Y-Your house? O-Oh, yes, I, well, uh…” He tugged at the collar of his suit, which exposed the already-visible skin on his chest even more than usual, what with his half-open zipper. The unsatisfied, mistreated wife of a clueless, sexless model flared within her at the sight, but she pushed the inner singing voice down. Chat grinned at her, slipping into his typical composure as easy as one slips into a worn pair of jeans. “I was coming to check in on you, Princess. Heard you got married!”

Marinette scoffed, and immediately Chat’s face fell. “Legally, I guess. Yeah.”

“Marinette?”

She crossed the room and plopped down on the king-sized mattress she and Adrien slept side-by-side in every night, let her shoulders sag. No use pretending she was a happy-go-lucky successful designer with a perfect husband when she knew Chat Noir could keep a secret. Besides, he was her best friend, her kitty, her partner-- the man she damn well would have ended up with had Adrien not been in the picture. She knew it, she was sure Chat knew it, not that he knew she was Ladybug or that the other guy in the picture was Adrien. “You know what it’s like… to be in love…” she squeezed her eyes shut, tried to breath and keep the budding threat of tears at bay. “To not be loved back.”

“Princess,” something in Chat’s voice had bristled, like he was offended on behalf of her husband. “I certainly hope you’re not going around falling for other men!”

“Other than my husband?” She said it with air quotes. “No, I love him. Only him. Always have.”

“But you’re married? Clearly it’s mutual, right?”

Something in Chat’s voiced begged her to say “yes”, to tell him that she was just being dramatic because Adrien hadn’t left a note this morning when he left-- which he had. She couldn’t. A broken sob hit her chest and she leaned forward into her hands. “You’d think!” Her body shook, and she felt so horrible not like Ladybug right then. “I’m an ornament, Chat! I was an easy solution. I don’t know, maybe his dad wanted him to get married? He knew me? Knew I loved him? Knew I wouldn’t say no?” She shook her head and exhaled, hating the way her lungs stuttered. “I love him so much! But I’m not his wife! I’m his friend! That’s all I’ve ever been to him! I’ll bet he’s still in love with that other girl, the one he kept mentioning when we were, like, fourteen.” She snorted. “Can’t blame him, that’s how long I’ve loved him, so…”

The bed sprung, and she knew that if she turned, she would find Chat Noir haphazardly lazing on the bed next to her. “What makes you say that?” His words came out soft, softer than she’d heard out of him in a long while. Soft like he was talking to Ladybug. “I woulda thought he was a good partner.”

“Partner, yes. Husband, no.” She wiped away her tears and took a few deep breaths. It would be okay. She would calm down, she’d get used to this “marriage”. Maybe. Hopefully. Heaven knew it was all she’d ever wanted, just not as she’d dreamed. “Adrien is… amazing. He’s sweet, and gentle, and he’s understanding. I can always lean on him,” She chanced a glance at her partner, who was eyeing her from the side with what she could only assume was pity. Hurt, maybe, probably for her. Chat was good like that, a loyal, loving, empathetic kitty. The thought warmed her heart. A part of her wondered what would have happened if she knew Chat under the mask, if she would have married him instead, if he would have cried when she walked down the aisle (the honeymoon certainly would have been… wilder). She wondered if it wasn’t too late to tell him that she was Ladybug, see where things took them.

Would Adrien be relieved if they had an open marriage? Would he take a deep sigh and ease up his bones and tell her how glad he was that he wouldn’t have to pretend out of the public eye anymore? She scrunched her nose; that didn’t sound like Adrien. Then she snorted, because who was she kidding? She’d never want to be with anybody but Adrien, no matter how tempting the promise of her minou could be. “But I don’t think he loves me.”

Chat opened his mouth to respond, and she stopped him. “Not like that.”

He relented and fell silent again, leaning back on the bed in such a leisurely stretch, she’d have thought it was his bed. Marinette shook her head and tried to keep the tears that were making a second comeback away. “I think he married me because his dad wanted him to, and I think Adrien trusted me enough to not do something crazy like divorce him and take half his savings. Like I said,” she shrugged. “We’re friends. But I’ve always wanted more. I thought I could have that, that things would change after we got married.”

“What did you want to change?” Chat was gazing up at her from his now comfortable position on her and Adrien’s bed, head pressed against the fluffy mattress and the red comforter. His green eyes were gazing into her, in search of something and she wasn’t sure what. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him.

“Us. I’d like to go on dates and cuddle on the couch. I’d like to not be a married virgin!” Chat’s face went the tingest red behind his mask, and her face was levels redder. She turned away from him again and crossed her arms over her chest, like she was adding another layer to her already-covered chest. Suddenly, any loving thoughts of an identity reveal flew far, far away; it would be better if Chat Noir never knew His Lady said something so embarrassing. “I’d like to kiss him, you know? Like an actual wife, like we,” she shut her eyes “love each other.”

She felt his claws, leather and tough, slipping around her arm, cupping the skin near her shoulder and warming it. He was sitting up, she assumed, because she could feel the bed creak under his shuffle. “How do you know it’s because he doesn’t love you?”

“What other reason could there be, Chat?”

His thumb ran in circles, small and simple, around her skin. The claw of his finger lightly grazed the muscle and tickled, and part of her hoped he wouldn’t break skin. She wasn’t sure how she’d explain that mark to Adrien (if he noticed). “You said you’re friends. Maybe he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable? Maybe he already feels like you’re doing him a favor?” The thumb stopped, and the claw was digging not uncomfortably into her arm; he’d break the skin and leave a mark, she knew, but Chat’s caress was the closest she’d gotten to physical affection in months. She wasn’t about to squander the little solace for a husband who would probably be happy for her, or not care, or not ask any questions at all. “Maybe… he wants to kiss you. Maybe he’s thought about it a lot. Maybe, he just didn’t want you to think all of it was fake?”

Marinette snickered and raised her free hand to wipe a tear that had built against her will in her eye. “I doubt it. Besides, I don’t want to force him into--”

Chat turned her head by the chin and kissed her, unabashedly, passionately.

Chat kissed the way he did all things-- no plan, no cares, only feeling. She was swept off her feet in momentary bliss, fingers itching at the comforter as they ached to pull at his hair. He had one hand cupping her jaw, and he was tipping her up to meet his lips and bite at her until they parted and he could set his tongue to work just as well. She let him, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was touch-starved, maybe her confidence had taken a bit of a nosedive in the last half a year, or maybe her less-than-platonic feelings for Chat ran a lot deeper than she thought they did; but she kissed him. She moaned and let him grab at her waist and pull her closer. She let him press her down into the mattress and climb on top of her, and if his hands went places they shouldn’t have, she wouldn’t have noticed in the flight of it all.

Right there, on the bed she shared with the boy of her dreams, she was going to break her marital bed in-- without her husband. It should have felt wrong, she should have screamed and slapped him and (for pete sake yelled at him about fraternizing with a civilian which was COMPLETELY unethical) she should have told him not to come visit her again. But she didn’t. She should have hated herself and Chat should have been long gone already and she should have been screaming to Tikki about her infidelity. But she didn’t; no, something about being there with Chat felt leagues right above anything else she’d ever done. Better than opening up her boutique. Better than stopping an akuma. Better than baking her first perfect macaroon. Chat’s fingers in her hair, his body pressed against hers with no space between to speak of, his lips trailing from her lips to her neck where he was biting and kissing and doing everything she’d ever dreamt Chat would do to Ladybug if she’d given him the greenlight-- all of it felt universally right, like fate had brought them here, like Chat was always supposed to be the one.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t still love Adrien-- she did, oh part of her wanted this to be him so, so very badly, but even Ladybug knew when she’d been beat. If Adrien truly was her friend, if he didn’t want to play the role of “lover” that came with the “husband” title, then this had to be fair game.

Chat paused in his ministrations, lips sucking off her skin with a “pop”. He chuckled, low and deep and it stirred her and spurned her further. “Never did get over that crush you had on me, huh?”

“W-what?” It took her a few seconds to register that he meant the weredad incident. Oh. She grimaced and playfully slapped his shoulder. “Don’t let it get to your head, you mangy cat!”

He laughed, wholeheartedly, face digging into her neck and the mattress beneath as fits had their way with his body. Marinette nearly fell into hysterics just hearing and feeling him squirming atop her. She raised a hand to her mouth and stifled the sound that escaped. “I-It’s hard n-not to, P-Princess!” He pulled up and over her, caging her in on the bed with his limbs, green eyes glaring into her with a warm, familiar glow. The mirth was plain on his face, like he knew something she didn’t. She wondered what that would be, but dared not ask. He smirked: “It’s already certainly gone to one head.”

Her face grew three shades hotter. She reached up, grabbed a pillow, and smacked him.

He laughed even harder, pulling back to sit on his knees, but still kept his hands straddling her hips, nails creeping over the band of her jeans. “I should p-probably give Ladybug a call! Let her know I can’t make it to patrol tonight!”

Oh yeah, patrol… that thing she was supposed to go on.

Marinette pretended to be none the wiser as Chat whipped out his staff and dialed in Ladybug’s number. To no surprise, Ladybug did not pick up. Chat raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off nonetheless. “Hello, My Lady. Just wanted to let you know that this cat won’t be an outdoor cat tonight.” Marinette rolled her eyes, but smiled to herself at the voicemail she’d get later, and the memories she was yet to make, but would inevitably still be fresh next time she transformed. Chat’s face grew sly in a way she hadn’t really seen him get before. She wondered if it was his smolder face. As much as she hated to say it, for fear of adding to his ego, it worked. “You see, I’ve been a terrible housecat as of late. My poor wife has been feeling neglected, and I wouldn’t be much of a husband if I didn’t, at the very least, lick the bowl clean.”

Wait. Wait, wait-- what?

“Plagg, claws in.”

Chat Noir shut the call down seconds before a green light, gradient and laser-like in movement, emanated from the stray cat at the foot of her bed. She squeaked and reached up to shield her eyes, balling up on the bed in a fetal position as if her knees could cover her eyes, give her another layer.

Chat laughed. “C’mon, Princess. Open your eyes.” He reached over and pried her hands away from her squeezed eyes, holding them delicately as she struggled with the impending doom of seeing Chat without the mask. That made this too real, made cheating on Adrien so much more real! “Marinette, it’s okay,” he brought her hands to his face and pressed a kiss to either knuckle. “Would I ever lie to you?”

Appealing to her trust in him-- low blow. Despite the reservations she had (of which she had MANY), she let her eyes part, let them readjust from the blur.

There, sitting in front of her, was a very flushed, very cocky, Adrien Agreste. She couldn’t help herself, she gasped. His face drew closer, eyes lidded the way she’d seen Chat Noir’s narrow a million times. This time, this time felt so different. It was Adrien, his hair (oh, his hair was so Chat Noir right then it wasn’t even FUNNY), his eyes, with Chat’s smile and husky purr. Her breath caught in her throat as he pressed a kiss to her wrist and watched her reaction as he did it. She flushed. “So, Princess… would you have any interest in putting that wedding dress back on? I never got the chance to fully admire it.”

Admire it he did, with minimal damage, surprisingly. It was clear Chat Noir wanted to tear the damn thing off of her, but Adrien was still gentle and sweet and most importantly knew better. He did the next best thing, though, which meant she would need to replace the zipper if she were to wear it again for vow renewals. The bed that had been untouched for months was a feather-covered, duvet-sulking mess. Whatever makeup she’d been wearing before she started crying on Chat’s shoulder had almost certainly been smeared or smudged or wiped off as she cried into Adrien’s shoulder. He had lips imprinted all over him, but the one he seemed the most proud of was the one at the corner of his lip where he was grinning like a cat who caught a canary. The whole posture looked smug, actually. He sat up against the headrest, one arm propping up his high-held head, and the other running soothing circles into her shoulder where she laid at his chest. She pouted at him, mad that he wasn’t even winded after the stunts he pulled… she was still catching her breath! “Sure you got fed, kitty? You look like you’re about to paw at the cabinets again.”

“I said I’d lick the bowl clean, Princess, never said I’d be full after.”

She went red again, which seemed ridiculous after the sheer gymnastics they’d both performed minutes earlier. “How?”

“Hm?”

“How are you not even a little tired after that?”

Adrien titterted. “That’s what happens when you let a man with month's worth of fantasies jump your bones. I’m not even halfway through my list yet.”

“What part of I am your wife did the wedding not get through to you?”

To her surprise, Adrien’s smile grew soft, full of love; he leaned back down to capture her between both arms and hold her to his chest. This was the Adrien she’d always known, the gentle smile, the quiet voice that still sounded like bells. He pressed his forehead to hers. “The part where you wanted me to do everything I wanted to do. I’m not used to that,” he brushed their noses together. “I’m not used to being loved by a wife, but I want to be.”

She nuzzled into his chest and stuck her face in the crook of his neck. He ran a hand through her hair, still heavily mussed from its time pressed to the pillows. “The girl I mentioned, back when we were fourteen…”

“Ladybug.”

“Yeah,” he huffed, somewhat sheepishly. “You weren’t, um, wrong about me still holding out for Ladybug but--”

Marinette yawned, “That’s fine.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t have to waste money making the” she yawned again “lingerie, I’ll just put on the suit.”

“What?!” Adrien pulled away to look down at his wife, but found she was fast asleep, and that she would stay that way until the sun came up. So Adrien lay there, wide awake, contemplating the likelihood of him being that inconceivably lucky.

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – Press Play… On Life

So, at what age do men grow up???  Like when do they look at themselves in the mirror and say, I’m not getting any younger maybe I should make some changes. Or when do they survey all their married friends and think, maybe it’s time for me to start settling down. Bottom line is, what makes them click and realize they are getting wayyyy too old for this dating game?  And, I’m not talking about “physically” getting older, although at a certain age, men do go from being the seasoned distinguished guy who have yet to meet their life partner to becoming the creepy old man in the club.  And yes, age is relative… to some degree.  However, I still draw the line when you and my father can swap stories from middle school.  Call me shallow, but that’s a little outside my dating range sir.  So, let me introduce you to my mother, or I got an aunty you might like.  She too likes to do the hustle.  But yes, a well-kept man who exercises 7 days a week, eats only a plant based organic diet, doesn’t partake in any alcohol and gets a minimum of 8 hours of sleep a night, even if he is 55, he will most likely look like a snack. A dry boring snack… like a Wheat Thin. Like you can eat it, but who is really sitting at home right now saying, ohhhh I wish I had a Wheat Thin. No one, unless they too are old and boring.  Personally, I like dairy, wine and dancing so that regimen won’t work for me, even if you are 35 with the body of Michael B Jordan and swag of Idris Elba… who by the way has recently turned in his old man at the club card, because again who wants to be the old man at the club… But I digress.

I guess Future Boyfriend I’m wondering if you’re stuck in Limbo Land. It’s like you know the next move when it comes to dating, but you’re unable to make it. Maybe it’s because you possess the trifecta – You’re tall, handsome and have a great job.  That’s a score for most women. Especially in La La Land where dating is like playing a hand of spades. You may get a two and a possible. Even if he’s tall and handsome he’s definitely sleeping on his friend’s couch while he working on his short and bussing tables at the Cheesecake Factory. Again, call me shallow, but I’ve already slummed it with a guy, sleeping with him on an air mattress while he figured out his life. That was so 10 years ago. Even I have to grow up. But Future Boyfriend, if you are out here floating in Limbo Land, aimlessly dating for pleasure not purpose, I promise you there is nothing but loneliness waiting at the end of that trail. See right now, you’re the king in these streets. You probably have 3 to 5 girls in rotation (I’m being generous and also hopeful you’re not a full fledge whore so that when we meet I don’t have the pleasure of seeing one of your past, limbo chicks EVERY time we go out.  But don’t worry when I do I will handle it with grace and only question your choices in women when they are out of ear shot. Because I’m classy). Now these rotated girls are most likely pretty, smart and successful. These are girls of all age ranges. The younger girls you can be flaky with. Thanks to the social media they have a short attention span.  You don’t have to invest a lot into them. They are your fun girls.  Then you have your older women. These are women who have already played games and they are tired. They enjoy the conversation and laughs you offer.  You enjoy the fact that they have given up on finding a good man so they accept you doing the bare minimum (ohhh so sad they need Iyanla to fix that life).  Anyhow, you can dm these girls or hit them with WYD text messages and because of the light the shines bright from your trifecta they will answer and they will come. But like moths to flames and flies to crap the ending is always a disaster. Because men like you, Future Boyfriend don’t want easy.  You enjoy a challenge. Your life is all about challenges that you’ve taken on and thrived at.  Because trifectas are the best and they don’t stand for mediocrity.  Even when it comes to dating. So, the choice is yours Future Boyfriend. You can waste your good years away in Limbo Land, but I promise you will regret it.  Because I too am a trifecta and I don’t date old men in the clubs.

xo,

Mix

[pnk-wasteland]

Anniversary (kkm)

There was a lot of things Yuuri did that Wolfram didn’t understand.

His obsession with those awkward looking machines thats only purpose was to ‘vend’ a selection of snacks; Yuuri’s much too frequent ‘office naps’; even his overzealous politeness could ware down Wolfram’s nerves.

But this must be something new, and undiscovered cultural difference between Yuuri’s two worlds. Yet another quirk Wolfram would be forced to learn about. He rolled his eyes, pouting at the sturdy wooden door in front of him. The two guards flanking him dared not make eye contact, too afraid to aggravate the spoiled prince even further.

Wolfram knocked on the door to the royal bedroom a little more forcefully than he intended. “Yuurriii!”  He whined through the crack, not daring to push it open after the last scolding he received. “Can I come in yet?”

Wolfram pressed his ear flush against the wood, hearing some faint rustling and the sound of something clattering against the marble floor.

The door creaked open just a moment later, Yuuri closing it behind himself quickly, blocking Wolfram’s attempts to catch a peek.

“Yuuri this is my bedroom too! If you wanted to redecorate all you had to do was ask the maid staff.”

Yuuri’s cheeks were painted a dusty pink, a shy smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. “It wouldn’t be the same if someone else did it. Just be patient, Wolf.”

But Wolfram hated being patient. He wants what he wants when he wants it; what was so wrong about that?

Yuuri shooed him away and Wolfram found himself wandering long hallways, while his mind wandering through possibilities. If Yuuri was going to convert their chambers into some kind of ‘baseball hall of fame’ Wolfram was going to move back into his old bedroom. Yuuri had; once before; tried to hang up a poster of his favorite baseball team. The image was not on the wall for a full minute before Wolfram had ripped it down, accusing Yuuri of cheating again.

“If you're going to stare at anything before you fall asleep then its going to be me!” Wolfram had huffed, feeling very childish even through his blinding rage. Yuuri didn't have much to say about that, but mumbled something about “it not being the same thing” and rolled the poster back up, never to be seen again.

Wolfram kicked a rock by his foot, finding himself outside in the sizzling summer sun.

“Daddy!”

He swung around just in time to catch his daughter before she crashed into him, chestnut curls and rosey cheeks beaming up at him.

“Hello my little one, what are you doing out here in this heat?”

“Daddy, look at the dress Papa got for me to wear today!” she released Wolfram, only to twirl around in front of him, the lace of her dress being taken by the breeze.

“Very beautiful! My little Princess looks like a little Queen!” he cooed happily.

She giggled, hopping up and down, “Papa says it’s a special occasion so I get to wear a special dress!”

“A special occasion?”

“Yes! Papa said today is a special day but when I asked him why he wouldn’t tell me!”

“Wouldn’t tell you?” Wolfram puzzled over this. Was today some kind of holiday in Japan? Had Wolfram forgotten something important? Yuuri’s birthday had already come and gone and his own wasn’t until after the harvest. What could today be?

Greta pulled him down by the arm until she could kiss him gently on the cheek, wishing him a happy whatever-today-was before running off to find somewhere out of the burning humidity to play.

Wolfram was sucked even deeper into his muddled thoughts. Patient, Yuuri said he had to be patient.

But the prince could only suffer for so long, because an hour hadn’t even passed before he was busting down the door of Gunter’s private study.

“Wolfram!” Gunter hastily flung the book he had been writing in somewhere behind his desk, safely out of the blonde’s eye line. “I told you to knock before you enter my office!”

Wolfram was in no mood to argue, “Gunter, what Japanese Holiday is happening on Earth right now?”

Gunter blinked, “Holiday?”

“Yes, Yuuri is preparing something special for today and I need to know what for.”

“Oh my,” he rushed over to his desk, picking up papers and putting them back down, nervously looking for something he wasn’t sure was there. “A Japanese holiday! How wonderful! Oh, my king has so much pride, what a great leader he is! If the king is celebrating, then we should as well!” Gunter stopped short with a wad of paper in one hand, the other clutching his heart, “Oh no! I must have the staff prepare! A feast! We need a feast! Oh, and where are we going to find entertainment on such short notice? Well I suppose if it’s a Japanese celebration then maybe I can try out a few of those Earth tricks I learned from-”

“No! Absolutely no Earth magic. You’re awful at it.”

Gunter was about to protest before Wolfram cut him off again, “Gunter! Aren’t you looking for your Japanese calendar?”

“Right!”

Papers rustled about, sheets sailing onto the floor. Books were pushed off shelves, dust making the royal advisor sneeze. “Here it is!” He pulled out a small spiral notebook with lettering Wolfram could not read printed delicately on the front. “Now, how do I calculate the date again? Oh yes I wrote it down on the first page! Sometimes I really do amaze-“

Wolfram’s eye twitches dangerously, “Gunter! Pat yourself on the back later, just tell me what today is.”

“Yes, yes. Today. Well, according to my notes, and this calendar, today is…. Monday.”

“Monday?”

“Yes! Monday! I bet its an amazing tradition on Earth to celebrate Monday. Even it’s name just sounds so exotic. Monday.”

Wolfram rolled his eyes, trying to contain the fire inside of him. “No, a Monday is just a day of the week. There’s seven of them, but I can’t remember all their stupid names.”

“Just a day of the week?”

“Yes.” Wolfram was perturbed, “But if the calendar says today is just a Monday, then that means it has to be some kind of personal holiday?”

“A personal holiday? Impossible!” The silver haired advisor sounded almost insulted, “If his majesty had a personal investment in this day, I, Gunter, would surely know about it!”

Wolfram did not acknowledge this, but simply turned on his heel and exited the cluttered room.

“Knock next time!” Gunter called after him, shaking his head while plucking discarded books off the tile.

Wolfram was agitated, and a bit nervous. What was Yuuri doing in there? Should he prepare something just in case? Should he Yuuri a gift? Should he act like he knows what’s going on? Surely he wouldn’t-

“Wolf?”

The prince spun around to face a smiling Yuuri.

“Are you ready yet?”

His smile only grew at Wolfram’s sharp words. “Yes, come on.” He held out a hand for the other too take.

Wolfram started at it and then back at him before taking it, a flush on his face. “I hope it’s worth you locking me out of our room all day.”

He grinned further, pulling Wolfram along, “I hope so too.”

Wolfram had to fight his nerves every step of the way, and when they finally made it outside those heavy wooden doors, he felt as if he was going to explode with anticipation.

“Yuuri, Greta told me today is some kind of special day.” he admitted, “If there’s a holiday I’ve forgotten about, please just tell me.”

Yuuri’s smile turned into something else, but he stay silent and pushed the door open, leading Wolfram beyond the threshold.

His jaw dropped, There was flowers everywhere. It looked as if a lush garden had taken up residence in their bedroom overnight. Vines with tiny golden flowers twisted up the bedposts and hung over the mattress like a canopy. There were vases filled with brightly colored flowers in every corner and surface, petals and leaves of all shades carpeting the floor. The drapes on their windows had been taken down to accommodate hanging flowers and vines, all looking like they had been grown there naturally.

“Yuuri.” He breathed, unsure of what to say.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, I love it. It’s.. it’s amazing.” He took a step forward, the smell of roses floating up and embracing him.

“Today is a special day, Wolf. But I’m not surprised you don’t know why.”

Wolfram turned to face a bashful double black, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. “Oh? Are you going to make me guess?”

His chuckle relieved some of the tension, “No, I won’t make you guess.” Yuuri reached out to grasp both of Wolfram’s hands in his. “A year ago today, we were siting outside, in the garden. Greta was playing with some of the other kids who were visiting and you made a picnic lunch for us to eat while we sat and watched them. There was a moment when you looked at me and laughed, and everything just kind of hit me at once. I was happy, happier than I’d ever been. I couldn’t describe it to you at the time, but I know now. I love you Wolfram. And that was the first moment I realized it. Our life together, it’s already perfect. You make it perfect. So I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, and how much I appreciate everything you’ve ever done to make me happy. It’s amazing, I mean, you’re amazing. Eh, now I feel like I’m rambling…”

Wolfram chuckled, shaking his head. “No, it’s perfect. Everything is perfect.” He pressed a gentle kiss to hiss fiancé’s lips. “I love you, Yuuri.”

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

A/N: I asked for a kkm prompt and @loozje delivered! 

If you're not in the kkm discord then idk what you’re doing