#anyways i then had to call the state where i was born to get them to send me a new birth certificate

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[nolita-fairytale]

your past and mine are parallel lines | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: a run-in with an old friend sparks a conversation between you and carmy of the people you loved before each other. or rather, the one in which you meet claire.

warnings: use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, tooth rotting fluff, not-your-normal jealousy fic, soft!carmy, lives in the world of make my heart surrender

wc: 3.9k

a/n: ok so hear me out: i just want to write about healthy relationships right now and that is where i'm at. this is not your normal jealousy fic and i hope you still enjoy! this lives in the world of 'make my heart surrender' because of course it does and takes place a month after my oneshot, j is for j beard and jealousy.

masterlist

It begins with forgotten carrots, tops attached, of course – a necessary ingredient to the dish that you’ve been working on all afternoon together. Usually, you’d go for a rainbow bunch, but for the puree, aesthetically of course, the classic orange carrot is much better suited. You’d hadn’t put them on the grocery list the day before, certain that you had a bunch or two at home sitting in your vegetable drawer, only to find mid-recipe development that you did not, in fact, have carrots at home. It doesn’t take long for Carmy to suggest a quick trip to the store, insisting that you come with him because this is a date, after all. 

It’s something you and Carmy have decided to do, now that neither of you are needed at the restaurant 24/7: a cooking date at home which, despite the fact that this date night was an idea born out of both of your desires to introduce more fun into your lives, will inevitably become a dish that Carmy tries to put on the menu anyways.

Divide and conquer is the strategy: while you hit up the produce aisle, Carmy is sent on a mission to procure a bottle of orange wine for dinner later tonight. 

But what’s supposed to be a simple Saturday afternoon grocery store run takes a turn for the intriguing as you hear a laugh – a woman’s laugh – and the familiar sound of your boyfriend’s voice muttering something about the name of his restaurant.

As you approach, you spot your boyfriend and the woman he’s found himself in a conversation with. Carmy leans against the refrigerator doors, his chest square to the brunette, bathed in neon blues from the refrigerator lights. 

“Because you’re the bear. And I remember you,” you hear her say. You observe carefully, the look of surprise and the blush that runs across Carmy’s cheeks in response to her words are not lost on you. 

There’s a palpable energy between them as they converse, and it feels as if all the blood is rushing to your head as you cut the tension with a single: 

“Hey.” 

As the brunette turns to you, you’re only a little taken aback by how beautiful she is. With long, thick, dark hair, she has piercing blue eyes, similar to the ones you’ve found yourself lost in in your years spent loving Carmen Berzatto. You feel almost silly as you stand there, holding a bunch of carrots in your right hand, suddenly grateful that your have your favorite of Carmy’s denim jackets tied around your waist (for “just in case the store’s got the AC blasting,” Carmy had reminded you before you left the house earlier). 

“Hi,” is all she replies, an almost too-friendly smile plastered to her face, as she takes a few steps towards you. “I’m Claire. I’m…” She trails off before stealing a glance over at Carmy before continuing with, “...an old friend. Of Carmy’s.” As the woman called Claire extends a hand out to you, you take it, giving her hand a curt shake as you introduce yourself. 

It dawns on Carmy, who has slipped into a state of what can only be considered as shock, that he probably should’ve introduced the two of you sooner as he mutters an apology under his breath. 

“Shit, yeah, sorry. I probably should’ve-. I uh, um, Claire. Yeah. This is uh, this is my girlfriend,” Carmy manages to get out, his face growing increasingly deeper shades of red as the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“Your-? Wow, oh my god! It’s-it’s so nice to meet you,” Claire replies, trying her best to hide the surprise in her voice as it increases in pitch with every word. 

“So… what’re you two up to-?” she begins to ask, looking from you to Carmy with wide, quizzical eyes. “Carrots. We’re uh…,” is the first thing that comes to mind as the words fly from your lips. “... buying carrots.” 

You realize how stupid it sounds, completely caught off guard, as you scramble to find any word in the English language that doesn’t sound as ridiculous as what you’ve just said. 

You wonder if this is how Carmy felt when you ran into Nate at the James Beard Awards about a month ago. 

At this rate, something’s gotta be in retrograde, right? you think to yourself as you try to push down your feelings of embarrassment. 

“Right,” Carmy mutters, while Claire tries to get the conversation back on track. 

“Well, it’s really good to see you, Bear. Really. I’ll have to stop by the restaurant sometime,” she says, preparing to excuse herself. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nods, still avoiding as much direct eye contact as possible. 

Bear.

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, and yet, you can’t help the feeling that wells inside of you as she says the name. 

The family name. 

His childhood name. 

It feels more intimate than it should, and maybe it is. 

You swallow, trying to shake the feeling. 

“Yes. Yeah, we’d uh… let us know. When you’re there,” you continue, exchanging a look with Carmy, who only nods along. 

“Oh, you’re a-, you work there too? At the restaurant,” Claire asks, eyeing the carefully drawn fruits and veggies that adorn the length of your arms, permanently inked there forever. 

“Yeah. Uh. Pastry chef,” you reply with a small laugh. 

She nods, almost as if she’s accepted an unspoken agreement – something you’re not sure you’ll ever know. 

“Well it was nice to meet you,” she says once more, shooting a soft smile in your direction, before excusing herself. “And it’s good to see you, Carmy.” 

As you watch Claire walk away, Carmy’s still frozen inside of what he thinks could be the most awkward experience of his month so far. 

“So… that was weird,” you say, as you turn towards your boyfriend. He mutters something in agreement because the only thing he can think of to say is, what the fuck just happened. 

And he’s barely figured that out. 

“Do… you want to talk about it?” you ask skeptically, dragging out the ‘o’ at the beginning of your question. 

“Not really,” he mumbles softly, shaking his head. 

“Great, me either,” you’re quick to reply, even though you both know that you’re going to have to talk about this eventually. 

—-------------------------------------

It seems to be a day of forgetfulness, as Carmy realizes that he’s left his notebook at the restaurant – something he’s been working out of for any and all new ideas, a habit you think he picked up from Syd. It’s not entirely out of the way, so the two of you decide to stop by on the way home. You enter through the back, hoping to skirt the tongue lashing you’ll both get for coming in – even just for a few minutes – on your day off. 

But a hall-pass just isn’t in the cards for either of you, as you’re instantly spotted, arm-in-arm, by Richie who’s just ended the pre-dinner shift all hands meeting. 

“It’s your day off! Get the fuck outta here,” Richie calls out to you with a shake of his head. “You two. I swear.” 

“I just forgot my notebook. We’re in, then we’re out. I swear!” Carmy defends himself, holding up his hands. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie dismisses him before issuing a warning with a wag of his finger. “You better not stay longer than five minutes, you got that?” 

“In and out. Scout’s honor,” you answer, before the abrupt interjection of Fak’s voice stops you from saying anything else. 

“Incomiiiiiiiing!” Fak cries, as he bursts through the doors. “Ahhhh man. Hey Carm! I heard you ran into Claire Bear.” 

Claire Bear?

You shoot Carmy a quizzical look that he’s more than eager to avoid. 

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?” Richie snaps as Carmy simultaneously lets out as: “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What do you-? How? Already?!” “Fuck it’s been two fuckin’ seconds,” Carmy grits his teeth, trying his best to answer Richie’s question. “But apparently news travels fast.” He shoots you an apologetic look as he explains, “She’s uh… close family friends with the Faks.” 

“Ahhh,” you let out. “She seem good? Bet she was glad to see ya,” Fak inquires, overenthusiastically winking in Carmy’s direction. 

“Yeah she’s uh… she’s gonna be a doctor in a few months huh?” Carmy replies, trying his best to avoid Fak’s continuous winks. 

“Who the fuck is Claire?” Sydney asks, as she enters the conversation. Syd quickly notices the confused look on your face, in contrast to the embarrassed one on Carmy’s, and a more than eager Fak, much to Richie’s dismay. 

It’s as if he can read the situation in one look as Richie cuts in this time with an explanation:

“Will you stop it, fucko? Jesus Christ.” Richie turns his attention to you this time as shakes his head, brushing off Fak’s earlier comment. “She’s just a kid from the neighborhood. That’s all.” 

“Just a kid from the neighborhood?! You, Richie, you are not nice!” Fak exclaims. 

But Richie is faster, quick to dismiss the man as he cuts him off with a few sharp words about fixing his bowtie before dinner service starts. As they bicker back and forth, trading barbs like brothers, Carmy has returned to his ‘I really don’t want to talk about this’ body language, his shoulders slumped and completely avoiding eye contact. 

“Okay. Um…. Raise your hand if you’re off the clock but you’re acting really fuckin’ weird right now,” Sydney says, looking from you to Carmy, and then back to you. 

“I…” you try your best to explain to no avail – mostly because you’re not sure what to explain yet. 

“We should go. Let’s get out of here, yeah?” you propose, directing your attention towards Carmy again. You’re more than happy to be met with a nod as Carmy excuses himself, darting into his office to retrieve the notebook he came here for in the first place. 

You can tell that he’s not ready to talk about it, and after the weirdness today, you’re beginning to wonder more and more about this Claire girl. Carmy had never mentioned an ex-girlfriend. You knew that there were short-lived flings here and there throughout his twenties, but by the time you met him, it was just you and him, trapped inside your little bubble of denial and unspoken feelings until you weren’t. 

Claire doesn’t quite seem like an ex, but you could feel that she wasn’t just a girl from the neighborhood that Carmy grew up with either. 

“You good?” Sydney asks, immediately noticing your discomfort. 

“Yes,” you answer, unconvincingly. “Sooooo….?” Sydney begins to ask. 

So what’s going on? So what was that all about? 

“Girl, I will let you know when I know,” you answer, shooting her a matching look. 

“Godspeed, my friend,” Sydney replies with a salute, eliciting a much needed laugh from you. “I’m gonna get back to work but uh… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nod, trying your best to shake off this weird feeling. 

As you watch her go, you’re too caught up in the what-the-fuck-ness of it all that you barely notice as Richie approaches. 

“You know you got nothin’ to worry about, right, sweetheart?” Richie asks you, interrupting the thoughts swimming around in your head. 

“No yeah. I-, he’ll tell me when he’s ready,” you reply, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself. 

“You ready?” you hear Carmy ask. 

“Yeah,” you nod, before giving Richie a small smile because his reassurance means a lot. “Thanks, Richie.” 

As you wave goodbye, Carmy takes your hand before leading you out of the restaurant and en route towards home. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, filled with things left unsaid. It’s more of an awkward kind of tension as Richie’s words echo in your head: 

You know you got nothin’ to worry about, right, sweetheart? 

It means more to you than he knows – that Richie is in your corner. It’s not like the two of you are best friends, but you have a mutual understanding that you’ve been good for Carmen ever since you reentered his life. 

You’ve become a patient woman, knowing that, most of the time, Carmy has to come to you on his own time. You trust him wholeheartedly, and you trust that he’ll tell you when he’s ready. It just doesn’t help the anticipation that’s been building inside of you all afternoon. 

“You know. We’re gonna have to talk about this eventually,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence between you. 

“Yeah,” Carmy answers quietly, giving your hand a confident squeeze. And if it’s a promise, he adds, “Yeah, I know.”

—-------------------------------------

You’re barely paying attention to George Clooney’s portrayal of a former raider turned newspaper columnist of a fox, entirely distracted by your game of cat and mouse that you play with Carmy and his attention. You can feel his eyes on you as you take another sip from your wine glass, the funky and sour notes hitting your tongue as he watches you closely, your head hazy from getting towards the end of the second glass.  

Carmy sighs, shifting his body position, as if choosing the comfiest position will embolden him to tell you what’s been on his mind.

He lets out yet another sigh, this one much heavier than the last and you know he’s working up the nerve. 

You cradle your wine glass in your hands, giving the last of the orange elixir a swirl as you settle into the couch, your back pressed against the arm of it as you stretch your legs out in front of you. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask him, and he lets out one last sigh of relief, almost as if he’s been waiting for you to ask. 

“Uh… yeah, actually,” Carmy admits, hesitantly.

You’ve been waiting for him to get here, taking in the vulnerable look on his face as he searches for the words he thinks will best convey what he wants to say. “So… there was like… someone… before me, yeah?” Carmy drags out, his face soft as he asks you a question that takes you by surprise. 

You let out what can only be described as a laugh and a sob as you reply with: 

“What do you mean?” you choke out, the laugh that escapes your body providing much needed relief. 

It’s not what you expected. That’s for sure. 

“You know…” he trails off, before taking another deep breath because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s really the only example he’s got. “Like… I know… about Nate.” “Nate?!” you exclaim with an even bigger laugh. “Bear, are you… are you asking me about my exes?” 

“Uh… yeah…” he admits on an exhale, almost embarrassed to be asking. “I guess uh-, I guess I am.” In his bashfulness, you giggle, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze as you begin to understand that he’s ready to talk about what happened in the grocery store. 

Carmy takes a breath, and you watch his posture soften.

“Well, Nate barely counts as an ex. I don’t… That was more of a… one-time mistake kind of thing,” you admit, knowing that it wasn’t all that long ago that Carmy found out about it in the first place. 

“Right,” Carmy nods, his gaze focused on his knees for a moment because even though he brought it up, he’d really like to stop talking about Nate right about now. 

“But!” you begin, trying your best to meet him where he’s asking you to. “The guy I dated… right before I met you, Alec was… definitely someone I consider an ex. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah um… we were together for two years… just before I started working at our old spot,” you begin, willing to give him as much information as he wants. “So why didn’t it work out?” Carmy asks curiously. 

“I don’t know, babe. I racked my brain trying to figure that one out a ton when we first broke up,” you sigh, uncertain of how to answer that question. You take your time choosing to be as honest as possible in your explanation. “I think… I don’t know. He was never as sure about me as I was of him.”

“We were great together, y’know? He was kind, and smart… he made me laugh… And we were really happy together for a long time. I mean, I think we were exactly what each other needed as the people we were in that time of our lives,” you explain, elaborating on what really worked in your relationship with Alec. 

“But eventually, none of that stuff really mattered because all I wanted was to be with someone who felt as crazy about me as I did about them, you know? And… he wasn’t… entirely sure.” 

Carmy lets out a deep breath as he takes your words in. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, as he feels the weight of your words. “I guess… well, I guess I didn’t know about all that.” 

“Well, I didn’t exactly tell you,” you shrug. 

Carmy thinks it over, wondering why he never asked you about your broken heart back then – not that he was ever really good about that kind of stuff  – the talking about feelings kind of stuff, and whatnot. 

But he wants to be good at it now. Or, at least he’d like to try. He wants to try to be good at it for you. 

“Guy’s a fuckin’ loser,” Carmy comments, a bitterness in his voice as he does. “I can’t imagine it.” 

“Hm?” 

“Not being crazy about you,” he answers, his tone confident as his eyes catch yours. 

Your heart flutters with the way he looks at you, and between his words and his certainty about you, you can’t regret the past – not even a little bit. 

“It’s okay, Bear,” you reassure him, and you mean it. “If Alec and I had stayed together… well, you and I never would’ve….” 

“Danced around each other for over two years?” Carmy points out letting out a dry laugh. “Right,” you chuckle in agreement, with a playful eye roll. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” 

“We’re here now. Isn’t that what’s important?” you ask with a shrug and a half smile. 

This time, his tone much more serious, Carmy answers with a, yeah, that feels heavier than the previous ones. 

You and Carmy both take a beat, letting the reality of your life with each other sink in. It’s as if all the ‘no’s of the past lead you here to this moment, and you’d have it no other way. 

“So. Who… is Claire?” you ask, earning a groan from Carmy as he swears under his breath with a shake of his head. You stretch out your leg, just enough to poke him with your big toe as he chuckles, wanting nothing more than to avoid this question. 

“It’s just… well you’ve never really told me about any of your exes!”

“Well she’s not really… my ex,” Carmy blushes, averting his gaze once again. 

“Well, she doesn’t really seem like just a friend,” you point out, and it suddenly feels like you’re showing your entire hand. Carmy agrees with you on an exhale, reminding himself that he wants to try the whole ‘better at talking about feelings’ thing with you. 

“Okay. Uh… well… we’ve known each other for like… forever, I guess,” Carmy begins to explain running a hand through his curls. “Her family is close with the Faks and I-, I-, uh… well, I sort of… had this massive crush on her… like all throughout school.” 

“What?” you ask, genuinely curious about his sudden coyness. 

“It’s embarrassing!” he defends himself, with a dry laugh. 

“Carmy, it’s not!” you insist, sitting up straight this time to reach for his hand. “Was it weird for you? Earlier today?” 

“Uh. Kinda, yeah,” he confesses, stealing a glance your way. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Like… a lot. Was that… not obvious?” he shoots back, this time with a shake of his head. “I just-. I don’t know. It was weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?” you ask again, patiently. “Just… weird, babe,” Carmy answers honestly with a shrug of his own. 

You nod in understanding, wanting to give him the space to share more if he’d like to. It’s not that you were worried about Claire… but it had been weird, earlier today – and even stranger when no one was giving you a proper explanation. “I-, I-, it’s like. I had such a big crush on her. And I could barely work up the nerve to talk to her like… I was sort of just this-, this total fuckin’ loser,” Carmy continues, his eyes narrowing as he talks about a younger version of himself. “And now here I am… with my super hot girlfriend and I just-. I don’t know. It sorta uh… reminded me of like… a different version of myself.” 

“Yeah, no, I-, I get that. It’s… it’s such a weird feeling,” you empathize, exchanging a look with your boyfriend this time. 

You nod in understanding, only to be met with a laugh and another shake of his head as Carmy lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re being like… waaaaay too cool about this,” he points out, his voice lighter this time. 

“Oh yeah?” you ask with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Uh. Fuck yeah,” Carmy confirms, as you exchange a laugh. He shrugs once again, only a little embarrassed as he adds, “You know… I just… I kinda lost my fuckin’ mind. You know. About Nate.” You shrug, “That’s different. I-.” A beat. “Do you want me to be jealous?” “No,” Carmy answers. A beat. “Maybe?” And another. “I-, I don’t know. This is all so new to me!” 

“Carm,” you sigh, as you lean over, placing your wine glass down on the coffee table before scooting closer to your boyfriend as you continue. “You and I have been through so much together and there were days that I thought we’d never speak again… but somehow we still ended up here.” 

He grabs your hands, pulling you in closer towards him as you meet him pound for pound–all heart on both sides. 

“I trust you,” you reassure him, your fingers sliding perfectly between his. “And I know I have your heart… ‘cos I know you got mine.” 

“Ffffffuck,” Carmy exhales, in complete disbelief that you really are being too cool about this. “Seriously?!” 

You laugh, incredulously this time, as you decide to give your boyfriend just a little of what he may be looking for. “No, but. It did-, it was weird for me… today. With Claire. And then later at the restaurant when Fak brought her up. I mean… you weren’t lying. News traveled fast,” you admit, much to Carmy’s relief. 

“Neighborhood’s small. That’s for sure,” he agrees, equally uncomfortable with how quickly that got around. 

“And… She is like… really pretty. And… what? About to be a doctor so I guess that means she’s really fuckin’ smart. I mean-,” you continue. 

It doesn’t take Carmy long to realize that you’re trying too, deciding it’s best to put you out of your misery sooner rather than later as he cuts you off with a playful, “Oh shut the fuck up.” 

It’s your turn to laugh this time as you lean in, pressing your lips to his. 

Carmy inhales, breathing you in as he tries to memorize the way you smell, the way you taste, the way your lips feel nestled so perfectly against his. He pulls away just for a moment, intent on telling you something. 

“You do, by the way,” Carmy says, his declaration soft but sure. “Have my heart, I mean.”

“I know, babe,” you reply, with a smile. “I know.”

—-------------------------------------

a/n: if you've been wondering where i've been, i've been here! just living a whole lot of life offline these days. would anyone be interested in reading my thoughts on life? anyways, i feel like a hiatus was good for me, and now i have all this life i've lived that's inspired me to write again. i've been channeling a lot of my creative energy into other projects which has felt great and it also feels really good to be back.

[kinzis-writing]

Last Christmas | Rafe Cameron

Kinzi's 25 Days of Christmas: Blogmas day 3

Summary: It's Christmas in Outer Banks, the holiday where you got to spend time with your friends. It's hard to enjoy the holiday when your mind goes back to last Christmas and who you were spending it with.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warning(s): a few cuss words, hints at ward cameron being a unaliver, mentions of breakup, soft! rafe.

Disclaimer: in this imagine Rafe did NOT kill peterkin and he’s not psycho. He’s a normal boy who just needed some extra love. So in this imagine Ward will be the villain 100% and Rafe 0% (besides breaking up)

*Gif not mine* *Not proofread or edited!*

*Christmas Eve - OBX*

It had been 11 months since you had been in Outer Banks, your breakup with your ex-boyfriend had been too hard on you to stay. After that you felt the need to leave Outer Banks and your family had finally convinced you to come back and spend the holidays with them. You knew that they would try to convince you to stay and not go back to living with your aunt on the mainland, however, you were unsure if that would be the best choice.

"Y/N!" Sarah shouted as she ran to hug you. The big house your family parked outside of looked familiar, but no longer felt like home. It wasn't what you were used too, or maybe it was what was no longer with you. "I am so glad your back, we've missed you around here." she stated pulling away from the hug.

You were like Sarah, born a kook but turned into a pogue. The only difference is that your family did not make a difference between the kooks and pogues. There had been many times when your family had fed the pogues or gave them a place to stay when they needed it. Your family was very understanding, and you appreciated every little thing they did for your friends.

"Only back for the holidays." Y/N told her as the two headed into the big house that she used to call home. The girl's quickly made their way up to the room that was her’s so they could get Y/N settled in. “It feels unreal, being back in this bedroom.” She muttered memories of her and her ex flooded her mind. No one knew Rafe Cameron the way that Y/N. While he was trouble, most of the time, he was caring around her. Well, she thought so anyways.

Sarah gave the girl a small smile, “there’s a party, John B decided to have a Christmas celebration.” The Cameron girl spoke. “Your parents allowed them to use your guest house, out back…” she trailed off. Knowing that the idea of a party would make the girl nervous.

“Why would they do that?” Y/N asked going through her clothes knowing she’d be dragged to this party regardless of what she wanted.

Sarah shrugged, “John B said it was a “get together” type thing and you know how your family is about welcome home celebrations.” She explained watching the girl shuffle through the clothes that she was putting away. “You’re just back for the holidays, remember? Let’s make the most of it with our friends.”

🎄

By 10 that night the party was on, the guest house behind Y/N’s house was overflowing with guests who had greeted the girl back with open arms. She had showed up an hour late, due to worrying about what to wear, how to do her hair and makeup, and stalling in hopes of not seeing him.

“Y/N, the life of the party decided to come back to us!” JJ Maybank yelled over the music as the girl joined the pogues in the den. “Y/N, you know my girlfriend Kiara, right?” He asked smuggled.

Y/N’s eyes widen in shock, “really, you two? When did that happen?” She asked surprised about her friends becoming lovers.

“Let’s just say that you’ve missed a lot.” Kiara spoke before pulling the girl into a bone crushing hug, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” y/n spoke with a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to be rude so your guest of honor is going to go grab a drink.”

Y/N made her way through the crowd and into the cramped kitchen. She was pouring herself a drink and just thinking about her life. She had thought that being back made her feel out of place, that was until she was next to her friends then she felt at home.

“I’ll be damned,” a voice spoke from behind her as she slowly stopped pouring her drink. “I honestly didn’t think I’d see you again.” The voice of her former friend continued.

Y/N sat her cup on the kitchen counter and turned around to face the man behind her. “Kelce,” she greeted with a smile. “It’s good to see you.” She added as she stepped forward and pulled the man into a hug.

“It’s great to see you.” He replied as they pulled away. He glanced around the kitchen before looking back at her. “Have you seen him since you’ve been back?” He asked carefully unsure of how the the girl would reply.

Y/N shook her head as she turned around the grab her drink, “I was hoping to avoid him.” She mumbled before taking a sip of the drink. “It hurt, bad.” She shrugged thinking back to last Christmas and how close they were. “I had to get out and I don’t plan on ever coming back permanently.” She spoke the truth. At this current time, she had no plans of staying in outer banks.

Kelce gave her a sad smile, “I know Rafe puts on a facade, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t hurt too.” The man told his best friend’s ex. He knew that the two of them were inseparable and truth be told, Rafe didn’t tell anyone as to why they broke up.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the man in front of her before playing with her fingers. “Maybe but-” she cut herself when she looked around kelce and locked eyes with the one man that she planned to avoid. “I have to go.” She mumbled after looking away from Rafe. She walked around kelce and made her way back to the pogues.

It was going to be a long night and she knew it.

The party had been going on for a few hours and everyone was either drunk, passed out, making out, or playing games. Y/N had only had two drinks, making her pretty much sober because she didn’t trust herself if she was to get drunk. No matter where she went tonight she felt as if Rafe was following her or he knew her next step. She had locked eyes with him many times tonight and each time it got her heart racing, her hands sweaty, and made her nervous.

She didn’t understand why he still made her feel that way. After all, she was over him! Or was she? “Hey guys,” Y/N called as she walked over to the pogues. “Thank you guys for this Christmas slash welcome back party, but I’m super tired so I think I’m gonna walk back over and head to bed.” She told them. She gave them all hugs and said good night before leaving the guest house and heading back over to her house.

She was beyond excited to be able to go to sleep. Her parents were going on their houseboat tonight with some friends, so she’d have the house to herself and could relax all she needed. She knew that in order to face tomorrow and the days to come that she would need to get herself together.

“Did you honestly think you wouldn’t run into him at some point?” She asked herself in her head. She knew that she would at least see him, but she was hoping that he wouldn’t see her back or that she could avoid him.

Y/N pushed open her bedroom door while unzipping her dress. She was beyond ready to get out of that dress and get into comfortable clothes. “Holy shit!” She jumped when she moved her head up. Her hand instinctively went over her heart because of how fast it was beating.

Sitting in her desk chair beside her bed was Rafe Cameron. He didn’t have his usually cocky expression on his face, but a soft smile did form when he realized he had accidentally scared her. “I’m sorry,” his voice came out quietly and soft. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Y/N scoffed eyeing the man in front of her, “you didn’t mean to startle me? Why are you in my room?”

“I wanted to talk and I knew you’d run at the party.” Rafe shrugged as he pushed himself up from the desk chair.

“You lost the privilege to come over unannounced when you broke it off last year.” Y/N told him as she felt her chest get heavy at the thought of how things ended. She would’ve done anything for Rafe and everyone knew it, so whenever he broke it off… it was a shock.

“You never let me explain,” Rafe started as he walked a bit closer, but Y/N just scooted back not wanting him to get close. Mainly because she was afraid she’d give in. “A lot happened after you left and some of it is still going on.”

“Maybe it has, but Sarah also told me about your new girlfriend.” Y/N replied seeing his eyes darkened for a moment before he let out a huff. “I was obviously the problem with something going on in your head.”

Y/N knew that Rafe had anxiety and depression. she also knew that he was yearning to make his father proud because Sarah was their favorite. She had been with him through everything and that’s why she didn’t understand why he left her.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair before taking another step closer causing Y/N’s back to hit the wall when she stepped away. “My father wanted me to do his dirty work and I was afraid that he would hurt you if I refused.” Rafe explained the girl that he loved, even if he never told her. “I broke it off so you would be safe and he couldn’t use you against me. The one Sarah told you about was a distraction I was with her to replace you and it never worked.”

Y/N could see the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke about his father and his ex girlfriend. “I loved you, Rafe. I would’ve done anything for you and you know it!” She spoke her voice coming out in a whisper.

“I know that, baby.” Rafe spoke back equally as quiet. “Which is why I broke it off, he was crazy and the things he wanted me to do… I needed you here and I needed you alive.” He took another step and that made him right in front of the girl that he had fallen in love with himself. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N. I never properly said it but I do.”

Y/N sucked in a breath, her emotions weighing down on her. He just admitted his true feelings, something that he never did when they were actually together. It was surreal hearing those words come out of his mouth, something that she had never expected. "Then why not try to get through it?" she asked the hurt in her voice showing. "Last Christmas was the last good memory we have, and we didn't even break up until New Years Day."

"If my dad didn't do what he did then we would still be together." Rafe promised.

Y/N's eyes teared up thinking about losing Rafe, she had been with other people and for some reason she had fallen head over heels in love with Rafe Cameron. She was slowly accepting the fact that she was still very much in love with the Cameron boy.

"When are you going to stop living to please your family?" She asked softly. "You are so much more than what your family thinks of you, who cares what they view you as. You deserve to be loved, Rafe. You need to believe that." she whispered softly so she wouldn't make his softness break.

Rafe's eye matched Y/Ns as both of them held tears threatening to fall. He knew that Y/N understood his situation and never once judged him for it. Making him know that she was definitely a keeper and the one for him. Without saying anything, he quickly slammed his lips to hers. Scared that she would reject the kiss if she thought about it too long. He knew his way around her overthinking, seeing as he had helped her with it many times.

Y/N did not object the way he thought she would, instead she yearned for him. She had wanted him since she left outer banks and she had wanted him when she locked eyes with him in her guest kitchen earlier. If he was willing to be with her, even just for the night, she was going to take it. Because at least for one moment, it can feel like the love they had Last Christmas was still alive.

Author's Note: So, I was originally going to base this imagine as "Last Christmas" by WHAM! Turns out I went a different direction and a part two will come out the next time I write for Rafe. I think that it's in a week or two, so if you enjoyed it, I hope you'll stay looking for that. I also feel like this could have been better and that it could have been smoother, but it is what it is. Also, sorry this is so late! I had the stomach virus (stomach flu) and I felt miserable and today is the only day I started feeling like myself and I have also finished all my finals so now I am back to full time writing, excluding my work shifts!

[mediocreanomaly]

NESTING? PLS 😭 like ARE WE CONNECTED SOMEHOW this is so good

i have drowsy knives purring himself to sleep stuck in my head now--THIS IS LITERAL GOLD 😭 it would take a v special s/o to pick up the slight nuances of his emotions too n he'd be head over heels 🥺

but nesting instincts 🥺 please for the love of everything knives elaborate i i i wanna know all there is to know ab this man 🥺👉👈

n maybe vashy seperately too?? 🥴

Authors Note: Turned this into a full post because I'm procrastinating my drabbles anyways lmao this is going to give away a teeny tiny bit of my uncanny Vash post I'm making but I love talking about the Twins and their less than human instincts

Savern Twins Nesting HC's

Knives

•Knives is surprisingly the less embarrassed of the twins about nesting instincts, this is solely based on the fact that he doesn't see his plant qualities to be anything to be ashamed about, it's just another thing that sets him apart from humans

•Although, no one (besides you) knows about Knives nest. You may wonder how the two points can co-exist but that because a Plant's nest is supposed to be somewhere secure and safe. So while he's not embarrassed that he has a nest, he's not going to openly talk about it and risk giving away someone trying to get a peek of it (not that he really openly talks about anything)

•Knives nest is big, he had a bed custom made that's larger than a kings but circular and with plush raised walls so it feels not secure and less in the open. He's collected various blankets and pillows that fill the empty space so that he can bundle up under them, all of it is white because he refuses to let his nest look ugly or disorganized

•He's a perfectionist too so he spends a lot of time organizing and reorganizing his nest. Every time he gets a new blanket or pillow to add he has to redo the whole thing to make sure it's in the perfect spot or else he refuses to sleep in it

•Now Knives doesn't have to sleep much like he doesn't have to eat, but sleeping is something enjoys. He stresses about his plans a lot even if he doesn't show it outwardly. What better way to destress than napping in his nest?

•Whenever he decides to officially make you his mate (yes he calls it that, what else is he supposed to call it? Everything else sounds too human) all his instincts will scream at him to burrow into his nest

•For awhile you'll actually be hard pressed to even be allowed out of the nest, because why would you want to leave? As your mate Knives needs to keep you safe, and where's the safest place in the world? His safest place in the world, so please stop trying to leave the nest- you're hungry? fine he'll bring you food that you can eat in the nest

•I honestly don't think Independents hold body heat because their sisters live in water, which is one of many reasons they nest. It's also why Nai will drag you in with him when he wants to sleep so he can bum off your body heat. That's when when you learn he can purr (yeah thats right Plants purr propaganda) naps like this are the best. It's hard to stay awake when he's got you cuddled under blankets, gentle rumbles lulling you asleep

•After awhile you'll be allowed out so long as you are by his side or being escorted by Legato, or atleast unless you get pregnant

•If Knives manages to get you pregnant...you are banished to the nest again. It's not so bad though, besides he likes you like this. All round and full of his child, surrounded by plush comforters and pillows that cradle your form. At this point he won't leave your side unless he has to, if his instincts were bad before then they are haywire now, he stays curled up with you because theres no way you'd be able to defend yourself in a state like this, it's his job as your mate to keep you and his unborn child safe and sound, tucked away from the rest of the world

•When the baby is born it's where you'll spend most your time too, I mean...c'mon think about it. Your little one all tucked against you and Nai curled protectively around both of you, gentle purrs from both him and your baby as both their plant markings glow ever so slightly? If there's such thing as heaven this is it

•Knives has purposely made his nest large enough to hold his growing family, so no matter how many children you have you'll all get to curl up in the nest to find comfort or just to sleep.

•I think unfortunately once the children hit a certain age they are kicked out of the nest lol, it's more reserved for a Plants mate and young ones, so starting at maybe teen age it's time for them to make their own nest

•This isn't to say they aren't ever allowed in at all though. If Knives children are in any sort of distress his instincts kick in telling him to make sure their safe so in times like that they are still allowed in, the purpose of the nest is to provide him and his family with safety and comfort so no matter what it's there waiting for you

Vash

•Vash is admittedly a bit more embarrassed about the fact that he nest

•He tries his best to blend in with humans and thinks that people might find it weird that his instincts are constantly telling him to grab every soft thing he can find and hunker down

•Not that it really matters because he's always on the run anyways, he doesn't have time to stop and nest in the first place which makes it an easy an excuse to not nest at all, so Vash doesn't have a nest...right?

•Wrong. Like I said it's instinct and even Vash can't help but begin to nest in whatever shitty motel room he's in, especially if he's had a really rough day and just wants to sleep.

•Vash's nest is...admittedly a bit more pitiful than Knives. Knives has the advantage of staying in one spot, Vash does not, so he doesn't have a single nest but more so a hastily made one consisting of anything soft he can find. old blankets, pillows, clothes, rags, and even his own coat all make up his haphazard resting place.

•When he meets you though oh boy does it make it harder to resist the urge to stay and make a nice big nest for the two of you to hide away in

•It takes awhile for you to learn of Vash's little habit because he tries really hard to hide it away. He doesn't want you to think he's weird so when he does show it to you and you don't react negativly he's shyly asking, "do you...want to get in it?"

•Please say yes, his heart can't take any other answer. After that Vash is more keen on nesting even though the two of you travel, you even buy him a couple blankets that you pack up and bring so that he has something more consistant to nest with. The two of you will arrive at the motel for the night and you sit on the bed watching as Vash sleepily mulls over the blankets, pillows, and clothes he's choosen and organses it in a satisfactory way before he weakily pulls you in with him, purring as he cuddles up to you

•If you run your hand through his hair you'll be rewarded with more purrs and him nuzzling into your hand, but don't comment on it or he'll get embarrassed and hide his face into the blankets while he pulls away

•Vash wouldn't try to get you pregnant unless it was after he dealt with his brother and at that point I think he'd have a more permanent nest. Whether that's on Ship 3 or your own little home he's finally got a spot that he knows is always there, perfect to keep you in while you grow your baby!

•Vash loves spending time in the nest, it's from a mixture of putting off his instincts so long when he was on the run and the fact he actually has a place of comfort for once that does it, so if you can't find your partner...he's most likely buried in the nest

•It's super cute though, you'll walk in the room and softly call "Vash?" and his head will peak out of the mountain of blankets eyes still half lidded with sleep and hair all messy as he says a soft "hmm?"

•This nest is still a bit more messy and it's one of those "it looks disorganized but Vash know exactly where everything is" situations, he doesn't really care about colors or anything, infact it's proably mostly blankets that other people have gifted him over the years, he feels like it tells a story

•Unlike Knives, you'll have to be the one to eventually kick the kids out of the nest once they get older because "what do you mean they can't stay in here with us? Their still our baby!" "Vash their 20" "and?"

•Vash's plant marks always appear when he's in the nest, he can't help it! It's so comforting, besides he has you here warming him up and your kids cuddled in the covers- oop he's crying, don't worry they're happy tears

After note: I hope you liked it!!! I wanted to add more stuff about you being able to read Knives but it didn't really fit so that might have to be saved for another list I'm a firm "the boys do weird but cute animal things" believer and it's my job to infect people with that propaganda

[weemsfreak]

Surprise

Larissa Weems x fReader

Larissa hasn't been herself lately, and to make things worse, she's nearing 50.

Happy ending, ~3.9k words

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, depressed and tired Larissa

You knocked on the large wooden doors to the principals office, awaiting the sound of a voice that would bless your ears. It was the middle of the school day, she had to be here. When no response came, you decided you'd try the handle, and you walked in unexpectedly being greeted by nobody.

You made your way cautiously to the desk, which held nothing on its surface- except for a calendar.

December 2023

Tuesday - 'Rogers birthday'

Friday -'My birthday'

You weren't surprised that Larissa was keeping track of birthdays, she was in charge of planning them, after all. When a staff member at Nevermore had a birthday, Larissa would plan a social for the end of the work day. Like today for instance, you would soon be heading for cake, a little gift for roger, and perhaps a few drinks with the other teachers. Oddly enough though, you hadn't heard mention of a social on Friday. You focused on the calendar slot where Larissa had written 'My birthday'. December 8th, you committed to memory, that was her birthday.

Rogers party was enjoyable. The cake was rather yummy, and the staff had a few laughs together. "So, any more birthdays coming up soon? I could go for another cake" Roger joked after thanking Larissa for the party. Larissa tilted her head in thought, "Um, no. Not until next month." Some teachers let out a sarcastic huff of disappointment, but you took in the woman before you, confused.

Her face told you otherwise, it told you that she had lied, rather well, but not well enough.

Her face told a story, that maybe only you could read, of sadness, rejection, and loneliness. Perhaps Larissa didn't like the attention, or perhaps she didn't like parties. Perhaps she was scared of getting older, many people were.

You have only recently, about four months ago, became part of the Nevermore family, but you were quick to feel accepted and become enamoured with the woman. You and Larissa weren't very close, but that was likely because you were far too shy around her. Still, you thought that Larissa deserved to celebrate, she deserved to celebrate herself.

When the social came to an end, you pulled Vlad aside and asked if he had ever attended a celebration for Larissa's birthday, to which he shook his head no, and said that he was sure it was in the summer, because nobody had ever mentioned it.

That night you did a little digging. Probably, most likely, definitely too much digging. Did you go too far with things? Sometimes. But this was important, this was important to you.

You called your friend who worked for the United States government. "You want to know someone's birthday, huh? What are you doing, planning a party?" You laughed, why else would you want to know someone's birthday? "Larissa Marie Weems. Yes, I found it. Born in England, came to the United States in 1989-" "Okay Bri, I don't need her whole history" you interrupted. "Sorry, sorry. Her birthday is December 8th, 1973. Well, according to her file, anyway" she chuckled. You thanked your friend before hanging up and getting to work.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Larissa had not been herself lately. Weather it was due to her slow recovery, the betrayal of a supposed friend last year, the school being in shambles until some months ago, or her blatant loneliness, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was everything. She had not been herself since, well, since when? Who was she, exactly?

The headmistress of Nevermore, the girl who stayed in the same place mentally, and also physically, most of her life? The girl who loved, and lost, but was never loved back, was never lost in return. The girl who studied, excelled, travelled, and then came back. The girl who stayed, she was always the girl who stayed.

And now she was a woman, nearing 50, who still stayed. She stayed in her mind, full of trauma, deaths, and, you guessed it, more trauma. She stayed in her school, in her home, which was starting to feel, unsafe? Unlike a home, unlike her. She stayed in her thoughts, which were heartbreakingly also starting to feel unsafe.

Ah yes, she was nearing 50. And after all of these years, so, so many years, she thought that she may have a friend by now. A real friend, perhaps a partner. Someone who didn't abandon her willingly, or die on her unwillingly. Someone who wouldn't try to kill her for their own benefit.

She didn't know, had no clue actually, what she would do, what she could do, to get someone to like her. What was so wrong with her, she thought. What was so wrong with her that nobody liked her? She wasn't ugly, although she could be insecure. She could be scary, mean, authoritative, it was her job, her demeanour. But, she could also be sweet, loving, kind, caring, helpful, she knew that she was all of those things.

Deep down, she knew. Deep, deep down, she knew she wanted to love, she had SO much love to give. Alas, it seemed nobody wanted to give it back. So, she spent her years taking care of the younger generation, hoping and praying that none of them would turn out like she had. Depressed, lonely, full of defeat, trauma, self hatred and, love. She spent her time trying to bury her thoughts in work, in late nights, in wine, under a façade, but deep, deep down, she wanted out. She no longer wanted to be the one who stayed.

She stared at the calendar which was now on her coffee table, haunting her as she downed another glass of red. December 8th, a day that her mother had brought her into this world, this nasty, cruel, unforgiving, hateful world. This beautiful, tearjerking, progressive, lovely world. December 8th, the day that her family rarely celebrated. December 8th, the day that she rarely celebrated. God she loved that day, and at the same time, she absolutely resented it. She really, really dreaded that day, for it was a day that Morticia had ignored and belittled.

____________________________________________________________________________________

December 6th, 1990

"Happy Birthday Tish!" Larissa smiled, greeting Morticia in the quad at lunch. "Thank you Issa" Morticia replied, wrapping her arms around the taller girl. Larissa held a small box out to Morticia, "I got you something." Morticia took the box and sat down, Larissa sat across from her. Morticia opened the box and found a small black bracelet that Larissa had made especially for her. The beads were made of obsidian and onyx, with an 'M' placed in the middle. Morticia slipped it on and took Larissa's hand, "Thank you Issa" she said, as she blew her a kiss. Morticia then turned her attention to Gomez and a few other girls at the table. "So, I was thinking Saturday, we invite everyone to my room and then down to the quad for my birthday celebration!" Gomez agreed, and the other girls quickly followed up with fun things that they could do to celebrate. "Tish?" Larissa spoke quietly. "Cara Mia?" Morticia replied. "My birthday is Saturday, remember?" Morticia's eyebrows furrowed before she faked an expression of surprise. "Oh, right. Well, can you celebrate Sunday? Or another day?" Larissa looked down to her lap and fidgeted with her hands as she pondered Morticia's words. Another day? But her birthday was actually on Saturday, Morticia's wasn't. "Well, can't you celebrate yours tonight?" Morticia laughed, "No Larissa, Thursday isn't a good day for a party." Larissa nodded in agreement, although she didn't actually agree. Larissa smiled as she came up with a great idea. "Well, can we merge our parties on Saturday? We can celebrate together!" Morticia frowned at this idea, why would she want to share her party? "I think we should celebrate separate love, we can have two parties. Mine will be Saturday, and yours can be Sunday." Morticia went back to planning her party with the others as Larissa sat there in silence and defeat. She knew that nobody would want to celebrate on Sunday after having a big party on Saturday, she knew that nobody would come, not for her.

As it was, Saturday Larissa celebrated Morticia in their dorm, but rejected following them down into the quad. Some people wished Larissa a happy birthday, but Morticia, did not. Larissa celebrated that night, alone in her room with a hot chocolate and a pastry. "Happy birthday to me" she whispered, as she blew out a candle and let smoke fill the empty room.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Yes, December 8th was a day for Larissa, and perhaps that's why she felt dread. She was nearing 50, in 3 days, to be precise, and all she wished for was, well, was to die.

She wished that her mother never had her, she wished that she had not lived through everything she had, alone, so utterly alone. She wished that it wasn't a day that she could resent, she wished that it wasn't a day that Morticia could make her hate. She wished that it wasn't a day at all, for maybe it didn't have to be.

Oh how ironic it would be, to perish the same day on which you were born. Like Shakespeare, letting every word she had said become nothing, and every word she had never spoken become something. It would send a message, but to whom? To whom did Larissa have to send a message? And so close to Christmas, at that.

Larissa loved Christmas, well, she used to. It was so warm, so cozy, so breathtaking, so…heartbreaking. She didn't have a family, but perhaps if she did, she might actually come to like her birthday, the winter, the holidays. She might drink hot chocolate and sit by the fire and feel safe, she might feel okay, she might feel loved. She might not sit at the Weathervane alone, as everyone went back home for the holidays. She might not sit in her office by the fire, downing red and eating cookies that she baked herself, by herself. She might not walk through the snowy filled streets and let the glow of the artificial lights wash over her with tears in her eyes and nobody by her side. She might not stare down at the snow and see herself as a child, building a snowman and smashing her friend in the face with a snowball. She might not loathe the fact that she was who she was, and the fact that she was born on December 8th. Because when it all came down to it, her birthday, Christmas, and every single other day of the year, time was time. Time was fake, time was long, time was tears, and time was wrong. Time meant nothing, if she allowed it to mean nothing.

Yet she didn't, she allowed it to mean something. She let it mean something. She let it make her wish that she hadn't been here, that she wasn't here now.

That night she pondered over life, and death, and she came to the conclusion that she wasn't who she once was, nor was she who people were led to believe. She came to the conclusion that Nevermore would suffer without her, without their headmistress. But, she had one wish, one birthday wish.

Let it, she thought, let it suffer, for she has suffered enough for everyone. ___________________________________________________________________________________

When Friday, December 8th came, Larissa awoke with a heavy heart. She sat up in her bed as tears fell like bricks into her lap, and her hands trembled as she knew what they would soon be capable of.

Still, she went throughout her day as Principal, one last time. She greeted the students in the hallways, one last time. She made sure that her affairs and the schools affairs were in order, one last time. She shapeshifted and walked through the school, taking in everything that she could, one last time. And, she cried over Morticia's photo, one last time.

She settled down in front of the fire with a glass of wine in her hand and a hot chocolate, indulging one last time. It was only 4 in the afternoon, but she was tired, she was so incredibly tired.

She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the sofa as she thought about her birthday. Nobody had wished her happy birthday, nobody knew it was her birthday, nobody except you. But she didn't know that you knew, and as she thought about dying on the same date that she was born, she smiled, for nobody would know.

"Larissa!" you almost screamed, barging into her office frantically. Her eyes opened in a panic as she shot her wide gaze to you. You almost lost your act as you took her in, sitting on the sofa with wine and hot chocolate. Her office was clean, cleaner than usual, and she looked so tired, had she been crying? It was only quarter after 4, what was she doing?

"We have a problem, follow me!" you said in a hurry, ushering her up and out of her office. Larissa followed behind you as your pace quickened, and she rolled her eyes at the thought of having to deal with one of Nevermore's problems, one last time.

As she followed you through the halls, she watched your pace slow and your worry fade. You ended up walking beside her, and taking her hand in yours. Part of your brain told you that she might not follow, that she might know that there was no problem and run away. Part of your brain told you that maybe she didn’t at all want to celebrate, and that she would reject the surprise party and leave in tears.

Still, you held her hand as you stared up at her, your panicked act fading into a large smile. Larissa was so confused as to why you were holding her hand, and smiling at her? She looked down at your no longer panicked face and her eyes met yours, they were, admiring? You looked happy, joyful, loving, and maybe, maybe you were hiding something.

As you both neared the staff room Larissa stopped dead in her tracks. "What is the problem?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows at you. "It’s in here, come" you said, slowly opening the door to the staff room. You walked in slightly, enough to be able to turn on the lights, and Larissa stepped beside you. "I don't see a-" "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"

Everyone shouted and jumped up as you flicked the lights on, and you winced when you watched Larissa jump back in surprise. Larissa's mouth dropped open as she scanned the room, her eyes wide in shock. As you looked up at her expression your heart sunk a bit, for she didn’t look grateful, she didn't look like anything. Surprised, she was, but not happy surprised. "Larissa?" you whispered, and she whipped her head around and bent down to you, putting on a faceless expression. "Is this okay?" you asked hesitantly. Larissa blinked a few times before she turned to the room of people. Her staff were staring at her expectantly with smiles on their faces. She noticed a cake on the middle table, decorations, and a birthday sign that said 'Happy 30th!'

She began to walk slowly into the room, taking you with her. Once she got to the middle table, Larissa slowly but surely smiled. She took a deep breath and looked down at you, before looking around to all of her staff. "Thank you all" she said, bringing her other hand to her chest and laying it on her heart. Teachers then walked to her one by one and gave her a hug, saying happy birthday to her personally. You took that time to reach into your bag and dig out a birthday sash that read 'Birthday Queen'. You walked up to her and she laughed when she saw the sash, bending down to your level so you could slip it over her head and onto her body.

The party kicked off with everyone singing happy birthday to her, and then she blew out many candles on a chocolate cake that read 'Happy Birthday Larissa!'. You pulled out a bottle of her favorite red, which you knew she had already been drinking, and poured her a glass to go with her cake. When everyone finished eating, they socialized and played a few games that you had set out, and you took this time to finish her card.

You sat her down again and presented her with it. When she opened the card, it was full of small messages and signatures of everyone on the staff. Larissa scanned all the names before deciding that she would read the messages later tonight. You watched as a tear escaped her eye, but she was smiling. Your heartbeat quickened before it rested, happy tears, you thought. She looked around at everyone as she wiped at her eyes. "Thank you all so much. I haven't celebrated my birthday in so long."

“We didn't know when your birthday was Larissa, I thought it was in the summer" Vlad chuckled. Larissa giggled and sighed, "I know, I kept it a secret." Larissa then furrowed her brows and looked around at her staff, "Wait, how did you all find out?" Roger instantly gestured to you and smiled, "Y/N found out." Larissa looked down at you and tilted her head in question as a blush spread on your cheeks. "Y/N planned the whole party" Vlad added. The woman pouted her lip as she took your hand in hers. She smiled and squeezed your hand as her eyes watered, "Thank you darling."

The party went on and your heart clenched at the sight of Larissa enjoying herself with the others. You didn't know if she resented you for telling everyone about her birthday, but you were glad that she was celebrating herself. You were relieved, in awe really, you hoped that your digging and planning meant something to her.

When the party was over and most people left, you started cleaning up the room. Larissa stayed with you and started to clear the tables. "Larissa don't worry about the mess, I got it" you smiled.  She waved a hand at you dismissively, "Nonsense darling, let me help you." After everything had been cleaned up, you turned to her nervously. "Happy birthday Larissa, I hope it was enjoyable." Larissa smiled down at you and whispered a thank you. She then paused, "Come with me, will you?" You nodded and followed along.

She led you to her office where she gestured for you to sit on the sofa. You placed your bag on the floor and turned to her. "How did you find out that my birthday was today?" she asked. You chuckled in embarrassment, "I saw it written in your calendar."

Larissa's expression turned to one of joy as she laughed and shook her head, "Sneaky girl" she mused. You reached into your bag and pulled out a small box with her name on it. Larissa looked at you in shock as you held it out to her. "I didn't know if you liked celebrating, or if you even liked your birthday at all after you said that there were no more staff birthdays this month" you chuckled. "But, I thought that you were worth celebrating Larissa, so I got you something."

You held the box out to the woman as she stared down at you in awe. Her breathing was rapid and her eyes were teary once again, and you thought that she might not take it. You reached for her hand and placed the box into her delicate palm, "It’s not much, sorry" you smiled.

Larissa looked down at the box and slowly began to open it. Inside she found a bracelet, made with beads of Moonstone and Lapis Lazuli, a birthstone for the month of December, and the color of Larissa's eyes, you noted. In the middle of the bracelet there was a bead with the letter 'L'.

Larissa brought her hand to cover her gasp when she realized that you had made it yourself, all for her. As tears spilled from her eyes, you had no idea what was happening. You also had no time to say anything before the blonde woman wrapped her arms around you and pulled you tight against her. You felt her sniffle and cry into you, and you nuzzled your head into her as you began to stroke her hair. You didn't know why she was reacting like this, but no matter, you'd comfort her any day, you'd do anything for her, any day.

You let Larissa cry into your shoulder for a few minutes before you pulled back, and your eyes met her mascara stained face. "I love it" she whispered. You smiled and nodded. "I usually resent my birthday Y/N. Nobody ever celebrates with me and I, I have some bad memories." Larissa sniffled as she pressed her forehead to yours. "I'm sorry Larissa, I just thought you deserved to be celebrated." Larissa furrowed her brows, "Really?" You cupped her face in your hands, "Yes, really" you whispered.

Larissa stared into your eyes, perhaps she was trying to read you. She paused, and then she gave in. "I haven't been doing too well, darling. This time of year is lonely, and it's always hard for me, and I-" Larissa didn't get to finish her sentence because her voice wavered and tears fell again. You wiped them from her cheeks with your thumbs as she tried to told them back and her gaze fell to the floor. "Look at me Larissa" you whispered. Larissa again met your eyes hesitantly, and it was confirmed, you were right. She was sad, she was lonely, and she wasn't herself, but "I'm here for you. I will be here for you Larissa, please allow me to help you." Larissa let out a sob as she pulled you into her again and found comfort in your neck. You kissed her on the cheek and breathed in her being, as you felt tears fall from your own eyes. "I wanted to celebrate today Larissa, because, I'm so glad that you were born, I'm so happy that you're here. I'm so grateful for you, beautiful. I'm so, so proud of you."

Later that night, Larissa sat in her quarters, reading the messages that her friends had written. She pulled you tight next to her as she smiled at the bracelet on her arm, the bracelet that you had made her. Larissa realized that she did have people who loved her, in one way or another. She realized that she did want to live, she just didn't want to live alone. She came to the conclusion that you had saved her from herself that day. Such a simple gesture from you, a woman that hadn't known her that long, your observation and attention, and your thoughtfulness and love, had saved her.

You kissed her forehead and pulled her face closer to yours, winking. “Happy Birthday Larissa, 50 looks good on you." Larissa smiled and scoffed playfully as she returned the kiss to your nose.

Perhaps December 8th didn't need to mean anything, anything bad or traumatic, at least. Perhaps time didn’t mean anything, perhaps it didn't need to, if she didn't allow it. Perhaps she was the one that stayed, and perhaps you would be too.

[lazycats-stuff]

Congrats on 500 followers 🥳 ! I know that the weapon!reader fic came out today but I so badly want a fic about how he got adopted into it, like Ik you told us but could do you do write it out, if you get what I mean? Sorry I suck at explaining lol

I’m so sorry to request so soon, so take your time ❤️

Thanks, it's time for the origin story it seems. Also, I'm closing request for a while, I got 9 of them in my inbox and I would like to catch up with them, so just watch my blog description to see when they open. Also, I wrote 2.9k words... What the hell?

Summary: How (Y/N) got adopted.

Warnings: violence, murder, (C/S)= call sign, (F/N)=fake name, (F/L/N) = fake last name, a random target for (Y/N) to kill.

A weapon. A thing. Not even a human being. That was the motto he was told over and over again. He doesn't remember the life he had before all of this training. Or maybe he was just training from when he was born? Who really knows.

He was always on a strict schedule. Wake up at 6 am, have breakfast at 6:30, then it was time to do training. Whether it's martial arts or just being at a shooting range, his days were often filled with training or missions.

He was always a shadow. A person who just melted with people, who blended in with the crowd and who could disappear easily. More appropriate name would be ghost.

He met the best assassins in their world and he earned their respect for his skills and undying devotion and motivation for the mission.

Even Ra's al Ghoul respected (Y/N) and that was something that is not easy to achieve. Even more so, he was shocked when Ra's wanted to meet with him. It was something about a mission that he was going to get.

It was in Gotham city.

And by meeting Ra's al Ghoul, that meant going to his own base. He closed his eyes as he was driving in the helicopter. The vibrations were slightly comforting as he watched the base materialize in front of his eyes.

He was always in awe of Ra's al Ghouls base. The man was untraceable and the fact that he popped up somewhere in the middle of nowhere and the fact that he led (Y/N) to his base was incredible.

When the helicopter landed, (Y/N) took of his headset and stepped out. He squinted due to the sun shining in his face. He bowed his head when he saw Ubu, Ra's al Ghoul's second in command.

" Welcome to our base (C/S). Please follow me. " Ubu said, turning on his heel and walking back to the base. On both sides there was a row of assassins, just ready to strike at moments notice.

It was eerie. He walked right behind Ubu, looking up at the big base. And that man is untraceable too. This base is massive and although in the middle of nowhere, it's easy to find something massive.

They stepped inside into the shade and (Y/N) was relieved to be shielded from the sun. He saw Talia al Ghoul as she walked by, always gorgeous, but fatal. Femme fatal and black widow mixed in one really.

He remembers one altercation that he had with Talia a few years back. Turns out that they were on the same mission and Ra's and (Y/N)'s handler didn't bother to let each of them know before they tried to kill each other.

(Y/N) still remembered the fight and how brutal it was. Talia might not seem to be physically strong, but she most definitely is strong. She could really punch and the entire room was completely trashed. It wasn't until the room was trashed, faces were bloody and (Y/N) broke Talia's nose and Talia broke his wrist.

Ra's and his handler were shocked when they saw the state of them. Talia and (Y/N) were glaring at each other and if not for their handlers, they would have gotten at it again.

But now, they had mutual respect.

Where was that mission anyway? Metropolis? It could be. He remembers hearing about Superman in the news and he also read the newspaper, seeing that Superman was on the front page.

Talia and (Y/N) nodded towards each other, a sign of saying hello and respect for each other. She walked off down the corridor and (Y/N) turned his head back to look forward.

They stopped in front of the big doors and the two guards opened it. (Y/N) stepped into a lavish room. My God, does Ra's have money to burn. Marble, gold... On the left there was a big bookcase with first editions of the biggest literature works. The said man was sitting down at the balcony, seemingly drinking bourbon.

Who even drinks bourbon this early in the morning?

" (Y/N), please, do sit. " Ra's said, pointing to a chair opposite of him.

(Y/N) sat down and Ra's poured him a glass. (Y/N) sat, hand grazing the gun in his holster. It was still there, loaded and ready to go.

" Now, you must wonder why I summoned you here. " Ra's started, turning his entire body to look at (Y/N).

" I can only assume that it has something to do with my upcoming mission in Gotham. " (Y/N) said, leaning slightly back, putting his arm around the back of the chair, but still keeping his other hand near his gun.

" That is true. I know you are no stranger to Gotham, but you are a stranger to Batman's modus operandi. "Ra's started, picking up his glass, before twirling the liquid around.

" I'm familiar to how Batman works. I'm afraid you are wasting your time if you called me because of that. " (Y/N) said, watching as Ra's smirked.

" I have no doubt you know how Batman works, but that was all in theory. Your handler never fought with Batman. I have. " Ra's replied, taking a sip of his bourbon.

" Not a drinker I see. Well, I know your mission is not about Batman, you have assassinate a prominent politician, but Batman will be all over it. That man can tell when somebody very well trained does it. He can recognize assassins and he can tell if somebody of your caliber entered the city. " Ra's stated, turning to look at his people training.

" Batman is like a dog with a bone, I believe that's the term that Americans use. And it's a good term for Batman. Once he has something, he won't let go of it, no matter what. I just want to warn you, once you do this, Batman will look high and low for you. " Ra's explained, turning his head to look at the young man, who looked back at him with confidence in his eyes.

" I'm pretty sure that I will be pretty quick with my mission and will be gone by the time I'm done. I will be in the city for just a few hours. " (Y/N) said, now taking the glass.

" And those few hours might change your life. " Ra's said, taking his glass too. He raised it and (Y/N) followed. " A little toast to your mission. May all go well. " They clinked their glasses and (Y/N) murmured hear hear.

A few days later, he was landing in the Archie Goodwin airport. He has a small sports bag with him, containing his suit, some extra clothes and a burner phone. He walked out of the airport, seeing the car already waiting for him.

He got in, already having the keys in on him. He turned the car on and he drove to a small, shabby motel in Gotham. He turned on the radio, listening to news.

" Welcome back from our brake. Tonight, at the city hall, Richard Peterson will be starting as a mayor. In the attendance are a lot of prominent Gotham citizens, including Bruce Wayne himself. Mister Wayne hasn't been so present in these types of events, but since it's a charity party, mister Wayne is always ready to show up. But don't get me wrong, that man did more for our city then anybody in the mayor's office and the government combined. Thank you for listening to our news and we are going to be back with our regular program. "

(Y/N) turned the volume down a bit, not really interested in music. It was a rock song, but (Y/N) didn't really listen. He watched the road in front of him. The said road was empty, expect for a few cars. He was never a fan of Gotham. It was a dirty city, both with actual garbage and by metaphorical garbage.

Corruption, drugs, murders, muggings... Crime all around. There wasn't a single sign of changing until Batman showed up. His handler told him that. he also told him that Batman coming onto the scene in Gotham has changed the world.

And Batman also changed it by creating the Justice League. Many were happy, and by many, he meant civilians. Villains were not so happy and they created their own league, the League of Light. He took a turn and he drove into the motel parking lot. He turned of the ignition and stepped out. He frowned a bit at the smell.

Ew. He took his sports bag and went to the reception. There was this old lady, probably old enough to retire. She was smoking and it seemed like he was her first guest of the day.

" Hello ma'am. " (Y/N) said politely, leaning on the front desk

" Hello sugar. I assume you need a room. "

" Yes ma'am. "

" Give me your name. "

" (F/N) (F/L/N). " (Y/N) said, taking the key from the lady. " Is it possible to pay up front? " (Y/N) asked, feeling a stack of cash in his pocket.

" Of course. I presume cash. "

" Of course ma'am. " (Y/N) said with a fake smile.

" I still got it. " She said, giving (Y/N) his key and (Y/N) gave a hundred dollar bill.

" You can keep the rest ma'am. " (Y/N) said, making her smile.

" Thanks sugar. "

(Y/N) nodded, taking his sports bag and he went to his room. He saw a pool, but there was no way in hell that he would go in there and swim. And besides, he has way to important things to do rather than to take a swim in the pool.

He dropped the sports bag on the bed. Now he had to go check out the city hall and the surrounding buildings. And he also needed to pick up his weapon from his contact here.

This was going to be a fun evening.

(Y/N) huffed as he set him self down onto a roof. He prepared his rifle to stand on the edge. He was in all black, with a black mask covering the bottom half of his face. He also had a black beanie, covering his hair.

He had his gloves on too. He can't have any fingerprints linking him to this. That is the most armature thing ever to be caught over. He sat down on the roof, waiting for the ceremony to start.

He watched the politicians rolling in their expensive cars and wives or husbands under their arm, used as trophies. He never saw the appeal of it, but he himself in a way was a trophy to his handler. Although, not because of his looks like in this case, rather for his skill set.

Also, why do you pay so much for clothes? (Y/N) could see without his binoculars that the dresses were expensive and he never saw the appeal of it.

He took out a small protein bar, munching on it as he waited for his target to arrive. One tip he learnt is to never shot from a rifle when you are hungry. So, it's better to eat something.

He put the wrapper into his pocket and he got down. His target just got out of the building and stood in front of the podium. (Y/N) looked through the scope, setting his sights on the politician.

When everyone settled down, (Y/N) took a breath and pulled the trigger. (Y/N) shot him through his forehead directly. Screams started and the police started scrambling to secure the area. (Y/N) took his rifle and separated it into parts, to fit into his backpack.

And then he ran from the rooftop, sinking into the shadows. The plan for this was to get to a bridge and throw this backpack into the river. And then get to on a plane get out of here.

Batman knew that this assassination had something to do with somebody of high caliber. It was dead on in the center and the fact that whoever did this didn't leave any traces on the roof where he stood.

However, there was a security camera.

" Tim, I need you to hack into a security camera on the building across from the City hall. Look who was there at the time of the murder. "

" Will do B. Alfred is looking into this politician, trying to figure out why he was killed. " Tim said, already hacking into it.

" I will show you the footage now B. " Tim said.

Bruce tapped a few buttons on his gauntlet and the video feed was shown. Bruce just looked at the eyes, saw the munching on the protein bar. And it seems that when he was escaping that the wrapper fell out.

Maybe the wrapper had something on it. " Tim, look for other footage of him. We need to get a face for the recognition. "

" Already on it. "

Bruce hanged up and scanned the wrapper. It had some DNA on it and he could probably have a DNA sample from this. He scanned it now and put it into every database known to man, even through the Justice League database.

Oh my. It got a hit. It was by the name (C/S), aka (Y/N) (L/N). He started making waves in the assassin community. But what ticked Batman off was the fact that he is a teen.

Whoever trained him... Whoever trained was going to be maimed.

" Everyone, I have a name and a face. Track him Tim. I want to know when he got into Gotham. Look at the airport, stations, everything. "

" Okay, but I put his face to find him through the city. Right now, he is on his way to... The airport. Robin and Red Hood could intercept him."

" I will. Let me know where he is and the car he is driving. " Batman said, calling the Batmobile. Time to find (Y/N).

(Y/N) was driving peacefully, just ready to get out of this city. Batman and the others, however, had other plans. (Y/N) never saw them coming. Batman rammed the Batmobile into the right side of (Y/N)'s car, making it turn a sharp left. (Y/N) braced for impact and more importantly, he got his seatbelt on.

He was a bit shocked, but that quickly wore off as he saw what hit him. He wasn't staying long enough to fight Batman. Nobody in their right mind would.

(Y/N) got out, gripping his gun. He saw a fire escape and ran for it. He can't fight him, he needs to get out of this city and far away from Batman and his sidekicks as humanely possible. He looked down and he saw Robin. He knew who Robin was, he saw a photo of him once though.

He climbed even faster, getting onto a roof. Nope. He stopped in front of Batman, who didn't look impressed.

" Hello (Y/N). You need to come with me. "

" I'm afraid not. I have to go back so... " (Y/N) said, ducking to the side to run. He jumped to the next roof, but somehow Red Hood jumped him from the right putting them trough a window on the roof. They both fell down and (Y/N) hit his head against a beam.

The world got dizzy and he heard voiced mixing. He closed his eyes, hoping to die instead.

(Y/N) wasn't so lucky as to die. He woke up with a big headache and he knew that he didn't escape. He opened his eyes and was met with a glass ceiling. He turned his head and was met with the sight of Batman and the others.

" Morning (Y/N). " Batman said, moving closer to the glass.

(Y/N) sighed, sitting up at the small bed here. " Yeah, sure. How can I help you? "

" You can start with telling me who your handler is. " Batman said calmly.

" I'm afraid not. Besides, I only know him as the handler so... "

" Where is the base then? "

" Aren't you supposed to be the detective? " (Y/N) retorted.

" And you are supposed to be a normal teenager. Enjoying life. Going to high school. And not be an assassin for someone. " Batman retorted back.

" Either way, I can't tell you anything. And you are going to keep me here? "

" Yes. And I don't care about the fact you are not telling me who your handler is, I will find him either way. I won't allow you to go back to him. "

" So what are you going to do? Adopt me? " (Y/N) asked sarcastically.

" Yes. " However he didn't expect such serious response.

" No. "

" I mean, I need to keep you here. " Batman said, making (Y/N) go eye wide.

" Now I wish that Red Hood killed me. " (Y/N) said laying back down, making Jason smirk a bit.

" Likewise. " Jason said, making Bruce give him a quick glare.

" You will be better here (Y/N). You will have a chance at a free live. Your own life. No control, not anything you don't like. " Bruce said, trying to appeal to him.

" Hmm. No. " (Y/N) said, closing his eyes.

" Well, I can't send you back to that hell. " Batman said, finality in his voice.

" Well, I still don't like this. "

[troius]

What we learned from the war

"Endings are hard" is a something of a truism, but it's borne out in Bleach, where every story arc besides after the first two stumbled at the finish (even the endings of the first two arcs don't really "end" so much as continue into a new story). In the Arrancar arc, the number of characters and plotlines got so overwhelming that an ending that had to be rushed if it was to arrive at all. In the Lost Agent arc, the characters were pared down, but the ending wound up thematically inconsistent with the story anyways, possibly due to real-life circumstances. And the Thousand-Year Blood War somehow managed to have both problems.

The change in direction from "tightly focused character drama" to "sprawling cast of soldiers" meant that it was unlikely to ever give us the development of our protagonist that we craved, and that lack of focus was only aggravated by the widely-reported health problems of the author. And yet, perhaps because we don't get that, because so little of this arc is filtered through Ichigo learning about himself, we get a much clearer statement of the values inherent in the work.

This is most evident in our antagonists for this Arc. Yhwach and the Wandenreich don't really have the relationship with Ichigo that previoius antagonists had. He never knew his Quincy heritage, never identified with their ideals, and so feels very little conflict about opposing them. He doesn't ever develop his Quincy powers, at least beyond integrating them with his already existing powerset. And he doesn't take much of a personal interest in Yhwach, who in turn, doesn't seem to think much of him when he's not directly in front of him.

But for all that Ichigo doesn't end up having much of a dynamic with them, the Wandenreich still manages to maintain a unique character. Every antagonist has a priority, something that they are willing to do great evil for. For Soul Society, it's its own existence, the continuation of the system they've built. For Aizen, it's his own self-aggrandizement. For the Fullbringers, it was simply living another day, screwing over others so that they can't screw you first. But the Wandenreich has no such priority. They simply want it all to end.

That's most obvious in Yhwach's ending monologue, but you can see it from the very beginning as he kills Yamamoto, the man who tried to move on from his bloody past being slaughtered by the man who would absolutely not let it go. Yhwach shows more emotion towards the skeletons of Argola and Huberdt, his dead soldiers from a war long lost, than he does towards any of his living subordinates. And his subordinates follow his lead in showing no love to one another, happily stabbing each other in the back without even the Arrancars' uneasy level of camaraderie. Their movement has no future, and neither do they, so nihilism is the only recourse.

Most of the time. I think it's important to note that every time a member of the Wandenreich expresses positive feelings towards one of their comrades, it's immediately followed by them turning on Yhwach. Liltotto, Bazz, Giselle, eventually, in her own twisted way…even Jugram, at the very end. Sure, Yhwach kills them for their impertinence (he is the bad guy), but he also massacres the Wandenreich faithful en masse. There's no salvation, only death, and he'll enforce that state on his followers rather than allow them to discover any alternative.

I imagine the lesson, and the general attitude of the Wandenreich, was not lost on Uryu Ishida. Even in his relative paucity of appearances, it's he who is at the moral center of the arc. His culture, which he had thought was nearly entirely dead, turns out to be alive, and out for vengeance against the people who exterminated them. It's something he probably fantasized about growing up, and I don't blame him for joining. How could he not?

But at the end, he makes the very easy choice. Calling it a matter of "life and death" is a little on the nose, but it's morally quite black and white. Yhwach has no hope for this world, or for his people within it, or even himself. He lost a war for the nature of existence to a monster a thousand years ago, and never got over it. But Uryu has the strength to look at the horrors of this world and yet hope for better. Because he has people he loves in life, and who love him in return, he can dream of a better tomorrow.

And that's what the ending is all about. Yhwach loses to Ichigo, and it is very much "good guy beats bad guy". But he also loses to Uryu, and to "I hope to have a family with my girlfriend who I love so much" Renji Abarai, and to "I have a tremendous amount of hope to eventually make myself king of everything" Sosuke Aizen, and eventually (in a way I'm still confused about mechanically) to the child Ichigo and Orihime will eventually have, the literal embodiment of the potential of the future.

The final villain of Bleach is not society's tendency to preserve itself at any human cost. It's not individual selfishness, or manipulativeness, or any of the many vices we saw embodied in the hollows throughout the series. It's despair, the idea that life might not be worth living even through all the struggles and horrors our protagonists have endured. Sure, it will always raise its head, sometimes at the most inconvenient, or ill-fitting times. But having its reincarnation be blown away by the supernaturally normal lives of our cast…well, that's as clear of a message as I can imagine.

[callsigns-haze]

Out of All: Chp 3

Jake Seresin x OC! Anna Bradshaw

Brothers' Best Friend Series! Follow along as these characters navigate the treacherous waters of love, loyalty, and desire, all while facing the ultimate taboo: falling for your sibling's best friend. From heart-pounding moments to steamy encounters, this series is a rollercoaster of emotions that will keep you hooked until the very end. Brace yourself for intense romantic tension, sizzling chemistry, and enough drama to keep you guessing. Are you ready to embark on this captivating journey?

This chapter includes explicit sexual content with detailed descriptions of sexual activity and intimacy between characters. Scenes depict physical intimacy, including kissing, touching, and biting, with characters described in states of undress. Emotional intensity is explored, encompassing themes of longing, desire, and vulnerability, with brief references to past trauma. Characters may be shown consuming alcoholic beverages, and mature themes such as casual relationships

The studio walls seemed to close in, suffocating you with their unyielding presence. Bloody January, new year, new you, but here you were, stuck in the same cycle of frustration and disappointment. Hours had slipped by like grains of sand through an hourglass, each one adding to the weight of your exasperation.

Today was one of those days where nothing seemed to click, where every note was a struggle, and every chord felt like a battle. The music refused to flow, stubbornly resisting your attempts to coax it into existence. And as the hours stretched on, tensions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Frustration radiated from every corner of the studio, a palpable energy that hung heavy in the air. The once vibrant space now felt suffocating, stifling your creativity with its oppressive atmosphere. All you wanted was to escape, to retreat into the sanctuary of solitude and lick your wounds in peace.

But duty called, in the form of your brother's plea to join him and his friends at Penny's bar tonight. You wanted to meet them, to connect with his circle, but today, the thought of socializing felt like an insurmountable task.

"Anna, we need to get this moving!" Harry's voice cut through the tension, his frustration mirroring your own. With a roll of your eyes, you shot him a pointed look, the weight of exhaustion bearing down on your shoulders.

"What do you honestly think I've been trying to do, huh?" you snapped, your words laced with frustration. You were tired, irritable, and every fiber of your being screamed for release. The studio felt like a prison, trapping you in a cycle of unfulfilled potential and dashed hopes.

As Harry left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for another attempt. One more time, from the top, and then you were out. With a resolve born of sheer determination, you began to play, your voice a beacon of defiance amidst the chaos.

Each note carried the weight of your frustration, each chord a testament to your resilience. Despite the odds, you refused to be defeated, pushing forward with a determination that bordered on desperation. And as the melody unfurled, weaving its way through the heavy atmosphere, you felt a glimmer of hope ignite within you.

The music may not have been perfect, may not have flowed effortlessly from your fingertips, but it was yours. A reflection of your struggle, your perseverance, and your unwavering commitment to your craft. And in that moment, as the music carried you away on its wings, you found solace in the simple act of creation, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty to be found.

"Summer went away Still, the yearning stays I play it cool with the best of them I wait patiently He's gonna notice me It's okay, we're the best of friends Anyway

I hear it in your voice You're smoking with your boys I touch my phone as if it's your face I didn't choose this town I dream of getting out There's just one who could make me stay All my days

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I waited ages to see you there I search the party of better bodies Just to learn that you never cared

You're on your own, kid You always have been

I see the great escape So long, Daisy May I picked the petals, he loves me not Something different bloomed Writing in my room I play my songs in the parking lot I'll run away

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I called a taxi to take me there I search the party of better bodies Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

You're on your own, kid You always have been

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this I hosted parties and starved my body Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money My friends from home don't know what to say I looked around in a blood-soaked gown And I saw something they can't take away

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned Everything you lose is a step you take So make the friendship bracelets Take the moment and taste it You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid Yeah, you can face this You're on your own, kid You always have been"

---

Bradshaw! Where's your sister at?" Natasha's impatience cut through the chatter, her eyes scanning the bar for your familiar presence. Bradley glanced at his phone, hoping for a message or a sign of your impending arrival, but found nothing. A sense of unease settled over him, a nagging feeling that something was amiss.

"Don't know, Phoenix. She's probably stuck at work," Bradley replied, his voice tinged with concern. He watched as Jake and Javy played darts, his mind drifting back to the front door of the bar. "Where are you, Anna?"

With a flicker of apprehension, Bradley unlocked his phone, dialing your number in a desperate bid for reassurance. Each ring felt like an eternity, his heart pounding in his chest as he prayed for your familiar voice to answer. But the silence on the other end only deepened his worry.

Then, a message popped up on his screen, accompanied by a video from you. Relief flooded through him as he read your text, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We only wrapped up now. Give me ten and I'll be there!"

As he watched the video, a sense of pride swelled within him. Your voice, clear and strong, filled the bar, carrying the weight of your emotions with each note. It was a song about solitude, about facing life's challenges head-on, and Bradley couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for his talented sister.

"Hey guys! My sister's gonna be here in a bit. She sent me a video if you want to see!" Bradley called out to the group, excitement rippling through the air. He had mentioned your burgeoning music career to his friends before, and now they eagerly gathered around him, eager to catch a glimpse of the elusive Anna Bradshaw.

As the video began to play, Jake's eyes widened in recognition. The pieces fell into place, and he realized why you looked so familiar. With your distinctive features and undeniable talent, you were unmistakably Baby Bradshaw, the younger sibling whose musical journey had captivated their curiosity.

As the last notes of your song faded away, a chorus of applause erupted from your audience. Bradley couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest as he watched his sister's talent being recognized and celebrated by those closest to him. In that moment, as the warmth of camaraderie washed over him, he knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have a supportive network by your side.

He and Coyote both took a step back, their expressions mirroring a mix of shock and disbelief. Javy leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper as he posed a question that hung heavy in the air, "Isn't that the chick from last weekend?" Jake shot his friend a warning look, silently urging him to keep his thoughts to himself.

In that moment, the weight of his actions hit Jake like a ton of bricks. He had been sleeping with a Bradshaw, his wingman's precious baby sister. The realization washed over him, a wave of dread and regret crashing against his conscience. How could he have been so blind? How could he not have recognized you, despite your distinctive features and undeniable talent?

God, Bradley would kill him. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, his stomach churning with a sickening mix of guilt and apprehension. He had betrayed his friend's trust in the worst possible way, tarnishing the bond they had built over years of camaraderie and loyalty.

As he glanced at Bradley, he could see the color draining from his friend's face, his expression a mask of disbelief and shock. The room seemed to spin around him, the reality of the situation hitting him like a freight train. "Hey Bagman, you okay?" Fanboy's voice cut through the tension, his concern palpable as he glanced at his fellow pilot.

"Fine," Jake replied, his voice strained as he forced the words past the lump in his throat. But inside, he knew that nothing would ever be the same again. He had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and now, he would have to face the consequences of his actions.

---

You parked your car near the light blue bronco, recognizing it as your brother's vehicle. As you stepped out and locked the door, a sense of apprehension settled over you. You knew Bradley would likely be frustrated, perhaps even angry, that your colleagues had made you late for the meeting.

Entering the bar, you spotted Bradley with a group of young aviators. He walked down to greet you, enveloping you in a side hug. His whispered words tugged at your heartstrings. "You actually came," he murmured. With a playful eye roll, you leaned in to whisper back, "You pay the rent without allowing me to, I had no choice."

The resemblance between you and Bradley was uncanny, from the curls in your hair to the twinkle in your eyes. As he introduced you to his friends, you greeted them warmly, but your attention was quickly drawn to one individual in particular: Jake. Jake Seresin, Hangman, Bradley's wingman.

Bradley's introduction sent a jolt of panic through you. You had slept with Jake, your brother's wingman. Out of all the people, why him? The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and you knew you had to tread carefully to ensure that Bradley never found out about your previous encounter with Jake.

As Jake greeted you with a Texan charm that sent shivers down your spine, you struggled to maintain your composure. Bradley couldn't know, couldn't suspect anything. So you smiled politely, nodding at Jake's introduction, all the while grappling with the knowledge of the secret you shared with his wingman.

Jake knew that Bradley could never figure out that the two of you had met previously, so he played it cool, maintaining his composure to prevent your brother from catching on. "Hangman, but you can call me Jake, darlin'," he said, his Texan accent adding a touch of charm to his words.

As Jake shook your hand, Bradley watched the interaction closely, his protective instincts kicking in. "Brad told me a lot about you," you remarked casually, withdrawing your hand and wrapping your arms around yourself as you engaged in conversation with Jake. "I could say the same," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed Bradley had rejoined the group, leaving you to converse with Jake. But before you could delve further into conversation, Jake leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you met his intense gaze, scanning the room to ensure no one was listening in on your conversation. "Yeah, that's putting it nicely," you replied, a sense of apprehension creeping into your tone.

----

"You're actually his sister," Jake sighed, his frustration evident as he ran his hands down his face while seated on the outside deck of the bar. The realization hung heavy in the air, both of you grappling with the unexpected twist of fate that had brought you together.

"Look Jake... Would you change anything if I wasn't his sister?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. It was a question neither of you had anticipated, probing the depths of what could have been if circumstances were different.

"No," Jake replied simply, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering determination. Despite the complications that your relationship with Bradley introduced, he was adamant that he wouldn't alter a single moment they had shared.

His response left you conflicted. On one hand, you were relieved that he didn't regret what had transpired between you. On the other, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt about the potential fallout with your brother.

"What about Bradley?" You countered, your mind racing with the implications of your newfound connection with Jake.

As you contemplated the situation, memories of the rules you and your best friend, Caila, had established as teenagers flooded your mind. Rule number one: Never, under any circumstances, become romantically involved with each other's siblings. It was a pact born out of loyalty and mutual respect, a boundary that had never been crossed. You believed guys had some sort of similar boundaries.

But now, faced with the undeniable chemistry between you and Jake, you questioned whether those rules still held weight. Was it breaking a code if neither of you were aware of its existence? And could you deny the undeniable attraction that pulsed between you, despite the potential consequences?

"I've done worse things," Jake confessed, his words hanging in the air like a weighty admission. In that moment, you knew that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but the pull of desire was too strong to resist.

tagging:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@horseslovers2016

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@djs8891

@hookslove1592

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@mrsevans90

[cerezzzita]

🍓 ˖ . ᵎᵎ Confessions features Alcohol (Sometimes) ✦ Dante x gn!Reader

⌕ summary: Dante and alcohol could be like water and oil — under no circumstances should they mix. Yet, at that night, it seems he's up to something with that drunk, big mouth of his.

notes: my god I'm nervous asf. um, hi y'all, guess who's back at writing after almost full 5 months of hiatus? that's right, we're back in action! i finally finished this little, silly oneshot that was rotting in my docs for... 7 months? geez, me and my lazy ass. anyways! i hope you all enjoy the reading! i wrote this with 4dante in mind but honestly, it can be any Dante, it's up to your imagination <3

⋆ 08/07/23 edit: i forgot to mention, but this fic was born thanks to this writing prompt, i just couldn't found it easily hehe

♡ word count: 1.125

♡ tags: fluffy, gender-neutral reader, no use of pronouns or reader's appearance description (you/yours used only), mentions of alcohol, drunk Dante (and he's sooo soft), Dante might be ooc sorry in advance, love confessions.

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

Dante and alcohol could be like water and oil — under no circumstances should they mix. Truth be told, specifically that night was not one where you enjoyed a patient mood, especially with the drunken Devil Hunter lying on the worn leather sofa and every half minute calling you and even dropping occasional flirtations. You were now in the kitchen, dedicating yourself to washing a considerable amount of dishes while from the corner of your eye you watched Dante, posture still relaxed and with a smile easily more dancing than usual, making sure that he wouldn't do anything that would mean usual danger for a person guided by the lack of sense that alcohol usually provides. However, the brief thought swept out of your mind; it was Dante. The man had a natural, bizarre attraction to danger. 

That's when the handsome half-demon shook his head, his clear, icy-colored irises glazed over your back-to-back figure. Dante pouted for not getting the attention he wanted so much, then opened his mouth and verbalized his need.

"Babe," he began, loud enough that his voice scrambled from earlier hours' whiskey filled the short distance between them. You, however, sighed, determined to ignore him until he fell asleep from some miraculous, alcoholic effect.

Which was definitely not a good choice. Dante hated being ignored.

"Baaabe..."

"What is it now, Dante?" you answered over your teeth. He whimpered at such harshness.

"Don't be like that, loveee," he whined through his tone, "You're being a big meanie to me today, y'know that?"

"A meanie? Me?" your heels pivoted so that you were now facing him, one hand on your hips and your brow forming an arc of curiosity. "Why?"

Dante sipped the rest of a bottle of Jack Daniels, exhaling audibly at the end. Once again his typical smile grew at the corners of his mouth; you gulped, blinked and woke up to your somewhat glassy-eyed state attached in the Devil Hunter.

What exactly would it take for a man like Dante to be so attractive?

"Because I want attention," he replied, a simple retort that made the inside of your chest heave and your hand on your waist falter. Dante, although drunk, seemed to notice this act and widened the left corner of his feline smile even more. "And you're being a meanie 'cause you're not paying attention to me. Come here, sugar… I want smoochies."

At other times, you would chuckle and brush it off. It was common for you to deal with the half-demon on these alcohol-soaked nights, whether they were made up of flirtations and jokes or tears and outbursts — a part of you, even if momentarily, was grateful for the night's choice to be the first alternative. But something in Dante's tone alerted the part that was costing your frustrated attempts at concealment, the very same part that just now stirred just by witnessing his smile and the permanent gaze on you.

It didn't take that much clairvoyance to see the obvious: you were undeniably in love with Dante. A passion that you swore was, somehow, one-sided.

Your impatience melted away and the silence permeating the air of the place became metamorphic; from casual to uncomfortable. Dante tilted his head, waiting for an answer from you. You sighed, returned your focus to the last dishes and resigned yourself to drying them as a form of slight distraction.

"Dante, you're drunk."

He laughed briefly between words, "Tell me something I don't know, angelcake."

"You're talking nonsense."

"Maybe. But I still want some smoochies… Unless you don't want them, it's fine by me."

Once your work with the dishes was duly finished, you once again looked over your shoulder at him. Dante's lids drooped as the silent minutes passed by, his voice quieting, silver strands trailing across the back of the couch as he laid his head down. He was finally falling asleep.

You approached the half-demon's sleeping figure, uttering a 'tsk, tsk' which elicited a small chuckle.

"What do I do with you, Dante?"

The end of this night would be like that of many others, it would be up to you the arduous mission of putting Sparda's beautiful son to bed. Arduous for he certainly wasn't the lightest of beings and even though the habit made it look easy, your human muscles totally begged to differ.

Grunting as you struggled to carry him bridal style, you climbed the stairs to the top floor and with a little sacrifice managed to open the door to Dante's room. Before leaving him on the bed, babbling came directly from him, who now accommodated his face in the crook of your neck.

"Y'know, you're amazing…"

Subtly taken aback, you choose to listen to what the sleepy Dante had to say — for curiosity and for the unique, strong beat your heart emitted.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You're also beautiful, and smart, and funny, and hot…" from there, you became hot with embarrassment as Dante's voice wakes up again, "You're so much fun! Man, no wonder I'm in love with you."

Your heart, happy and passionate, fluttered inside your ribcage. Your eyes wanted to pop out of their sockets. The surprising, heated euphoria altered your body temperature. Your arms softened like a sweet pudding, swaying and unconsciously allowing Dante to fall to the ground.

"... Ow..."

It wasn't possible, was it? Was it the illusions of the booze, or was Dante really in love with you too?

You gasped as you realized what you'd done, rushing to get the half-demon back in your arms in a fleeting act of trying to regain consciousness and collect all your agitated — but now happy — thoughts.

All right. Dante was known for many attributes, one of them was his frankness. And being drunk this same frankness was reinforced tenfold, in fact. There would be no reason for him to lie.

However, words like these had a huge impact.

You took a deep breath, carefully positioning Dante on the soft mattress and giving him one last look to make sure you didn't just lay him down and that he was comfortable enough. He mumbled as if he was in an argument with sleep, now lying face down on the bed. Your hand snaked into the untidy silver hair to pull it back from Dante's stunning face, your heart calmer and moving to a slower beat. You smiled, your eyes wryly drunk on the man's sleeping vision.

"Sweet dreams, daredevil."

You gave a shy peck on his cheek. Dante stretched a petit smile, and yours grew. Leaving the dark room, you headed for yours, even more wrapped in your feelings, which you now knew were reciprocated.

Quite a confession that could only have the signature of someone like Dante.

cerezzzita©, 2023 · all rights reserved ⓘ do not copy, edit, steal or claim as yours | reblogs and comments are welcome!

[dioriya]

love’s soulmate is sacrifice, shouto todoroki.

652. angst with feelings. loving someone is loving the bad as fiercely as the good, sometimes twice as hard.

silence stretches for eons. it hungers, lingering in the darkest corners of every room, and hangs heavy. waiting, like an animal hunched still with baited breath for prey to wander into its trap unknowingly. its crooked claws scratch slowly against the walls you’ve built to keep it out, previously sturdy, but with uncanny patience, it persisted.

tonight, it peeks over the cracked rubble and rears its ugly head.

that pain comes first, as it always does–never physical and beyond the call for natural or scientific remedy. this pain comes from festered and blissful ignorance, a sad tango for two that crushes your human heart in tune to a distorted melody. it bleeds into your consciousness and feeds on your despair the way liquid seeps into carpeting, and sinks deep into your state of mind no matter how many times you viciously scrub to get rid of it.

he has borne the brunt of the unspeakable days. the days where you scream and cry and shout things you know will hurt on purpose. the days where you succumb to his ever welcoming arms and cry, powering through stuttered gasps and hiccups that wrack through your entire body for as long as you need him. the silent days are the worst. he knows he cannot reach you then, for his words do not break through the unresponsive shell of what his lover used to be.

how could you love someone like me? you had asked once, throat still waterlogged thick with remnants of emotion. you were facing the wall, unable to look at him without being ashamed. his arms had remained around your middle in an attempt to console you anyway. that, you recall, had made you feel ten times worse. i feel broken. surely you must be tired of me. of this, of–

trying to piece me back together, every morning. every morning it hurts to get up. every morning it aches. you could be happy, be with someone normal.

it takes a moment for him to respond. you think he’s fallen to slumber, even, and you can’t help but chastise yourself. you’ve really done it now–

to love someone is to love all of them, isn't it?

so tonight, when he sees your carefully placed facade for the day crumble with each step you venture into your shared home, he understands. he’s there to meet you halfway when your strained smile slips right off of your lips, when your shoulders sag after holding them high for so long. that staggering weight of your burden sways your walk off footing–but he’s there to catch you, to lower you to the floor and into comforting arms.

how could you love someone like me? you ask through tears again, inconsolable from the kind of grief he knows isn’t tangible. a part of him chips away with despair each and every time you ask him such, unknowing of the way his soul trembles each time you look through instead of at him, defeated as your eyes glaze over tiredly. i don’t understand how or why you chose to stay. isn’t it tiring? aren’t you tired?

it is exhausting. but isn’t love’s soulmate sacrifice, and his heart’s, yours?

to love someone is to love all of them, isn’t it? it’s the same reply he always gives and always means without fail, in bed with your back to him or on the floor with your tears soaking through his shirt. to love someone is to love them wholly, to accept the good with their worst, and all the ghastly inbetweens.

he cradles your tear streaked face in his hands and stares your silence head-on. it wails in disbelief, slinking behind your with dead eyes, and assesses him carefully. it’ll be back, they both know, but he will be, too. next to you, for as long as you’ll ever need him to be.

you would do the same for me, too.

[miss-spookhead]

thinking about a Blast From the Past steddie au tonight. like, think about it for a second--steve as the sweet, well-meaning himbo raised in a fallout shelter and eddie as the cynic who shows him the world as it is:

The year was 1962, and an atomic bomb had just dropped on top of the Harrington household.

Okay, not really. It was actually a fighter jet that suffered a mechanical failure just above the little plot of land the Harringtons called their home, but Walter Harrington took it differently. Far differently.

See, the thing was that the man was living in a state of paranoid delusion over the Cold War--terrified of the possibility of an outright nuclear holocaust over the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Soviet Union. He had been carefully building a fallout shelter under his home for his wife and possible children to live in with the works--canned food, running water, and even a working television.

And one day they went in and simply never left. The explosion right when they closed the door was tangible proof that the nuclear war was happening right above them.

A few years later, around 1968, a baby boy was born in a fallout shelter with no one but his mom and dad to keep him company.

They raised Steve the best they could, even if Walter Harrington was a mad genius and Madeline Harrington was a borderline alcoholic. Even if the boy was living in a perfect little time capsule of the fifties and early sixties. Walter made sure to educate him right and teach him how to be a sociable gentleman--even if he had no idea what swear words or the concept of sex were. That was for another time. Although, twenty-four years came and went for Steve Harrington, his father still owes him 'another time'.

Steve Harrington grows twenty-four years in perfect seclusion, but that changes at the flick of a switch.

The year is 1992: supplies are dwindling Walter is growing sick, and Steve is tasked to bravely set foot in the nuclear fallout to retrieve more material. (The only reason why Walter assumes they can even get more stuff is because he observed the outside world when the shelter unlocked and mistook it as a post-apocalyptic mutant society.)

The moment Steve made it outside his little bubble, he was utterly fascinated by the world--how different the people were outside of his television and his little books, how bright the sky was outside, how the irritable man on the bus wouldn't accept the money he tried to give him, how the bus moved and didn't fling him right off his seat.

(He even saw an adult bookstore. Dad told him that those things were filled with poisonous gas. How were they even to operate if they were filled with poisonous gas? That's dangerous and totally inconsiderate of the general public's safety.)

Anyway, he tries to follow the grocery list that Mom and Dad gave him the best he can, stocking up on poultry and tissue paper and the works. But by the end of the day, he doesn't know where he came from. Not a single sign or building or person can give him a single clue where to go.

After a few hours of wandering, suitcase in hand, he comes across a store with WE BUY BASEBALL CARDS written on the window.

Golly, Steve loves baseball cards--could look at Dad's collection for hours, and with the collection he has, he could make a pretty penny selling them for supplies. Despite the little hobby store being beside an adult bookstore with poisonous gas, he scampers right in.

"I see you're looking to buy baseball cards," he says breezily to the gruff, scary-looking man behind the counter.

"That I am," he replies.

Steve pulls a few from his jacket's inner pocket. "Well, these are a bit old, you see, but I was hoping you still might be interested."

The gruff man yanks them from his hands, a spark in his eye. He looks delighted to see them, and it fills Steve with an excitement he hadn't felt at all today. Nobody has been this happy over something he's done today. "Woah," he gasps, then covers it with a cough. "Mickey Mantle rookie season...how much do you want?"

"I was hoping to sell all of my cards, actually!"

The man sputters incredulously. "All of 'em? Are you fucking with me?"

"I'm not sure what that means, but all I have are hundred-dollar bills and I need something smaller. Like, uh...ones, tens, fives..."

"Tell you what, I'll give you five hundred in small bills for all you got."

Steve smiles brightly. "Oh, that would be wonderful, sir--"

"Five hundred for a case-full of rookie season Mickey Mantles, Rick, are you fucking joking?" A deep voice cuts through Steve's thanks from the other side of the small store. He turns around to find a man leaning against a magazine rack, arms folded sternly.

The man is unlike Steve's ever seen before. Long, long limbs and big brown eyes that look traced with black and smudged around the edges. Pretty lips, too almost girl-ish, in the way they were big and plush like the women he'd see on the television. The strangest thing about him, though, was the curly hair that tumbled past his shoulders.

He looked mad, though. Madder than mad.

"Tell the poor guy you're fucking with him," long-hair-pretty-lips says to the man behind the counter, who bristles.

"Were you raised in a fucking barn, Munson? Who told you to interrupt on business?" Rick counters. Steve was really not appreciating the amount of f-words dropped in the conversation, it was uncouth.

"Sure I was!" Munson saunters towards the counter and Steve's eyes follow him like a moth to a light. "But my morals go past your business practices at this point. You remember the ninth commandment, yeah?"

"You shut your Goddamn mouth--"

"Excuse me sir, but I really don't appreciate how you're using the Lord's name in vain like that," Steve says firmly.

"See?" Munson smiles. It's like sunlight. "He gets it."

He plucks the baseball card from Rick's hand and holds it over his head when he tries to reach for it again. "See this little thing?" He says to Steve sweetly. "This guy costs six grand alone."

"Get out of town! Really?"

"Oh yeah, big guy. Selling the thing would give you a small fortune, and Rick over here is trying to con you out of it."

Steve frowns. "Is that true?" He asks Rick.

"Nothing but," Munson says in place of him. He slips the card back into Steve's hands and gives them a pat.

"The Hell is even keeping you here, Munson?" Rick sneers. "Did the gig you won't shut up about fall through like they usually do? Better to bum it out here than in your shithole apartment? Stop loitering in my damn store and make like a fucking tree. You're banned."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Munson says rolling his eyes. He looks at Steve, then the door, gesturing at it with a flick of his head. "I'll see you out, Beaver."

He walks them both out the door, stopping to gesture at Rick strangely--hands balled into fists with only his middle fingers up--before stepping outside onto the sidewalk.

"Well merci, Monsieur," Steve says appreciatively, because Dad taught him French was always to be used on such occasions.

"What, you're French?"

"Oh no, I'm"--he thinks back to what Dad told him if a mutant asks where he's from. Gosh, he thinks he's supposed to be--"out on business."

"And you don't even have a clue about the little business trick that Rick tried to pull?"

"No...no, I--"

"Yeah, doesn't matter." Munson shrugs. He smiles sympathetically at Steve before turning on his heel and walking off. Oh boy, what would he do without him?

He follows him like a lost puppy, that's what.

"...You going the same way?" Munson asks incredulously. Steve shakes his head.

"Well, I'm following you."

Munson stops in his tracks, blinking, and Steve almost runs into him in his state. "Me?"

"Well yes! Where are we going?"

"We?" Munson asserts. "I'm going back to my shithole apartment, and judging by that jacket you're wearing, you should be taking the next left and hop-skipping straight to the barber college."

"Oh, I'm lost, though."

"Aren't we all?"

"Say, did you just get banned from that hobby store because of me?" Steve says to change the subject.

Munson sighs. "Seems like I did, sailor. The place was shitty anyways, with that dickhead running the operation. Wayne could get better cards from a different joint."

...dickhead? Steve's never heard that leave the seams of anyone's lips before. "Dickhead?"

"Yeah, he's a real fucking loser. A walking talking penis capable of human speech."

Steve gets queasy at the image he's concocted in his head. He leans against the nearest brick wall, his suitcase tumbling to the ground as he drops into a contemplative squat.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?"

"Well, the mental image that I..."

Munson's eyebrows scrunch before he reaches out a hand to Steve. He takes it, letting the man haul him upward. "Look, man, where'd you park your car?"

"I came by bus."

"Aren't you full of surprises."

"I am?"

"Okay look." Eddie raises his hands, palms splayed in the air. "It's your first time in Los Angeles, right? Everyone wants a taste of it, I know, and you're out for business and fucking famished. You got the opportunity to see the great big world outside of your little bubble and you got excited--but you took a bus and got mixed up in the middle of San Fernando Valley without a clue in the world. Am I correct?"

Steve listens in wonderment. So far, Munson's been correct in a way. He's convinced he might be psychic. He nods slowly and seriously just to see Munson flash that lighting-strike smile.

"Great, great. Which brings us to here. Correct again?"

"Oh yeah."

"Where are you staying?"

Nowhere, at the moment. Steve opens his mouth to say so, but Munson interrupts quickly. "Holiday Inn?"

"Yes, the Holiday Inn!" Steve says totally truthfully.

"Okay, cool. Cool." Munson claps his hands together with finality and starts walking. "The nearest bus station is a couple of blocks away if you take a right--"

"Don't you have a car?"

Munson stops in his tracks again. He turns to face Steve once again. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Something warm pools in Steve's gut at the pet name. Something about the way those pretty lips form that word sends blood rushing to his cheeks. "Steve," he says.

"Alright, Steve." Oh boy, his name sounds even better when Munson says it. "Rule number one in Los Angeles? Never let a stranger drive you anywhere."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve says sweetly, "I don't have a gun."

Munson pales, then starts running.

"Hey!" Steve cries and makes haste to follow him. "I must've said something wrong, please forgive me!"

"Nope, nope--get the fuck away from me, man!"

He grabs Munson's wrist to pull him back, which is a bad move since the man starts writhing around in his grip. "I'm not going to hurt you, sir!"

Steve drops Munson's hand and raises his in surrender. "See?"

"...Just let me get to my car."

"I'll give you a Rogers Hornsby if you take me to my hotel," Steve reasons.

Munson stills. "...That's like four grand, don't bullshit me."

He pulls the card from his jacket and presents it as evidence. "See? I was holding it back." He wants Munson to feel safe. "I got two." He reaches for the other cards in his pockets and pulls them out. "And-and all these other ones, too!"

"Okay, okay. You'll give me four thousand dollars if I drive you to your place?"

"Uh-uh!"

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"And I don't have to give you a quickie in the backseat or anything?"

"Yes sir--wait, what?"

Munson blows past his question like it didn't even leave Steve's mouth. "Can you stop with the sir crap?"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir--"

"My name is Eddie."

Eddie...Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Wow, what a name. It's almost like something he's heard on the television.

"Why, it's nice to meet you, Eddie."

"Tolerable to meet you too, Steve."

Steve smiles shyly, then asks, "So are you a girl?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well it's just your hair...it's so long." Steve points at his as an example. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"Dude, it's 1992, every other guy looks like this--have you been living under a rock or something?"

Something like that. Steve shrugs.

"Well guys having long hair doesn't mean that they're girls, Steve, that's a given. It's not 1962 anymore." Eddie backtracks. "Well, I mean, dudes can have long hair and be chicks and chicks can be dudes too but that's not--"

"Oh, wow, my dad told me about one of those the last time he went here!"

"Oh that's fantastic, sweetheart," Eddie says, sugary-sweet. "But how about I drive you home?"

"That'd be a pleasure, Eddie."

[smolwritingchick]

Smol Brainstorm: Jennie The Jock

Author's Note: Found a smol brainstorm based on BTS Run Episode 11. This episode is so funny lol. Can't wait to write the full episode when I get there.

----

For today’s Run episode, the members filmed inside a classroom where the skit is about a female transfer student, and the rest of the members had to make a good impression on her. Jennie was beyond excited and received the role of a Jock for this skit. Meanwhile, Suga was chosen as the female transfer student which made everyone laugh. For filming, the members wore school uniforms while Jen wore a long-sleeved BTS jersey and track pants to portray that she was into sports.

For the skit, she sat behind Suga and next to RM. Jen couldn’t keep a straight face as she had to cover her mouth and not laugh out loud during filming. Because of her, it had to take quite a few retakes, and the staff was bound to show a montage of bloopers for the episode.

As the skit went on, V grabbed a chair and sat next to Suga. His character was a nerd and the smartest student in the class.

“You know the exam is in two days, right?” V asked.

“It’s in two days?” Suga repeated.

“I’ll teach you English. I am good at it,”

“You’re good at English?” he asked with suspicion.

“I’m pretty good at it,”

“What does this mean?” he pointed out a word in V's book.

“Classification. It means to categorize,” V spoke the word fluently.

Jennie smiled softly and nodded in approval at V’s English. 

‘As expected from my bestie,’ she thought.

“To categorize?” Suga repeated.

“What do you think about a guy like me?” V randomly asked and removed his glasses. “And these…these are the glasses I’ve had for the past 19 years,”

“How old are you?” Suga called out, which made V pause.

‘Eyes wavering.’

“I’m 19 years old,” he answered.

‘He’s been wearing them since he was born.'

Slowly putting her head down, Jen muffled her laughter. This skit was ridiculous and V was effortlessly funny.

‘Jennie can’t hold it together!’

“These help you to concentrate really well,” V went on.

“Thanks,” Suga put the glasses on his head.

“But even with these, I haven’t been able to concentrate ever since you arrived. I’ll only concentrate on you from now on.”

“Go back to concentrating on your studies,” Suga rejected him and handed the book back.

V began to flip through the pages, chattering on until Jungkook stood up.

“She said to focus on your studies,” Jungkook, portraying a tsundere guy, stated and lightly pushed V. “Go back to your seat,"

‘Jeon Jungkook: Cold on the outside but sensitive inside.’

Suddenly Jungkook took off his jacket and placed it on Suga’s desk.

“It’s cold. Put this on,” he bluntly said.

“I think I like your shirt better,” Suga replied while Jennie covered her mouth to muffle her giggles.

‘The cool guy is taken aback and peeks under his shirt.’

“You can have these instead,” Jungkook began to take off his shoes and placed them on Suga’s desk. Once he was seated, Jungkook grabbed two small boxes of food and gave them to him as well. “I picked this up on the way. Have it. Oh, lastly…don’t catch a cold,”

Suga watched as Jungkook tossed a hot pack on the desk and responded, “I think you’re going to catch a cold. It’s minus two degrees Celsius outside,”

Once it was her cue, Jennie had stopped spinning her basketball and placed it down. Standing up, she picked up Jungkook’s jacket and shoes. Tossing the shoes on Jungkook’s desk and throwing his jacket on top of him, she turned to Suga.

“Anyway…” she showed no remorse for what she did to the Golden Maknae and had her full attention on Suga.

Jungkook, in character, did not take too kindly of her actions and stood back up to confront her.

“Did you just throw this at me?” he demanded with annoyance in his voice.

Turning around to look up at him, she responded, not intimidated, “I did. And your time talking with her is up so take a seat,” she gestured. “And if you don’t move, well then I have no problem moving you myself,"

They faced off while Jen crossed her arms. It appeared like neither of them was going to let up as they slowly began to glare at each other. But soon after the two lovers snickered and broke character as a series of laughs escaped them.

“You made me laugh!” She giggled as the director yelled cut.

“You made me laugh!” Jungkook responded with a huge grin.

Once getting situated again, Jennie and Jungkook refilmed their face-off and Jungkook took his seat again but made a promise that this standoff was not over. Smiling victoriously, Jennie turned back to Suga.

“You ball?” she challenged.

Suga flipped his short wig. “Better than you,”

Licking her lips, Jennie briefly struggled to keep a straight face as her body wanted to let out a laugh.

“Oh? Is that so? Want to test that theory? You. Me. One on one after school. Basketball court. Best out of 10 points. 1 point per shot, no matter what kind of pointer it is. If I win, we’re going on a date,”

[slafkovskys]

All of this start of the season Jack content is making me feel things!!! All I can think about is him and older Norris reader after the ring toss! What does he plan for the date? How does it go? What is everyone in their lives reactions to it? Does she go to Jersey with him? Jess your writing is so immaculate this AU has infiltrated my brain😂🥰

read part one here :)

as she hears his footsteps descending the steps, she thinks about how she wouldn't be doing this for anyone else, especially not on a first date.

her dress and heels were long abandoned in a guest room, instead exchanged for a pair of jack’s sweatpants and a too big t-shirt from her college days she had left at the hughes brothers’ house at some point during her many trips there over the past few weeks. her hair was now pulled away from her face, the fact that she had moved her wash day for the occasion be damned.

“so,” he lets out a big sigh before quite literally falling onto the l-shaped part of the sofa beside her. she’s got her legs tucked underneath her, a wine glass held tight in one hand, and her head resting on another on the back of the couch. the remote is resting on her thigh and all either of them had to do was press play on the third mighty ducks movie (“it’s better than miracle, jack. not even an argument,” and she quickly learned that jack does whatever she wants, so that was an easy debate to have before he retreated to shower) that had been queued on the screen for the past twenty minutes. instead, jack throws an arm lazily over her legs, gives her that stupid grin of his she’s become obsessed with, and nods, “tell me about y/n.”

“you know about y/n,” she states as though it was a fact, which it was. they weren’t strangers to each other in the slightest, having been somewhat background characters in each other’s lives for the last eight years.

“no, i don’t. i know about the y/n whose posts i see on instagram or whatever updates my mom tells me she’s learned from your mom. that doesn’t count,” his index finger traces the outside seam of the pants she was wearing from her calf, to just above her knee, and back, “i want to know about the y/n in front of me.”

“okay then,” she takes a deep breath, swirling her wine around in her glass before taking a sip, “i was born here in michigan, but moved to germany for a little while when my dad was still playing. before you ask me, no, the only german i can remember is my old address and how to tell them i was lost. when we moved back here, i picked up hockey for a couple of years before deciding to leave it to the boys-”

“you played defense, right?” jack interrupts, staring at her with such an interest.

she hums, “why do you think i always win when me and my brothers fight? i had potential, but it really just wasn’t for me.”

“is that so? because i remember a certain tipsy moment a few weeks ago where you said you quit because you didn’t like the colors of the uniform.”

“that may have been a contributing factor, but i was fourteen and very fashion-conscious. you can’t hold that against me,” she rolls her eyes. she catches sight of the wristbands on his arm and she can’t help but to reach down and tug on them as she resumes her story, “anyway, graduated high school, moved to minnesota for college. go gophers-”

“debatable,” he teases.

“got my degree in communications. thought that i met the love of my life in the backyard of a sigma chi frat house, which we both know how that worked out. moved down to florida, got engaged, called off the engagement, and now i’m back living with my parents. i have lived a life, jack hughes,” she sighs as she finishes off her glass. she didn’t miss the way that his face twitched at the mention of derek and how she just barely ghosted over what had happened. due to the movement, his damp hair had fallen over his eyes and she reached out to push it away, “it’s going to take more than one glass of wine and a first date to get into the good stuff.”

“but i already knew all of that,” he huffs, “tell me something that i don’t already know. tell me about something that makes you happy.”

“recently?” she quirks an eyebrow and he hums, “honestly, you.”

and jack’s world comes to a screeching halt. for as long as he had known her, she wasn’t the type to get sentimental, vulnerable, but over the last two months, he felt that he had seen more versions of her than he knew existed. from the first night she was home, to that plane ride to florida to get her things, to watching her toss her engagement ring into the water right outside his house, it wasn’t enough. he wanted, no he needed more of her. he needed to know every single version of her, every single story, every single emotion that she had to offer him.

her eyes find his and he squeezes her knee, a silent ask. he watches as her throat bobs and just as he goes to crane his neck up to meet her, an alarm sounds. that stupid fucking pizza.

after scouring the entire grocery store, they couldn’t find any pre-breaded chicken for chicken parm and neither of them wanted to bother with doing it themselves. so that’s how they found themselves snatching up a premade pizza with a reduced sticker on the front because its sell-by date was that day and even though jack insisted on getting one that was fresher, she only rolled her eyes and insisted it would taste the same. he, of course, let her sit it in the basket along with the thing of cookies she suddenly had a craving for the second she laid eyes on them. the way her face lit up made it worth the extra work he was going to have to put in later.

despite the insistent beeping from the stove timer, neither of them dared to make a move to go and pull the pizza from the oven. she blinks, “we should probably go and check on it…”

“i think that it can wait for a couple of minutes,” and yeah, it definitely could, because jack was leaning in and so was she. the second their lips meet it’s like nothing either of them had felt before. the build-up, the tension between the two of them over the summer was worth it as they melted into the kiss.

jack’s hand grips onto her thigh while her hand cradles his cheek. it was easy to get lost in each other, lips moving against one another’s like they’d been doing this forever. only when the need for air becomes too great do they pull away panting, still holding onto each other like either would disappear at any given second.

“we really should go check on the pizza,” she insists, swearing she can smell the cheese starting to burn.

he frowns, “can we do more of that later?”

“if you hurry back, you don’t have to wait that long,” she incentivizes and jack is all but scrambling towards the kitchen with the sounds of her laughter following behind him.

yeah, this was definitely something they could get used to.

(they never did hit play on the movie and the pizza didn’t burn, but it didn’t get eaten either. they were too lost in each other to even bother slicing through the crispy dough as it grew colder and colder on the countertop. oh well.)

[youjustgotpersassied]

A comprehensive compilation of why Severus Snape is an awful person that doesn’t deserve redemption, pity, or any kindness ever (not in any particular order):

- He is obsessed with the Marauders when they are younger, and tries to compare their antics to the actions of very real, blood supremacist, dark magic-using bullies that Snape was hanging out with and found amusing. (Edit: I’m adding that I’m not saying James and Sirius were right in their actions, I’m simply pointing that Snape wasn’t either. This post isn’t about the marauders, this is about Snape)

(DH, The Prince’s Tale, p673-674, Arthur A. Levine Books edition)

“‘They sneak out at night. There’s something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going?’ ‘He’s ill,’ said Lily. “They said he’s ill—’ “Every month at the full moon?’ said Snape. ‘I know your theory,’ said Lily and she sounded cold. ‘Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care what they’re doing at night?’”

- Snape was very clearly trying to out Remus and actively trying to prove his case about knowing Remus was a werewolf. (More on this later)

-Calls Lily a mudblood, and then tries to excuse his actions. Then Lily says “...you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?” Snape says absolutely nothing to defend himself on this statement, so we can only assume that it is accurate and he commonly uses a slur to describe other students around him.

-We know Snape invented Levicorpus, which we later see James use. How do you think James learned it if not because Severus had used it on him or another student before? We even see Snape use Sectumsempra on James. Sectumsempra, aka the spell capable of cutting someone open and leaving them to bleed to death. This is the kind of experimentation Snape did with Dark Magic.

-Snape was willing to sacrifice the life of a BABY without a second thought until he discovered that the child was Lily’s. Even after this, he prioritizes Lily’s life and isn’t concerned whatsoever about the life of Harry, who at this time is less than a year old.

-If Voldemort had decided that Neville was the Chosen One instead of Harry, Severus Snape would still be a death eater. He didn’t think being a Death Eater was wrong in any way- it wasn’t until he was directly affected by a childhood crush did he reconsider. James and Lily Potter fought for the light because they believed in the light. Severus Snape fought against the dark because the dark had offended him. Had Voldemort gone after the Longbottoms instead, Snape would have lived and died as the most loyal Death Eater in history. Edit: I understand that we can say ‘if’ all day long. The point here I’m trying to make is that Severus Snape is only supporting the light side because it benefits him in this situation. I’m simply pointing out that he’s selfish by nature.

-The prophecy states that the child will be born to parents that have thrice defied the Dark Lord. So therefore Lily in some way defied Voldemort 3 other times. And only now Snape wants to save her? No. It has more to do with the guilt he’s feeling for telling Voldemort about the prophecy. It wasn’t her death that phased him as much as how he’d feel if he caused her death.

-Snape hates Harry simply for the fact that Harry looks like his father. Have you ever considered how Harry would’ve been treated if he’d been a girl that looked like Lily? Edit: I AM NOT INSINUATING ANYTHING PEDOPHILIC. I am making the point that when Harry come to school, Snape saw him and recognized his childhood bully, and instead of making the mature decision and not making judgments about Harry beforehand, he just assumes that Harry will be like his father was in school. If Harry had looked like Lily, Snape would’ve been more inclined to favor him the way he did Draco or Pansy. Not in a creepy way, just in a confirmation-bias kind of way.

-Severus snape once intended to publicly kill a student’s pet as punishment for getting a potion wrong. This pet was also a gift to Neville from his Uncle for getting into Hogwarts- something that his family didn’t think would happen because he wasn’t “magic enough”. So to him- Trevor is a reminder that he is a wizard and that his family is proud of him. Then Snape wants to kill him because Neville got a potion wrong, reinforcing the idea that Neville isn’t “magic enough”.

-When Snape covers for Lupin's class (told you we’d be back here), Snape taught the DADA class and made all the students write essays on how to kill werewolves so that Lupin would have to read these when he came back from going through an incredibly painful time.

-Snape did everything in his power to get Remus fired despite the fact that Remus had spent 16+ years pretty much homeless and without a job.

(OotP, Percy and Padfoot, p302, Arthur A Levine Books edition)

“‘I know she’s a nasty piece of work, though—you should hear Remus talk about her.’ ‘Does Lupin know her?’ asked Harry quickly, remembering Umbridge’s comments about dangerous half-breeds during her first lesson. ‘No,’ said Sirius, ‘but she drafted up a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job.’”

Edit: So let’s do some basic math here. This happens in Order of the Phoenix. The anti-werewolf legislation was written two years prior. This would’ve been during or around The Prisoner of Azkaban. Why would somebody randomly write a piece of legislation like this? Let’s just say that there was a teacher that was outed as a werewolf and people were not happy about it. That would give pretty good reason for someone to write a piece of legislation that would make it hard for a werewolf to get a job. Not just Remus. Every werewolf. Who outed Remus to the wizarding world at large? Severus Snape. So for anyone suggesting that what I wrote below is as good as fanfiction, maybe actually read the books and pay attention to smaller plot lines.

-When Snape tells everyone that Remus is a werewolf, he’s not just telling students or their parents. He’s telling the wizarding world. Because of this, Dolores Umbridge wrote a law that made it almost impossible for Remus to find a job. So not only did he ruin Remus’s life. He ruined the life of Every. Single. Werewolf. in the UK.

-Neville Longbottom’s greatest fear is Severus Snape. Not the woman who tortured his parents into insanity, not the worst wizard of all time, not even any of his other followers. His TEACHER. And this is at an age where Neville doesn’t know everything about Snape and all he’s done. That speaks VOLUMES.

-Condones and takes part in bullying a CHILD when Hermione had enormous teeth EXTENDING PAST HER CHIN growing because of a hex, Snape says, “I see no difference.” After this, Hermione permanently modifies her teeth.

(HBP, Snape Victorious, p160, Arthur A Levine Books edition)

“‘I was interested to see your Patronus.’ He shut the gates in her face with a loud clang and tapped the chains with his wand again, so that they slithered, clinking, back into place. ‘I think you were better off with the old one,’ said Snape, the malice in his voice unmistakable. ‘The new one looks weak.’”

-Mocks Tonks when her Patronus changed when she fell in love with Remus despite the fact that his changed to match Lily’s.

-“Snape took the page bearing Lily’s signature, and her love, and tucked it inside his robes. Then he ripped in two the photograph he was holding, so that he kept the part from which Lily laughed, throwing the portion showing James and Harry back on the floor, under the chest of drawers…” She was laughing at her husband and son. People she loved dearly enough to give up her life and Snape took that and cut them out of it so he could pretend she was laughing for him. Her love in the letter was for Sirius who was the best man at her wedding and her good friend in the order. Snape took that so he could pretend her love was for him. This isn’t romantic. It’s creepy. Snape feels entitled to Lily’s love even though he’s done nothing to deserve it.

-The ONLY reason Snape protects Harry is that he’s under an obligation to by Dumbledore (who is blackmailing him, so Snape doesn’t have a choice). Snape isn’t doing it because he wants to. He’s doing it because if he doesn’t, Dumbledore could sell him out to Voldemort and he’d be killed.

-Again, when he kills Dumbledore, it’s not out of the kindness of his heart or his care for Dumbledore. It’s because he’ll be killed or severely punished if he doesn’t.

-Snape may have done good things, but it isn’t because he wants to. It’s because he doesn’t have a choice.

Essentially, at his roots, Snape is a self-centered blood supremacist who bullies people and only does good things when being threatened and emotionally abuses children because he can’t get over somebody he was attracted to in middle school and is perfectly fine killing adults and infants alike when it’s in his best interest.

I’d like to say that much of this is heavily borrowed or inspired by other writers on this app. I have tagged every user I have access to. However, if you see anything you have written on here or anything please feel free to message me or leave a comment. :)

@sadgaywerewolf @mrsmarymorstan @jamespotterwearsglasses @lance-the-kanto-dragon-master @coffeeinanebula @warmhappycat @pleurocoelus @madamebomb @thefingerfuckingfemalefury @whoopsrobots @harrypotterconfessions @beekeepermarycatherine @honeybadgersdontgiveashit @tonksnymphadora @barricadeponine @jadedlights07 @dobbysclothes @hogwartsandrec @kago-make-dean-some-pie @prongsmydeer @girlswillbeboys11 @siriusblaque @upsettingthedementors @marauders4evr @maxxiegalaxy @ghost-of-bambi

[hiraya-rawr]

Same Xiao anon here: this is revenge.

Someone mentioned Scaramouche sibling ideas and you know what? I’m here for it.

Another prototype created after Scaramouche’s inception, once again another failure but for different reasons. This prototype was much to hopeful, much too ambitious, much too mortal to withstand the station of eternity. Before it was abandoned, in its hazed yet dreamy state it learned of their long lost predecessor - they would come to call him brother rather than “puppet” in the eyes of their mother.

With just that misty dream, they pressed on into the world in search of their brother. Unlike Scaramouche’s experience, with each obstacle and heartbreak they continued on forever hopeful and naive - the very flaw that casted them out.

Only… when they do find him, he has no room in his heart (or lack thereof) for his so called kin. At least he still has a use for them: a worthy sacrifice for the birth of a god. Yes, nothing more.

🙂

scaramouche sibling brainrot

// XIAO ANON PLEASE THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING THANK YOU FOR PUTTING IT SO WELL INTO WORDS

Another puppet was made after Scaramouche, it's maybe even more of a failure than its "big brother". Too hopeful, too loving, it could never handle the duties of an Archon.

To Yae Miko, she believed that destroying it would be merciful— but to Ei -who couldn't raise a hand against her own creation- thought that abandonment would be a less cruel fate.

Your "mother" tells you of another puppet, she isn't sure why. Maybe she hopes you'll find each other, maybe deep down she's aware of her flaws as the "creator".

You didn't understand why you couldn't meet her after that. Thrown out into a world you had little knowledge of. Perhaps mother was too busy? Perhaps she wanted you to stand on your own two feet? You roamed Inazuma, learning new things each day.

One day, you learned that the village kids you frequently played with had siblings. Born of the same womb— of the same mother. Is that what a sibling is? Was the puppet your mother created before you your sibling?

Did mother tell you so that you may find your brother?

Scaramouche hears of you. From both rumors and his own intel, he thinks you're a little pathetic. You've been thrown out like him, no better than trash and another sour stain in the world— but your activities pique his curiosity.

What is with you making friends? You strike conversations with the Fatui, you help lost travelers, you share food— have you not learned the first time? As if there's a severe flaw in your system.

He doesn't try to avoid you. He doesn't try to meet you either. To him, you're simply strangers... until the day you find him, happily calling him your older brother as if the long search was over.

He stares at you with dumbfounded disgust. What?

"Ha? Brother? Listen here, you are no different from a toy thrown away. She is not your mother, and I am not your brother."

Scaramouche doesn't understand why you continued to follow him. Loudly, at first, then quietly the next. Pacing yourself just a little behind him, not in a way that would bother him but he knows you're there by the sound of your footsteps.

He tries to shake you off. Lose you in crowds and his random missions, but you'd always somehow find him (sometimes, it takes only days. Other times, it takes years).

Eventually, he settles for a life where you're always nearby— constantly within reach. He doesn't bother to knock some sense in you about the complicated nature of your existence (to him, you're too dumb to understand anyway. a head full of flowers, he says, even when you're actually quite smart).

He doesn't correct you when you call him brother anymore either, and you settle for a life that's almost peaceful (he never truly tells you what he does with the Fatui. you don't follow him either, knowing he'll get angry, and you wouldn't want your brother to get angry at you!)

// makes me wonder how his story quest would progress once hes playable

[runnning-outof-time]

Congratulations on two thousand followers I remember your first stories! I’m requesting “ i got you a blanket. ” with Tommy cos I love your fluff

Awe, anon!! I appreciate you for sticking around from the beginning!! 🥹🥹 thanks for sending something in for my celebration!

Want to help me celebrate hitting 2K followers?? Check out this post for the details - ends Oct. 8th!

A Morning in Bed

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: none

(Y/N) re-enters her bedroom to find her boys sharing a rather sweet moment. Instead of standing by and watching, she decides to join in.

Stepping out of the shower, (Y/N) wrapped a towel tightly around her body to stop the cold air from nipping her skin. She made sure she was dried off before she moved over to the bathroom’s counter, where she’d laid out the clothes she planned on wearing that day.

After quickly changing into them and making sure that her hair was as dry as possible, she exited the en-suite to see if her husband had woke up yet. It was one of those extremely rare days that she found him still laying next to her when she opened her eyes, so she thought it best to let him be. But she was met with a completely different sight from what she expected as she emerged from the connecting hallway.

Tommy was propped up against the headboard of the bed with their one and a half year old son sitting next to him. He had one of the toddler’s stuffed horses in his hand, and he was making faint whinnying noises as he made the animal walk over his son’s legs.

(Y/N) swore that her heart could burst right there. Here was the big, bad Tommy Shelby sitting in bed making animal sounds with his son. She was convinced that she saw a side of him that no other person has seen before, or will see in the future.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts of her husband that she didn’t even realize that he’d figured out she was in the room. “Hey, mumma,” he greeted her, a lazy smile on his face as his eyes found hers.

“Hi, Tommy,” she responded, her words coming out rather bashfully, “when did Charles come in?”

“While you were in the shower,” he answered as he continued making the horse move on their child’s lap. The toddler seemed to be very occupied with the movements of the stuffed animal; so much so that he didn’t even notice his mother’s presence.

“Did he walk in?” she gasped, immediately feeling like her heart sunk. He was just on the cusp of being able to travel a bit of distance without toppling over, and it saddened (Y/N) to think that she’d missed his attempts.

“No,” Tommy answered her with a slight chuckle, probably because of the baffled look on her face, “Mary brought him in,” he told her then.

“You could have gotten me,” she said then, now feeling bad that he had to get out of bed.

“I didn’t mind taking him, love,” he brushed her statement off, “we’re having a grand time here anyways,” he added as he glanced over at Charlie, who now had the nose of the horse in his mouth. (Y/N) smiled at her boys before she turned on her heel and walked back into the connecting hallway their room had. “Where ya going, (Y/N)?” Tommy called for her, confused as to why she’d just left.

(Y/N) didn’t respond, but instead opened the doors to the small linen closet that the short hallway held. She looked over the various sheets and towels, scanning each shelf until she found what she was looking for. She grabbed it off the shelf and hugged it in her arms, enjoying the softness of it before she walked back into the bedroom area. Tommy’s eyes fell onto her again as she moved over to his side of the bed, where she finally held open the knitted blanket that had been given to them as a gift after Charlie was born.

“You looked cold,” she stated as she began the process of unfolding it, “I got you a blanket,” she added as she then draped it over his topless torso. Tommy chuckled at her actions, but accepted the gift she’d brought him. The morning air was starting to nip at his skin, but he didn’t have the heart to move Charlie so that he’d be able to pull the covers up higher on his body. The toddler was dressed in one of his winter sleepsuits because, according to (Y/N), the temperatures were starting to drop at night now that it was officially fall, so he was fine with the coolness of the room.

“Thanks, love,” he grinned at his wife, who sent the widest smile back to him, “now c’mere…join us,” he nodded his head to her side of the bed, which had only partially been taken up by Charlie.

“I was supposed to meet with Mary to discuss working situations going further…” she trailed off, making it sound like she was really considering whether she should join him or not, “but I guess she wouldn’t mind waiting.”

“Course she wouldn’t…you’re the lady of this house. Let her wait,” Tommy doubled down on her statement, his grin growing as she made her way around the bed so that she was able to get in on her side.

She quickly found that she had the same struggle as Tommy when she tried to pull the covers up and only got them to her waist. “Hi, Charlie,” she greeted the toddler, who’d only just now taken an interest in his mother being present. She kissed the side of his head before handing back the stuffed animal he’d given her seconds ago, but was reaching out for. She then found Tommy’s hand that was resting behind their son and took hold of it, interlacing their fingers together as she smiled over at him.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Tommy questioned her, his grin still present.

“Much,” (Y/N) nodded in agreement with him, “a morning in bed is never a morning wasted,” she added, expressing her happiness for being able to share this moment with her little family. “Although I think you’re going to need to share some of that blanket…I’m starting to get cold,” she then said after a few moments had passed.

Tommy chuckled as he took some of the excess blanket and reached over to lay it on her body. (Y/N) scooted closer to the middle of the bed as he did so, ensuring that Charlie was also included in their new bubble of warmth as they spent the morning together.

———

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