#and so i gave in after almost two months of being able to resist

[ouchhq]

just gonna vent for a sec please dont mind me

[tender-rosiey]

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[glitterjay]

I’m begging for part two of gynaecologist!sunghoon 😦

⭒ protected sex, down bad sunghoon, he does all the work, pussy drunk, situationship, cussing, suggestive content mdni

⭒ c's note: gynecologist hoon is doing something to me... p.s pt.1 is here. reblogs are appreciated!

⭒ taglist (open): @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin @enhabooks @jaylaxies

it had been around five months since you made your appointments with the gynecologist, specifically requesting sunghoon to be the doctor attending to you. in the passage of that time, you both had been hooking up in that office after your checkups, and it just stayed like that. you had established that you did not want anything serious, and hoon was fine with that as long as you let him keep touching your body.

you had found out that he was a perv. he would rail you up while he was doing your monthly checkups and then use the excuse that you were needy and that he, as a good man and doctor, should help you. he also reassured you that he did not do this with other patients. there was just something about you that had him obsessed. all of his "attributes" were reserved for you, his favorite patient.

and that explains why you were laying with your back flat on his desk as sunghoon aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance. it was different this time, and your excitement had you pooling with arousal. it was usually him fingering you or eating you out, but he had finally broken. he was going to do what he had been longing to do this entire time, and you were going to be able to feel him in you.

the condom around his cock felt cold against your skin, making you shiver. sunghoon was already groaning at how tightly you were swallowing just the tip. it was a feeling that only fed his obsession with you and your body. he felt like he could go crazy, resisting the urge to just ram into you without mercy.

he was staying calm for your own sake, soothingly massaging your hip to ease the pain of getting stretched by his fat cock. "you're taking me in so- mhm! so well."

once you gave him a green light to move, he went on with almost everything he had. almost because if he went with full force, he'd break you in half. "feels just as good as i fucking imagined."

sunghoon was sweet in general, giving you presents and insisting on getting you jewelry as a thank-you. you were spoiled even though all you did was hook up with him once a month. he always said he had to do the work and that all you had to do was feel good.

but after five full months of feeling your walls tighten around his fingers and tongue, the desire to feel his dick being swallowed whole by your walls grew and grew.

sunghoon covered your mouth with his hand, noticing how high and loud your moans had become. he had learned this was your sign of getting close to your release.

his thrusts became hard and fast, trying to align his own release with yours. "hoon, i- fuck! i can't hold it!"

"let it go, princess. show me how good I made you feel."

his deep and hoarse voice threw you over the edge. your head threw back, eyes rolled back as your hands held his arms, holding your hip. with one last thrust, sunghoon pushed his own hip as hard as he could, having the tip of his cock touch a sensitive spot that sent your body into a spasming spiral.

he came in the condom, throwing his head back as he kept you in place with his strong arms. he was quick to pull out, getting the condom off and tying a knot to throw it in his trash can. he kissed your thighs all the way to your tummy, causing you to sigh with every touch.

rhe aftercare was always nice. he would wash you up, again not letting you do anything. he'd dress you back up and let you have a moment to compose yourself before walking out as if nothing had happened.

"i'll see you next month, sweetheart."

© glitterjay | tumblr

[dragonsfictavern]

Brighter Than The Sun

Astarion x gn!Reader

a/n: I have no idea if this was a prompt I saw somewhere or if this was completely out of my brain, the idea was from months ago and I finally got around to writing it.

summary: With the parasite no longer in your brains, Astarion can no longer go into the sun. You try everything you can think of to help him experience the same heat but with no luck. Until you think to use yourself as a means for Astarion to feel the suns warmth once more.

word count: 1.7k

From the shadows he watches you, his red eyes almost gleaming and noticeable through the darkness. He stands behind the door, watching you, waiting for you… He needs you and yet he knows you need to stay away, if only for a little while longer. Long enough to get what he wants.

Astarion stands behind the door of the home you two share together in Baldur's Gate. With the parasite long gone and his ascension a trickle of a memory, Astarion has long since been unable to walk in the sun. It spurns him once more as if his mask had been unveiled and even the sun could see what he truly was. While on the other hand, darkness has greeted him back like an old friend and he remains cursing it.

More than anything he yearns to once more see the color in the world, to feel its warmth on his cold skin. But even after years of searching, he feels as though you two aren’t any closer to finding a cure, from ridding him of the curse forced upon him so long ago. Even so, his mind stays focused on the task and it touches him deeply that it remains in yours as well.

Which is what has brought along today’s events. When reality had first set in, Astarion couldn’t ever explain the despair he felt toward never being able to feel the sun’s warmth again. But he didn’t have to explain. He knew you understood, he knew you saw him for all he was. You have for probably much longer than he gave you credit for. Always the one to try and fix things, Astarion wasn’t surprised when you tried thinking of clever ways he’d be able to feel the sunlight again. You had tried creating the hottest of fires and yet it didn’t feel the same. Nothing ever felt the same. Astarion had given up and urged you to do the same. He should’ve known you well enough by now to know that wasn’t something you were capable of.

So this morning when you began guiding him toward the door, Astarion briefly questioned if he was being led to his demise. If you had finally gotten tired of him and decided to end it all. Of course you hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Who’d ever get tired of him, after all… He only resisted briefly until you ended up explaining your entire plan to him. To have you stand in the sun and then shut the door and hug him. So that way, he may once again feel the heat of the sun against warm flesh.

Astarion’s heart swelled, lips parted as he struggled to react and while he still couldn’t quite express his gratitude and affections out loud, he knew he could show you them through his actions and it would always mean just as much. He may have thought the plan ridiculous, silly even, but it was your attempt that moved him. The way you never gave up on him. Now here you two are, you out in the sun as he lurks in the depths of the shadows. Astarion’s lips part as he watches you bask in the sunlight's rays, your eyes closed and a soft smile on your face.

Whilst always beautiful, Astarion remains even more assured that you are most beautiful in the sun. His feelings toward you both similar in the weight you hold in his heart. His eyes trial over your form, looking on as the sunlight highlights your complexion, the sun shimmering across your skin. The way it flickers off of you, making you appear even more brighter and full of life. Astarion watches it all, his attentions never having been more focused. He couldn’t dare look away from you and miss a moment of this.

You were so close and yet so far and as Astarion looked upon your beauty, memories from before starts flooding through his mind of him out there with you. Astarion couldn’t help but step forward, reaching out to you. He didn’t think, too caught up in how much he wanted you near. Not because of the sun but simply because you were you.

As his hand falls into a faint sliver of sun, instead of the comforting warmth he has shamefully become accustomed to, the familiar burning radiates across his skin. The sound of his skin sizzling rang in the quiet air and instead of peace the sun now brings panic, causing Astarion to release a high-pitched hiss. You jump, opening your eyes and looking over at him as Astarion quickly draws his hand back. You take a step to him but he uses that same hand to motion for you to stop.

“No! Don’t come closer. Just stay out there… for a little while longer,” Astarion pleads, brows furrowing deeply. It wasn’t until this moment, this instant where he’s reminded of the pain the sun has the power to inflict upon him, that he thinks your once silly idea may actually be important.

“Astarion-“ You try, tilting your head, eyes on his crackling hand that already starts to heal itself. But it’s one shake from his head that has you quieting. The softness in his gaze that has you stopping from stepping into his darkness. You look over him before giving a tentative nod. Your body turns back toward the sun within the space of the open door, but your eyes occasionally flicker over to him.

His fingers press into the flesh as it returns to its original smooth texture, the only trace of it being the faint throbbing that was already starting to fade too. As Astarion stares at you as you stand in the one place he could not reach you, despair flowers in his chest like a plague. You two are so different. While dealing with the parasite, while able to walk into the sun, Astarion could simply ignore it, not think about it because there were so many other important things to think about. Could push their differences aside in order to use you, then eventually love you.

But all that was gone now. You could walk in the day while he was stuck in the shadows. Even while only inches away, to Asatrion, it was like he could see an invisible barrier set between you both. A force that stops him from being with you, touching you. Something he could never cross so long as he was like this— a vampire spawn.

He was not good for you, he knew. All this time, Astarion allowed himself to be greedy, convinced himself that you need him as much as he needs you. But his love was doing exactly what the dark was doing to him. Trapping you. He was sure that if your heart wasn’t so big, you’d be out in the sun more often. Like you deserved.

Then you did the most peculiar thing. In a flash, you were closing the door, objecting yourself to the dark, and you reach for him. One hand wrapping around his waist as the other grips the nape of his neck. Both use their strength to pull him into you. Before Astarion can process what’s happening, you’re hugging him.

Warmth radiates off your skin and spreads over his. You guide Astarion’s head into your neck, letting him feel all the heat the sun left on you. Now, after this time being with him, Astarion doesn’t hesitate to hug you back. His arms wrap around you firmly as he exhales a shaky breath.

“I could feel you thinking from all the way over there,” your smooth voice washes over him, making warmth spread within him as well as across his body. He burrows closer to you, soaking up everything your skin was offering. He could imagine the fierce sun and how it must have felt upon first contact. But somehow, when it was you providing it instead of the sun, it was better. So much better.

He finally had you in his arms and the fog that moments prior were tormenting him now clear away. As you imply, he was thinking too much. He was spiraling and second guessing himself and even worse, you. He knows that you would never truly do something you didn’t want. You wouldn’t be with him unless it’s what you wanted. He didn’t have the power to trap you and he would never want it. While he can’t deny your differences, he also can’t say they’re a bad thing. He likes that you’re not the same person. Although, Astarion would dare say he’d make a lovely suitor for himself if the chance arose.

“What ever are you talking about, darling?” Releasing a light-hearted chuckle along with the question. Astarion’s hand brushes along your neck as well, the skin feeling even warmer here. Everything in him tells him to hide his feelings, to brush them aside and offer a short quip. While he knows he’ll end up telling you everything later, right now he can’t help but evade the vulnerability that was controlling him.

“Oh, I must be seeing things, then,” you tease right back, understanding Astarion and playing along with it. Astarion closes his eyes, gratefulness filling his body and pouring out in his physical contact with you.

“Hmm, must get that checked out,” he shoots back, not able to stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. You both end up laughing together and the peace that spreads through the atmosphere around you two reminds him why he never ends up keeping anything from you anymore. He learned his lesson once before.

The two of you fall into a peaceful silence as you remain hugging in the darkness. Your skin quickly grows colder again, losing what your time in the sun left you with. Even so, neither of you step away from the hug.

“You know, out of all the ways you’ve attempted to give me back sunlight, I have to say, this is by far my favorite,” Astarion admits, moving to rest his forehead against yours. The warmth he feels with you blazes hotter than any sun could ever supply him. He hears as your heart picks up and your neck once again becomes warmer than the rest of your body. Astarion does not hold back his grin, informing you of his awareness, yet remains still as he enjoys what he can get.

Astarion keeps you close as he realizes that any lack of sun is worth it when he gets moments like this in return.

[mavsstar]

｡･ﾟ𝐎𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Summary︱Ransom comes to spend the holidays with his twin brother, Andy and his fiancé. He can't stand her at all despite her being one of the sweetest people on the earth. Turns out all they needed was to bond.

Pairings︱Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Virgin!Fem!Reader

W.C︱2.8k

Warnings︱It's Ransom, that a big warning in itself, cursing, kissing, pet name: kitten, manipulation, slight coercion (if you blink you'll miss it), oral (f!), cheating, daddy kink

Author's note︱It's been too long and now I'm finally back! This was fun to make and I've had this idea in my head for weeks now! Have fun reading :) Feedback is appreciated!

You adored your fiancé Andy, he was a kindhearted gentleman that loved you with his entire being. You couldn’t ask for more in a man. Everyone around him approved of you and liked you quite a lot.

Well most of them. 

The only person who couldn’t get on board was his twin, Ransom. Though the feelings were mutual. You thought he was too crude and he thought you were too much of a prude. Unlike him, you’ve never vocalized your dislike towards him, preferring to be kind to him even if you wanted to sew his mouth shut. 

The good part was you rarely got to see the man. You were safe from seeing his face anywhere you went. That was until Andy came home with a surprise. 

“Ransom is going to spend the holidays with us this year.” 

You froze. “Excuse me?” 

“There’s too much going on and I won’t be able to make it home this year and Ransom doesn’t want to go spend the holidays with the family,” Andy began to explain, “I don't want him to be alone so I invited him to stay with us.” 

“Which holidays?” You asked, hoping it would just be Thanksgiving. 

“All of them.” 

It felt like someone dropped an anvil on you. He was going to spend at least a month with you in your shared house, day and night. “And he said yes?” You questioned, surprised he even gave Andy an answer. 

“I was surprised too,” he answered. “He’s coming on Thursday.” 

It was Tuesday, meaning you only had a day to prepare. You dropped your shoulders in defeat. “I better start preparing the guest room,” you said as you got up from the couch. 

Andy grabbed your arm as you tried to walk past him, pulling you into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head. “Look I know you two aren’t the best of friends and it’ll be difficult but I want him here with us. Maybe after he really gets to know you, you’ll get along.”

“There’s a better chance of me growing another inch than us getting along.” 

Thursday came a little bit too fast for your liking. One moment you were talking with Andy about Ransom and within a blink of an eye you were at the airport, waiting for him. His flight landed 15 minutes ago and most of the passengers were already off. But he just had to make a fashionably late entrance. 

“There’s my little brother!” Ransom exclaimed. 

“You’re older by a minute,” Andy said as he got up from his seat. 

“A minute and 10 seconds.” Ransom’s answer made Andy playfully roll his eyes. Ransom then turned his attention to you, flashing you a fake smile. “Look who’s here! Did you shrink while I was away? I almost didn’t see you.” 

It was early in the morning. Even more so to be dealing with Ransom’s remarks. You resisted the burning urge to roll your eyes at him. “It’s nice to see you Ransom, I hope you had a nice flight.” 

“It was the absolute worst actually-” He began to complain but it all became white noise to your brain. You just nodded your head as he complained, occasionally saying that must’ve sucked just to make it seem like you were actually paying attention. 

For the first couple of days Andy was able to keep him busy and out of your way but he had to go back to work, leaving you with him all day. At first he would stay for only part of your day, often going out to do something other than being in the house with you. Eventually he just stayed around the house more and more. 

“Are you seriously reading again?” Ransom asked as he plopped down next to you on the couch. 

You quickly tore your gaze from your book to look at Ransom. “Mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, going back to reading your book. 

“Weren’t you just reading this morning?” He asked. 

“I was finishing the last couple of pages. Andy doesn’t like it when I lose sleep to finish reading,” you answered. “This is a different book.” 

“Can I see?”’ He asked with complete sincerity. You then handed him the book only for him to throw it across the room, earning a small ‘Hey!’ from you. “Well stop reading, I’m bored.” 

“What do you want to do?” You asked him as you fully turned your body towards his. 

“If I knew what to do I wouldn’t be here, telling you I’m bored.” 

You decided to ignore his comment and pretend like he never said it in the first place. “Well…we could go grocery shopping.” 

“Grocery shopping? Really?” He questioned, unamused at your suggestion. Much to his dismay, he saw that you were 100% serious. “Fine, let's go.” 

The drive to the grocery store was longer than necessary. Ransom refused to let you drive, part of you figured it was an ego thing but he claimed that a man should always drive. Never the woman. He also refused to use a map, claiming that he knew where he was going. 

After 25 minutes of driving in circles, you finally got to the grocery store. It was practically empty, not a lot of people wanted to do their weekly grocery shopping at 7:27 pm. 

“Now that I’ve been thinking about it, you’re always at the house,” Ransom commented. “Do you not have a job?” 

“Not anymore,” you said as you pushed the cart towards the dairy section. “I used to be a secretary.” 

“Why’d you quit?” 

“Andy said I didn’t have to work anymore and he would take care of me.” You grabbed a gallon of milk and crossed it off your mental grocery list. You started to push the cart down the section towards the produce. “It was too overwhelming for me and Andy didn’t like that I was so stressed out.” 

“How hard can that be?” Ransom scoffed. 

“It’s a lot harder than you think Ransom,” you replied. “It didn’t help that I was one of the few women there. I had a terrible boss.” 

“What do you do all day then? Just sit there and look pretty while you wait for Andy to come home?” 

“I clean, run some errands, go out—I do the same things you do but you don’t seem the type of person to clean or run errands.” 

“Why would I?” He scoffed. “That's why I hired a maid and an assistant to do all that for me.” 

“Not surprised trust fund baby,” you muttered under your breath. 

“What did you say?” Ransom asked, having fully heard you. 

You looked up at him, “Oh nothing,” you lied, you even went as far as to pull out doe eyes. “Oh we need bread!” 

 “No, no, no,” Ransom repeated as he grabbed your upper arm, halting you from moving any further. “Repeat what you said.” 

“I said we need bread.” 

“Before that.” 

“I said nothing,” you answered, unknowingly pushing his buttons in the sweetest way imaginable. 

His hand traveled up your upper arm to your cheeks, slightly squishing them together as he inched closer to your face. You could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“Kitten, repeat what you said, I’m not going to ask again.” 

Your lips parted open but no sound came out. You felt heat pooling from the pit of your stomach rising to your face. You tried to peel your eyes away from his only for him to chase after them. 

“I-I said, not surprised trust fund baby,” you mumbled loud enough so he could hear it.  

The corner of his lip tugged into a sly smirk, “See now was that so hard?” He asked as he dropped his hand. “Good girl.” 

Ransom evoked a spark inside him that night. He noticed how your body went hot under his touch and he loved it. It was as if you have been untouched and you’re just now tasting a man’s touch. You would grow shy under his gaze if he stared at you for too long. You would jump every time his hands brushed your body. 

Ransom’s favorite part was when he would inch his face close to yours and your eyes would dart to his lips right before going back to his eyes. 

Though part of him couldn’t help but think it was all an act. There was no possible way a woman like you could be so innocent. That you would pretend to get flustered everytime he made a sexual innuendo. That you would get uncomfortable and squirm in your seat everytime a sex scene came on. 

It had to be an act. 

Like right now, you were in the kitchen cooking food for you and Ransom. You were wearing Andy’s sweater with a pair of small pj shorts and Ransom had made a crude comment. 

“You and Andy must've had crazy kitchen counter sex if that’s what you wear to cook.” 

“Oh my,” you squeaked out. “We don’t–uh–Andy and I-” 

“Oh please drop the act,” he scoffed.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What act?” 

“That!” Ransom exclaimed. “The pretending you’re all innocent and being such a fucking prude. Everyone has sex, it’s normal.” 

Except you haven’t had sex yet. You always wanted to wait until marriage for personal reasons and Andy didn’t mind one bit. He completely respected your decision and liked the idea of waiting, it’s building tension the two of you would unleash on your wedding night. 

“It’s not an act Ransom,” you answered. “I just don’t feel comfortable talking about…it.”

“You’re kidding me right?” He remarked. He took your silence as a no. Then the realization slowly crept in his mind. “Unless…” 

“Unless what?” You questioned. 

“Unless you’re a virgin? But that’s impossible…right?” His tone was teasing and almost humiliating. 

You felt the shame burn your cheeks and you imagined the words ‘virgin’ written in big red bold letters across your forehead. People have assured you that it’s okay to be a virgin and everyone takes life at a different speed. You were just getting comfortable with it. 

“Answer me kitten.” 

“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. 

Ransom swallowed the last 4 steps that were between the two of you. His right hand went under your chin, softly lifting it up. “So he’s never touched you?” Ransom asked as his left hand slowly began to graze your body. 

“No.” Your breath hitched when his large hand rested on your hip, pulling you flush against him. You bumped into his chest with a soft grunt. His hands went to your back when he felt you shift backwards, caging you against him.

“Please let me go Ransom,” you softly pleaded as you tried to pry him off. 

“No,” he said as his head dipped to your neck, placing fervent kisses. “You want this and you know it.” 

“No–ngh–I can’t do this to Andy.” 

Ransom stopped the attack on your neck. You could see it in his face that he was bothered at the mention of his twin brother. “We’re not doing anything bad, kitten. We’re just having fun, you want us to get along, don’t you?” 

“This is bad Ransom, I’m cheating on my fiance,” you protested. “I can’t do this.” Ransom had you in his grip and he wasn’t going to lose you. He refused to. 

“Andy’s cheating on you,” he blurted out. 

“What?” You questioned him. 

“It’s obvious, kitten. How else was he going to stay with you? He’s a man after all and men have needs.” 

"You’re lying,” you argued. “Why should I believe you?” 

“Because I’m his brother and I know the type of person he is.” His hands went underneath your sweater, slithering their way up to your breasts. “So I think we can have some fun. It wouldn’t be fair after all.” 

Ransom’s lips crashed onto yours before you could give an answer. You tasted like the strawberries you were eating just mere minutes ago. With every passing second, his kisses grew hungrier. 

“Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obeyed and lifted yourself off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He blindly stumbled into your bedroom. Carefully, he set you on the bed and unbeknownst to you, he had taken off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. 

His warmed calloused hand went to your thighs, spreading them as fast apart as he could. You were completely soaked. Ransom bit back a moan. “Oh kitten,” he purred. “I can’t wait to ruin you.” Ransom planted open mouth kisses on your ankle, working his way up to your inner thighs. Your head felt dizzy and your body was high off of his touch. When you felt Ransom kiss your cunt, you knew you were a goner. 

“Ransom,” you moaned out. 

“That’s not my name kitten,” Ransom murmured. He looked up at you through his eyelashes as he licked around your pussy lips. “It’s daddy. Now say it.” 

“Please daddy,” you whined. 

“If you stop saying it, I stop. Got it?” 

You rapidly nodded your yes, not trusting your own voice. You let out a strangled moan as Ransom licked a broad stripe against your pussy. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” Ransom let out a moan of satisfaction, sending vibrations through you, making it more pleasurable than you ever imagined. 

Incoherent babbles left your mouth as he made precise, figure eights on your clit. You couldn’t help but lock your legs around his head, never wanting him to leave. You lazily propped yourself up on the bed to watch Ransom but it all went out the window when his lips sucked on your clit. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, your head falling back on the mattress. “Daddy! Feel s’good!” 

Ransom momentarily lifted his head, watching your blissed out state. “I know it does kitten,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Andy could never make you feel like this huh?” 

“No.” 

“I wonder how he would feel that I’m eating his pretty fiancé’s pussy? Making her scream daddy.” Ransom dipped his head back down and went at it again.

 His tongue goes through your fold, licking all your sweet wetness. You felt a familiar sensation only this time it was coming faster and harder. This felt nothing like this when you would play with yourself. 

“Oh daddy!” You screwed your eyes shut as you gripped the sheets. Your lower half took a mind of its own as you began to rock your hips against his face, chasing your high. A gasp fled your lips as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Suddenly the only word you knew was daddy, repeating it as if it was a prayer. 

“How was that, kitten?” Ransom teasingly asked. “Did daddy make you feel good?” 

“Mhm,” you blissfully hummed out. “S’good.” 

“That’s my girl,” Ransom praised as he pulled your shorts back up. “You did so good for me.” Ransom enjoyed watching you, you were spaced out and he didn’t even put his all into it. He could only begin to imagine how you would react when he really got done with you. 

“Now let's go finish cooking before Andy comes home.” He kissed you lips one more time before helping you off the bed.

Andy surprisingly came home earlier than he said he would. Usually would come home at 12, it was currently 10:06 pm. You had barely finished washing the dishes when you heard the door unlock.

“Hi honey!” Andy greeted you as walked over to kiss you. You turned your head to the side and his lips collided with your cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned at your behavior. 

“Nothing,” you answered. “I’m heading off to bed, I’m really tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Goodnighttt,” Ransom sang as you left the room. 

“Goodnight Ransom.” 

Andy waited until you left the room to talk to Ransom. Once he saw he was in the clear, he turned to Ransom. “What the hell did you say to her?” 

“Nothing, why?”  Ransom asked, playing the innocent. “Trouble in paradise?” 

“Drop the act Ransom.” Andy stepped closer to him, placing his hands on his hips. “We were fine a couple days ago and now she’s acting weird. What did you do to her?” 

“I did nothing,” he said as he raised his hands in defense. 

Andy knew he was lying. If he really was telling the truth, he would’ve told him off and stormed off cursing at how his own brother doesn’t believe him. 

“Stay away from her,” Andy seethed through gritted teeth. “Don;t even think about laying a finger on her.” 

“Or what? You’re going to kick me out?” Ransom scoffed. “I saw her first and you took her away from me. I’m simply getting back what’s mine.” 

[toomuchracket]

totally wrecked (d word matty x reader smut)

(yo. you should all know what this is, because you voted for it, but if not... a loooong one, full of unprotected bathroom counter sex, mirror fingering, cumplay, and a tiny little bit of the d word being used. FIRMLY 18+, because it's filthy lmao. ok love you all hope you enjoy <3)

"fuck, you're tight. i don't think - shit, so fucking good, taking me so fucking well - fuck, i don't think i'm going to last much longer, princess."

you can barely hear matty speak, despite the fact your face is tucked into the crook of his neck and you can feel the vibrations of his words (well, moans) against your flushed cheek. he's fucking you relentlessly on top of the granite bathroom counter in his hotel suite, and the wet, slapping sound of his hips driving into yours is the most audible thing in the room; it's so loud, in fact, that it almost drowns out the saturday night soundtrack of the new york city streets outside. it's only been a week since you last saw (and fucked) your boyfriend, but the way he's got your legs wrapped like a vice around his waist and desperately pulls your bum forward to meet his powerful thrusts... one would think you hadn't seen him in months.

although, the way matty's been railing you nonstop through multiple orgasms so far probably has less to do with the time you've spent apart and more to do with what's happened since you reunited two hours ago - namely, the ruined handjob you gave him in the shower, bringing him (slightly sleepy, extremely sappy, and thus putty in your hands) to the edge of release twice, but stopping your motions before any orgasm could properly hit. before you could go for a third time, however, matty snapped and lifted you onto the counter you're currently perched on the edge of. in stark contrast to your teasing method of orgasm deprivation, his means of retaliation is to overload you with them, making you cum over and over and over, until you're teetering on the verge of tears, consciousness, sanity itself. and it's working; you're whimpering with every movement of matty's hips, your brain so clouded from constant pleasure that you genuinely fear you won't be able to function at all if you loosen your grasp on his curls and his back.

sudden pressure on your clit tears a scream from your scratchy throat, making your head snap back in shock. matty - looking as fucked out as you feel, flushed and sweaty and gorgeous as ever - has the absolute cheek to smile sweetly at you as if nothing's happening, all the while continuing to rub tiny circles onto your sensitive bundle of nerves despite your body's convulsions and the whines you can't stop making. "want you to cum again for me, princess," he murmurs, voice echoed by a moan. "need you to be a good girl and cum all over my dick for me, make me cum. you'd - fuck, you're so wet - you'd do that for me, wouldn't you, be my good girl? think i deserve it, since you wouldn't let me cum earlier."

oh, he's fucking sick. he's also right - he does deserve you being good for him, but even the mere thought of another orgasm has you almost blacking out. so you shake your head violently, tears spilling out over your lower lashline and splattering all over you and matty and the counter. "can't, i can't do it, too - mmm - sensitive."

"yeah you can, princess, you can do it," matty coos, the softness in his voice and eyes a total juxtaposition to the brutal pace he's fucking you at. he leans in to give you a quick kiss, and despite your despair at his behaviour you return it eagerly. "just one more for me, sweetheart, that's all i'm asking. what's one more orgasm, after all the others i've given you today, hmm? c'mon, you can do it a final time, my perfect girl, cum for me one more time. please?"

it's the plea that does you in - you're incapable of resisting matty when he goes all sweet on you. and for the second time in probably as many minutes - although you're so dazed that your grasp on the passage of time is probably ballerina-slender at best - he's right. as soon as matty's encouragement begins, so too does the rapid increase of heat in your core, growing and growing with every thrust or clit-circle from your boyfriend. with a cry of "shit, shit, matty!", it explodes into light; you're a supernova, a collapsing star, kept only from falling into an exhaustion-induced black hole by matty's hold on your body.

as you cum for the final time, his hand moves from your clit to behind your head, silently but lovingly nudging you back into the crook of his neck as he chases his own release. the gravitational pull from your own orgasm means he doesn't have far to go, though - within seconds, matty's gasping out your name, thrusts faltering as the pleasure in his body reaches its peak. "'m so fucking close, fuck, babe. where d'you want me?"

"inside, fill me up," you whine into matty's neck, still reeling from the shockwaves of your own ending. on nothing more than base instinct, you suck a mark into the spot your lips have recently inhabited, grazing your teeth over it - at that, matty groans, holding both your hips to get as deep inside you as he can and fulfil your request of being filled with his release. you feel heat in your core again as he does, but this is no stellar demise; it's a rekindling, leaving the two of you glowing with satisfaction.

while he's still inside you, matty's hands slide up from your hips so that he can wrap his arms around your waist. yours slide down from his hair and upper back to copy him, and the two of you just stay clutching each other wordlessly until your breathing regulates and your vision is less blurry and everything feels a bit more... real. matty presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead, then another to the tip of your nose, and finally one on your lips. "did so well for me, sweetheart, thank you. i love you."

"i love you too. thank you baby, that was amazing," you smile sleepily at your boyfriend, who takes the chance to kiss you again with a smile to match your own. "gonna be sore tomorrow, though."

"i'll take care of you, my darling, don't you worry," matty says, brushing your (likely horrendously messy) hair from your face. "d'you feel up for having a bath now? might help prevent some of the aching."

"mmm, yeah, that sounds nice."

"alright, sweetheart, whatever you want," matty takes both your hands in his own and kisses each of them in turn, which elicits a giggle from you. "gonna pull out now, ok?"

you nod, shuffling your now-numb backside as best you can to brace yourself for the imminent discomfort. still holding your hands, matty hisses as he detaches his hips from your own; you wince at the loss of him, but the feeling passes as quickly as it came on. "that wasn't so bad - babe, are you ok?"

your question falls on deaf ears, as your boyfriend does nothing but stare down between your still-open legs as if entranced. his already-dark eyes are still black with lust, both pupils and eyelids wider than normal. when you brush your fingers against his face, matty snaps out of his little reverie and turns his head to kiss your palm with a tender smile, but his gaze falls back to your core within seconds. you giggle, and only then do his eyes flick up to your face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he begins, sheepish tone almost comical in comparison to the dominance he displayed over you less than five minutes ago. "just can't get over how perfect you look with my cum dripping out of you. still not used to it - don't think i ever will be, to be honest."

"jesus christ, you're such a boy sometimes," you grin, rolling your eyes despite the shivers of arousal that rolled down your spine at matty's words.

"you know full well i'm a man, princess, thank you very much" comes your boyfriend's indignant reply, accompanied by a light flick to your thigh.

"like i could ever forget, with that daft tattoo."

"negativity? pretty bold for a woman who just let me creampie her, no?"

you fake retch. "if you ever refer to it as that in future, matthew, you're never doing it to me ever again."

"fuck, ok. i'm sorry, sweetheart," matty presses little kisses all over your face in effusive apology, pulling giggles and contented little hums from you. "horrible word, i agree. uncouth."

you snort. "you really like cumming inside me, huh? never seen you cave for anything so quickly."

"baby, it's the sexiest thing on the fucking planet," matty grins, kissing your head. he taps your bum once. "turn around for me and have a look, yeah?"

you lean up to kiss matty quickly, murmuring an "ok" against his lips, before lifting your legs onto the counter and beginning the awkward swivel to look in the mirror on the wall. the granite is so wide and smooth that you technically should be able to turn 180 degrees no problem, but the shaky numbness of your legs hinders you slightly - matty helps by grabbing and adjusting your hips, then spreading your legs, standing flush against your back to ensure you don't fall backwards. and when you see yourself, you almost do, out of sheer shock.

it's not that you look bad; in fact, it's the opposite. you look like sex itself. yeah, your cheeks are ruby-woo-red and your hair is perhaps the least neat it's ever been, but you look ridiculously hot like this, fucked-out and messy, all heaving chest and sparkling eyes and kiss-bitten lips and a sense of incredible pleasure just radiating from you. but perhaps the most erotic thing about your appearance is the little drops of white trailing down your ruined core, juices from a summer nectarine. is it anywhere near as sweet?

"matty," you whisper, still staring at the sight between your legs. "i want to know what we taste like. can i?"

"fuck," matty groans, bowing his head so his forehead is pressed against the back of yours. he inhales deeply, then leans to rest his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck lightly. "whatever you want, princess, you'll get."

with that, he brings a calloused hand round and drags the pads of his middle and ring fingers up your core, catching the drops of his own cum as he does. you whimper when they brush against your swollen, sensitive clit, which earns you a "sorry, sweetheart" and a kiss to your temple before matty's holding his fingers in front of your lips. wordlessly, and looking at matty in the mirror the whole time to see his reaction, you take his fingers into your mouth to the knuckle, dragging your tongue up and across them before sucking and releasing them with a wet pop. matty whines - actually whines - at the sensation, throwing his head back in arousal before leaning back in to kiss your neck. "good?"

you nod, savouring the salt of him and tang of you on your tongue, a little bit like one of the margaritas you had at drinks earlier. then you tilt your head towards matty and pout your lips slightly. "have a taste for yourself, angel."

matty smiles sweetly at you, before grabbing your jaw and pressing his lips to your own. so quickly and instinctively that you would be embarrassed if you weren't so turned on, your mouth opens to let his tongue in. you love all of matty's kisses, but these types are your favourite - long and sloppy and and head-spinning, matty taking up your mouth with his own so completely it's almost like he's trying to devour you. you think you'd let him; you'd let him do anything with that mouth, quite frankly.

that mouth, which you capture the bottom lip of between your teeth and release slowly, pulling back from your boyfriend purely so you can breathe. he lets out a shaky breath as you do - which inflates your ego by an astronomical degree - and murmurs your name dreamily, before wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. your eyes meet again in the mirror a few seconds later, his and hers gazes trailing down your reflection to the space between your legs. you sigh when you don't see any more white trickling out of you, and matty giggles when he realises what you're irked about. "you are such a little slut and i am in love with you. are you really pouting because you can't see my cum spilling out of you anymore? incredible."

"stop itttttt," you whine, burying your face in your hands. "i just think it's hot to look at. and s'your fault that i can't, because you came so deep in me."

"generally, sweetheart, that's the point of a cr- cumming inside someone."

"i know, i know. just quite like seeing it, s'all."

"i know you do, princess, i was just teasing," matty says sweetly, resting his head on top of your own. a beat passes, then you see his pretty face light up in the way you've come to recognise as his "i'm a fucking genius" mode in the mirror. "and i've got an idea, if you're feeling up for it."

you narrow your eyes. "what?"

"well, provided you're a bit less sensitive than you were... let me finger my cum out of you."

fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

another shiver of arousal rolls down the back of your neck and spine, making you sit up a bit straighter. you swallow before responding. "yeah, ok."

"you sure, sweetheart?" matty hooks his index finger under your jaw and turns your head to face him. "because if you're not feeling alright, we can go and have a bath and chill."

"no, i'm alright, babe," you say, pecking matty on the lips. "really. i'll tell you if i need to stop. i know the safeword."

"good girl," matty reciprocates your peck. "have fun, princess."

with that, his mouth is back on your neck again, lightly sucking a bruise into the soft skin while his hands come around to your boobs. calloused fingers lightly brush over your nipples at first, matty rubbing little circles into them exactly as he would on your clit - initially softly, sweetly, pressure increasing the more you moan and whine and arch your back into him. the pleasure wafting across your body is gentle, soft, a sense of contentment; that soon shifts into elation when matty suddenly pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he says "so fucking gorgeous, all spread out for me. want me to keep going?"

you whimper out a reply, hips beginning to grind into thin air. "need your fingers inside me, please, need them now."

"whatever you want, princess."

with that, matty leans around to capture your lips in another passionate kiss. this one is slightly different to the last - the underlying motivation behind it is love, not lust. you allow yourself to relax a little, bask in the glow of the love you and matty have for each other, and so you're pleasantly shocked at the sudden feeling of his middle finger teasing your entrance. "fuck, yes," you moan against matty's lips. "fuck me with it, please."

matty's other hand comes down to your left thigh, spreading it even further out as he circles your - arguably soaked - hole with the other. "watch me do it, then."

you do as you're told, gluing your eyes to your own core. with a kiss to your shoulder far too chaste for the circumstances, matty slides his finger inside you and begins to pump it slowly. "fuck, baby," he moans into your skin. "touch your tits for me, make yourself feel good. god, so fucking hot, so good for me."

with a whine, you bring your hands up to your nipples in an imitation of the motions matty was doing a moment ago - a poor imitation, but it does the trick nonetheless. and really, you could get away with doing nothing at all and still get lost in how good matty's finger feels inside you, hooking upwards before thrusting in and out increasingly quickly. but you want this to be good for him, too, so you obey; you're awarded with a "good girl, doing so fucking well for me" for your efforts, followed by a "can i add another?", to which you eagerly agree.

once matty's established a toe-curlingly good rhythm and pace with his fingers, he latches his lips onto your neck again. you watch him in the mirror, through eyes half-lidded with pleasure, as he sucks an accompanying bruise next to the existing one, forming a little heart - even hazy with a slowly-building orgasm in the base of your spine, you smile at the action. being lovey-dovey and sappy even while he's literally clawing his cum out of your cunt? it's so characteristically matty that it makes your heart melt.

it reforms into a flutter mere seconds later, though, when your boyfriend angles his hand in such a way that his fingers hit your g-spot, while his wrist presses lightly on your still-sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, jerking forward in ecstasy, while matty coos and wraps his free arm around your waist to keep you close. "oh, there she is! god, you're so good for me, princess. want me to make you cum now?"

you're nodding frantically before he can even finish speaking. "please, please, make me cum," you whimper, meeting matty's lust-filled eyes in the mirror. "been so good for you, wanna cum."

"alright."

it's incomprehensible to you how he does it, but matty speeds up his hand movements even more, cooing into your ear and calling you his "good fucking girl, perfect girl" as he does. you silently pray to any and all deities that might exist in gratitude for whoever told him to pick up a guitar and develop wrist strength back in the day, before a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach wipes your mind clean of any coherent thought. "matty, baby, m'gonna cum."

"hold it."

no fucking way. your eyes widen in horror. "what?!"

matty giggles - not maliciously, but not exactly nicely, either. "just for a second longer, princess, just so you can enjoy how good my cum feels inside you before i fuck it all out. hold it for daddy, ok?"

he's pulled the d word card. the fucking d word card.

you can't flake on him now, so you take a deep breath and continue looking at your boyfriend's reflection. "alright then."

a kiss to your temple. "good girl."

despite your best intentions to delay your orgasm, matty has no such qualms; you swear his fingering gets even faster, his dirty talk gets moanier, and the kisses he's harassing your neck with are the sexiest yet. regardless on whether that's actually true or not (although your boyfriend's slight sadistic streak makes you believe in the former), the pressure in your stomach continues to grow. you don't know if you have it in you at all to stop it.

luckily, though, the actual end goal of this little sexperiment is in sight, literally - looking down at matty's fingers thrusting into you, you notice his cum from earlier beginning to seep out around them. it's an obscenely erotic image, eliciting a synchronised moan from you and matty. he grins, panting, into your shoulder. "fuck, princess, look at you all full of me. mine, all mine, my perfect girl, the love of my life."

the combination of the sight and matty's praise is a heady one, intoxicating you, making your eyes roll back into your skull and your already aching legs quiver. teeth chattering with an impending orgasm, you manage a whimpered request. "daddy, please, please can i cum now?"

"oh, princess," matty pulls you in for a quick kiss, marvelling at the way your eyes flutter when he pulls away. "go on, cum for me, good girl."

as soon as the words leave his mouth, the elastic band of building pressure in your stomach snaps. screaming, you cling to matty's arms as he moans and works you through the orgasm, in spite of you clenching around his fingers so tightly he can barely move. he pulls them out before the aftershocks kick in, wrapping both arms around you and verbally coaxing you through your high between kisses to your face and neck and shoulders and head.

once you've stopped shaking quite so much, you snuggle into matty while the two of you catch your breath, watching streams of white liquid pour out of you. before matty has the chance, you cup your hand just below your hole to catch most of it and bring it to your mouth - he groans out a "you're fucking perfect" as you do, followed by a "beautiful, filthy girl" as you smile at him with his cum all over your lips. matty pulls you in for another kiss; ironically, this one is gentle and loving and sweet, until matty breaks it. "god, we really do taste fucking amazing. you're fucking amazing. i love you, my girl, you did so well for me."

"i love you, too. i can't believe we just did that," you say, shifting as best you can to hug your boyfriend. "can we do it again?"

"love the enthusiasm, but we need a bath first, sweetheart, i think."

"true."

[apocalypse-shuffle]

MICHAEL MYERS | THE SHAPE (Carpenter/Akkad Continuity)

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Dating (or just coexisting with) Myers (Michael Myers x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

NSFW-ish, 18+, minors dni, black!fem!reader, brief mentions of sex, canon typical violence

mainly going off the continuity of the first two films because I don’t want to talk about magic.

Pic Source: John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) & Halloween H20

The man is using up all your resources. Does he let you feed him, not yourself, but he does eat your food (and then demand seconds so you have to make a big pot).

What’s yours is his (but what’s his is not yours) whether you like it or not.

Michael doesn’t speak, nor does he communicate through any surefire nonverbal means, so being with him is like constantly playing the most deadliest game of charades.

You’d been prepared for non verbal, what you hadn’t been prepared for was a heavy dose of malicious stonewalling. Michael almost wants you to fuck up and give him a reason, wants to see how far he can push you before you inevitably screw up and piss him off.

Every once in a while (after he’s significantly warmed up to you) you’ll get a grunt that you have to listen really hard for as he tries to get your attention. Any other time he’ll just be there, won’t announce his presence or anything, all of a sudden someone’s just breathing down your neck or something’s shifting in your peripheral vision and making your instincts go haywire.

Half the time Michael won’t even ask you to do something he’ll just carry you off to what he wants and set you down in front of it.

Michael communicates with his eyes the most though, it’s imperative that you learn how to interpret the different purposeful shifts of his eyes, the furrowing of his eyebrows behind the mask, and the stilted movements of his body.

Now, since you’re black you’ve gotta be extra careful. You being the person the real estate people were able to con into moving into the Myers house was definitely not why all eyes were on you.

Sure some people shake their heads at you for disturbing a house with that history, though none of them bother to actually tell you about it, but most people were just wary of you “on principle”.

You were black, this was a prominent residential street filled predominantly with white families who: “don’t want any trouble”. If you’re with Michael you’ve got to be careful because people are watching you hard already and will jump at anything just to justify their unreasonable wariness about you and get your ass out of town.

Soon as Michael starts killing again certain people immediately start pointing fingers at you. They claim it’s the house (maybe you were possessed or something) but you’re all more than aware that even if you’d moved into a different house with a less violent history you’d still somehow be suspect number one.

They were unfamiliar with you, and didn’t like the look of you, and you didn’t smile enough, and gave off a bad vibe (ie: was minding your business), and “These killings didn’t start back up until after she got here.” Nevermind the fact that you’d been living in Haddonfield for months before Michael showed back up.

There is no ignoring the extra problems Michael brings at your door. If anyone spots him coming into the house, and you don’t end up dead by his hand, you’re both going down by the cops.

The second he shows up and won’t leave, you accept the inevitable, you’ll be labeled an accomplice no matter how the actual situation plays out.

Personally I’m writing you taking the path of least resistance. You’ve accepted your faith, now it’s time to have fun.

I firmly believe that the only way you can stay alive with Michael is if you’re actively keeping him interested. The second he gets bored of you it’s over so you need to become a new obsession of his.

Keeping him interested can happen in a lot of different ways but sexually satisfying him is a pretty good bet. (This will only work if he’s feeling lenient enough to allow a relationship to form between you two though.)

Initially reacting a little abnormally to his appearance will allow a level of intrigue to form in Michael that will ultimately end up giving you a shot at continued life.

You’re not scared, or at least reacting how people usually do when they’re scared? Why? Everyone’s scared of him. *Interest piques*.

When in the mood he’ll want to figure you out, to test your limits after your first meeting, so use that to your advantage.

Sex with Michael is very one sided until/unless you push for otherwise, but will always be intense (it’s not always rough, but no matter what you’ll be trembling at the end). At the beginning Michael will also be incredibly clumsy, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing so if you’re gonna initiate then you better use your voice and instruct his ass on what to do if you want to have a good time.

Mild Detour: You wear waistbeads? Cool, I do too. Michael doesn’t give a shit. They’re pretty and instantly catch his attention once he’s actually able to see them, but that just marks the beginning of the end for you.

If you have waistbeads let me tell you something, he’s using those bitches like they’re a pair of handlebars. You’ll either need to have a backlog of beads, a girl on call, or the strongest waistbeads known to man, okay? He will be manhandling your ass wherever he needs you to be. It’s snap central with Michael; you’re being snatched one second and in the next the sound of little glass or wooden beads hitting the floor is reaching your ears.

Just in general if Michael wants anything sexual he’ll quicker physically maneuver you where he wants you to be until you get the hint than utilize any true acceptable form of communication. He could communicate properly mind you, he just finds it more fulfilling not to.

Non sexual ways to keep him interested enough in not killing you for encroaching on his space are if you meet his necessities and he’s in a mindset to care. There are times where in some movies Michael just has no problem living in a sewer when he could otherwise just kill someone and utilize their house and resources or secretly live in someone's house. He has options is what I’m saying and he seemingly doesn’t take advantage of them by choice so it’s hit or miss depending on iteration and mood whether Michael will deem basic care a priority enough to keep you alive as long as you provide him with it.

A delicate balance must be found between the two of you if you value your life. You’ve got to be assertive enough with him for him to be interested enough in you not to immediately kill you, but you cannot insult him or order him around. Ordering him around just reminds him of Loomis and you don’t want to remind him of when he was in the psychiatric facility.

The mask is off limits. Touch it without permission or attempt to take it off of him and it’s an immediate death sentence.

On the plus side though as a single black female he’s a great burglary deterrent and - once he likes you enough to regularly stalk you during his off time (ie: not October; that whole month is just one big trigger for him alongside any sight or mention of Loomis, Laurie, or Jamie) - Michael is also excellent assault and harassment deterrent as well!

The first night he sees you being harassed or assaulted, Michael splits the person’s skull open in front of you and you almost pass out from the strain of keeping in the highest, most terrified scream of your life. It’s horrifying and you're splattered with blood by the end. Michael is completely unphased in comparison, letting the body thump to the ground before casually walking off.

The obsession does pose an issue with your dating exploits however. A lapse in judgment you only allowed once after Michael’s bitch ass left the severed hand of the person you’d gone out on a date with in your bed (and that person subsequently turned up ‘missing’ afterwards of course).

You didn’t leave him out anything but some fucking oats for the rest of the month in revenge, but the fucker hadn’t even blinked at the bland splatter of food you’d laid out for him. Next time you’d go for something spicy (if you were feeling bold that is).

“You Time” is also impossible with Michael breathing down your neck for the majority of each month. Especially if you don’t want to engage sexually or “romantically” with him this is going to get wholly on your nerves. You want to read, play a game, masturbate, take a peaceful nap, or even take a bath without knowing he's waiting right outside of the door? Ha. Too bad, because you’ve got a six foot something obsessive asshole of a man insistent on breathing in the air that you breath out, and vise fucking versa at this point.

Michael and you are locked in for life if you’re still alive after that first encounter, and whether that means until one of you gets taken down or until Mikey Boy gets pissed enough at you to murder you himself is anybody’s guess.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This one was fun, I enjoyed writing this🧡.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[remediesremedy]

one stays shackled (in your life i will unshackle you)

summary: the good ending

astarion x vampire spawn reader (GN)

warnings: angsty, death, blood, fluff, sad and cute, i hope this makes up for not posting for 4 months

————————————————————————

All thoughts of the plan to kill all the spawn and cazador had immediately dissipated when you reached for him. Your thin hand ached to touch him when he got relatively close, it seemed your bodies still recognised and yearned for each other. He could see that you longed for the solace that Astarion provided, so he gave in without a fight, and let you curl a hand around his wrist, tugging at him with all your might (which wasn’t much) to check if he was real.

When he in fact did not appear to be an apparition or trick, his facade of being fine and strong in your presence almost cracked when you cried out. Whether it was relief, sorrow, grief, he couldn’t place what your sound of distress had originated from. He couldn’t do anything but shield your body from his companions as you sunk into him, he caught you just in time before you fell onto the cobbled floor. Your poor body was so weak, it was a wonder you had been able to be completely present, and not faint during the interaction.

“my moon.” Astarion breathed, no longer resisting the urge to cave into your body. He cradled you with a gentleness his companions had never witnessed, his head dug into the crook of your neck like it was home. “i am here.”

“you are here.” you whispered back weakly, breathing shakily as your lover held your shivering form after what felt like an eternity. through every lashing and cut your body sustained, it had seemed worth it to finally be in astarion’s arms. “you need to go, he’s, he’ll kill you.” tears trickled down your face, all this torture would’ve been null if he stayed here, to walk straight into a gruesome death that you had tried so hard to prevent. “go, go, a’rion please-

Astarion had shushed you, his words coming out in a tentative whisper, meant for only the two of you. No one would know his love like you. “none of these tears.” His head pulled back from your neck, the pads of his thumbs swiftly wiped away the tears that left your sullen eyes. Astarion gazed at you, gathering all his courage to tell you it would be okay with just a glance. “He will rule over you, over me, no longer.” he promised, hoping he was not lying through his teeth.

chilly hands reached for equally cold ones, “trust me, my moon.”

Astarion revealed the party to you, all feverish with looking at you, as if you’d break if their expressions weren’t soft enough. “i met some people, good people, they exist.” Astarion couldn’t help the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes, all the years he spent waiting for a miracle, a god to help, a good person to free him. Now he had a whole band of people who were with him to end his captor. it felt surreal, where had they been all this time?

without that dreadful tadpole in their heads, Astarion would’ve never escaped, he would’ve never had the chance to free you either. The thought of it made him sick, stomach churning with uncertainty, if they failed to do this. If they failed, he would face a painful death, and hell knows that Cazador would kill you in front of him first.

with a nod to karlach, the tiefling gently picked you up, cradling your freezing body that was all shivers and tremors. and steadily, the group descended into the depth’s of Cazador’s palace, a fortress of darkness and misery that seemed impenetrable before he had been unknowingly graced by being infested with a tadpole.

he sneaked glances at you every so often, at least he thought it was now and then, but with the way Laezel fought to roll her eyes, it seemed he had been looking more times than he had initially realised. his body fought the urge to stiffen, still new with the idea of trust, and with one of his weaknesses laid in Karlach’s arms, his instincts were on fire to hide everything that made him vulnerable.

but he forced his mind to focus on the task ahead, killing cazador. a prospect that would’ve gotten him slaughtered if he even thought about it a month prior, but now he was more free than he had ever been. inching forward for a key that would undo a lock. an inescapable prison, suddenly escapable.

his eyes subconsciously glazed over at the sight of his abuser, standing on a platform with his “siblings” all strung up in the air.

he couldn’t recall a moment after.

when he next ‘awoke’, a knife lay crimson in his hands. and a mutilated cazador under him. The foreign sensation of tears came crashing upon him, and with shaky hands and a rage that was immeasurable, the dagger plunged into the remains. again. again and again.

as Cazador’s blood drenched his skin, he had never felt more clean.

and when his eyes locked with yours, he had never felt such relief.

and such, hope.

hope, that was it, and no longer was it fleeting. it was blooming.

———————————————————————-

AUTHORS NOTES

hello you :] it has been a long while (4 months since a piece of writing has been delivered to you) ermmm, my bad! writer’s block and lack of motivation yada yada, has invaded my mind and consumed it whole. i owed you guys at least to finish this little fic series. and as much as you might say i don’t owe you guys anything, i feel like i do. for the very small bunch that enjoy my work, this is for you, every word is for you. you keep me writing, even when i hate it, and sometimes i fall back in love with writing (momentarily).

thank you for every like, comment, repost, i see it and it makes me feel so so appreciated beyond belief. i’ll see you next time (whenever that is)

people who asked to be tagged: @oliviaewl @youaskedfurret @tyongluvs

[duskandcobalt]

Stargirl: Part Three

I didn't expect this to have another part but here we are...

Elain has a perplexing vision involving a black ribbon and a slice of cake.

If you missed the first two parts of Stargirl, you can find them linked in my masterlist

Read on AO3

2.1k words, some sexual imagery (18+)

ENJOY XX

Just one time. 

That’s what Elain had told herself as she took Azriel into her body that very first night. 

For almost as long as she’d known him, a certain longing had simmered beneath the surface of her skin. It was a longing that had been somewhat easy to ignore until that vision had come out of nowhere, acting like fuel to a fire and setting her ablaze with a desire that she wrestled with for a seemingly endless month before they finally gave into temptation.

How naive she had been to think that she’d be able to walk away from that night and not need more.

It was never going to be that easy, not when that first time had immediately ignited something within her soul - a carnal craving that took on a life of its own and became something like a siren song. It was as if her very blood continuously called to him - beckoning him until he answered by putting his hands on her body whenever possible, as often as possible. 

One time had become one night and one night had turned into month after month of increasingly blatant trysts which were accompanied by rapidly intensifying feelings. She could barely look at him without feeling her skin prickle with want, without needing to press her thighs tightly together to ease an ache that only he would be able to satisfy. 

They hadn’t discussed what this was, what they were to each other, but they had settled into it as easily as breathing. This new physical dynamic intertwined so smoothly into their already established friendship  that neither of them had felt the need to question or label whatever bloomed between them. 

To Elain’s delight, Azriel’s early morning interrogations had continued. They maintained the guise of being acquaintances in front of their families, allowing themselves only the occasional touch or glance just to provide themselves with some sort of an outlet for the desperate way they needed each other. 

Each time they found themselves in the same house at the same time, anticipation would build quietly over the course of the day with the shared knowledge that they’d inevitably find their way into the same bed as each other in the quiet of the night. 

His shadows aided them - shrouding the two lovers from the rest of the world as they spent hours tangled under the covers. Talking and teasing, touching and tasting - until the first light of dawn would signal that it was time for them to separate.

…

They had ended up in Azriel’s bed on this particular night. The sheets are a crumpled mess around their waists. The candles he had lit earlier had burnt out long ago. The only source of light comes from the waning moon hanging high in the night sky outside his window.

Elain’s head rests on Azriel’s chest, the golden strands of her hair are plastered to his sweat slicked skin. A strong arm is slung around her bare shoulders, holding her firmly to his body. She listens carefully, relishing in the slow beat of his heart as he sleeps peacefully beneath her.

He hardly ever falls asleep before her and it’s so rare to see him like this - so at ease that every muscle in his body is completely relaxed as he rests. It’s a state of tranquility that could only come from hour upon hour of giving and taking pleasure from each other until their bodies completely gave out. 

Elain takes the opportunity to study him - his long, dark eyelashes fan out over the very top of his sharp cheekbones, casting shadows over the planes of his face. Those beautiful lips, that just moments ago had tenderly left strategically placed marks on her breasts and thighs, were now slightly parted as he slept.

She resists the urge to brush the dark hair off of his forehead, doesn’t want to risk waking him up. Instead, she continues lazily tracing the swirls of black ink on his brown skin, tries to keep her finger steady as his chest rises and falls under her touch.

Elain is halfway to drifting off to sleep herself when it happens again.

Azriel’s face fades from view as her vision shifts and his dark moonlit bedroom transforms into blinding light.

When her eyes adjust, she finds herself standing in the garden of Rhysand and Feyre’s home.

The sky is a beautiful dusky blue. The late afternoon sun is a brilliant amalgamation of oranges and reds, casting stunning patterns of sparkling light as it just begins to set over the river at the far edge of the garden. 

A long pathway looks to have been carved into the grass lawn. Either side of the makeshift aisle is decorated with bright blooms of carefully arranged flowers. Roses, peonies, and carnations in various shades of pink and blue, are perfectly balanced with generous clouds of white baby’s breath. 

The arrangements  were a perfect match for the stunning bouquet clasped tight between her trembling palms.

Her arms are covered in a delicate ivory lace that  flows into what is easily the most beautiful gown she’s ever seen, let alone worn, in her entire life. 

It’s only when her satin slippered feet start carrying her down the aisle that Elain looks up from the flowers and the pretty dress to see the familiar faces of her sisters staring back at her. Both of their eyes are shining with tears. 

The soft strings of a harp play a familiar tune as she walks. It’s a song that she’d heard countless times as a young girl while attending the numerous weddings her mother used to drag her and her sisters to. 

A wedding. 

No.

If this was a wedding, if she was the bride, that meant… 

No. No. No. 

Elain claws at the recesses of her mind, tries desperately to free herself from this. 

She doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to face the inevitable. 

Nothing she tries works. She’s trapped in this vision, in this world, walking down the aisle towards a fate she has no desire to be a part of.

But if this was happening, the overarching emotions in her body - the one she inhibits in this vision - are so at odds with what she would’ve expected to feel in this moment.. 

She expected to feel anger, reluctance, even sadness. Instead, it’s  pure happiness that courses through her. It’s joy coupled with unadulterated love and relief. 

Everything makes sense when her eyes finally lift and she sees three males standing tall on the opposite side of the aisle from her sisters, each of their finely honed bodies are clad in well tailored black suits and white shirts. 

The hair on each of their heads is as dark as night. There isn’t a single strand of auburn to be found amongst them. 

There’s no room for doubt remaining when the male standing closest to the inside of the aisle turns and those  familiar hazel gaze locks on her. It only takes a second of him looking at Elain with so much love before tears begin to spill from her own eyes. 

Azriel. 

… 

Her vision shifts again and it’s a flash of scenes in quick succession. 

Scarred  hands holding her own hands while they exchange vows. 

Nyx, now a toddler, teetering towards them from where he was seated on Mor’s lap - a small plate with a generous sliver of cake held proudly in his small, chubby hands. 

Nesta and Feyre winding a black ribbon around her and Azriel’s joined hands. Cassian and Rhys taking over to tie the satin into a tight knot, the former of the two males muttering something that has Feyre quickly covering her son's ears. 

Elain doesn’t have the time to properly register what she’s seeing before the scene changes once more.

This time they’re in the townhouse. In her room. On her bed.

There’s what appears to be hundreds of candles lit on every available surface, casting the room in romantic golden light and flickering shadows. Her usual lilac bed linen has been replaced by billowing white sheets strewn with white rose petals. 

That beautiful dress she had been wearing is draped carefully on the back of her armchair, Azriel’s suit lies on the floor at the side of the bed. 

The only bit of fabric on either of them is the black silk ribbon from their ceremony which is now wrapped around both of Azriel’s wrists, binding his hands to the posts of her headboard. 

When she looks down, her hands are in his hair - tightly fisting the dark strands between her fingers. Her thighs are on either side of his face - a face she can’t quite see because she’s hovering over it. 

Elain jolts when she feels the pull of his lips as he takes her clit into her mouth. The action is swiftly followed by the long, torturous slide of his flattened tongue along her sex until he finally dips it inside her - lapping up the arousal that he’s summoned. 

She feels the tremble in her thighs, the tight coiling of the release that’s quickly building in her core, making her so unsteady that her hands abandon his hair only to grapple with the headboard in an effort to keep herself  upright. 

The obscene noises of his skillful tongue working her dripping sex fill her ears only to be drowned out by her breathy moans partnered with deep, primal sounds that come from his mouth and reverberate through her body as he greedily accepts all that Elain has to offer.

 Her voice is so hoarse and so needy as she cries out his name over and over again. The warmth of an impending orgasm just begins to seep through each nerve in her body.

She feels the whisper of a shadow breeze over her taut nipples right as her vision shifts for the last time and she’s propelled back into his dark bedroom. 

…

Elain scrambles with the sheets as sits upright, pulling them tight against her heaving chest as she silently wills the room to stop spinning. 

She barely even registers Azriel next to her, propped up on an elbow with his chin resting in his hand as he watches her through sleepy eyes. 

“Please tell me that one was about me.”

Elain can’t even bring herself to laugh at his joke because she’s too busy replaying that vision scene by scene. 

Her first vision had been so straightforward, she had known what it was and what it had meant immediately. There had been no need for interpretation. This time was different, her mind races as she adds it all up in her head and tries to make sense of all the different factors. 

There was a priestess. 

A length of shiny black satin ribbon. 

Her nephew, no longer a babe, holding out a slice of cake. 

Cake, not rings .

It had been Azriel standing beside her. It had been Azriel with whom she had exchanged vows.

Elain feels like she’s going to be sick. 

It’s impossible. She can’t figure out how what she had seen could possibly happen. Because if that was how her future was to play out… if she was to be a part of a ceremony that involved the symbolic offering of food…  it  meant that certain aspects of her life as she knew it were not as they seemed. 

Her visions had always come true. Small details would change, yes. But for the most part, everything that she had ever seen had eventually come to fruition.  How could this be an exception?

“Elain?” Azriel sits up, his face serious as he kneels in bed next to her.  

All traces of sleep are gone, his eyes blaze with concern. He cradles her cheeks in his palms as he tilts her face up, forcing her to look at him. “Are you alright? What is it? What did you see?”

“You…” Elain takes a deep breath in, releases it slowly.

She says her next words so quietly, so whisper soft, that she’s not even sure Azriel had heard them until he goes completely still. His hands are frozen on her face as he stares into her eyes with a confused look that she’s sure matches her own. 

You’re my mate.

[skippyv20]

A picture & a thousand words.

Hi Skippy & Friends-Pilgrim here not wanting to preach to the choir but I am just amazed people still wear their rose-tinted glasses regarding the Harkle’s claim they have two kids. It’s understandable how much people love the idea of children arriving, making it hard to accept that con artists play on those emotions. After so much “fakency” from a narc/grifter who will do anything…anything…to get her way, this is my attempt to regurgitate their deceptive behavior once again for clarity for those still questioning. For years, those of us here have been carefully observing, discussing and fact checking. As the old saying goes, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” That is why I share my efforts in art class sparing us of so many words over the falls.

We knew she was trouble when she arrived on the royal stage but she stepped up her con game on Eugenie’s wedding day, Oct 12, 2018. To steal the spotlight, Megnuts unbuttoned her coat (big white buttons on navy no less) just enough while looking ecstatic…the press bit and she got the headlines announcing she was pregnant. The York’s were furious with this ploy on their special day. Megnut could have picked any date to start this baby ball rolling but couldn’t resist doing it standing on the steps next to HMTQ with worldwide press feeding her headline/press addiction.

For the next 7+ months she paraded around holding her stomach, never letting anyone forget the storyline she was curating. She was terrible at using the moon bump apparatus: making it too big or small for her timeline-sometimes all on the same day; too square; too mushy; falling down to her knees one time; so loose it slid side to side when she walked, and it even made weird belches when she crouched down and then popped up releasing the air. Can you imagine standing next to her with all of this going on? Don’t forget she loved to flick her coats for the cameras to show off her creation of the day! She went to an event, supposedly 8.5 months pregnant, wearing high heels, no swelling in her feet or legs, able to squat down, crushing her stomach while laying flowers on the memorial and then popping up as if she was a cheerleader!

She flew to a country where there was Zika while supposedly pregnant after being told not to go. She flew to NYC for her obnoxiously expensive, talked about, fake baby shower at 7.5 months. On arrival at the hotel, she got out of a car so huge she almost lifted off the ground like a balloon and then in photos taken inside the most expensive suite in the city, she is seen looking normal, jammed on a coach with others…hmmm…what were her famous guests thinking? They were probably not happy being complicit with her schemes. One night she even went “out on the town” NOT wearing her moon bump, looking right past the press, smiling on the arm of Markus Anderson.

The insane lies about the night she gave birth just got bigger and better described by Harry in their Netflix show. The hospital Megnut said she gave birth in, told the press they had not been there that night. The MD she said delivered Farchie denied her as a patient and was even out of town that night. There was no official royal announcement signed by attending doctors, just something she printed up. That day, Harry talked to the press at the stable with horses whinnying, saying something about how much the kid had changed a lot in 2 weeks.

No one was allowed to help her care for a new infant, kept hidden in a private baby’s room she and Dorita guarded. Hired staff who tried to do their job, left or were fired within days. She claimed mega stars dropped by Frogmore Cottage to visit, bringing baby gifts but they usually came forward saying “not true” or it was easy enough to verify where they actually were by reading the news. They had to produce an infant for the press and orchestrated a photo op/introduction at the palace. Like a set for a TV show, she strutted out in heels, wearing a huge moon bump, strung up so high in an odd position, as if this was her post-birth body…once again totally clueless. If you watch the video of this highly orchestrated performance on mute, their body language screams lying. After carefully holding a motionless “infant” Harry, all of a sudden, as if practiced and on cue, moves his left hand to the upper chest area and starts pressing down hard with his thumb, to the point it turned white! That would make any little baby squirm with a startled wail but nothing happened.

It turns out that is the location in “reborn” dolls for the button that starts the battery-operated movements. As usual, this duo flunked baby doll mechanics. You can go to sites for these amazing dolls, to see just how it all works. The artists who paint them make beautiful babies that look life-like in every conceivable combination. At this event, the press was cordoned off, far back in a huge empty hall and questions were kept to a minimum. Megnut looked flustered it didn’t work, and quickly ended the session, pulling Harry to turn around and leave mid-sentence. It is all there to study lasting about 3 minutes. Fascinating how calculated her facial expressions, hair flicking and nervous laughter was.

Megnut is obsessed with Harry’s brother and sister-in-law. While at their house, she was even caught taking photos of Prince George by Catherine who found them in another room. The reason they named their invisible son Archie is because that was the code name for Prince George used by his guards which got out when the youngster innocently told a neighbor what they call him. Megnut will steal anything to use for her own good which is typical narcissist behavior. She has been diagnosed by some medical press as a malignant narcissist.

The fake baptism on July 6th, was a day filled with huge mistakes including the missing clergy. The photoshopped images that were splashed worldwide were massively manipulated. There are computer programs that show where lines have been changed, including items in the room. People in the photo were all plugged into position out of proportion…too much to mention here but it was very analyzed and discussed. We did get a picture of a baby’s bare feet with Diana’s favorite flowers at one point.

At a polo match that Harry was playing in that summer, Megnut was supposed to stay home. She heard that one of Harry’s old flames was in attendance and drove herself there wearing a huge dark green tent dress. She produced and held, for all to see, a doll that never moved or cried for hours, with its face pressed against her chest in sweltering temps. She never used a stroller or sat in the car; did not have a hat or baby bag with needed items; did not give it formula or change a diaper or let anyone else touch it, parading up and down the sidelines trying to act like she was a natural mother. Instead, the faces of those near her show utter disbelief.

She flew solo to NYC to watch the United States Tennis Open which is held in early Sept…leaving her invisible 4-month-old infant at home that she claimed she was breast feeding. In all of the photos of her watching Serena Williams in the family seats…she did not look like a worried mother separated while expressing milk to take back. What we did observe were her raw, red knees and her button-up denim dress as she flashed Serena’s husband while seated. She looked very “dusty”, acting manic, talking to no one while watching the match. The William’s family ignored her after begging her to not attend, possibly causing bad luck for Serena, who did lose again.

This just takes us up to the 1st 4 months of their lies with Farchie! There was this whole unveiling of Archie in Africa with Desmond Tutu, which was like a United Nations event, using a darling baby actor it seems. The invisible child was seen once on Vancouver Island with her on a walk on a wooded path with a dog and guards. The doll was dangling from a harness like Captain Ahab on the whale Moby Dick. At Perry’s house in LA and then in Montecito strange fuzzy photo-chopped images that didn’t look like the same child were offered up to the press now and then.

The second fake birth story includes doctors she claimed to use in Santa Barbara who actually shut down their well-known clinic within weeks of her statement. Like before there was no official birth certificate. Again, for a name, they stole another family member’s nickname-this time the Queen’s, calling her Lilibet which shocked the world with its contempt. A very edited family holiday card was presented using imagery patched together like a quilt. This modus operandi continues.

Royal offspring must be born of the body with official doctors attending. It seems the royal family has put “extensions on their blinders” hoping this mess will just go away. Perhaps now they feel they have distanced themselves enough and like Pontius Pilate, KCIII has washed his hands of this dilemma. Unfortunately, the public likes honesty in their leaders. The truth will out and there will be hell to pay.

Thank you Pilgrim!  Excellent post….you hit every mark!!!!!❤️

[kingslionheart]

I was wondering, do you think alfred and uhtred had feelings for each other in canon?

ALRIGHT SO. I'm so extremely sorry for taking so long to answer, life has been messy for a while now and I think it has been almost 3 months since you sent this. I have basically written this entire answer little by little every single day since I first received the ask and I have only just now finished reading it again.

EVEN MORE APOLOGIES BECAUSE IT TURNED OUT TO BE EXTREMELY LONG, I'll keep it under the cut!!

Please bear in mind that there are spoilers for the entire show and film and please forgive any possible typo.

OFF WE GO NOW!!

In general I think it is important to note that the last kingdom is a show FULL of queer characters (and I will die on that hill), mostly because there's just so much subtext in the whole show, and Alfred is 100% queercoded.

There are so many aspects of his character that just betray his queerness and the first thing that does that is literally the thing so many blame him for: the way he treats Uhtred.

NOW.

Let's look at Alfred's first scene ever. Alfred appears in 1x02 and he's introduced as someone who considers himself a sinner because of his inability to control his lust. When Beocca speaks to him about the girl he’s currently feeling guilty about, Alfred's immediate first reaction is to banish her, but instead he's presented with the option of bringing her into his service. Now the reason why it is proposed by Beocca is to keep her close to show God that he's able to resist temptation and, when he does resist, to thank this higher being he so desperately believes in. This is something that comes again in 1x03 when Beocca tells him to pray for strenght the moment he almost fails again.

In brief we know that there are two moments when Alfred has to pray: when he resists temptation and when he's tempted.

After he becomes king he reserves a very particular treatment for this girl who tempted him. In 1×04 we can see, for example, that soon after washing his hands, he basically throws a towel at her without a single glance. The treatment he gives her is a cold and distant one and that's the exact same way he treats Uhtred.

Indeed, as he did when he accepted Beocca's suggestion about the servant girl, I actually believe that proving God that he could resist temptation is one of the two reasons why Alfred has brought Uhtred into his service in the first place. The only other important use he had was his knowledge of the Danes, because, at least at this point of the story, the reason of him being such a fantastic sword genuinely does not stand.

In S1 it is very obvious that Uhtred isn't that much of a great warrior, and that makes sense because he's still very young, and at the end of the day he only first made his reputation when he killed Ubba, which, by Uhtred's own admission in the books, was entirely by luck, since he was actually the one who was about to get killed. Of course it is absolutely clear why he would have never admitted such thing, he needed that reputation and that was the first significant chance he got, but the thing is that he had been in Alfred's service for a few years already when that happened.

Alfred gave lands and a title of ealdorman to someone who was a 18 years old who came from Northumbria, a some guy who had absolutely nothing and no reputation whatsover, and that he himself barely knew, even worse a man who looked like a dane and that was a pagan. If you ignore Uhtred's point of view, that's absolutely insane of someone who just became a king who didn't even have that much support from his nobles yet.

It was serving Alfred that granted Uhtred to become an actual warrior with reputation, before that he wasn't one, as Uhtred himself told Alfred in 1×02.

As I said, the only good reason for Alfred to take such a man into his service was to have danish knowledge in court, but even that could have been something quick, you know, learning the basics and then just keeping contact with him as a spy, exactly as he did with Haesten at the end of S2 and at the beginning of S3, but no. Alfred tried his very best to tie him down to Wessex and make sure that he would remain. Why is that? It is to prove that he was able to resist temptation and being in control of his own body.

Alfred was an extremely pious man as many say throughout the whole show and even in the film. He needed to prove himself to God so that he would have had favour from his part and back then there was also the whole concept of "a king who's not able to control his body is not able to control his kingdom". Resisting temptation with a man would have proven it even more than resisting temptation with a woman, especially because, compared to the other servants, Alfred genuinely arrives to a point where he's actually and sort of obviously in love with Uhtred, so it isn't any longer just a body thing but a mind/heart thing, so even worse because that would cause his judgement to be clouded, Alfred himself admits this in 2x06, where he also says that Uhtred is a temptation to him.

The word temptation is an interesting one because Alfred always uses it with a sexual connotation, we saw that in s1 especially, but I want to talk about the episode I just mentioned. Here Alfred talks about Uhtred to Aelswith and he says:

What if all this time, it has been the work of the Devil tempting me? Offering me this warrior, this seemingly loyal and brave man, who piece by small piece, is eating at my soul and clouding what I believe to be right and wrong.

Alfred here, as I said already, explicitly says that he considers Uhtred a temptation sent by the devil, which, with the knowledge of his specific use of that word, can only mean one thing. The fact itself that Aelswith then replies that "this is what the devil would do" is noteworthy because that is a topic once called to attention by Asser in 1x06 when talking about Iseult he tells Uhtred "I know the devil exists, hiding within beauty is a trick he will use often, I'm sure". Aelswith gives Alfred a solution to the problem by telling him to get rid of him, and that's what does, he banishes Uhtred. Alfred talked of Uhtred as a temptation and then he chose to banish him for a while, does it by any chance remind you of something? His first instict in 1x02 about the servant.

Another thing that is very important to point out is that, as I said before, Alfred is considered a pious christian, so we know that Alfred prays daily and a lot, he even uses prayers to establish a political connection most of the times, but that can't prove his piety because many did too. The only times Alfred proves his piety are those when he prays alone and that happens 3 times in 3 seasons, which is funny since we could have expected way more for his reputation, but since it happens so little there has to be a meaning. As we said, we know that Alfred has to pray in two specific moments: when he has to thank God for resisting temptation and when he's tempted.

So very casually the times where he prays alone are always connected to Uhtred.

The first moment it happens is in 2x06, before the scene when Alfred admits that Uhtred tempts him and after the scene when Alfred screams at Uhtred "I do not know you and I could never know you", which is totally "know" as the biblical meaning of the word, if we consider everything that I have said before. The two other times are in s3, when Alfred's love for Uhtred is way more obvious and rather in a more romantic way than just attraction. The first time in that season is in 3x03 when he's there praying, with tears in his eyes, a few weeks (perhaps even a month) after Uhtred has betrayed him, and there he speaks of him and we see that he's hurt and wants to hurt Uhtred in return, so there's an element of heartbreak. The second time is in 3x06, after he has seen Uhtred again for the first time since his betrayal, and there we can find something close to worry for Uhtred's condition as a pagan, because he says that "He is a man in great need of the guidance of God". In 3x08 there's also an interesting hint about his prayers when Beocca hypothyses that Alfred prays for Uhtred's return and the truth behind it is written plainly on Alfred's face. His prayers shifted from a physical attraction type of temptation to something that could very clearly be recognised as love.

S3 is THE proof that Alfred was in love with Uhtred and, while you can already see it in the first episode of it when he watched Uhtred ride away from the city (which he also did in 1×02), that love becomes more obvious immediately after Uhtred betrays him in 3x02, YES THAT SCENE WHEN HE’S CRYING ALONE IN THE ROOM. While I do realise that it could be interpred as crying because his dream of an england was in danger, STILL you know that it is not just that, that man was heartbroken and the worst thing about it is that Alfred totally knew that he had no one to blame but himself, because Alfred is always perfectly aware of the way he treats Uhtred, think about the “I do not, I cannot” in 2x06 when Aelswith asks him if he trusts him, Alfred cannot trust Uhtred because if he did then he would totally fall into temptation, I MEAN LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO AETHELSTAN WITH INGILMUNDR.

From that episode onward Alfred is on another level of misery, and that’s truly an achievement considering how miserable that man always is. First of all he’s angrier than ever and that anger reaches levels of revenge, confirmed by Alfred himself in 3×09 when he says this:

It was done to damn you. To inflict pain, possibly. I try to make decisions rationally. However, taking your children was not a rational decision. It was thoughtless. It was selfish.

Here Alfred admits that he wanted to hurt Uhtred and why did he do that? Because he wasn’t thinking rationally, and why wasn’t he thinking rationally? Because it concerned Uhtred. This literally always goes back to 2x06, because Alfred did say there that Uhtred clouded his judgment and that is the proof. When it comes to Uhtred, when Uhtred is around, he just can’t think rationally. That’s literally some romantic shit there.

I made the example of Aethelstan and Ingilmundr earlier and that truly fits this whole part really well, because in the film Aethelstan is portrayed as someone who’s blind and acting in a completely irrational way because he’s in love with Ingilmundr, his oathman. I would also love to point out how Aethelstan is portrayed as a pious christian king who prays and acts only for his own salvation, since he considers himself a sinner for his queerness. There’s so much guilt in that boy and, especially, more than once he’s compared to Alfred: first by Ingilmundr who tells him that he has to be pious so that men would speak of him as they spoke of his grandfather, and second when Aethelstan talks to Uhtred and indirectly compares his sins as worse than the ones of Alfred, so the connection between them is not only about piety, but also sins. Then, no less important, I think it is quiet obvious who Ingilmundr reminds of considering how he was “born a dane but raised saxon”. The parallels are right there and have never been louder.

Another parallel that I want to point out is the connotation between homosexuality and England, that’s particularly connected to the film because in SKMD Aethelstan wants to unite it simply to redeem himself for having a male lover:

Ingilmundr: Perhaps return to your grandfather’s vision for England. Perhaps now there is an urgency to bring the pagans to light.

Aethelstan: Will that cleanse me? Us?

Ingilmundr: Well, surely the greater the lands, the greater the faith. Go beyond what Alfred dreamed of. Look to the islands God made, not the countries ordained by men, and bring all to Christianity. So when you are judged, you will be found in balance. And thus may accept both the sin… and the conquest against it.

Notice how even in this whole thing Alfred sort of remains the greatest sinner of them all, because Ingilmundr here says to bring to christianity the lands that God created and not the ones that men, Alfred, wanted to make, it almost feels as if he’s saying that his sin would only be accepted if he does what God offers him in lands and therefore if he doesn’t put himself above God by being the one who decides which parts to unite and which not. Here Alfred is truly portrayed as someone who has put himself above God in his decisions and thus England would have never cleansed him for his sins, because he was directly sinning while planning it and actually, always back in 2x06, Alfred too considered himself a sinner for the way he was laying the fundations of the country, but not in the way Ingilimundr meant but because “I am reaching out for an England, all in the name of God, yet I am relying upon the strength of a heathen”, so what made him a sinner was his connection to Uhtred.

The thing is that as a consequence in the film England is connected to carnal sins and, indeed, as you have probably realised already when you watched the show, that country has ALWAYS been put in some sexual way, you may call it Alfred’s fav kink. That seriously begins in 1x03 when Alfred is making out with that servant (the same one we have talked about before) and he literally goes like “I will defend you with my life, you stand as everything that is precious, you are Wessex, England, always to be cherished, never to be violated, only to be loved, vigorously”, therefore Alfred arrived to the point of seeing someone as a personification of England and that happens only another time in the show and that is in 2x03 when he says to Uhtred “You are a Saxon who is also a Dane, The very embodiment of the England that must emerge”.

THE VERY EMBODIMENT.

To him Uhtred was the personification of England and now this might be a bittttt too much from me, but even in 3x09 when Alfred is dying his last conversation is about Uhtred and the role he will have in the formation of England, and there Aelswith is trying to make Alfred see that it is wrong because being guided (SO RELYING) by a pagan means straying from God’s rightenous path, but what does Alfred do? He literally defends Uhtred and those are his last few breaths, what has Alfred said to that servant? “I will defend you with my life, […] you are […] England”, and look at Alfred’s final words:

Aelswith: Why are the Danes forever at our door? Because we are being punished, Lord, for the presence of this heathen.

Alfred: He is for England.

Aelswith: He is an outlaw.

Alfred: My England... my love.

Alfred basically dies defending Uhtred and while “My England” could be interpreted as him thinking about the actual country, the whole conversation and the whole parallels both between 1x03 and 2x03, so with the knowledge that to him Uhtred is England, I DON’T KNOW I JUST CAN’T HELP BUT THINK “HMM YOU KNOW WHAT, PERHAPS HE WASN'T TALKING ABOUT ENGLAND ENGLAND”

As you have probably understood, I believe that the moment when Alfred confessed his feelings for Uhtred was in 2x06 and he literally confessed them to Aelswith, so at beginning of S3 she has been knowing it for years.

Now let’s see all of S3 from Aelswith’s point of view. In this season her beloved husband is dying and she's painfully aware he is, even more after Alfred confirms it in 3x02. She knows it will happen, thus she tries to stay at his side as much as possible because Aelswith loved Alfred so much and despite everything (cough cough despite his cheating cough cough), then at some point she witnesses her husband's life be put in danger when he is taken as a hostage by the same man she knows he has feelings for. That man escapes and her husband is abandoned by him and, instead of seeing the anger he's showing to everyone, she sees how broken he is because of that, because she knows that Uhtred did not only break his oath but wholeheartedly broke Alfred’s heart. She has to witness not only her husband’s suffering because of his illness, but also the pain he feels because that man he loves has left him. The nearer her husband gets to his death, the nearer she notices the way he wants to forgive that same man who has made him suffer for years now (s3 starts in 891/892 and Alfred’s death happens in 899), then right before her husband’s passing she finds them together in his study, completely alone. She tries to make her husband reason (indirectly even trying to remind him of how much pain he went through because of him) but instead her husband orders her to leave, she probably hasn’t even seen Uhtred return from the room until late in the evening. Her husband dies not long after and she’s hurt because she has lost the man she's stood by and loved for most of her life, but in all of this… Who’s the one who left her husband? Who’s the one who broke his heart? Who’s the one who in a way could have worsed his condition because of the mental pain he had to go through because of him? Uhtred. So she imprisons Uhtred, threatens to kill him, but then accepts to just exile him, but then, in front of the whole of Winchester, Uhtred gives an entire speech about his relationship with her husband arriving to a point in which he even says that he loved Alfred. This is worsened by the fact that, in her last conversation with him, Alfred was going against her just to defend him.

Aelswith’s anger towards Uhtred is the most understandable reaction ever.

A very interesting scene to me, with the knowledge that Aelswith has this insight of Alfred’s feelings for Uhtred, is the scene where she prays in 3x08, because... THE THINGS SHE SAYS!!

Lord God, give me strength and guidance to do your work. If it is right and proper to rely upon a heathen, albeit for violence, then I beg you... show me a sign. Help me. I want my son to remain untarnished by heathen ways. I wish him to be God's king. Pure.

Here she’s praying for Edward in the prospect of a possible connection to Uhtred in case the latter becomes his oathman once he’s king, but it is the last part of the whole prayer that is fascinating, because in this moment she says what a king is if he’s connected to him and, therefore, the reference to Alfred is undeniable: the king had to be “untarnished by heathen ways” so that he could be “God’s king” and “pure”.

Alfred was connected to Uhtred so he was tarnished by heathen ways, he was not God’s king and he was not pure, all because of it.

Alfred eveasdropped this whole thing and when Aelswith noticed him, they both understood exactly what she was truly talking about and the expression on Alfred’s face was one of someone who actually believed those things about himself as well, and indeed you see that a lot in S3 when he shows more than once that he’s scared that he won’t end up in heaven. In 2x06 there's also another hint at that when he says “I am reaching out for an England, all in the name of God, yet I am relying upon the strength of a heathen, the iron of a pagan”, and when Aelswith tells him “You are God's king, lord" his answer is "Yet at my right hand is a pagan”.

Alfred has always been terrified at the possibility of not ending up in heaven because of what he had with Uhtred, but despite all of that he's always defended him and saved his life multiple times, just as Uhtred did with him.

Since Uhtred arrived in Wessex he has risked death more than once in every season, and Alfred has always tried to find a way to save his life:

1x03, Ubba offered Alfred a peace for silver and Uhtred’s head, Alfred refused and told him that he would have returned to the sword if he didn’t accept only to be paid.

1x05, Uhtred unleashed a sword in front of Alfred during prayers, while screaming at him in front of many people of Winchester. That’s a crime that is supposed to be punished with death, Alfred made him crawl instead.

1x06/1x07, Uhtred, claiming to do Alfred’s business, plundered Cornwall and sided with a Dane against a christian king, Alfred was supposed to kill him immediately, even more when Uhtred, supposed to beg for forgiveness, decided to scream in his face that he would never kneel neither to him nor to his God, but instead Alfred accepted Leofric’s proposal of a fight to the death so that “God would decide”, that means he left the possibility of Uhtred’s survival, even more because he chose the exact day for that fight to happen, which, casually, was on the day of a saint he liked a lot, and indeed the day after he called Uhtred and told him that he didn't like the thought of someone dying on that day. He tried to save him by offering him the option of giving everything back and resuming the debt (since it was with the plunder that he paid it), but Uhtred didn’t want to leave Iseult, so he refused.

2x03, he sent Ragnar to rescue Uhtred from slavery.

3x02, first, he was most likely going to forgive Uhtred for desecrating the cemetery; second, he should have senteced Uhtred to death for killing a monk in front of the whole witan and then escaping (thus worsening his actions), but instead he asked for an oath and spared his life; third, after he threatened his life Alfred did order for him to be killed, but as soon as he escaped he simply banished him from Wessex, he could have made someone follow him, but he didn’t.

3x05, Uhtred was an outlaw, while he was in Mercia Alfred could have still had him killed, since at the end of the day he was one of his enemies, but instead he used the excuse of him having Aethelflaed’s protection. Alfred could have killed him and no one would have said anything about it, but he did not.

3x08/3x09 Uhtred was still an outlaw here and Alfred claimed before that he would have killed him if stepped foot into Wessex, but he did not, instead he even assured his protection for when he knew he wouldn’t have been alive anymore to protect him.

Now, I feel like Alfred has a sort of codependency when it comes to Uhtred. That man constantly wants him next to him and he almost needs him to be there, the fact itself that in 2x05 Odda mentions that Alfred always says the same thing about Uhtred’s hall in Coccham “every time we visit”, hints at them being there quite ofter and there was only a 3 years time jump between the first and second half of S2, so Uhtred has had those lands for 3 years, probably even less, so… Exactly how many times have you visited this man in 3 years, Alfred? But, whether there's actually an element of codependency or not, there's certainly something that pulls them together, and indeed it is explicitly said that Uhtred and Alfred are “bonded" and that for that fact alone they can't kill each other even when they should.

In 3×09 Alfred points a sword to Uhtred's throat and asks him if he believes he could kill him, and to that Uhtred answers “we are bonded, you cannot kill me just as I cannot kill you”, and it’s really fascinating because there's a parallel between that scene and the scene in 5x07 when Uhtred and Brida are fighting and, when she tells him to kill her, he screams at her that they “are bound as one, killing you would be like killing a part of myself”, and Brida and Uhtred were romantically involved.

My point is that it is for this exact reason that Alfred was never able to look at Uhtred and excute him as he was supposed to do so many times, even the only time it very nearly happened (1x07) he left before he could see it, and whenever Uhtred was hit by Leofric during the fight, if you look specifically at Alfred, it almost seems as if he couldn't breathe, so you know there’s a kind of “without you I would be lost and I wouldn’t be myself anymore” for the both of them, and you can see that especially in the one who had to live further when the other actually died: Uhtred.

Uhtred very much always clings onto a few things and people, but the more he loses those he cares for the most, the more he loses himself. S3 is truly the start of Uhtred’s sort of radical change, indeed the man in SKMD is almost nothing like the man in S1, and what made it possible was that season.

In S3 Uhtred faces many losses: first he loses Gisela, so literally the love of his life (she was and I will die on that hill), second his brother Ragnar, then he loses Alfred, and not even a few days after his sister Thyra dies.

Gisela’s death has started Uhtred’s fall, and since he got cursed and was, very understandbly, in so much pain, everything escalated very quickly.

He killed Godwin to defend Gisela’s honour and he was obviously hurt by what he perceived as Alfred’s disinterest in defending Gisela, as he himself in 3x04 complains about in a very hurt way that Alfred “allowed her to be called a whore” (even though Alfred did try to make Godwin stop, but Uhtred simply couldn’t hear it because he was too enraged), therefore he betrays him and then subsequentially feels absolutely so guilty about it that he arrives to the point where Leofric, as the personification of his conscience, lets us know that he believed he deserved to died because of what he did to Alfred. As soon as the first occasion arises (Aethelflaed is in danger) he immediately leaves, which you can see was already on his mind as soon as Brida suggested him destroying Alfred, thus he abandons his brother. He then finds out that Ragnar died and he thinks it’s his fault because he left him (though there could have probably been little he could have done to prevent it even if he stayed there), then he suddenly meets Alfred again and he sees how much he's hated by him, or so Uhtred believes, so he falls in an even worse emotional state than before. After some time, Beocca asks him to meet Alfred and Uhtred himself wonders “what makes you think he would speak with me?”, which just shows how much he truly thought that Alfred despised him, but he goes to meet him anyway and he speaks to him. For the first time since they have met they are honest to each other and Alfred shows him actual trust and even love in a way, but then Alfred dies not even a week after (probably the day after they talked actually), so even if they were finally at peace with each other, Alfred still died and they had no way to enjoy that tranquility.

Now all of this took a very obvious emotional toll on Uhtred and I believe that Alfred is one of the biggest because he knew that he going to die, and yet, because of Skade's curse as Uhtred believed it to be, he wasted those final years they could have had together. That man meant a lot to Uhtred and in the books there's this quote that always gets me:

I stood beside Alfred’s coffin and thought how life slipped by, and how, for nearly all my life, Alfred had been there like a great landmark.

And that’s so terribly true because, compared to all the deaths before, it is important to notice that Alfred was the one who was there the most, more than Gisela and even more than Ragnar himself, since the latter left for Ireland right before Uhtred became Earl Ragnar’s son. Indeed when Alfred dies you can immediately see a change in demanor in Uhtred, which is striking because compared to many other deaths he went through, Uhtred remains silent in face of many things, for example during Alfred’s funeral he's imprisoned but doesn’t say a word, the only time he utters something is to tell Finan to do nothing. S1 Uhtred would have never reacted in such a way.

Still in prison, you can see that he goes near a very dangerous edge when he finds out that Thyra died, and that edge is finally overstepped in 4x03 with Beocca’s death, and it is from this death onwards that Uhtred is a completely different person. The process started with Gisela's death, culminated with Alfred’s and exploded with Beocca’s.

As I said Uhtred always clings to people and Uhtred has always been sort of in denial for Alfred’s death. He always dismissed the actual possibility of him dying, even when he himself noticed the signs, even when Alfred himself told him that he was about to and yet that man was still there like “Skade preys on men's fears, Lord”, says the man who at that time believed every single word she said. The thing is that I believe Uhtred remained in denial even after Alfred died, because yes he was with his God, but there was a part of Alfred that still lived: his dream.

From Alfred's death onwards, Uhtred works both directly and indirectly for the dream of an England, indeed he actually proves his loyalty to that man more after he died than when he was alive, and that has a lot to do with the fact that it was the last connection he had with him, as in a way it was also for Aelswith if you think about it, but also there was the aspect that, before dying, Alfred entrusted it in his hands and, since Uhtred spent the whole of S3 considering himself a traitor and blaming himself for it, if that man shows you one last trust, a trust you have yearned for your whole life, even more with the thing you know is most precious to him, what do you do? You are willing to do anything you can to make sure that that dream happens, to make sure that you can prove your loyalty, to show that you can keep one last oath to him and make it up for the one you broke.

That is painfully obvious in the film.

In the film Uhtred has made Northumbria an unified place, and it is actually the first time the whole of it is under one single king (even if Uhtred doesn’t call himself that), which was what Alfred has wanted all along, because he knew that the main problem would have been that particular kingdom, so with this action Uhtred has paved the way for the upcoming unification of England.

In 3x09 Alfred told him that his last act as king was to make sure that good men held power and that's one of the main things Uhtred was doing. Uhtred has known Alfred for 28 years of his life, he spent countless times with him, so he knew what Alfred would have wanted and every single decision he took in the film was so obviously made with the thought in mind of Alfred's wishes, and indeed Uhtred held the reins until he knew there was someone fitting to rule, a good man, just as his king would have wanted.

One of the most beautiful things to me is that Uhtred was lord of Bebbanburg at the time, so lord of the fortress he has waited his whole life to get back to, and yet he was mostly and more concerned about Alfred’s dream dying rather than the survival of that. Uhtred was also in a situation where he didn’t want to fight anymore, he didn’t even particularly believed he was still a warrior, and yet as soon as that dream was threatened, he didn’t hesitate once. That man was even forbidden to take part of the battle, since it would have been too dangerous for him, but he didn’t trust anyone else to protect Alfred’s dream and thus Uhtred went and died for it.

That man would have never died if he listened to Aethelstan's commands, but he defied them to not betray the little trust Alfred put in him right before he passed.

When he went back to Bebbanburg he didn’t even allow himself to die until he knew that there was an England out there and that Alfred’s lineage was on the throne of it, and during that scene he says that all he wanted was to be honoured in valhalla for “standing by an oath”, which yes can be interpreted as the oath of protecting Aethelstan, but remember that in S3, in Uhtred's mind, he did the most terrible thing of them all by breaking his oath to Alfred. Making England happen was the only way he could have forgiven himself for it, absolutely striking is the moment when the dream is fulfilled and you can how Uhtred is on the verge of tears and I think that has to do with two main reasons: first, he knew that with that Alfred would have finally known and understood how he could have never have betrayed him, and second, Alfred’s work was finished and there was nothing that kept him alive in his mind anymore.

Uhtred died soon after that so, in my mind, he totally met Alfred again at some point. In the show, for Thyra who was in a situation where she still believed in valhalla but was actually a christian, it was accepted the view of being in both places, therefore it is most likely the same for Uhtred, you know, a whole concept of peace rather than an actual place.

Dying for England is the most obvious declaration of love from Uhtred’s part, but if we want to point out actual words, Uhtred in 3x10 says that Alfred was “a man I loved and despised”, and he even calls him “my king”, which is something Uhtred will never do again for anyone. For the other kings he always just refers to them as “our”, therefore he speaks for his people and not for himself, but for Alfred? Oh, that’s a “my”.

For Alfred the thing was different because the man was a christian with so much guilt inside, it would have been way more difficult for him to say out loud that he loved Uhtred.

I do believe though that he did say it in subtext when he told him that “I should have closed my eyes and rattled at Heaven’s gate some time ago, it was the hope of this meeting that has kept me alive”, which is a lot, considering that the man was suffering like hell because of his illness, and yet he held onto life just for the purpose of seeing Uhtred one last time. It is also very interesting that on his deathbed he asked Uhtred “are you here or is it my sickness?”, because it hints at the possibility of Alfred having hallucinatione of Uhtred in the past when he was ill and WHY WOULD YOU EVER SEE SOME MAN WHEN YOU FEEL UNWELL? AND ESPECIALLY WHY ARE YOU NOT EVEN SURPRISED THAT YOUR MIND COULD HAVE CONJURED UHTRED COMING TO YOUR CHAMBERS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? There’s only one answer to that:

You are gay for that man and you are in love with him.

They both were.

So anon, the answer to your question is: Yes, I do believe that they had feelings for each other.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk!

[milfswriter]

“i still dream about you even though you’re mine.” Soft fem reader X Rhea ripley. Prompt: Reader and Rhea have been together for a few months now. Reader and Rhea are in love and so very cute together. Rhea realises Reader is too cute to resist and just teases her with kisses and flirty touches. Could you write something like that? You could also add Reader being horny and a dose of smut if you wanted to. If you would consider writing this i'd be honoured. Do you happen to have AO3 by any chance?

I do not have AO3 but I can make one if you guys want ;) I tweaked the request a little lol

Morning

Rhea Ripley x reader Summary: Rhea is much happier you're hers than you thought Notes and warnings: this was rushed tbh, smut, morning sex, cunnilingus, fingering

You opened your eyes with a groan as the sunlight crept into your bedroom, stretching your limbs before turning on your side to find a familiar pair of blue eyes staring back at you.

You let out a soft gasp, "god damn it, Demi" you placed a hand on your chest, a giggle coming out of Rhea's lips.

"How long have you been staring at me, you creep?" you swatted her bare shoulder, flashbacks from the night before playing in your head as you saw the scratches littering her arms and chest.

Demi shrugged, propping her cheek on her palm as she laid on her side to face you. You cherished these moments with her, waking up together without having to go anywhere and just staying in bed was always your favorite one.

You turned on your back, looking at her with a smirk as she scooted closer to you, moving your hair out of your face and peppering kisses on your neck and shoulder before moving all the way up to your lips.

"beautiful" she mumbled, too busy kissing you to acknowledge the hand that was on her lower back, scratching it gently.

Her forehead rested on yours, your noses nuzzling together before Rhea tilted her head to connect your lips, the kiss sloppy but passionate.

"What's up with you?" you asked softly, catching your breath from the long kiss but did not fail to notice her tensing.

She shook her head, smiling as she buried her face in your neck. "It's just..I still dream about you..even though you're mine"

"Yeah well, you better get used to it cause you're never getting rid of me" you chuckled, running your nails through the Eradicator's jet-black hair as her kisses traveled down your body with a chuckle at your statement.

It was amazing, she was amazing. The mutual pining since NXT years before turned out to be worth it after your first time with Rhea months ago.

Her tattooed hand began wandering under the covers, rubbing on your thigh to finally cupping your pussy, your breath hitching as you made eye contact with the taller woman.

"Wh..fuck, you're insatiable!" You hissed, throwing your head back with a groan as her fingers rubbed on your still-sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Only for you, bunny" She grinned, watching your every reaction to her moves under the covers, finally entering you with a finger.

"Damn it..I really thought I'd walk today"

"Don't worry, won't cripple you too much. You'll still be able to return the favor..if you want" she bit your earlobe gently, her breath tickling your ear.

A grin split your face as you thought of pleasuring her for the umpteenth time in the last 7 hours. You two were like bunnies on your rare days off, unable to keep your hands off each other.

Her kisses traveled further down your body, her lips almost instantly wrapping around your hardened nipple, pinching the other with a smirk at your uncontrolled moans.

She gave you a look full of lust as she crawled backwards under the covers, spreading your legs gently with a hum before she laid on her belly between them. "Christ, you smell so good"

She wasted no time in licking a long, slow stripe to your clit, eliciting a low groan from your lips. "Fuck.." you sneaked your hands under the covers to pull at her hair.

You felt her calloused hands groping at your thighs, vibrations from her moans at your taste not helping you keep quiet.

"Let me hear you, princess..come on" she groaned, ensuring you did what she asked by diving into your pussy with her tongue.

Rhea's tongue continued its slow, tantalizing exploration of your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You tangled your fingers in her hair, urging her on as your hips bucked against her mouth.

The only sounds in the room were your moans and the wet, slick noises of her licking and sucking. "you close baby?" she asked against the skin of your inner thigh, her fingers moving in and out of you at a pace so slow you let out a whine as you nodded.

"Come on, don't be a tease Dems..s'too early" she snickered, wrapping her lips back around your clit and you knew she gave in as her fingers picked up their pace.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, you cried out her name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm her fingers could barely move inside you as you clenched around her.

Rhea looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, pecking your lower belly before crawling back up to kiss you hard, your taste still on her lips as her tongue explored your mouth.

"You taste so good, baby"

You grinned at her, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you at the sight of her face again. "I'm glad you think so," you said, your voice still hoarse with pleasure.

Rhea chuckled, pulling you into her with a kiss to your temple. "I always think so," she bit her lip, "you're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

At her statement, the both of you silently decided to spend the whole day in bed.

Taglist:

@obsessedwithwwewomen @ara-a-bird@jungwoospeach@neganwifey25-blog@yourmisosoup@cameronsdruthers@dementedtrashcat @sunnnyshark  @1c4ntg3ty0u0ffmym1nd

[breella]

I love your work!!!!! For a Trystan idea maybe you can do something with Tristan feeling the mate bond with Bryce’s new friend where he hits on her all the time but she thinks he’s just being nice because she’s friends with Bryce… then he sees her all dressed up at one of their house parties talking to a guy and gets very jealous and gets in a fight because she’s his mate and it ends with him taking her upstairs and smut

Thank you so much!! I love this idea! I hope you enjoy it!

Mates

A/N: This is my first request and I love it so much! Written on mobile so sorry for any mistakes.

Content warnings: sex and language.

You had just moved into your new apartment a few months ago. You lived across the hall from Bryce. The two of you met in the hallway one day and you instantly clicked. You quickly became best friends. She had introduced you to her friends and brother and you really enjoyed spending time with them as well. Especially Tristan. You had developed a strong connection with him. He was constantly flirting with you but hadn't made an actual move or asked you out. The first few times you hung out with him, you hoped it would lead to something more, but it never had. You gave up hope on anything beyond a friendship and figured he was just nice to you because you were Bryce's friend.

Bryce had invited you to another party at Ruhn's tonight. You had decided that you weren't going to spend your night chasing after Tristan this time. You were going to dance and have fun; maybe even meet a male. You hadn't been with anyone since you and your ex broke up almost a year ago. Bryce told you it was time for that to change which is why she was currently at your apartment tearing through your closet to find you the perfect outfit.

"This!" Bryce squealed as she handed you a short black leather skirt and a low cut black body suit to go with it.

"Are you sure?" you giggled. This skirt is really short. I don't want to accidently flash someone."

"So what if you do? I'm sure they wouldn't mind. You're really hot." Bryce laughed.

You rolled your eyes and went into the bathroom to change. You had to admit the outfit did look good on you. It accentuated all of your best features. You walked back out so Bryce could see.

"Damn! Tristan won't be able to resist you in this." She giggled. You had made the mistake of drunkenly telling Bryce about your crush on him one night and she was never going to let you live it down.

"I don't care what Tristan thinks" you sighed. You wanted it to be true but you knew deep down it wasn't. It was silly how much it bothered you. You had only known him for a few months, but you felt so drawn to him for some reason. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and it hurt that you didn't think he felt the same. You promised yourself that tonight you were going to have fun without him though. You were going to drink and dance and meet new people.

...

An hour later you and Bryce walked into Ruhn, Tristan, and Dec's place. Hunt was working and promised Bryce he would meet her there later. You both spotted Ruhn right away. He waved and walked over hugging Bryce first and then you. "Glad you guys came" he said. The three of you chatted for a minute before he returned to the people he was talking to before. You had looked around but hadn't seen Tristan anywhere. You weren't going to go out of your way to look for him. If he wanted to talk to you, he would have to come to you.

"Let's go get drinks" Bryce exclaimed. The two of you headed into the kitchen to grab whatever concoction the boys were serving today. "Flynn is probably in the living room. I'll help you look." Bryce teased.

"No thanks" you said before taking a big drink. "I told you I'm not worried about him tonight. I'm going to have fun. He can find me if he wants."

"Playing hard to get? I like it." Bryce giggled.

You rolled your eyes at her "Let's dance."

The two of you headed into the other room. It was crowded and the music was super loud. You usually avoided this area during parties. You much preferred to find a quiet corner and talk to your friends, but you promised you were going to put yourself out there more so here you were. You and Bryce had been drinking and dancing for a while when a really cute guy came up to you. "I just wanted to say you are absolutely stunning" he said.

"Thanks" you blushed.

"I'm Sam"

"Y/N" you replied.

"I'm going to go grab another drink if you want to come with me" he replied.

He was hot. Maybe not as hot as Tristan but you shouldn't even be thinking about him. Sam could definitely be a nice distraction for you tonight.

"Sure" you smiled "I need a refill anyways." You motioned to show Bryce you were leaving and she just wiggled her eyebrows in reply. You really hoped Sam didn't notice. The two of you chatted for a while in the kitchen. He told you about how he had recently gotten a job with the aux and you told him about how you had just moved to Crescent City a few months prior. He made you laugh and you really enjoyed talking to him.

After talking for a while he asked if you wanted to go back and dance with him. You agreed and he put his hand on your lower back to lead you to the dance floor. "You have less than 10 seconds to get your hands off of her" a voice came from behind you. You instantly froze.

"I'll gladly move my hand if she asks me to" Sam replied turning to face the male. You turned with him. You were still in shock.

"Tristan?" You had never seen him look so angry. You didn't understand why he cared.

He didn't make eye contact with you. He didn't even acknowledge that you had spoken to him. His focus was fully on Sam and the look he had in his eyes was terrifying. He took a step forward closer to Sam. You had to give Sam some credit; he didn't back down even though any sane person would have with the way Tristan was looking at him like he was ready to kill him. "I suggest you remove your fucking hand from my mate before I break it." He growled.

Your head was spinning. Surely you had misunderstood him. There was no way he just said you were his mate, right? "Sorry man. I didn't know." Sam removed his hand from your back and walked away. The few other people in the kitchen also had enough sense to leave. Leaving you and Tristan standing there staring at each other. Your mouth was dry and you felt like you were frozen. You didn't know what to say or how to feel. On one hand, Tristan was your mate and you were ecstatic. You knew you had felt a strong connection with him and this just validated your feelings. On the other, he had hid this from you for who knows how long and was acting like a completely possessive alphahole.

"Y/N I-"

"What the fuck was that?" you shouted. Finally processing enough to speak.

"I'm sorry." He sighed running a hand through his hair. You stepped closer to him. You weren't even sure why you were doing it. You should be mad at him. You were trying to force yourself to be mad at him but it wasn't working.

"How long have you known?"

"A couple months."

"Why didn't you tell me?" you were scared of his answer. What if he was upset that you were his mate? Maybe that jealous display was just instinct but he really didn't want you. The thought hurt more than you thought possible.

"I wanted you to figure it out on your own and..."

"And what?" you replied subconsciously moving closer. You were about as close as you could get without touching him now.

"And I was afraid you would reject me and the mating bond." He sighed looking down. he looked almost defeated. It hurt something deep inside of you to see him looking like that. Before you even knew what you were doing you moved your hands up to his face and pulled him down to kiss him. It started slow at first but quicky became more passionate. You moved your hands to rest around his neck. His hands were roaming your body like he couldn't get enough of you. He finally broke away from you and rested his forehead against your. "I've wanted to kiss you for so long" he panted.

"Are there any other things you've wanted to do to me?" you batted your lashes at him feigning innocence.

"Fuck yes." he replied grabbing your hand. He pushed through the crowd leading you upstairs to his room as you giggled.

Once you got to his room he wasted no time. He slammed the door behind you and locked it. "I'm going to make sure every male here tonight knows you're mine he growled. "You look so fucking hot in that outfit. You've been driving me crazy all night." He was suddenly pushing you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours again. your hands tugged his shirt up and over his head breaking the kiss. You needed to feel his skin. As soon as his shirt was out of the way his lips began attacking your neck. Little moans escaped your mouth and you knew he was leaving marks. He trailed his mouth all the way down your cleavage until he got to the top of your bodysuit. He grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist so he could carry you over to his bed. He laid you on your back and his hands reached for your skirt. He paused to look at you with a questioning look in his eyes. You nodded and he quickly removed your skirt and bodysuit.

"Shit" he said admiring the lacey red bra and panty set you were wearing. "You're perfect." One of his hands traced over your slit through your panties and you bucked your hips wanting more. He smirked down at you. "What's wrong?" he teased.

"I need you, Tristan." you breathlessly replied.

He pushed your panties to the side and and began running slow circles over your clit. You moaned closed your eyes, desperate for more. he pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts. His mouth quickly attached to one of your nipples sucking and biting as he increased his speed on your clit. You were already embarrassingly close to your first orgasm and you had just started. "First you're going to cum on my fingers, then your going to cum on my face, then you're going to cum on my cock. Understood?"

"Yes Tristan. Please. I need more." you practically begged.

He smirked at you again and inserted 2 fingers inside of you while still circling your clit with his thumb. The stretch from his fingers combined with the pleasure from your clit had you coming undone in no time.

He gave you no time to settle before his mouth was attached to your clit. "Oh my gods" you moaned. Your hands were in his hair pulling him closer. You were so sensitive from just cumming on his fingers. The pleasure was absolutely overwhelming. You were sure the whole house could hear the noises you were making but you didn't care. Your mate was driving you wild and you were loving every second of it. You were seeing stars as you felt your second orgasm of the night building. He placed his 2 fingers back inside as his tongue continued its attack on your clit. This was enough to send you over the edge again. He licked and sucked you through your high not stopping until he was sure you were finished.

"That was... I... wow" was all you could say. He chuckled as he removed his pants and boxers.

"Ready for round 3?" He smirked.

This was going to be a long nigh and you couldn't wait.

[punk4ndisorderly]

light on

The one where Y/N is the daughter of a legendary Team USA coach and used to attend the development program with the boys. 8 years after they last saw each other in person, a reunion brings Jack and Y/N back into each other’s lives... and hearts.

if you keep the light on, i'll keep the light on

XXII XXIII - rewind XXIV

“Jack Hughes started dating my mom when I was five. He watched movies with me, he gave me an Elsa dress, he helped me with my drawings and paintings and he was the best cook ever. He always made different voices for every character when he read to me. I knew he was the one for my mommy. Back then I didn’t know...”

Y/N was supposed to be listening to her daughter, who was reading out her school assignment to her, but ended up zoning out, her mind travelling back to that fateful day, precisely three years prior.

It was always a hard day in the Y/L/N household. It was overcharged with lots of different emotions. Mainly anger and sadness. But also hope. Hope for a better, brighter future. There is a fine line between both sides of the coin. Either way, it was a difficult day to remember and go through.

Most days, she barely remembered the details of that night. Y/N remembered the indescribable pain she felt, River's arms around her at the hospital as she sobbed uncontrollably into her shirt. Ellen Hughes' face. The media frenzy. But she didn’t remember specifics. Most days.

Some days it all came back to her, making her struggle to breathe. When it hit her, it hit her hard. But she was never alone when it did, and for that she was extremely grateful.

The doctor glanced at her daughter, now eight, her long hair almost reaching the bottom of her back. She looked like an angel. She was her angel.

Charlie had been locked up and the judge didn’t go easy on him. After a long, extenuating trial, it was proven that he was abusive and his intention, which originally was to take his daughter and disappear, only carrying the gun to use if faced with resistance, took a turn from evil to extremely evil when he shot two rounds at an unarmed Jack Hughes.

Joey was still going to a therapist every month, just to check in on how she was handling everything. She made peace with it, while Y/N needed weekly visits to cope and keep herself in check. The doctor's anxiety was always over the roof, even though she knew he wouldn’t be able to come back and hurt her. Even though he already did.

Today, she was getting flashbacks to the candlelight vigil his fans had organized. Everyone was wearing white, speeches were being made, there wasn’t a dry eye present. Of course she wasn’t able to make it, but she had seen everything on social media. Trevor and Cole had been there and till this very day describe it as one of the hardest things they went through. Everything was so painful. The world was a little less bright. Y/N wasn’t eating, she wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t living. The first week was the worst, but the group of friends helped keep each other stay strong. They held each other tight when it would’ve been easier to let go. That’s family.

He was their everything. And they were his everything as well. A friend, a father, a boyfriend, a son, a beloved hockey player. Kind, loving, funny, talented, the best one out there. Y/N smiled at the memory of his and Joey's tickletackle that day and how he was always able to make everyone’s day better. That’s Jack Hughes.

“And that’s why he’s my hero, second only to my mom.”

Y/N stood up, wiping the tears from her eyes quickly as she ran to hug her daughter.

“This is beautiful, bug!” she screeched, holding her daughter tightly.

“You think so?” Joey beamed, showing her mother her missing front tooth, the very last one to come out, in the process.

“Yeah, of course!”

“I hope he likes it!” the girl confessed, letting go of her mother to close her notebook and putting it in her backpack.

“You hope who likes what?” Jack inquired, coming from another room, carrying his guitar case on his shoulder.

Y/N and Joey exchanged looks, the girl asking her mother to keep quiet by placing a finger in front of her lips.

“It’s nothing.” Y/N waved him off.

“If this is about Oliver...”

“Dad! Stop” Joey groaned, getting a chuckle from her parents.

“Go brush your teeth, young lady. Dad is dropping you off at school.”

“Fine! But no gossiping about Ollie behind my back!” Y/N's daughter demanded, pointing a finger at both adults, who were struggling to keep their composure.

“Okay, little otter, go. I won’t ask your mom for boy updates.” the brunette man assured her.

The eight-year-old left the kitchen, followed closely by her companion, Finn, who, so many years later, was still by her side at all times.

Jack turned to look at his girlfriend, noticing her eyes were slightly red and puffy.

“Y/N... were you crying?” he asked in a hushed tone, his hands gently cupping her face. “Did Oliver do something to her? I swear to god -“

“No... it’s just... It’s the twentieth.” she gulped, her eyes finding his torso.

She knew exactly where the scar was. Just below his twelfth rib, on his left side. Barely an inch away from his spleen and, most likely, death. The time he had spent in a coma, connected to all sorts of machines, proved it. The days and nights she had spent by his side, holding his hand, were engraved on her brain.

“Y/N...”

“I know... You’re here. He isn’t coming back. Jo's doing great. I don’t need to be acting like this every year. I don’t need to play it in my head over and over again, I - “

“That was not what I was going to say. Babe, it was fucking traumatic. I got the bullet, but you were the one that was there fighting for me, day in and day out, not knowing if I was going to make it past the night. Watching people mourn me as if I were dead. The candlelight vigils. Media clocking down your every move. That leaves wounds, it leaves scars. And you’re getting help and doing much better. Just... Don’t overthink your progress. You’re the strongest person I know. You got this. And if you don’t, I do. I got you. Forever.”

“God, when is Ashton Kutcher making his big entrance and telling me I just got Punk’d? Because you cannot be real.” Y/N groaned, wrapping her arms around him and reveling on the way his sweater smelled like favorite perfume. It smelled like love.

She could feel his chest vibrate against her cheek as he laughed loudly, making her smile even harder. The coach's daughter couldn’t believe she had gotten so lucky. When the Universe had a chance to take everything away from her it had decided not to. And for that, she was eternally grateful.

Jack looked down at her, safe and sound in his arms, her frame fitting perfectly with is. He wished he could freeze that moment in time and go back to it every time he wanted to. Her smile, their daughter, their home. Perfect. Too good to be true.

The hardest part of the last three years had been coming to terms with the fact that what happened wasn’t going to happen again. His rational side tried convincing him that it was true, but late at night he had found himself getting up and checking repeatedly if the doors were locked, the windows shut and the alarms on. Charloe wasn’t coming back to finish the job, though. Jack wasn’t going to lose Y/N and Joey. Everything was going to be okay. He knew it. But at the same time, his brain demanded proof at all times. So, when it did, he held on to his girlfriend. His safe haven. Sometimes she’d look at him funny, wondering what had gotten into him, but she never complained. Being able to be together would never again be taken for granted.

“Hey.” he almost whispered, making her look up at him, a soft smile adorning her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” Y/N cooed, standing on her tippy toes to kiss him.

Jack's hands immediately pulled her closer to him, not ever wanting to let go.

“I’m ready!” Joey announced, coming downstairs showing off her pearly whites. “Ew! Stop! That’s gross.”

“Very gross.” the hockey player agreed, hugging his girlfriend tightly.

“We’re the grossest. Sorry, bug. You’re stuck with us.” her mother chuckled, untangling herself from Jack's embrace to be able to crouch down to her height. “Have a great day at school, Jo. Be nice. Wait for your turn...”

“Don’t pull pranks on Ms. Miller. I know, mom.” the eight-year-old sighed.

“Okay, okay. You’re a big girl. You got it.”

“Let’s go, little otter. No tardiness allowed on Hugheship.” Jack reminded them, picking up Joey's backpack, ushering her outside.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

“Hugheship?”

“Hughes' spaceship!” her daughter replied before Jack could.

“What she said!” he laughed, checking if she had fastened her seatbelt before getting inside. “See you later, beautiful.”

*

“Is the blindfold really necessary?” Y/N asked, raising her hands to touch the fabric covering her eyes.

“Yes. And stop trying to take it off!” he scolded his girlfriend, chuckling, his eyes moving back to the road ahead of him.

“Jack, I swear to god, if this is another attempt to get me to get my wisdom teeth removed...”

“No, no. I’m not making that mistake again... Not even if your teeth get all crooked.” the Devils' plajer shook his head.

“Will you still love me when my teeth get crooked?”

“I would love you even if you had no teeth.” he smiled, even though he knew she couldn’t see him.

The drive was a little over an hour long, with Y/N singing along to every single song on the radio. Jack was always astounded by her capacity to memorise lyrics when he could barely remember the National Anthem. He couldn’t stop stealing glances at the gorgeous woman sat beside him, who couldn’t stop fidgeting in her seat, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Y/N eventually drifted off to sleep, having stayed up late the night before and getting up very early in the morning to get Joey ready for school.

Jack pulled up by the entrance of the natural park, waiting a few more minutes before waking her up. He knew how much she needed to rest and couldn’t bring himself to do it until he got a text from her mother, letting him know she had picked up their little girl and was on her way.

He took a deep breath, reaching to softly shake her awake.

“No, mom. I’ll be up in five.” she mumbled swatting his hand away.

The brunette man let out a loud laugh, deciding to get out and run to her side, opening the door carefully, not wanting her to fall. He gently picked her up and the doctor instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight.

“Mom! You’re so strong.” the petite woman sighed, nuzzling into his chest, the scent of his cologne filling up her nostrils and waking her up. “Hey baby.”

She could feel his chest vibrating while he laughed, instantly making her smile.

“Hi, babe. How was the nap?”

“Great... Can I take the blindfold off now? And walk on my own?”

“Ten more minutes and you’ll be skipping around.”

“And seeing?”

“And seeing.” he chuckled, walking along the trail.

“Good. Also, it smells heavenly here. Are we in the woods or something?”

“Or something.” Jack smirked.

“Jack Hughes, is this your way of getting rid of me? Are you going to leave me in the middle of nowhere and drive off into the sunset?”

“Y/N, you’ve been watching way too many episodes of Criminal Minds in a row.”

“I can’t help it, I’ve got a huge crush on...”

“Morgan, I know.” the brunette man rolled his eyes playfully, now huffing and puffing from carrying her for so long. “Alright, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m letting you down. Ready?”

“Ready.” she chirped, letting out a screech when he dropped her, landing on a pile of pillows. “What the hell, Rowdy?”

Her boyfriend dropped down on one knee, taking off her blindfold.

“As promised.” he winked, smoothing out her hair and laughing at how disheveled she looked.

“Shut up, I bet I look crazy!”

“You do not.”

Y/N leaned in to kiss him, cupping both sides of his face with her dainty hands. Losing his balance, Jack fell back on the blanket he had laid out earlier that morning, after dropping Joey off at school, bringing his girlfriend down with him, making her land on his chest.

The couple burst out laughing, the doctor finally taking in her surroundings as she got back to her initial position. They were sitting in the middle of a beautiful clearing, tall trees surrounding them, the sun rays coming through treetops, enveloping them in a golden haze. She glanced around her, seeing the pile of pillows she had fallen on and a checkered red blanket, a small basket set close by.

“What is this?” Y/N inquired, motioning towards the romantic setting. “Am I missing something? Jack, I told you monthversaries aren’t a thing...”

“It’s a romantic picnic. Do I have to have a reason to set a romantic picnic up for my beautiful girlfriend?”

“Is this about Trevor's whole Vegas birthday extravaganza thing? I told you I’m fine with it, but please don’t go all Hangover trilogy on me. Oh and don’t let Alex get a face tattoo, because that would -“

The Devils' player crashed his lips against hers, gently guiding her towards the soft pillows behind her. After a minute or two, he pulled away, trying to catch his breath and being met with Y/N's quizzical facial expression.

“It’s a romantic getaway...But shorter. I wanted to do something nice for you today.”

“Is it because of...hu...”

“Well, kind of. I mean, I wouldn’t say it’s happening because of the date but the date is specific for a reason... It’s just -“

“A beautiful gesture from my amazing boyfriend. Got it, baby.” she beamed up at him, sitting back up. “Thank you.”

Y/N couldn’t believe how lucky she was Coke had knocked some sense into her three years before and made her throw caution to the wind, choosing the man who had, over and over again, chosen her.

He looked at her adoringly, before reaching for the basket and dragging it closer to him.

“So what did you cook for us?” the coach's daughter asked, rubbing her hands together.

“I didn’t cook anything... But...” he began, pulling out two greasy cheeseburgers and waving them in front of her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” the brunette squealed, wrapping her arms around Jack's neck before stealing a burger from him. “Did you get -“

“Fries? Of course I did, who do you think I am?” the brunette man feigned hurt, handing her a pack of cheese fries.

“Man, I could marry you right here. On this very spot. Right now. This is so good.” she moaned as she took bite after bite of her favorite junk food.

Jack almost choked on his food, coughing out a large chunk of bread, his face as red as it could get.

“Oh my god! Rowdy! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to... We don’t need to... I don’t want to pressure you, please...”

“Sunshine...” he managed to get out, his voice still hoarse. “I want to marry you. I do. Trust me.” he smiled, seeing her worried expression be replaced by a relieved one.

“You almost choked when I mentioned marriage so I think we’re sitting this one out for a while, hu?” Y/N teased him, eating happily.

*

“So... Are you ready to go?” Jack said, getting up and storing the trash in the basket.

“Go where? I thought we were just having a picnic?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, confused.

“I need to move so I can digest all this food, you know... And a romantic walk doesn’t sound bad, right?” he winked, waiting for her to get on her feet. “We’ll get this on our way back.”

“Okay?” the doctor chuckled, holding on to his forearm and treading by his side.

They stayed silent for a little while, exchanging a few loving looks along the way. Jack's palms were sweating like crazy and Y/N couldn’t help but think it was endearing how, after all those years, he still got so nervous around her. She held on to his arm tighter, her chin resting on his shoulder as she looked up at him.

“Jack Hughes, you are the love of my life. Did you know that?”

“I figured that if you haven’t kicked me out by now I must be doing something right... Being called the love of your life sounds good to me. I just don’t know what I did to deserve you...”

“Your charm totally stems from your badass scar, not going to lie.”

“But you were dating me way before that...”

“Ehh, it was kinda fizzling out by then...” she joked.

“You’re the love of my life as well, sunshine. Don’t doubt it.” he stated, completely sure of himself for one of the very few times in his life.

“I could never, babe. Now...Where are we?”

Jack smiled softly, leading her towards yet another clearing, this one with a very particular set of familiar trees right in the middle of it. He looked down on his girlfriend, completely mesmerized by the beauty of their current location, and he took her hand in his, taking her up to the second one from the left.

The teacher furrowed her eyebrows, not getting the point and glancing at him with nothing but utter confusion on her face.

“These are beautiful, but I am lost.” she confessed.

“Doesn’t this place look oddly familiar?” the Devils' player inquired, motioning towards the log trellis behind the trees.

Suddenly, realization hit her. They were at David and River's wedding venue. Memories of their weekend in the house the couple had rented, skinny dipping, foosball, talking under the stars and a love confession came flooding back. She let go of Jack's hand and ran to the first one on the right, finding their friend’s names carved on the tree they had chosen three years prior.

“The foursome of love? Holy shit, Rowdy! How did you even manage to get here without getting us both lost? Your sense of orientation is literally nonexistent!” Y/N walked up to him, her hands on her hips.

“I did this quite a few times before today.” the brunette man chuckled. “I’ve had time to practice and find the right direction.” he shrugged. “But check this out... Right over... Here.”

The doctor looked at what he was pointing to and she let out a gasp, reading Y/NY/L/N+JH right on top of every other combination of letters.

“Oh my god. When did you - ?” she almost yelled, trying to touch the bark around her and Jack's initials, standing on her tippy toes.

“The same night I told you I liked you. After I went looking for you, I came back to the reception and decided we were too good to not be given a chance. So I carved our initials right here in hopes of one day coming back and my dream having come true.” he reached out to caress her cheek, wiping away a single tear with his thumb. “Because that’s what you are, Y/N. You’re my dream come true. And I thought, if I’m gonna do this, I better do it in the exact same spot where I poured my feelings out to the woman who has had my heart ever since I first met her. Full circle, baby.”

“What? What do you mean do this?”

“Oh honey, you cannot be this dense.” Y/M/N rolled her eyes, coming from the log trellis bellow them.

Behind her were Dan, with his phone in his hand, and her father, who walked hand in hand with Joey, who was looking around like she was waltzing into one of her dreams. When she finally spotted her mother, she ran to hug her, not letting go of her waist as Jack inched closer to both of them.

“What the -“

“Will you shut up for once and let the man speak?” Coach huffed, joining his ex-wife by one of the trees. “Love you, honey. Carry on, Hughes.”

“Thanks, Coach.” the Devils' player chuckled.

“Okay. Sorry, sorry.” Y/N said, shaking her head and turning back to Jack. “I have a tendency to talk a lot and interrupt people when I’m nervous.”

He leaned in placing a hand on her cheek, stroking it gently.

“I know, babe. I know you like the palm of my hand. You put way too much sugar in your morning coffee, you get up extra early to make this huge breakfast we never finish eating, you’re terrible with washing machines so you sometimes end up accidentally mixing my underwear and Joey's ballet gear and consequently dying it all pink.” he stopped himself when he heard a quiet sniffle coming from behind him. “You good, Y/M/N?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Thank you. Carry on.” the older woman waved him off, prompting him to turn his attention back to his girlfriend.

“As I was saying...” he continued, making everyone else to laugh at how emotional his mother-in-law was. “Mess, you write songs about everything and anything, you have a terrible road rage problem, you make time to give back and help others, you’re an incredible mom to our little girl. Being with you made me a better man. I knew you were the one for me from the minute you checked me against the plexiglass for the very first time, I’m sorry it took me so long to actually do something about it... When we were here the last time my life changed forever because when you kissed me back I knew I was getting a second chance with the girl of my dreams. That night, three years ago, when I was about to pass out, all I could think about was how much I wanted to live my life with you and Joey, how much I needed to be around to see you smile and help her get through life. I knew how deep my love for you actually was. You make me so happy and I hope I can make you just as happy for the rest of our lives. I chose to do this today because that awful memory that has been haunting us for so long is overdue to be replaced by an amazing one. So, without further due and with Joey and your parents’ permission...” he said, getting down on one knee and opening a black velvet box, revealing a beautiful oval-shaped diamond ring inside. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

Y/N let out a gasp, her hands flying up to her mouth as Joey jumped up and down, still holding on to her waist and giggling. A few tears rolled down her cheeks as she took in what was happening and how perfect that moment was.

“Mommy, say yes!” the eight-year-old begged, glancing up at her mom.

The doctor took him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up, her lips meeting his in a sweet, make-your-heart-burst-with-happiness kiss. She pulled away, her face glowing with pure glee, making his heart beat faster and faster inside his ribcage. After all those years, she still had the power to make him go weak in the knees. One kiss and everything was okay, no matter what. Y/N joined their foreheads, breathless as she stared deep into his warm onyx eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Jack asked, hesitantly.

“Yes. Da. Oui. Sí. Whatever language you want me to say it in. Be mine, Jack Hughes. Forever.”

Jack let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, a nervous chuckle coming out of his mouth as he ran his hands through his hair, never dropping the black velvet box, and proceeding to grab her face, peppering small pecks all over her nose, cheeks, lips and forehead, making her laugh as the four people present watched them happily.

“So, do I get to wear the ring now or are you going to carry that around a little bit longer?” Y/N teased him, pointing towards the box.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Wait, okay.” he stuttered, his hands shaking as he pulled the ring out.

He effortlessly slid the ring onto her finger, earning claps and cheers from Coach and Y/M/N, while Dan took pictures, trying to refrain from crying his heart out right then and there.

“Do you like it?” he whispered in her ear when she pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I love it. And I love you.” she spoke in a hushed tone, pressing her lips just bellow his ear lobe.

“I love you too, Mess. Thank you for choosing me.” the brunette man smiled, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Not choosing you could never be an option, Gretz.” the doctor assured him, looking straight into his eyes and leaning back in for another kiss.

“Okay, kids! Too much PDA is actually a thing.” Coach clapped his hands loudly, to bring them back down to planet Earth. “Hughes, wasn’t there something else you wanted to ask?”

“Oh! Yes! Oh my god, yes. I wanted to...” he began, letting go of his fiancée and crouching down in front of Joey, who looked overjoyed by the recent turn of events, taking her two hands in his and signaling for Y/N to join them with his head. “Well, I want to...Hmmm... Okay let me start again... I love you, Jo. You’ve been my daughter in my head and in my heart for three years now... I read you your bedtime stories, I stay up late at night worrying about your future, my heart breaks when you cry... I already call you my kid and I already brag about you to everyone around me but... I would like to make it official... I mean, if you want to and if your mother will allow me to... I would like to adopt you and be legally known as Josephine Y/L/N's dad. What do you say, girls?”

Y/N looked at him with tears in her eyes, mimicking Joey as she stared at the man she had grown to love as her father figure in shock. Having Jack as her dad was something she never took for granted and she knew he was the best man around. It was all true. He was already hers to keep. And she sure wanted him to be recognized as the father he had been to her ever since she was five years old. Joey turned her head to look at her mother, who was struggling to keep her emotions in check, but still managed to nod silently at her, inching closer so she could kiss her temple.

“Does that mean you are breaking the law if you don’t watch Disney movies with me?” the little girl inquired in a joking manner, raising her eyebrow.

“I think that can be one interpretation of it, sure.” Jack laughed.

“I love you, daddy.” she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

And just like that, all the pieces in the puzzle were finally assembled. They fit. And the picture was exactly like the one on the box. He was sure of it.

[dinneronvenus]

⭒ Shishiba x fem reader

⭒ tags: fluff for perverts • heavy petting • emotional foreplay • pda • exhibitionist Shishiba • reader is a “honeypot” spy • secret relationship • canonically disabled Shishiba • praise • pleasure d-m Shishiba • mild jealousy and possessiveness

⭒ umm I had no idea how to end this before it got too long lol my bad I may redo the ending but enjoy it for now. I did not proofread this either lol

Shishiba has a fierce set of ethics and rules about how he performs in his job. He doesn’t get upset when people close to him die because he knows that’s just the nature of the job. It’d be hypocritical to be upset at death when you kill people for a living. It’d be even more hypocritical to hate experiencing violence when you operate as violently as possible. Any feelings that conflicted with the nature of his work were deemed pointless, selfish, and ridiculous. He threw them away and fulfilled his duties without a shred of insincerity. Or he did before meeting you, anyway.

It’d been a few months since you’d turned him into a hypocrite. He still remembers your first meeting like it was yesterday. The way you sauntered into the Order’s dining room when the chairman gave his cue was burned into Shishiba’s mind. Your dress was pitch black and a perfect fit for your curvy body; accentuating all the right things. Your hair and makeup were flawless—he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking to your glossy lips as the chairman introduced you.

“She’ll be gathering intelligence from extremely high profile targets that have a weakness for the flesh.”

Suddenly the unbelievable beauty made sense. You’d essentially be used as bait and work in tandem with at least one member of the Order to eliminate targets when you weren’t gathering information. At first he resigned himself to not being able to pursue you at all, but after two missions with you he started convincing himself that something strictly physical wouldn’t be a problem. How shortsighted and stupid of him.

You two have been working your latest target for the last month, a ceo that turned out to be the host of a human auction, and not a second went by where jealousy didn’t try to consume Shishiba whole. Due to his low casualty rate and high discretion you were paired up often and for long stretches of time. He couldn’t bring himself to be rude or cold with you for too long but God knows he tried so hard to resist you in the beginning.

He tried to write you off, figuring your sweet personality and elegant demeanor were manufactured for your job. The more time you spent with him, the more he saw that you were a true natural charmer. In fact, he noticed that the way you speak to your targets and the way you speak to him differed only slightly. You didn’t praise him or stroke his ego in any way and never tried to manipulate his feelings or thoughts. That last part didn’t change when the two of you started fucking either. You weren’t shy about letting him know you enjoyed his mouth when it was clamped around your pussy and would even tell him you thought of him when you took targets to bed. The problem was that you did it so matter-of-factly. As if it should be obvious enough to not need saying that you enjoyed him more than the scumbags. He was desperate for the emotional side of you, even if it was fake.

Every second you spent in the hands of someone else was sandpaper to his soul. Hearing the playback of your intelligence gathering sessions made him want to tear someone apart. Your voice dripped with a cocktail of lust, respect, and adoration made specifically for the target. Flirty giggles punctuated your responses and the subtle, almost chaste physical affections you’d give them to solidify the fantasy often force him to disable the visual feed.

You were never so intentionally emotional with him and he refused to let yet another despicable man enjoy his idea of heaven without experiencing it himself. You came back to the safe house after your latest session with the ceo. Shishiba noticed that your hair was in a different style and your lips were swollen. He couldn’t help but picture you suckling on the fingers and cock of the ceo and had to turn away to hide his reflexive grimace. Your heels clattered against the floor as you slipped them off with a relieved sigh.

“Welcome back,” Shishiba said without facing you, choosing instead to make it seem like he was searching in the near-bare fridge for something. “Anything to report?”

“In three days there will be another auction. Our goal should be to identify the guests—specifically the bidders—and eliminate our current target. If we can set up to probe or eliminate others, that’s a bonus.” Your voice sounded softer than normal with exhaustion leaking through.

“Excellent work. We should go out to eat and celebrate.” Shishiba closed the fridge after coming out empty handed. “There’s nothing to eat here anyway.”

“Sounds good to me. It’ll be nice to spend time with someone who doesn’t make my skin crawl.” You said the last part more to yourself than to him but he saw an opening and took it.

“Such high praise,” he said sarcastically as he walked towards you slowly. He held his left hand out to you—two sleek black prosthetic fingers reflected the soft light—an offering of gentle affection. A code between you two ever since you first came close enough to notice he wasn’t just wearing a half glove. Genuine curiosity and concern for him gave your voice a comforting quality. He didn’t feel weaker or defective under your gaze. You didn’t probe him about how he lost the fingers. He extended his hand and you took it wanting a better look, next thing he knew he was taking off your clothes. Now every night he’s blessed to be inside you begins this way.

He nuzzled his face into your neck while his left hand interlocked yours and his right snaked around your waist. Your scent flooded his nostrils, your perfume an intoxicating mixture of sandalwood, marshmallow, chocolate, and coffee. Bittersweet and sharp, the best way to describe it and it’s wearer. You whined softly as his lips moved over your neck, soft licks and bites peppered between kisses.

“If you keep this—mhm—up any longer, anywhere decent to eat will close.” You failed to stifle a moan as his hand gripped your ass in the middle of your protest. “Let me shower and we’ll go.” Your right hand had found its usual home in his hair and as you pulled away you cupped his face. He kissed your cheek and shooed you off to the bathroom.

Shishiba gripped your thigh as he drove through the foggy streets. Once you two arrived at the restaurant he was the perfect gentleman, opening doors and pulling out your chair. The change of pace in men was refreshing. Sure, he enjoyed your body but he wasn’t disgusting about it and he wasn’t irredeemable like the men you usually see on the other side of the table. In fact, he was so sweet in secret that he made sugar look like salt. You had decided to order some lily raspberry sake for yourself since you didn’t have to see the ceo again for a few days. Shishiba didn’t think you drank at all, so this made him curious.

“Is it good?” He asked as you lifted the cup from your lips.

“Very, I’ll have to pace myself.”

“Lightweight?”

You gave him a soft “mhm” as you took another sip. Maybe you’d become surprisingly honest and he could ask you to give him exactly what he wanted. You two continued to talk and laugh even on the walk back to the car. It felt like a real date to both of you, but you wouldn’t be the first to admit it. As he opened the car door so you could get in, you ran your index finger across his jaw and gently traced a small circle around his scar. He didn’t want to, but he pulled away from your touch and stared at you hard. The immediate pout you gave him nearly disarmed him though.

“Don’t look at me like that. Someone could see us.”

“Who cares who sees anything?” You locked eyes with him and watched his cheeks turn light pink.

“You’re drunk. Get in the car, please.” You pouted again but complied. He shut the door and got in the driver’s seat. He didn’t reach for the keys or anything—he just stared at the steering wheel for a second. You got nervous that pretending to be more intoxicated than you actually were was backfiring, so you went to tell him but he cut you off with a confession of his own.

“I… Will you talk to me the way you do your targets?” He blurted out but didn’t look at you. Now you feel like maybe you did drink too much.

“What do you mean?” You tiled your head in genuine curiosity and reached out to touch him so he’d look at you.

“You know. The way you talk to them with desire and passion…” He looked like he was asking you to do something so unspeakable. It made you giggle a bit.

“You want me to be sweet to you?” You had a fire building in the pit of your stomach, you let genuine desire coat your throat before you spoke again. “Oh, Shishiba… why didn’t you ask me sooner? You know I’ll do anything you ask me.” You let lust soak every last bit of your speech and his reaction was priceless.

“Yknow… you’re really dangerous.”

That’s all he could manage to say before his lips crashed against yours. Your tongues didn’t dare part before it was necessary. You slid across the bench seat to snuggle into his arm, making sure to gently press your breasts into him. He started the car and drove in the direction of the safe house. He had his right arm around your shoulders, occasionally ghosting his fingers over your neck—he knew that teasing touches really turned you on and the sake wasn’t helping at all.

“Shishiba,” you cooed up at him. “I can’t wait, will you pullover?”

His eyes flicked towards you and then back to the road. His silence was deafening and that intense look on his face made you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of getting some relief. His fingers brushed over your neck and ear again as the car peeled onto the gravel of the roadside. He cut the headlights off and then turned to face you completely. His expression was hard to read. The eyes were still lustful but his telltale smirk was nowhere to be found. You reached for him and he grabbed your hand only to set it down on the seat with his loosely in it. A sigh left him and you could feel rejection threatening to bubble up in you when he finally spoke again.

“You remember the rules we agreed to follow with each other? What’s gotten into you?” He wasn’t actually scolding you but it sure felt like it. You had two options now: answer him seriously or double down on his request.

“Nothing besides you,” you replied while looking at him through your lashes. “Maybe we should change the rules. Or just break them.” You let your fingers dance against the palm of his hand. Everything about you made it hard for him to think rationally. His eyes roved over your face and body with more feelings than he’d ever had before.

“Then let’s start with the one that keeps me from telling you,” In one fluid motion he had a grip on your chin and was running his thumb over your bottom lip. “How beautiful you look when you beg me not to stop.”

He kissed you before you could say anything else. Hands roamed your body hungrily and squeezed away as they traveled to your chest. His words made your entire body hotter than the sake did. You leaned against him and spread your legs more, hoping he’d read your mind. He laughed at your desperation for his touch. He gave you the relief you wanted, slipping his fingers past your panties and swiping them over your clit and folds.

“You’re soaked already. Did you miss me that much?” He chuckled lowly as you moaned in reply. Once he slipped his fingers inside, you knew it’d be a long time before you made it back to the safe house.

[lily-blue]

Innocent as doves

☆ characters: singer!you & activist!yeonjun ☆ genre: historical au, angst ☆ warnings: sexual harassment, character’s death, mention of blood and violence ☆ summary: your dreams brought you to him; his dreams brought destruction upon the both of you ☆ words: 15,1k ☆ a/n: Gyeongseong is the name of Seoul during the period of Japanese colonial rule ☆ also: happy birthday to the lovely @restlessmaknae 💕 i wish you an amazing day with people who love and appreciate you as you deserve ☆ massive thanks to: @dat-town for proofreading the story even though she was short of time 💕 ☆ taglist: @soobin-chois

Throughout your teenage years, you had frequently daydreamed about this very moment: the hustle and bustle of the train station, the thick smoke in the air you could almost taste on the tip of your tongue and the freedom your arrival to the capital city gave you despite your big brother’s presence right next to you. Obviously, you loved growing up in the countryside - being the only daughter of one of the leading figures of your small community came with its own privileges -, but hell did it feel good to finally try your wings on your own!

You snapped your head in your brother’s direction when he cleared his throat and took your luggage from you. Fine, you weren’t entirely on your own, but here at least no one knew who you were, therefore no one would treat you like you could break under the smallest pressure. As if a mere rejection could have destroyed your self-esteem and brought your father’s rage upon them when your father was the most understanding person you knew after your mother.

Your smile was sheepish and your cheeks rose-tinted as you let Taehyung lead you towards the exit.

‘After we get settled in our accommodation, I’ll send a letter to our father,’ your brother said, never the one to leave you in the shadows. You acknowledged his words with a curt nod and a reassuring smile. He had no reason to be worried about you. ‘I’ll try to be quick. Then, we can look around in the neighbourhood, see whether there are any jobs available closeby,’ he added, bumping his upper arm into your shoulder lightly, playfully, like he always did when he wanted to earn your forgiveness. As though you had ever been able to stay angry with him for longer than a couple of hours.

If you wanted to be honest, he had never given you any reason to stay mad at him. Sure, at the young age of seven, having your dolls destroyed might have seemed like a crime against humanity, but in reality, even that had been an accident. Taehyung was just too good-natured and caring to cause you or anyone harm on purpose.

‘I would love that, thank you,’ you said, following him down the busy streets with your much shorter legs. Thankfully, you weren’t in a hurry, so you didn’t have to adjust your steps to his as he was walking at a slower speed on purpose. He really was the best!

Your temporary home for the next six months - the time limit you had gotten from your father to find your footing in the capital city - was no more than two corners from the central train station. It was in the heart of Gyeongseong with numerous shops and facilities that catered to those who visited or lived in the city, which made you more excited about your plans for the afternoon with Taehyung. You wondered whether any of the fancy pubs and expensive hotels were looking for a singer. You hoped they did.

You would have especially liked to work close to the square with the pretty fountain that you had to pass by in order to get to your new home. It was lively and loud and everything the Gyeongseong of your dreams was. There were vendors selling fresh coffee and snacks on one side and businessmen in suit and tie entering an enormous building on the other. There was even a paperboy with today’s newspapers in his hands, shouting from the top of his lungs a couple of metres from you.

‘There are so many people! Look, oppa!’ You exclaimed, unable to resist the urge to point at the paperboy despite your manners.

Taehyung shook his head with a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth before he grabbed your hand and pulled it downwards, back by your side.

‘Please, try not to offend people you shouldn’t on our very first day here. We’re not at home anymore, little bird,’ he chastised you, his tone lacking the usual playfulness in spite of his soft eyes.

You nodded, apologetic.

‘I am sorry,’ you mumbled under your nose, suddenly hyper aware of how rude you had been and how your actions could have reflected on your family if anyone had paid attention to the two of you.

You gulped down the bile in your throat and followed your brother in silence. You intended to keep your gaze on the ground and your excitement at bay, but after a couple of minutes, your curiosity won and you lifted your chin up high once again. Your eyes were sparkling as your gaze jumped from one spectacle to the other until it met an interesting-looking young man’s piercing one and you almost tripped over your own feet.

It was unnerving, but you failed to look away. He was sitting by a table on the terrace of one of the coffee shops with three other men, all of them wearing the same uniform, and he was observing your surroundings - you - with such intensity that you felt almost obligated to keep up your impromptu staring contest.

For a split second, you were afraid he would stand up and walk up to you and your brother, but that couldn’t have happened due to two reasons. 1) The young man was with other people and even from afar, they seemed to be discussing something rather vehemently, therefore you supposed it was something important. 2) The beautiful fountain in the middle of the square shattered into pieces, the noise and the flying rubble leaving chaos in their wake.

Even though you weren’t close to the now-destroyed fountain anymore, you fell on your butt from the shock and scraped both of your palms when your instinct kicked in and tried to protect you from the fall. People were screaming and crying wherever you looked; some were unharmed, some were bleeding, but luckily none of them stayed eerily still on the ground.

The realisation that the incident had no fatal casualties brought you some comfort and so did your brother’s protective arms that embraced you with urgency. Panting - as your gaze found the young man in the uniform screaming at someone shorter than him -, you found it weird: the relief it brought you that his attention wasn’t on you anymore.

‘Are you hurt?’ Taehyung’s question reached you like it came from under heavy layers of water and you pulled away to be able to look at his face. The dust that lingered in the air stuck to his sweaty skin mixed with the blood that was running down his temple lazily from a wound you couldn’t really see. You lifted your hand to cup his cheeks and hissed when your injured skin touched his jawline.

Taehyung grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands downwards, then pushed them towards you, so that he could take a good look at them.

‘We need to go to the hospital,’ he insisted and you let out a broken huff because what he was saying was ridiculous. People around you had more concerning injuries. Even he had a more concerning injury and he wanted to take you to the hospital because of some scratches?

‘But only because of your head injury,’ you pointed out and seeing how he furrowed his thick eyebrows upon hearing your reasoning, you were pretty sure that he hadn’t realised until that moment that he was bleeding.

He reached up to his forehead, slid his fingers sideways and hissed when his fingertips grazed the wound.

‘It’s nothing,’ he reassured you, but you shook your head and made no attempt at getting up from the ground. If he really believed that his wound was nothing, your wounds were less than nothing and you were determined to prove your point. So determined that Taehyung let out a resigned sigh when meeting your eyes he realised that he had no chance to win this argument. ‘Fine, let’s settle in our accommodation and I’ll bring back some disinfectant and bandages on my way back from the post office,’ he negotiated, but you shook your head.

‘We should buy some on our way home. That way, we can clean and dress your wound before you leave,’ you reasoned, the amused chuckle that left your brother’s throat adding a grotesque contrast to the painful wails of the people around you.

‘Deal,’ Taehyung agreed as he pulled you up from the ground and took your hand.

Without a care for your surroundings or the people in need, your brother dragged you to your new home as gently as he could and let you tend to his wound. He was on his best behaviour the entire time you were disinfecting the cut on his head, so that he could make you promise in exchange that you wouldn’t open the door to anyone once he left.

Within two weeks both Taehyung and you managed to find yourself a job that would be able to cover your rent and living expenses once you used up all of your allowance money. It was a relief, really, since on your tenth day of walking from hotel to pub to a different hotel, you had started to feel a little worried that Gyeongseong might not have had enough room for you. In hindsight, it had been a silly thought, but some things just couldn’t have been helped. Your anxiety, that you weren’t much without your father’s name, was one of them.

Singing at a hotel lobby was as close to your dream job as you could get with your pressing urge to jump on the first opportunity that presented itself to you. If you wanted to be honest, you had always wished to be able to dress in pretty ball dresses during your performances and have your own stage, but your own dresses weren’t that bad, either, nor the new microphone with the silver stand that were provided to you.

It was a promising start.

Hanging out at the bar, sitting by the counter with a glass of juice in your hands, you were waiting patiently for your turn to entertain the guests when your gaze fell on a young man in a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, dark pants, dark suspenders and round glasses atop of the bridge of his nose. His profile was handsome - more pretty than manly -, and you felt enchanted by the sight. It was hard to take your eyes off him.

Maybe that was why you noticed how unusual he was acting compared to the other guests or that the bartender seemed to both keep his distance from him and being weirdly nice to him, like they knew each other, like they were close. For example, they weren’t looking at each other, but the young man’s lips were undoubtedly moving and the bartender was clearly listening, his focus on the other’s words keeping him from walking up to the rich-looking woman near you, even though she had sat down on one of the barstools in the midst of their conversation, ready to order.

You took a sip from your juice and kept watching.

You let your curious gaze linger on the young man’s hands, paying attention to the way his fingers were drumming on the wooden countertop and you found yourself humming for a similar rhythm. You weren’t too good at improvising song lyrics, but you knew a lot of traditional ballads, so you picked one on a whim and adjusted the words to the melody. You pictured the two of you on stage, in front of a bigger audience, loving your admirers as much as you liked each other.

Your cheeks were burning because of your shameless fantasy and they turned a deeper shade of red when the young man suddenly turned towards you and raised a brow in question. You snapped your head in the opposite direction on instinct, like a child caught red-handed in the candy shop.

‘Good evening, miss,’ a surprisingly deep voice greeted you, its owner standing right behind you. Blushing, you wondered just how fast and smooth one’s steps needed to be to change locations so quickly.

‘Good evening,’ you mumbled under your nose, slowly turning towards the man.

Heart beating like crazy, you tried your best to conceal your disappointment when your eyes fell on the person who had addressed you so politely. Instead of wearing a simple shirt, the man in front of you was dressed in a familiar uniform, had a pair of thin lips rather than a full and pouty one and looked at you like he had never seen anyone like you. You weren’t sure why, but the latter made you feel uneasy.

It didn’t take long for you to realise from where he was so familiar; the heavy feeling atop of your chest was similar to how you had felt seconds before the explosion at the square on your first day in the capital city. Now that you were paying more attention to the young man’s eyes and his outfit than his other facial features and how different he looked from the man you had been staring at in the last ten minutes, it was easy to put two and two together.

‘I see you remember me. I won’t lie, it’s flattering,’ he said with a pleased smile, leaning into your personal space more as though the two of you knew each other.

You let your hand fall into your lap and straightened your posture to look more confident.

‘I…’

‘Cute,’ he noted and took a seat on the barstool next to you. ‘Let me introduce myself. I’m chief officer Nishiki Kousuke. What shall I call you?’

You had been taking etiquette classes since you had turned five along with Japanese language classes, singing and piano classes. You had attended your first ballroom dancing class at the age of nine and been taught how to manage a household around the time you had gotten your first period. You knew what the correct answer was - how you should have phrased the words and how you should have had perfect control over your body language. Still, you felt wary about telling the man your name.

You forced a hopefully soft smile on your face while you kept your slightly trembling right hand still with your other hand. You went as far as digging your nails into the inner side of your lower arm to not let your body take over control at the worst possible moment.

‘Cecily,’ your boss called for you, using your stage name, seconds before your resolve could have crumbled and you let out a relieved sigh without meaning to. ‘One more song and the stage is yours, honey,’ the middle-aged woman informed you from the left side of the bar, so you turned towards her with your entire body and nodded as a sign that you were ready.

It was a weird mix of emotions that overcame you once you jumped off the barstool. First and foremost, you were relieved that your conversation with the man in the uniform was over and he couldn’t have done anything about that or pressured you into staying. You were also super glad that you didn’t have to tell him your real name because your boss had already provided him with a name he could call you; something you had completely forgotten about because of how anxious his closeness had made you. Admittedly, you would have much preferred it if he hadn’t known any of your personal information, but it was the least bad, so you could deal with it. Then, you were excited about your performance.

It was because of the latter that your smile reached your eyes when you bid your goodbye, leaving your juice behind with an apologetic frown towards the bartender who just shook his head and poured it down the drain.

You planned to put up a great performance, an excellent performance even. You planned to charm the young man with the rolled up sleeves and round glasses, so that he couldn’t have not walked up to you after you finished your songs, but by the time you stood in front of the microphone and embraced it with both hands, he was nowhere to be seen.

You greeted the guests and wished them an amazing night like you always did, but your eyes couldn’t find him as you scanned the area and it did reflect on your mood a little. Your voice was a little blue, but it fit the ballads you had chosen for the night, so your unprofessionalism didn’t cost your job.

You got paid plenty before your brother came and picked you up, taking you home.

Sunday mornings were your new second favourite time of the week, right after those nights you spent at your workplace, singing your heart out to your audience. Sunday mornings were for you and your brother to discover new places in Gyeongseong: bookshops, clothing stores, coffee shops and diners. This particular weekend, you decided to wake up a tad bit earlier - although still not as early as you normally did on weekdays - and have breakfast outside, so that you could enjoy the good weather.

You didn’t usually drink coffee simply because you weren’t a huge fan of all things bitter, but your brother had found a shop downtown where the owner mixed different flavours into your drinks if you asked him to and the cinnamon coffee he had just made you was from another world. It was delicious, so was the yakgwa his wife had baked freshly in the kitchen in the back of the store.

‘Has that man tried to approach you again since last time?’ Your brother asked after he put the newspaper aside and took a sip from his espresso. He didn’t go into specifics, but even without additional details, you knew whom he was referring to and this fact alone was a tad unnerving.

You wiped your hands into a textile napkin and reached for the newspaper. Finally, it was your turn to have a look at what was happening in the capital city. This time, you were the most curious about the beauty pageant whose finals would be held in Gyeongseong in a couple of weeks, but you also liked skimming through their seasonal recommendations for outdoor programmes and their Japanese poems from independent poets.

‘Only once,’ you admitted quietly, flipping through the pages. ‘I started to stay with the other singers like you suggested,’ you added, not out of obligation, but to reassure him. You didn’t want Taehyung to worry about you too much; you also dreaded the possibility that he might have forbidden you to go back to the hotel if he couldn’t have been a hundred percent sure that you were safe there while he was working. Just like your parents, your brother could be pretty protective sometimes.

‘Good girl,’ the compliment fell from Taehyung’s lips easily, just as naturally as his big palm found a home atop of your head, messing up your braids with how aggressively he ruffled your hair.

You groaned, displeased, and pushed his hand away with a click of your tongue.

‘Oppa! Please, I am an adult now,’ you whined, but instead of fixing those locks that fell into your face, your focus remained on the newspaper and the flavoured coffee in your cup.

Your mother had never liked it when you read by the dining table. She thought that it wasn’t lady-like, hence you should have concentrated on more important things during meals, such as your body posture, your sweet smiles and polite answers whenever someone addressed you directly. She believed that every woman should have stuck to the same topics when joining a conversation: family, suitors and household matters.

However, your father had always had a soft spot for you, hence he had been happy to explain the business and political jargon to you when, every once in a while, you had shown interest in those types of articles. Needless to say, you still didn’t understand every word, but you could rely on context clues.

‘Of course you are,’ your brother agreed with amusement in his voice, but you didn’t pay him any attention. Instead, you kept your eyes on the article that misused the phrase “touch base” in its very first sentence.

It was a boring report on local agriculture and the benefits of trading with the Japanese, not something you usually wasted your time on, however, there was something in the way the writer had structured his sentences that kept you engaged. He used formal language and his statements were mostly general truths, but it still felt like you were reading a book: the text had rhythm and you couldn’t have helped but emphasise certain words in your head naturally. Words like: station, nation, train, eight.

‘Oppa? Did you read this one?’ You asked Taehyung when after the third and fourth reading, your brain made a list of at least a dozen of these words, linking them together and building sentences that didn’t exist.

‘Hm?’

‘This one,’ you pointed at the article with the misused expression in its first sentence and he nodded after one glance at the page, his furrowed eyebrows displaying confusion. Thus, you pushed forwards just a bit more. ‘Do you not think it is weird? Like… that it sounds weird?’

Taehyung took the newspaper from you and read those four, short paragraphs one more time. Then, he gave it back to you with a frown.

‘I mean it does sound like propaganda,’ he admitted in a small voice, making sure that no one around you could hear him. ‘But that’s not unusual.’

You leaned your back against the backrest of your chair and let out a dramatic sigh. Taehyung was right, it wasn’t unheard of that people wrote baseless reports on literally anything that helped the Japanese to be seen in a better light by the locals - according to your father, the more credible these articles sounded, the more money their writers made -, but this wasn’t what you were talking about. You were talking about the hidden message.

‘It sounds like a song,’ you argued, less conscious of your surroundings. 

Unsurprisingly, your outburst earned you a reprimanding glance from your brother.

‘Well, not to me,’ he argued and flicked your forehead to remind you of your manners. You straightened your back on instinct and resisted the urge to pout, although you could feel your lower lip tremble because of your suppressed annoyance. You hated when he did this, when he treated you like you were five.

‘But…’ you started, however, soon decided against finishing your sentence when two people took a seat by the table in front of you and Taehyung shook his head in an alarmingly slow motion. You choked on your words and swallowed them down without as much as a yelp.

By the time you finished your cinnamon-flavoured coffee and your brother stole the last piece of yakgwa from the porcelain in front of you, you convinced yourself that the hidden message was all in your head. After all, why would anyone have informed the public - and with that, the local police - about an upcoming bombing and risked getting caught? It would have been stupid. Yeah… utterly, ridiculously, truly stupid. No one was that reckless, which meant that your mind was playing a trick on you.

Leaving, you sealed your lips on the way back to your two-bedroom apartment and didn’t bring up the article even when you got home. It wasn’t worth it, making your brother worried or angry over it.

Three days later, at eight in the morning, a small group of activists blew up the central train station.

You still didn’t tell anyone about the article. Not because you were afraid of the consequences - although you should have been -, but because your brother was already looking for other apartments in the more peaceful suburbs, urging you to quit your job at the hotel, so that you could have moved as soon as he found an adequate deal. You didn’t want to sabotage yourself when it was already a challenge to persuade Taehyung to let you keep working in the heart of the city. Selfishly, you kept the secret to be able to keep your dream.

Before the second explosion, it had taken you ten minutes to get to work. You hadn’t needed to calculate with external factors such as the number of available cabs in the area or the mass on the trams that might have made it impossible for you to get on the vehicle.

Living in one of the outer districts was different. Since you insisted on keeping your job, you had to leave your apartman two hours in advance and be aware of drivers who deliberately chose the longer routes to milk as much money out of you as possible. It was inconvenient, but it was your choice, so you were determined to not show how much you were struggling to Taehyung. The last thing you needed was him reminding you that he had told you so.

Shifting your body weight from one foot to the other, you stayed close to Aeshin, Jenna and Hyolyn like you had promised to your brother, but didn’t join their girly conversation. You did hum here and there to keep up the facade, however, your gaze lingered elsewhere: on the young man with rolled up sleeves and round glasses. He was back, sitting by the main bar and whispering under his nose as though he wasn’t talking to the bartender when the older man clearly paid attention to him.

You wondered whether you were the only one who noticed their strange interactions or the others simply didn’t care. You also wondered whether the same went for the strange article in the newspaper. Were you the only one? Were others out there, too, turning a blind eye to these odd occurrences? Could these two things be connected?

You were dying to know.

Therefore, when Jenna was called on stage and you caught the young man putting something in his pocket from the corner of your eyes, you quickly excused yourself as well and walked up to the bar. It felt like a now or never situation to you and after experiencing first hand how infrequently the other showed up at your workplace and how rarely he stayed, you believed that your urgency was justified.

‘Good evening, sir!’ You greeted him as soon as you were beside him, your smile polite and sweet just the way your mother had taught you. You ignored his raised eyebrow and how he was already half-standing.

‘Yes?’ He asked and for a moment you actually contemplated if it had been wise to sit down and act like you were oblivious to the fact that he was about to leave or he would have used it against you and left without entertaining you with a made-up excuse.

You stayed standing.

‘Have you happened to read the article about the benefits of trading with the Japanese in the newspaper two weeks ago, on Sunday? The writer misused the phrase “touch base” in the first sentence,’ you inquired, paying close attention to the tiniest changes in the young man’s facial expression like you always did with Taehyung, but his mask was impenetrable. Like he wasn’t looking at you, just staring out of his head.

You pressed your lips together, disappointed that you might have been so wrong. However, a voice inside of your head, suspiciously akin to your best friend and forever partner in crime back at home, told you you shouldn’t have given up so easily. After all, it couldn’t have been denied that this man and the bartender were acting weird and seemingly everyone disregarded their weird behaviour like it was the norm.

Or a collective secret.

‘It predicted the bombing,’ you chirped, using the very same tone that always drew a reaction out of your brother without fail.

It earned you one this time as well.

The thought that there must have been a reason for the workers and the guests to look through this man crossed your mind again when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you towards the storage room that belonged to the main bar. A panicked yelp stuck in the back of your throat as you looked around in the lobby and you met numerous unamused looks before people one by one, guests and employees alike, turned in the opposite direction.

You almost tripped over your own foot when you were yanked into the small room and the door closed shut behind your back with a loud thud.

‘Do you have a death wish?’ The young man hissed, pushing you against the wall with both hands. You gulped when your head hit it hard, missing your brother’s gentle palm that always slid between the back of your head and any firm surface when you lost your balance or were too unaware of your surroundings to notice something as big as a lamp pose.

‘No,’ you objected, although your voice came out weak.

Your answer earned you a scoff.

‘Then I advise you not to walk up to random people, talking about things you clearly know nothing about,’ he stated firmly, making your heart beat like crazy with how close his pouty lips were to yours. You could taste the air that left his mouth and phantom the touch of the tip of his nose against your rose-tinted cheek.

‘I did not walk up to a random guy,’ you insisted, short of breath. He pulled away a little to look you in the eyes at that. ‘I walked up to you,’ you claimed, mustering up all your bravery and confidence to be able to keep eye contact. Might it have been because you had grown up with an older brother, but something told you that you needed to earn his respect to get those answers you were looking for. People with thick skin and unwavering hearts were looked up to in every romance book you had put your hands on in your teenage years.

‘You know nothing about me,’ the man retorted and to that you didn’t actually have a good comeback because you were calling him young man in your head since day one and those three facts you did know about him were all pieces of his appearance: the way he dressed, the shape of his lips and his cute habit of drumming on the countertop with his fingers.

You didn’t even know his name.

‘But I am right, am I not? You know about the article. You and maybe Jaewon-ssi, too?’ The second part of your short monologue sounded more like a question than a statement, but it held enough weight for the young man to put more pressure on your windpipe. Mentioning the bartender might have been a bit too reckless.

You lifted your hands to his forearm and dug your nails into his skin to snap him out of it. It didn’t help much, but seconds before you could have started to see stars, he finally let go.

Not being able to lean on him, nor having him hold you against the cold wall anymore, you fell forwards. You crouched down in front of him, trying to catch your breath.

‘Stop sticking your nose into other people’s business, little girl,’ he spat before he leaned down and put his index finger under your chin to force you to look up at him. Your eyes were teary, but lacking anger or fear as you let him do whatever he pleased. ‘I can guarantee you that your suitor wouldn’t be too happy if he knew you’re walking around carelessly, asking questions about the bombings.’

Your furrowed your brows in confusion.

‘What do you mean my suitor?’ You asked, not understanding where this misunderstanding was coming from until the realisation suddenly hit you in the face. You remembered the first night you had seen this man sitting by the bar. Your eyes had met for a sheer moment and panicking, you had looked in the opposite direction. Then, someone had walked up to you and silly you had thought it had been him.

It had been the Japanese chief officer, Nishiki Kousuke.

‘Oh? The Japanese man? He is not my suitor. He is just… well… it might sound like I am full of myself, which I am not,’ you rambled, unaware of the amused smile in the corner of the young man’s mouth. ‘I am telling you, he is obsessed with me.’

The silence that followed your confession was deafening. The longer it stretched, the more self-conscious and uncomfortable you felt, but you also didn’t know what to say to break it. 

‘Obsessed with you?’ He asked with a small tilt to his head, one eyebrow raised. His posture and tone reminded you of those times when your piano teacher hadn’t wanted to believe you when you had told him you had been practising and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt super embarrassed.

Munching on your lower lip, you opted for a nod.

To your mother’s dismay, you weren’t always good at it, especially when your feelings were involved, but you had been taught how to read the room and your conversation partners’ facial expressions. It was a must, so that you could leave a good first impression on your potential future husband. Therefore, you stared at the young man attentively, hoping to figure out how he felt about the revelation. Did he believe you? Was he relieved that there wasn’t a courtship he had to be mindful of? Did he feel as hopeful as you did?

After long seconds of silence, you could answer only one of these questions. He put more distance between the two of you, but he believed you.

‘Okay,’ he said as he linked his arms in front of his chest. ‘If you can figure out where to find me, and no, not here. Then, we can talk,’ he gave you an ultimatum, the challenge clear in his tone.

‘I will,’ you promised, anxiously waiting for the clues that could help locate him outside of the hotel lobby, but he remained silent.

He didn’t help you up from the dirty floor. He didn’t give you any hints about where to start your little treasure hunt, nor did he tell you his name. He was simply watching you sitting on your heels, then gave you a nod and walked out of the storage room.

You stayed there, trying to collect your thoughts and process what had just happened until the bartender came in for more soju and informed you that Aeshin was already on stage, which meant you would perform next.

You thanked him and seeing that he wasn’t bothered by your presence, you gave yourself a couple of more minutes before you stood up, fixed your dress and went back to the girls. You should have expected it, however, it still surprised you that no one addressed your absence. They acted like you had been there with them the whole time and something cold and ugly in your chest nagged at you that you should have felt more scared than you did at that moment.

Snapping your head in your boss’ direction when she called your name, you quickly brushed the unease aside and walked behind the microphone with a soft smile on your face. Finally, it was your time to charm the audience.

You started your investigation on your next day at work. You purposely arrived an hour early to be able to strike up a conversation with Jaewon-ssi, but the bartender was sparse with his words and judging with his silence. He was less cooperative than a brick of wall.

The girls were a little more willing. You might not have known each other’s real names, but you had shared many stories about your personal lives over the weeks, hence it wasn’t like they didn’t know that you could keep your mouth shut. You were trustworthy. Maybe not trustworthy enough to get an address, but they did tell you the young man’s name.

Yeonjun. A gift from God.

That night, you were lying in your bed wide awake, thinking of him and what you should have done next. Clearly, he had to be someone important for the employees at the hotel to hide his identity so earnestly. You knew going to your boss or approaching some of the guests who had been there that night when Yeonjun had dragged you into the storage room would have been a waste of time. Should you have gone to the police? What would you have told them? If he had had anything to do with the bombing like you assumed, that would have led to a disaster. You needed to find another way.

After much consideration, you came to the conclusion that decoding another odd article was your best chance. Thus, you started to read the newspaper religiously. You looked for typos and misused phrases in the first paragraphs in case these could have been indications that the article in question wasn’t what it looked like. Then, you tried to find words that rhymed.

It took you weeks, but on a random Sunday night you either lost it or you finally succeeded. You had a location and a time. You knew where to go next.

You were nervous.

You were also super excited about seeing the young man again and finding out whether these hidden messages were real or they only existed in your head and somehow the bombing at the train station had been a mere coincidence. Would the latter have meant that you were crazy? Did living far from your hometown and moving out from your parents’ house have a negative effect on your mental health?

You pushed these thoughts in the back of your mind and locked them away in a box along with those things you didn’t wish to handle ahead of time. You would worry about potentially going mad when you got there; you would worry when you reached the traditional diner you had read about in the newspaper and Yeonjun wasn’t there.

It was the first time you set foot in this area in Gyeongseong. The neighbourhood was on the border of the central districts, thousands of people making it loud and lively as they walked down the streets without a care for their surroundings. It looked more like a bigger town with its own administration than a part of the capital city, but that was why you were so sure you were heading towards the right place. Hence, you held onto your flickering confidence and sped up your steps.

You arrived ten minutes early, but you did so on purpose, because you were more afraid of being late and missing your chance than waiting at an unfamiliar place, completely on your own. You walked inside of the building instead of killing some time in front of it. You greeted the owners with a polite bow and were about to take a seat by the window to be able to keep an eye on the entrance when someone grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the back door.

‘Hey! It hurts,’ you whined, trying your best to brush the stranger’s hand off yourself until you lifted your head and your gaze landed on him: those pouty lips, the rounded glasses and the white shirt with rolled up sleeves. Yeonjun. You had found him.

You weren’t sure whether it was because of the wide smile on your face that he looked at you so weirdly or because of what you had said, but in the end, he shook his head and let go of your wrist. You pouted, missing the warmth of his touch now that you knew it hadn’t been a random stranger who had tried to drag you out of the diner you had every right to be at - or so you thought.

‘Just follow me,’ he said and turned his back to you before you could have nodded; you felt stupidly happy that he trusted you that you wouldn’t have run away, although if you had given it a second thought, you could have realised that you running away or not showing up at all was almost the same from his point of you. Still, it felt nice.

With your lower lip between your teeth - you were trying to conceal that potentially creepy, bright smile of yours - and your heart pounding in your throat, you did as Yeonjun said and the two of you exited the building through the kitchen. The back door opened to a less busy street parallel to the main road and looking around, you could easily spot the smoking area thanks to all the cigarette stubs on the ground and the excessive amount of ash around the makeshift ashtrays. You hoped the young man didn’t plan to answer your questions there, on the dirty boxes they used as chairs, but he sat down on the one closest to him, so you did the same, albeit with a small frown.

‘What? Is it below you, little girl? Do you need me to bring you a pillow or something?’ The young man scoffed and you swallowed down the retort that was scratching the back of your throat because if you had wanted to be honest, you would have liked to have a puffy pillow or something soft and clean to sit on.

You didn’t want to get into an argument with him that could have potentially upset the both of you. Instead, you sat down and turned towards him with your whole body.

‘Are you the one writing those articles? How many of you are in this together? Is Jaewon-ssi here, too? What about the rest of the staff at the hotel?’ You asked as soon as he met your curious eyes. You had a whole list of questions regarding the bombing as well, but a part of you thought it would have been wiser to start with the less compromising aspect of these odd occurrences in case there was a less compromising aspect of them to begin with.

Yeonjun leaned backwards, putting a part of his weight on his hands behind his back, raising an eyebrow at you with an indistinguishable look in his eyes. Observing his face for a couple of seconds, you decided that he was more amused than anything.

‘Do you really believe I’ll tell you everything just because you’re here?’ Yeonjun asked, his question not making too much sense to you at first. Straightening your back, you put both of your palms on your knees and pressed your heels together, not letting him intimidate you or make you feel as though you were unreasonable for believing so. 

‘You promised,’ you stated with your chin held high, looking him straight in the eyes.

Albeit quietly, he laughed.

‘I said we will talk. I’ve made no such promises, stupid girl,’ he reminded you with a click of his tongue like he was lecturing a child or a poor dog. You weren’t too fond of either of these comparisons.

‘But…’ you wanted to argue, however, a single look from the young man was enough to shut you up. You bit into your cheek from the inside then nodded. Admittedly, you wouldn’t have been able to recite word by word what he had said to do that night, but because of this, you had a hunch that going into an argument wouldn’t have ended well. ‘I am not stupid, do not call me that,’ so you said instead, being hung up on another part of his statement that you weren’t happy about.

You had spent a significant part of your childhood around private teachers. You had sacrificed so much time studying, practising, reading that being called stupid so nonchalantly felt like a slap. Especially from him, whose opinion you cared about.

‘How did you figure it out? About this place?’ Yeonjun asked instead of apologising, coaxing a resigned sigh out of you with how much ease and disregard he diverted the topic. But at least he wasn’t calling you stupid this time. In fact! He was curious about something that clearly showed just how smart you were despite your gender. Therefore, you could put aside your frustration and forgive him for his rudeness.

‘It was in the newspaper. Your…’ You quickly corrected yourself before he could have told you that your assumption was incorrect. ‘The article sounds like a song. There is emphasis on certain words,’ you explained, preening yourself on the way he was paying close attention to every word that left your mouth. He had to be impressed, there was no other explanation for the slowly decreasing distance between the two of you, him leaning so close to you that he was practically hovering over the makeshift table placed between your fake chairs.

‘Interesting theory,’ he said, voice deep and slow as though he was choosing every one of his words with great care.

‘It is not a theory,’ you insisted, because at that point you were convinced that you were speaking facts. Sure, there might have been other methods for reading those articles. Maybe, there were people out there with actual decoders, people like your brother who couldn’t see the structure of their sentences without additional help, but that didn’t mean you were wrong or just lucky. You had successfully read between the lines twice already. That meant a pattern, not pieces of information obtained by chance.

For a while, the two of you were staring at each other soundlessly. The muffled buzzing of the neighbouring streets was the only source of noise, your heartbeat in your ears. It wasn’t comforting, not at all, but you dug your nails into your palms to conceal your slowly growing anxiety.

‘Do you like chicken soup? Black bean noodles?’ He asked and you furrowed your brows in confusion. It was such a blatant attempt at diverting the topic that calling him out on it would have almost felt ridiculous. He had to know that you would notice. You were sure he knew that you had noticed.

You let out another sigh. It felt like the nth that day, however, it couldn’t have been more than the second or third.

‘Both,’ you said eventually, because it didn’t matter that much to you. You had eaten the food your mother had put on the table all your life and were only recently experimenting with flavours you genuinely liked. Developing preferences took time.

‘I’ll have Min ahjussi bring us some noodles then,’ Yeonjun informed you before he pushed himself further from the table and stood up. He was already a few steps away when his steps came to a sudden halt and he looked back at you from above his shoulder. ‘If you’re still here when I come back… don’t say you haven’t been warned,’ he said, then disappeared behind the same door you had walked through not that long ago.

In his absence, you let your shoulders fall forwards and your posture take on a natural curve. You didn’t understand. Warned about what? So far he had told you close to nothing. In fact! It was you whose lips had been loose. Thus, you came to the conclusion that he tried to avoid answering your question by scaring you away. And you wouldn’t let that happen.

When he came back with two bowls of steaming black bean noodles, you were still there, patiently waiting. Your mouth salivated at the delicious sight and the mouth-watering smell. You couldn’t wait to dive in the heavenly dish and devour it until the last spoonful of thick, dark paste.

While you were eating, you didn’t talk about any of your questions, but silence didn’t stay in your company for too long. Yeonjun made sure of it. He asked you about your singing career, whether it was like how you had pictured it to be before you had moved to the capital city and why hadn’t you looked for another place to perform at when you had moved to the suburbs. You talked about Taehyung, how hard it had been to convince him to let you keep working at the hotel and how Yeonjun was an only child, but had many friends who were like family to him. You had a good time, therefore you had no regrets even when later, on your way to work, you realised that you weren’t any closer to connecting the dots, the articles to the bombing, not at all.

You also realised that you didn’t really care about the mystery anymore. You were perfectly content with this new side of Yeonjun that you had gotten to know that afternoon.

The diner became your safe place without you realising. Whenever Yeonjun wasn’t there to spend some time with you over a nice, warm meal, you ordered yourself a dish you had never tried before and relished in the flavourful bites that for some reason felt like home even this far from your family. You could stay there for hours, sipping on your iced water and watching the streets.

And when Yeonjun was there… That was another kind of home. A warm and fuzzy bubble in which you could find solace when you had a fight with your brother because of his protective nature. A place where you could vent about the guests at the hotel you worked at and voice out how much you missed your parents without the overwhelming fear of misinterpretation and being taken back to them. With Yeonjun, you experienced a type of comfort you had never experienced in your life; it broke down those thick walls your teachers and your mother had built around the real you in order to please everyone around you and protect your family’s name. With him, you were free: free to speak your mind without worrying about offending him, free to eat more than how much a lady should have eaten in public and free to laugh so loud an unapologetic, random strangers could hear it.

‘No, seriously. Is he still bothering you?’ Yeonjun asked between two spoonfuls of chicken soup, shaking his head in disbelief, mumbling about the audacity and entitlement of Japanese people as though it was a genetic characteristic.

Obviously, over the weeks, you had come to know just how deeply rooted his hate for them was. It was blind rage fueled by his father’s execution and his mother’s broken heart that had taken her, too, way too soon, leaving the then-eighteen-year-old boy on his own. You couldn’t say you understood Yeonjun’s concept of revenge as he hadn’t known the face of the person who had pulled the trigger and turned him into an orphan, but you wanted to be there for him, to support him nonetheless.

‘It’s not that bad. I’ve been alone with him for a total of five minutes. The girls came to my rescue as soon as they noticed,’ you reassured him, more annoyed with yourself for letting a situation like that happen than Yeonjun’s disapproving frown, which wouldn’t have been the case if it had been your brother who was looking at you like this, like he had told you so that it was naive of you to think staying with the girls could keep him away.

‘You should stop being so nice to him,’ he said bluntly, although upon meeting your eyes his gaze became softer.

‘I can’t offend him,’ you mumbled under your nose, shoving a spoonful of lukewarm soup into your mouth to conceal your displeased frown. It wasn’t like you enjoyed having chief officer Nishiki’s undivided attention. On the contrary! You would have preferred not having him anywhere near you at all as something in the way he looked at you made your skin crawl. But you couldn’t have afforded sending him away when it was always in public that he talked to you. There was no way you could have been the cause of him losing face.

‘I could tell him you’re not interested,’ Yeonjun offered in a heartbeat, no hesitation, no stalling. It made you blush furiously, the implication behind his claim.

‘I…’ you stuttered, your brain throwing imaginary scenarios at you of Yeonjun walking up to the two of you when the Japanese man approached you at your workplace, of him pulling you behind his back protectively, telling the officer that you were his.

You had never wanted anything so desperately.

‘And why would you do such a thing?’ An unfamiliar voice came from behind you, the scoff at the end of his question forcing you to turn your head towards the source. In that split second, it crossed your mind that maybe the person was talking to someone else and it was a simple case of misunderstanding, but no. The young man, who pulled a chair to your table in the meantime, was undoubtedly talking to you.

‘What are you doing?’ Yeonjun asked, not bothering with greetings or pleasantries. He didn’t even look at the guy, his chocolate brown orbs focused on you, painting your cheeks a deeper shade of red with their intensity.

‘Deflecting, aren’t we?’ The stranger remarked with a pinch of mockery to his velvety tone. It reminded you of the boys in your hometown when they got defensive after being rejected. You didn’t like it.

Whoever this man was, he opened the wooden drawer of the table with ease and took a casual sip from Yeonjun’s soup with his spoon. You watched the scene unfold, mortified, but unlike what you would have expected, Yeonjun didn’t get upset nor did he push the other away. 

Only then did it occur to you that they might not only have known each other, but they were friends, too.

‘What do you want?’ Yeonjun grumbled, sharing his side dishes with the guy so naturally, it made you wonder whether either of them realised how they looked from an outsider’s point of view. Like brothers.

You sucked in your lower lip to swallow back a whimper. Could this guy’s earlier question have meant that he didn’t like you? Did he not want you in Yeonjun’s life? Would he have tried to convince his friend to stop spending so much time with you? 

‘That asshole’s never alone,’ the guy said, tone cold as ice. Suddenly, you lost your appetite, too nervous about where this conversation was going. ‘We’ve been watching him for months and now you’re telling me you’d fuck up our best chance to get him away from his lackeys for what?’

Yeonjun’s friend swallowed the food in his mouth and checked you out from head to toe. He didn’t seem impressed and it left a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. You were wearing your prettiest summer dress and it had taken you half an hour to create the curls in your hair.

‘A pair of adequate legs?’ He finished his monologue, earning an eye roll with his comment on your looks that clearly made you uncomfortable and self-conscious. 

‘Wooyoung, apologise!’ Yeonjun demanded, pushing his bowl to the left side of the table, far enough from his friend to not be able to reach it. Despite his calm tone and unbothered facial expression, his eyes looked angry. Yet, you were more afraid of Wooyoung’s opinion about you than him as though, at one point, your heart had convinced your brain that Yeonjun could have never hurt you.

‘But for real, man! You know, just as I do, that it’s our best chance. She goes on a date with him, she makes sure they go somewhere private and then…’ Wooyoung banged on the table with his fists, his excitement showing. ‘Then, we catch the bastard!’

You gulped, feeling uneasy. On the one hand, you would have loved to have the opportunity to be able to prove to this guy that you were worthy of Yeonjun’s time and attention, and you also wanted to help him get his revenge. On the other hand, the mere thought of going on a date with the chief officer sent an icy, unpleasant shiver down your spine. How were you supposed to make him believe that you wanted to go somewhere private with him? You were a singer, not an actress.

‘It’s seriously not that hard,’ Yeonjun sighed, shaking his head, disappointment soaking into his voice and posture. You watched as he leaned his back against the backrest of his chair and linked his arms in front of his chest with a deep sigh. ‘Repeat after me: I’m sorry I’m such an asshole,’ he said, raising an eyebrow in a way that said: dare to do otherwise.

‘You know I’m right,’ Wooyoung protested, refusing to tear his gaze away from his friend or back down.

You dug your nails into your palms under the table, holding your breath.

‘Fine!’ Wooyoung gave in eventually, scaring you with his sudden declaration. You could feel your cheeks burning up from the humiliation when you realised you weren’t exactly subtle with the way your shoulders jerked upon hearing his loud voice. ‘I’m sorry. Your legs aren’t adequate,’ he said and you nodded on automatic, your thoughts all over the place.

Yeonjun shook his head, but pulled the bowl in front of himself again and didn’t growl at his friend when he stole a spoonful of it immediately.

‘You’re unbelievable,’ Yeonjun grumbled under his nose.

‘Unbelievably handsome,’ his friend retorted, serving himself from your side dishes as well since you hadn’t touched your lunch since he had joined you.

You didn’t protest. You were too busy thinking about their plan to go after the chief officer, what it could have entailed and how much danger Yeonjun could have gotten himself into if they had decided to attack the Japanese man with his “lackeys” around. Would he have gone to jail if they had gotten caught? How long would they have locked him up?

‘I will do it,’ you proposed out of the blue, the determination in your eyes borderline insane. There was no reason for you to willingly put yourself in that position. You weren’t part of their movement, you were a mere regular at the diner they occasionally used as their meeting point and still… The thought of Yeonjun and his friend - but mostly Yeonjun - getting hurt because you were a coward didn’t sit well with you.

You were also stubborn and you wanted Yeonjun’s friend to like you, so that you would have his support when things got better and a lot more serious between the two of you.  

‘No, you won’t,’ Yeonjun said. He refused to entertain your suggestion and made sure you knew how much he hated your idea with the intensity of his gaze. It burned holes into your skin and closed up your throat.

‘Come on, man! Let the pretty lady talk,’ Wooyoung insisted, nudging his friend’s upper arm, then turning his full attention to you when Yeonjun refused to ease up to the proposal.

Your heart was in your throat when you deliberately ignored Yeonjun and shifted your gaze from his furrowed brows and hard eyes to his friend. You hoped that he knew you didn’t do it to upset him. You simply wanted to help and most importantly, keep him safe.

‘Are you going to be there? The whole time?’ You asked Wooyoung, your nails leaving tiny crescent moons in your palms. You wished Yeonjun would have told you everything was fine, that he wasn’t angry with you and that he would keep an eye on you the whole time, making sure you were safe, but maybe that was selfish. He had every right to be upset, didn’t he? If your brother had been in his shoes, he would have already dragged you out of this diner for insisting on doing something so reckless despite his warning.

‘We won’t let him touch you. I promise,’ Wooyoung pledged, his gaze showing his devotion and you foolishly wanted to believe that his loyalty was meant for you, that your well-being would be more important to him than catching the chief officer off guard in a secluded area. Because an innocent human life should have been worth more than meagre ideals, right?  

Clenching and unclenching your fists, you allowed yourself a glance at Yeonjun whose eyes were already on you. For a second it looked like he wanted to tell you something. Maybe he wanted to give it another try and talk you out of this crazy idea; maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was childishly excited about the chance to get close to the Japanese man with your help and he was guilty about it. Maybe you were overthinking it.

‘I’ll get you out of there before you know it,’ Yeonjun declared in the end with a curt nod, sending a small albeit genuine-looking smile in your way from the other side of the table. 

You reciprocated the gesture with one of your shy smiles and turned back to your abandoned soup. That was all the reassurance you needed.

The first few bites were spent in silence, but then Wooyoung asked about your relationship with Nishiki Kousuke, how had the two of you met and how confident you were that you could have influenced his choice of date location. You admitted that you weren’t too sure you had that much power over the chief officer, but promised them that you would do your best and asked for suggestions of less crowded yet nice places to go on a first date in the city.

Once the three of you went over every crucial detail, you acknowledged with a happy heart that Wooyoung was actually curious about you, about your thoughts of his best friend and the short history the two of you shared. He wanted to know your favourite dishes and drinks, where you had grown up and what you liked to do for fun. His rambles and anecdotes about himself and the guys (including Yeonjun and a bunch of people whose names you had never heard before) successfully took your mind off the mission you had signed up for.

By the time you had to leave, so that you could have taken the tram to your workplace, you were almost excited about helping the boys.

Unsurprisingly, you only had to wait a week for the Japanese officer to approach you again; from there, making him believe that he actually had a chance was a piece of cake. It took you a couple of soft smiles, a bit less resistance. Then, on the third night that he found you sitting on your own by the main bar, he jumped on the opportunity before your boss could have called your stage name and urged you to stand behind the microphone.

Lying into your brother’s face was harder. It left open wounds on your heart that despite his protective nature, he never once questioned your words when you told him that you had to take on an extra shift because one of the girls had fallen sick and couldn’t sing. Still, deep down you knew he wouldn’t have understood, nor would he have let you out of his sight if you had told him the truth.

So that night you said goodbye to Taehyung the way you always did when he left for work sooner than you did. Then, you waited for ten slowly passing minutes, anxiously sipping on your calming tea, fearing that your brother might have left something at home and would catch you red-handed. You had never felt so much guilt in your entire life.

As soon as your hands stopped trembling, you put on your prettiest dress and styled your hair according to the latest trends in the capital city. The silver necklace in your neck was a piece of jewellery you had inherited from your grandmother, while the rose-coloured tint on your lips was the newest addition to your collection. You had bought it at the market during your last brother-sister date with Taehyung on Sunday morning.

Your heart was in your throat.

If you wanted to be a hundred percent honest, you still weren’t too comfortable with the idea of this man knowing where you lived, but Wooyoung and a similarly young man, Changbin had convinced you that you would never have to see his face again after your date, so you had agreed to share your real address and real name with the officer to rock him into a false sense of safety.

While you were waiting for chief officer Nishiki in front of the building, you repeatedly reminded yourself that Yeonjun would be out there, watching over you the whole time. And not just him, but his friends as well. You were safe. You were helping the man find peace through his revenge and then… then you would confess your feelings for him because after this, you would have a chance for a good life without his past haunting him.

‘Good evening, beautiful,’ was what pulled you out of your head, back into the present where Nishiki Kousuke was looking at you like he was about to dig his teeth into you and tear you to pieces.

‘Good evening, chief officer,’ you reciprocated his greeting with a hopefully believable, shy smile. You forced your body to stay still when he reached out for your hand and to not flinch because of the unwanted touch; you forced yourself to see a different face where there were no adorable, pouty lips or a cute nose, no rounded glasses or a warm pair of chocolate eyes.

You liked walking down the streets, window-shopping and snacking on street food, but of course you had never told any of these to your date, so it really shouldn’t have taken you by surprise when he urged you towards his car instead. You followed him obediently, mumbling a thank you under your nose when he opened the door for you to the passenger’s seat.

You were worried that the guys weren’t prepared for following a car.

‘Where are we going?’ You asked, to prevent your brain from coming up with different scenarios on its own, worst case scenarios, scenarios in which you were left on your own and this man would do as he pleased. Would you be able to tell him no if he started to get a little bit too touchy? Would you be able to push him away without angering him and suffering the consequences?

You dug your nails into your palms, looking out the window, trying to figure out where you were and where you were heading.

‘It’s a surprise, sweetheart. You’ll love it,’ the Japanese man reassured you, patting your head and ruffling your hair a little along with it. If you hadn’t been so nervous, you would have found it funny how the very same gesture from Yeonjun had never bothered you, but you were fidgety and anxious, so there was very little that you had found particularly funny.

You still offered the officer a shy smile.

Probably seeing how awkward you felt in the car and hopefully mistaking it for your lack of dating experience, chief officer Nishiki attempted to break the ice with casual small talk. He told you how happy he was that the weather was pleasantly warm instead of unbearingly hot or rainy. He joked about how his uniform got super heavy when it got soaked, he talked about his achievements and his ambitions. You hummed, nodded and smiled in this sequence like you had been taught, asking questions that encouraged him to talk more, filling the silence, as though you were genuinely interested in getting to know him more.

The ride did feel shorter this way and you were grateful for the momentary distraction even though you couldn’t have recited half of what the man was saying. Honestly, you didn’t have the slightest idea when he had started to talk about his father or how he had managed to divert the topic to something so personal without you noticing.

The building you parked in front of was a traditional, Japanese coffee shop with a beautiful, lush garden in its centre. The cherry trees overpowered the distinct smell of roasted bean and dressed the otherwise green scenery into a lovely shade of pink. 

‘It is beautiful, but…’ you stuttered, looking around and taking in the breathtaking sight. At that moment, although you knew this man was bad news and his pushy attitude had indeed put you off during the past weeks, you felt touched that he had taken his time to find this coffee shop for your date, for you. It was just that… something felt off about the silence, the complete lack of heartfelt chatters. ‘Are they closed for the day? Are we allowed to be here?’

Logically, it made no sense that the two of you had been able to enter the building if they had been closed. However, people made mistakes and if the owner had left the door open by accident, you would have hated to cause any inconvenience with your presence.

‘We are. I rented the whole place just for us.’ He came up behind you, placing his hand on your waist and pushing you forwards gently, towards the nearest empty table outside in the private garden.

You gulped, but you obliged without any complaint.

In search for the menu, you soon realised that you didn’t need one, because when a middle aged man walked up to you, he already had some snacks in his hands along with two cups of coffee: an espresso for the chief officer and a cinnamon coffee for you like he had known that was your current favourite even though you had only ever mentioned it to Yeonjun and of course, your brother, who had been there when you had first given it a try. With a knot in your throat, you furrowed your brows, but accepted the drink.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ officer Nishiki urged you, smiling at you from behind his cup.

You bit back the comment that he had already seemed to know more about you than you were comfortable sharing. Yeonjun would have laughed at a remark like this, calling you feisty with a proud look on his face, but this man would have most probably put you back to your place. Offending him would have cost more than what it was worth.

So you started talking. You told him about your hometown, why you had come to the capital city and what kinds of food you enjoyed in general. You were so afraid that he would have caught on to every white lie that fell from your lips that you didn’t dare to say anything else but the truth.

‘Excuse me, chief officer! I need to use the restroom,’ you said softly when you finished your coffee and the boys still didn’t show any sign that they were around, watching over you, even though you had unknowingly gotten the Japanese man alone just like they had wished you to. Had they really lost you when you had gotten in that car? Were you on your own?

You walked into the restroom on the opposite side of the shop as slowly as you could without looking unnatural or forced, then leaned over the marble sink and splashed some cold water on your face, mindful of your light makeup. You had to figure out how to put an end to this date politely since you honestly doubted you would have been able to inform the guys about where you were. Argh. You couldn’t believe that all of your effort was in vain.

You snapped your head to the right, towards the door, when you heard a creaking sound: a clear sign that it was being opened. You had thought the coffee shop was empty except for the two of you and the owner, which meant that the women’s restroom should have been a safe place for you where you could have thought through your options without being disturbed.

‘It’s just me,’ a familiar voice whispered, sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine even before you would have recognized to whom it belonged. You pressed your lips together into a thin line, hiding your hands behind your back, so you didn’t hold onto the sink desperately. ‘I didn’t intend to scare you,’ the officer said, and while his tone was gentle, his presence made you feel unsafe.

‘Is everything okay? Did something happen?’ You asked instead of letting your complaints slip through your teeth as the latter would have done no good to either of you in the current situation.

‘There’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart,’ the man reassured you, his words creating an odd juxtaposition with the way he took a large step closer to you then another, crowding your personal space.

If there was nothing to worry about, why was he there? In the women’s restroom.

It was when your shoulder bumped into the wall that you realised your legs were moving on their own, trying to put some distance between the two of you. Too bad the room was small and with the officer between you and the exit, you had nowhere to hide or run.

‘We should go back to our table then,’ you tried, hoping that your act of innocence would pull you out of this weird predicament, but you weren’t so lucky.

Instead, the Japanese man cupped your cheeks and grinned at you, his calloused fingertips fondling the sensitive skin under your eyes before one of his hands slid to your neck, to your shoulder, all the way down your arm until it found itself a new home on your waist. You could feel panic rising in your insides.

‘I would like to go back to—’ your plea was cut short when a pair of rough lips was pressed against your virgin ones, stealing the air from your lungs. It took you a couple of heartbeats to come back to your senses and when you did, you gave your all to push the man as far from yourself as possible.

Unfortunately, your noodle arms could only do so much for your freedom.

‘Hm, you smell so good,’ the man’s nose grazed along your jawline, his mouth attached to the juncture between your shoulder and the base of your neck.

You started to hit his upper arms with your fists, but your grunts and painful groans seemed to only fuel his excitement. You tried not to think of what was brushing against your lower abdomen when he pressed you against the wall with his body.

Even though a rational part of you doubted that anyone would have come to your rescue if you had screamed loud enough, your survival instincts knew no logic when you cried for help from the top of your lungs. You called for the owner, you called for your brother, Yeonjun, Wooyoung, anybody. You were sobbing and begging and all your assaulter had to say was:

‘You’re so pretty when you’re crying.’

You didn’t know when you had started dissociating from reality, whether you had done so to save yourself or you had been just too tired. Anyhow, in one moment the man sneaked his hand under your clothes, torn fabric hanging on your body haphazardly, then someone lifted you off the floor, mumbling reassuring words into your ear.

‘I’ve got you. I’m sorry we were so late. I should have never let this get this far. I’m sorry,’ he said and you just hummed, too exhausted to speak.

With your head against his chest, the darkness didn’t scare you. You let it embrace you and lull you into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, but before you could have freaked out, your gaze fell on a pair of rounded glasses sitting on an adorable nose, a pair of chocolate eyes filled with worry, relief and guilt and a pair of pouty lips that put heart was at ease. You were with Yeonjun. You were safe.

‘Hey, shh! It’s okay, it’s okay. You would never have to see him again, we made sure of it,’ he said, reaching out to the apple of your cheek to wipe the tear off your face even though you wouldn’t have been able to point out when you had started to cry or why you were crying. ‘Is it okay if I touch you?’ He asked for your permission and you nodded, melting under the soft touch of his fingertip. He touched you like you were fragile, like you could have broken the moment he looked in the other direction and maybe he was right. Maybe a part of you was broken because why else would you have been crying if not from the mental wounds that disgusting man had inflicted on your soul.

‘I was so scared,’ you sobbed, ignoring the dull headache in your temples, so that you could sit up and pull Yeonjun close. You hid your face in his neck, welcoming his protective, strong arms around your petite figure.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated, over and over like a mantra until your tears waned and your body wasn’t shaking anymore.

You fell asleep without meaning to.

You woke up two more times before you had enough energy to get out of bed, but none of your sleeps took longer than four hours. Your entire being was tired, but your body couldn’t rest; it wasn’t even about your dreams. When awake, your brain was too mushy to reproduce your nightmares. If not for the angry red scratches on your lower arm and neck, you would have assumed you had slept like a stone, completely unmoving. 

‘Look who’s here! The Sleeping Beauty,’ Wooyoung exclaimed when you showed up at the top of the stairs, looking down at the interior of the diner that had been your safe place in the last couple of weeks. There were so many people inside. A lot more than you had ever seen in the building.

Offering the boy a small albeit genuine smile, you grabbed the handrail and descended the stairs, perfectly aware of the moment Yeonjun realised his best friend was talking about you. Not because your gut feeling had never failed you before or because you had never made a mistake in your life when reading other people, but because he made it so obvious, snapping his head in your direction and standing up from his chair abruptly as soon as his eyes found you.

‘Hi,’ you whispered when Yeonjun was in front of you, your throat still a bit itchy from all that crying and screaming.

‘You should rest,’ he said, lifting his eyebrows as an indication that he wanted you to go back to his room.

You shook your head.

‘Don’t send me away, please,’ you insisted and he sighed, defeated, when his best friend’s steps came to a halt by your side.

Wooyoung ruffled your already messy hair and gave the other man a glance that you couldn’t have seen, only its consequences: the small twitch of Yeonjun’s lips, his shoulders falling a tad forwards, the light in his eyes burning with the force of a thousand suns. He brushed his friend’s hand off you and held his own out for you.

You took it without hesitation.

Leaving a chuckling Wooyoung behind, he led you towards the backdoor, but didn’t sit down by the makeshift table in the small street behind the diner like he had done the first time you had come here. Instead, he pulled you towards a metal ladder on the right side of the building and nudged you to go first, so that he could have caught you if you had slipped.

Admittedly, you were nervous, but you didn’t fall.

‘Come, sit with me. Here!’ Yeonjun encouraged you to sit on the edge of the roof right next to him and you once again did what he said because his contentment made you happy. You looked at the small package that he pulled out of his inner pocket, the small bites of yakgwa wrapped in his handkerchief mouth-watering.

‘Is there a celebration down there? There are a lot of people here tonight,’ you inquired as you took a piece of honey biscuit into your hand and lifted it to your lips. It tasted delicious.

‘Hn. You can call it a celebration, I think,’ he agreed, munching on a yakgwa of his own, not taking his eyes off you even though the sight in front of you and right beneath your swinging legs was beautiful. As a singer who worked at night, you had already seen this side of the capital city numerous times, but the nightlife from above was breathtaking in a different way. People drinking happily on the terrace, people passing by: it was like a scene straight out of one of your favourite romance books.

‘What’s the occasion?’ You wondered aloud, unsure how long you had been unconscious or whether there was a national holiday you had forgotten about. Or was this an anniversary, a birthday of someone from the boys’ circles?

‘Taking Nishiki out of the picture, it was a huge step forwards,’ Yeonjun explained shortly, in no way going into details about what he had meant by taking the Japanese man out of which picture exactly. Suddenly, his promise of you never having to see your assaulter again came to your mind and you gulped, anxious due to the implication.

You dug your round nails into your palm to anchor yourself. So what if they had locked him up somewhere where none of his subordinates could have found him? What if they had hit him for information and for what he had done to you? It wasn’t like he would have let you go if you had asked him to stop touching you. His no deserved to not be heard, too.

You didn’t realise just how hard you were pressing your nails into your flesh until Yeonjun took your hands in his and forced your fists open. The tiny, crescent-shaped crevices in your palms remained visible after the first couple of seconds.

You shivered when he grazed his fingertips along the wounds, his touch light as a feather. 

‘It’s all thanks to you,’ he whispered, eyes bright but undecipherable while he was drawing calming, non-figurative patterns on your skin the entire time.

Your cheeks were heating up under Yeonjun’s undivided attention, your heart pounding with a new level of intensity when letting go of your left hand, he brushed a stray lock behind your ear. It might have been your imagination, but you swore it felt like he lingered longer than it was strictly necessary.

You closed your eyes on instinct, anticipation growing in your chest, pale lips parting slightly. The last person who had kissed you had ruined many first things for you, but at that moment all you could think about was Yeonjun beside you: his hand cupping one side of your face, his rolled up sleeves, his pouty lips. You wondered how the latter would have felt against yours. Would they have brought back horrible memories or erased them effortlessly?

‘So cute,’ he mumbled so close, so super close to your face that you could not only hear him perfectly, but feel his warm breath fanning over your skin.

Yeonjun’s lips were pillowy against yours, tentative, gentle. He made no attempt at forcing his way into your mouth, he was merely nipping on your chapped lower lip as though that was enough. It wasn’t, not really, but you were still grateful for his consideration and decided not to push, either.

Under the starlight, breathing in Yeonjun until your lungs were on fire, you started to dream of an independent country, too, sharing not only a sweet kiss with the activist but ambitions and goals. A peaceful fantasy of a future together.

Although you hadn’t participated in the party the night before, at least not longer than a few minutes that you had spent with Wooyoung and a pretty girl named Jungeun while you had been waiting for Yeonjun to grab some more snacks and drinks for the two of you, you had unintentionally stayed until sunrise, then fallen asleep in a comfortable position on Yeonjun’s lap. Therefore, in the morning, on your way home, you were desperately trying to come up with an explanation that could have placated your brother in case he was waiting for you on the couch, furious.

Taking the stairs, you climbed two stairs at a time, then took a step backwards, to not be too fast even though you had been embarrassingly late. You gave yourself a peptalk three times in those ten or so minutes it took you to get to the second floor.

‘Oppa. I am home,’ you mumbled under your nose as you opened, then closed the front door, hoping to find your flat empty. However, what you walked inside for was anything but that or the scary pictures your brain threw at you ever since you had woken up in Yeonjun’s arms.

The living room was a mess and so was the kitchen and every other room you passed by. Like an explosion had been set off in the middle of your home.

‘Taehyung! Oppa! Are you here? Where are you?’ You screamed, running from one room to the other, trying to make sense of the situation while simultaneously, you were desperate to find your brother. You didn’t understand what was happening.

‘Heh-hre.’ A weak sound came from the bathroom and you tore the door open, almost losing your balance due to how dizzy the horrific sight made you. You dropped on your knees and crawled to your brother with tears in your eyes.

‘What… what happened?’ You asked, your trembling hands reaching out to his bloody face. ‘We have to go to the hospital.’

The choked chuckle that bubbled up in his throat tugged on your stomach in the worst way, but you resisted the urge to throw up because it felt like one of those situations where you had to be strong for the other person’s sake. And you loved him so damn much.

‘Bir-dy… you need… get out,’ he said, using his remaining strength to push you away, but you were stubborn and for the first time in your life, stronger than him.

‘No! Come on! You need to see a doctor,’ you insisted and linked your arm with his, so that you could pull him into a standing position before you somehow get him on your back. That was the only way you could imagine yourself carrying him out of the flat, down the stairs and outside of the building to get yourself a taxi.

‘Get… out!’ Taehyung pleaded, but you brushed his concerns aside and gritted your teeth. He was heavy. He was half-unconscious and white like the wall in your living room. You had to put all of his weight on your shoulders and you just couldn’t take more than two steps ahead without falling head first on the floor.

You groaned because of the pain.

‘Please,’ you begged, unsure whether the blood on your face was yours or his and whether he heard you at all.

You didn’t know what to do.

‘Oppa, please! We need to go to the hospital. Please,’ you screamed, frantic and then…

Then someone put a musty bag over your head and darkness welcomed you as soon as you felt a sharp pain in your nape.

Admittedly, you could be a little naive sometimes. Your father liked to tell you that you were too innocent for this world, but you weren’t stupid. You knew the moment you came back to your senses, tied to a wooden chair, facing two mean-looking men in similar uniforms to the one chief officer Nishiki had always worn, that they wouldn’t let you walk away unharmed even if you had told them everything. So you promised yourself that you would be strong.

It took you three days of constant psychological and physical torture in a dark room with no windows to wish you were dead. It took another two to completely lose hope.

Another week’s worth of rock-hard bread was served to you by the time these ruthless men, who found joy in your tears, deemed you utterly useless.

‘From now on, no more food for this one,’ one of the Japanese said, his tone unamused and nonchalant before he left the room with his lackeys on his heels.

You turned around on the floor where you had been shoved and pressed your burning face against the bloody albeit cool concrete. The pleasant change in temperature coaxed a pleased moan out of your throat. 

Floating in and out of consciousness, you stared at the dirty wall in front of you. You didn’t want to think about what was happening in the outside world, yet you did so nevertheless because the more one wished to shut out a thought, the more it stuck. You wondered whether Yeonjun was okay. Had your brother gotten to the hospital in time? Had anyone noticed that you were gone?

You hit the concrete with your pulsing fist. At least two of your fingers were broken and your nail was missing from one because of one of the very first interrogations you had been put through. You were pretty sure it had gotten infected and not just that, but several other scars on your body.

You felt so tired, so exhausted. You prayed that this time it would finally come to an end. The pain, the heartache.

In your dreams, you were happier.

In your dreams, Yeonjun came for you and saved you. He took you to your brother and both of you healed from your traumas slowly but steadily.

In your dreams, Yeonjun not only found you, but also pulled you close as you were watching the Japanese flags go up in flames all around the city.

In your dreams, you won.

Delirious, you turned your head towards your cell’s door when it opened, your chest being filled with a scene of eternal peace as you were staring at the person who was looking down at you from the threshold. At that moment, you felt it in your guts that this was it, that no harm would come to your way anymore.

the end.