#au me and jade are messing with...

[southofzero]

meeting the lady specimen of château sŵau...

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

"Don't mistake my tolerance for trust, Commander."

"We just happen to be on the same side, and if you're smart, you'll keep it that way."

> The Sidewinder - Turnabout Head of Security

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ haunt me

pairing: demon!lee minho x f!reader

genre: one-shot, horror au, smut

word count: 11,2K

warnings: small!stalking ⋆ obsessive behavior ⋆ blood ⋆ hair!pulling ⋆ ass!slapping ⋆ biting! ⋆ pain!kink⋆ choking! ⋆ small!fear play⋆ dom!leeknow & sub!reader ⋆ rough!sex ⋆ ass up face down!position ⋆ fingering (f.receiving) ⋆ oral (f.receiving) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: on Halloween night, you and your friends gather for a classic spirit summoning, eager to make the most of this tradition, unaware that you will be the one to face the consequences…

author’s note: this is actually the first ever thing I wrote here, but I forgot about it but now it’s finally seeing the light of the day

main masterlist

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The blanket around you did nothing for the coldness that seeped into your skin. Your teeth are still chattering, lips dry and nose runny. You should’ve known better, all of you. Your muscles are straining with every small move you make to get yourself a little more comfortable on the hard floor. Your eyes go over the room, finding only disappointment. The costumes, makeup and left over mess reminded everyone of how horrible the party was. You remember how excited you and your friends were. You all spend so much time getting ready, almost freezing to death while walking to the so called party. You looked forward to it so much and maybe you did have way too high of expectations. Everything was awful and mostly — it lacked the Halloween spirit.

Your attention goes back to the television, just as the lead character is being chased by the killer. Her screams pierce your ears, while you take a small sip of the wine in your hands. You and your friends decided to just rather go home and have a small party of your own. The disappointment was so great that none of you had an appetite for searching for another party. However the costume still wrapped around your body was telling you something different. Just watching horror movies and sitting in a costume didn’t fill the need of thrill you so needed.

Soft footsteps are heard, making you all turn, some in fright, thinking that something evil is coming right towards you all, but is just your friend Katherine. The soft light, illuminates her figure clad in dark, long dress, her nails glimmering as she lifts up something to show you. Firstly you only see what seems like a plate, but as another one of your friends goes to switch on a lamp beside you, all of you immediately realize what she was holding.

“Look what I got!” Her voice is chippery, but it holds a small mocking at the end. A series of groans and small sounds echo around you, while your eyes are still on the Ouija board in her hands. Your eyes go quickly over the letters and the planchette. Even with alcohol in your system, you are getting a really weird feeling from the piece of wood. It makes the hair at the back of your head stand up, shivers going down your spine. You are definitely not alone, because your friend Jade is almost trembling from even the thought of using such thing. Your hand falls on top of her messy hair to soothen her, but your eyes are still on the witch who rolls her eyes at her other friend’s noises. “Oh, common, it’s mandatory.”

The girl next to you shakes her head immediately, hand pointing to the board, making the others for a second silent. “You know what happens after using that thing, right?” You have to agree a little with her weariness. You have ever actually thought about talking to the death. Nothing made you believe something evil existed, but also you were not a sceptic. just nothing made you believe there was something more so far. Jade was scared of everything, so your friends didn’t take her warning so seriously and you have to huff softly at that.

“Well, yeah—“ Katherine shrugs, looking down at the Ouija board. “But also no, because I’ve never tried it.”

You watch her as she sits down on the floor before you, your other two friends circling around her to look closely at the wooden tablet. You too can’t help, but tilt your head at it. There were few scratches, dark smudges, but maybe it was that design. “Where did you get this?” You wonder, because you don’t think she has these kinds of things just laying around in her apartment.

She looks up at you, dark eyes peeking out from behind her neon yellow contact lenses. “The thrift store.” Some of you have to laugh shortly at her dry response, some too occupied by the board laying before you all.

“Are there at least instructions?” Wonders out loud your friend Hannah who sits across from you in her scary clown costume.

“Who needs them?”

It has to be the alcohol or maybe you were already getting tired, but as the television is shut off, lights switched off, you have this weird feeling on the back of your head. You scratch at the burning spot, distracting yourself for just a second by liting up some few candles. The flame gives you the small amount of warmth you so desperately need. You can still feel the coldness licking at your skin, but there was also this awful heat gathering in your chest. Were you nervous? Scared? A frown is plastered on your face, eyes never leaving the Ouija board, like the planchette would move at any second.

This uneasy feeling is not shared however, but still your friends seem to get a little quieter. All of you sit on the floor, the only light being the few lit candles around you and the Moon peeking behind the curtains. Was it the thought of doing something you shouldn’t that was scaring you? You refuse to believe that something in the shadows was peaking at you. The paranoia was eating you alive. Your frozen finger digs into your skin, pulse jumping rapidly and you have to remind yourself that it is all just in your head. None of you were touching it so far, however the sight of those scratches, dips and cravings on the board seem to pierce your soul.

You blink rapidly, smudging your makeup, because you have to sigh in exhaustion. You can’t remember the last time you were so paranoid and — scared. Maybe it is only because you have never tried it, but looking at your other friends they didn’t seem too into it. They still chatted between each other shortly, swallowing down the cheep wine. You look down into your own cup, swirling the liquid around as you can’t find the appetite to take a sip right now.

You are startled a little when someone claps their hands together, making your attention move to Katherine who rubs her palms together. “Are we going to do this?” Your eyes flicker to your scared friend, a little tipsier than before, so you are not too surprised by seeing her just nod in agreement. You do not protest either, putting down your cup next to you and outstretching your hands to the planchette that sits in the middle of the floor.

The silence is heavy, completely aware of the darkness wrapping around you, piercing your back. You try to ignore it as best as you can, shaking your head at yourself, pressing your finger lightly on the planchette. Nothing is heard for a second, all of you looking at each other briefly, before Amanda speaks up. “Is anybody here?” She calls out and her voice seem to echo around you almost.

Silence again, but you can’t help, but look around. Though you have to sigh a little when the same question is repeated. “It doesn’t work like that.” You say, cutting through the quiet.

Everyone turns to look at you and your friend can’t help, but raise a challenging eyebrow. “Okay, you try then.” Says Hannah.

You clear your throat a little, swallowing the invisible lump in your throat. The way you are becoming nervous is making you anxious. The blanket around you slips from your shoulders, the cold immediately kissing you. It felt like there was no layer left between you and the darkness. When you straighten your back, shuffling a little closer to the board, your fingers start to tremble. The small frown of confusion by your body reacting like this is visible, but you try to keep it together. Licking your lips, your eyes go around the room, before plastering your eyes back down. “We welcome everyone who wants to join us and if anyone is here, we would like you to make a sign.” You take a deep breaths between each word, not knowing exactly what is suitable to say in this kind of situation.

Your voice seems almost loud in the quiet room, but everyone seems to listen carefully to you. You do too, a little too hard, because the only thing you can hear for a while is your blood rushing in your ears. Your eyes are wide open, searching in the dark behind your friends. You don’t even know for what you are searching, but you feel like the answer is close. You have never talk to the dead, but you can’t say that people who do this are exaggerating. The waiting for something to happen is frightening and you think you have never been so on high alert over something that wasn’t even there.

“Could you maybe knock on something?” Asks Jade, her voice quiet, but in the room even a pin drooping could be heard.

“Or make that candle blow out?”

Questions fly across the room, though nothing happens for a moment. All of you look at each side of the room, your eyes however fall into the hallway where you were sitting next to. Nothing is seen, only those specks of light made by your eyes. However you swear you feel warmth coming from the end of the hallway. It was almost suffocating in a way, already thinking it’s just you, but then something does happen and you feel it yourself as very one else in the room.

“It’s moving….” Exclaims Amanda in shock, staring down at the planchette. Your own breath gets stuck in your throat, because you swear you feel the planchette vibrating under your fingers. Your eyes immediately trail over to your friends in disbelief. It moves subtly in short stops and you have to shake your head at it.

“Who is moving it?”

“It’s not me! You’re doing it!”

The voices of your friends fall to deaf ears. You don’t want to believe it, but looking at the frightened faces of your friends, you can tell that their reactions are completely genuine. Nervous feeling creeps up on you, watching the planchette travel over the board, before it stops at a corner. “Yes?” You say softy the word and you swallow roughly, eyes trailing over the room. You don’t want to believe it, but you are now left with no choice. “Is it yes that someone is here with us?” You ask again, listening carefully.

For a moment you only hear your friends’ whimpers of fear and your own heart in your ears, but then a small tap is heard behind you. Your head whips around quickly, your own gasp matching with the others as you stare with wide eyes at the window behind you. Only the Moon and swinging trees can be seen, nothing other than that. You turn back around to look at your friends, but your eyes fall onto something different.

The candles around you seem to rise, flame flickering and bending like something is blowing at them. Your own face of your fear, makes them look into the direction and few hushed curses are being shared across the room. “Holy shit–“ Says Hannah.

“Maybe you left the window open?”

“You know damn well that I didn’t, Jade”

You are not following their conversation again, lost in thought or to be honest you can’t even think straight right at this moment. Your face scrunches up, shivers going down your spine. You eyes widened again, freezing in your spot. The side of your body burns, it left like something was poking you, telling you to turn around. You can’t move however for a second, from the corner of your eye watching your friends panic over the planchette moving again, but you are not even touching it anymore. The thing that frightens the most is the feeling of someone’s eyes staring at your back.

Your head turns slowly around, body screaming at you not to, but something is controlling you, pushing you to look back into the hallway. The hot air rushes to your face and it wasn’t from the candles. When you finally turn to glance into the darkness, your blurry eyes from not blinking at all don’t see anything for a moment, but soon from the darkness appears a sphere, then it forms and forms till it turns into a silhouette of a person.

You gasp, breath getting stuck in your chest. It is eery, horrifying sight and even if you finally blink rapidly, like it was just your own eyes playing tricks on you, it only seems to get closer. It reaches for you and you want to pull back, but can’t. You watch the mass of darkness become fuller slowly, before you see pair of red beaming eyes forming out of it. You lips fall apart, a loud scream at the back of your tongue, but before it can fall out of you, the candles that you just now realized became even higher dim back down by blink of an eye.

The sound of the board being thrown across the room, makes you snap out of the trance, scrambling away, just like your friends. You are breathing hard, head turning to look at others who only have their eyes on the board in the corner of the room. And you at the moment realize in your frightened state that you have been the only one who saw the truth.

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With every step, with every breath you took, your head would turn around. Paranoia seemed to follow you the moment you left your friend’s apartment and you hoped that was the only thing truly following you. You lived quite far, too late to catch the last bus, leaving you to walk your way home. However you were at least walking through the city and maybe you were just imagining the burning eyes at the back of your head. And if you weren’t, a look from a stranger couldn’t make you feel like this. Someone — something was sizing you up, following you, perfectly mimicking your movements like your own shadow and just as you though you caught it, turning around swiftly — nothing, only a crowd of people who didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

You didn’t either, there seem to be invisible to you and the thing following you that couldn’t be seen either however, had a strong sense of presence. Was there really safety in numbers? After a while, every little noise made you jump, laughter and occasional screams of terror when the unreal monsters jumped at someone, made your head spin. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe, like you already you have already considered, it was only in your head. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to try and talk to the dead and on this night specifically as everyone around you made your delusions even stronger.

You couldn’t breathe. Every time your feet moved faster, it seemed to be even closer to you. So close you that you could feel it reaching the back of your neck or was it just the wind? Your eyes trailed over the people. No one was looking at you, everyone minded their own, drinking the night away and crowding the small square. What if you and your friends decided to go here instead and not the party? What if you wouldn’t play with the board?

Your stroll slowed down to a full stop. It felt like whatever that was following you disappeared, but also at the same time seemed even closer to you. Just out of sight. You didn’t want to search for it, but something was telling you to do so. You stopped at the middle of the crowd, eyes almost like being pulled by a magnet stopping on a one specific place. The people walked through your line of vision before it become clear to you why you were so drawn to that spot.

There — right there, under the roof of a stand stood what it looked like a man by his slightly broad shoulders and short hair, but by the shadow which the roof casted on him, you couldn’t even get a glimpse of his face. However that wasn’t necessary. The way he stood…from his whole body radiated this menacing, evil aura that made your whole body freeze. Your breath was taken away from you, eyes wide, staring at the unknown figure. The same, almost even more intense wave of fear washed over you, it felt the same when you looked down the dark hallway. He didn’t feel like a real person, he felt like something way more than that. Something dark and hungry and it was staring right back at you. You didn’t see his eyes, but you just know. This couldn’t be real…

This couldn’t be real. Things like this don’t exist and if they did you feel like they would be more documented. You weren’t a true believer nor a sceptic, but you really didn’t feel like wanting to know the truth right now. He, it didn’t move and even by blinking, it didn’t vanish like you wished it would. It was probably just a person, a person with a really scary costume.

A gasp leaves you as suddenly someone elbows you. You turn to the person, catching there sneer and you realize that maybe standing in the middle of the street wasn’t a good idea. You looked stupid, but that was the least of your worries as you glance back at the man, only him being nowhere to be found. Were you just imagining things at this point? Maybe your fear was only playing with you. You ignore the weird occurrence as best as you could, deciding to continue heading back home. Your apartment was just few blocks away and at the thought of finally being inside your safe space makes you pick your pace.

The feeling of being followed doesn’t leave you however, but you keep your head high in a mock confidence, showing whatever this thing was that you are brave. You really weren’t much of an actress, because as soon as you reach the entrance door to your building, you rush to unlocked it, slipping in quickly, like the thing would just squeeze right through you. The doors slam shut loudly and you hope that none of the other residents won’t come to scold you. The more you walk your way up the stairs to your apartment, the more you don’t acknowledge the creepy feeling that someone is watching you.

Your apartment door shines brightly at you and you out of breath fumble with your keys. The satisfying click and smell of your home made you sight out in relief. You were so happy to be finally inside, greeting your cat who waited for you just as you opened the door. Your hands smoothen down her fluffy hair, sighing at her calming purring. Everything that happened flew over your head as you finally started to feel at ease. Like you thought — it was just your imagination, nothing more…

You weren’t one for drinking till you passed out, but you find yourself stumbling just a little as you pull off your shoes, already ruined just by a one night of walking. Making your way into your kitchen, you go to give some food to your fluffball who meowed at your every move and that sound really ease your racing heart.

Putting down the bowl on the floor, you watch your cat eating away for a second. You are lost in thought, though nothing specific was running through your head, just blankly staring into space. But just as you move to make your way to your bedroom, you saw something shift from the corner of your eye. Looking up, you however find nothing, but the dark corner of your unlight living room and at that your patience runs low. For yourself, because you can’t believe that you are making yourself see things in your own home where you are supposed to feel the safest.

You flip the light switch next to you, illuminating the room in subtle orange hue, your eyes still unmoving from the spot and still nothing was there. A sigh leaves you, but you refuse to say it was out of relief. At that you went to take your upper layer off, also fixing yourself something knowing that if you won’t eat or drink something, it will kill you in the morning.

You are exhausted, a heavy weight on top of your shoulders telling you to just lay down. In some way however you are still on high alert, maybe the aftermath of your own self scaring you. You thought about showering, but to be honest you didn’t have the energy to do all of your routine at this hour and also there is nothing for you to wash off.

You stumble again, but now over the bottom of your dress, catching yourself just in time with your hand on the doorway to your bedroom. The sheer, soft fabric is thrown on your bed, ignoring the mess all over the room. The corset around you didn’t suffocate you and you wonder what exactly is it that is making you lose your breath. Your hands fumble over your back, fingers just at the lacing of your top, but just before you can pull at it, you hear a noise.

It was loud and it momentarily makes you look back into the direction of your living room. You sigh shortly after, shaking your head at your own delusions. It was just your cat probably. However when you again go to pull at the string of your corset, you hear a meow right beside you, before you see your cat jumping into your field of vision on your bed. You freeze slightly, hands stilling. It is an old building, it makes noises all the time — it was nothing. You try to gaslight yourself by thinking it didn’t even happened, but then there’s even a louder bang! coming from behind you.

Your head whips around wildly, hair falling into your wide eyes that stare into your dark hallway. You feel your heart pounding against your chest and in your state of shock you are not quick enough to stop your cat from running to the direction of the noise. Your hands outstretch before you, in hushed whisper pleading your cat to come back, but her fuffy, long tail is soon gone from your vision. You hate the lump forming in your throat and the way your bottom lip quivers. That noise almost again makes you wonder if you imagine it, but then you hear it again, now in series of three bangs that echoed in your apartment. It sounded like knocking, mocking you to let whoever — whatever it was in, but what if it was already here with you? It sounded like the noises were meant for you to come in, get closer.

The noises weren’t the only thing making you frighten, it was also the way the air around you seems to drop in temperature. You immediately shiver, goosebumps appearing all over your body. But there was this odd warmness, starting right at the entrance of your open bedroom door. It was so appealing…

You finally take a step closer to the hallway when you hear another loud noise. The sudden realization that your cat might be in danger makes you take few steps further even with the fear you held in yourself. You hate her for it, but you are now only scared for her. You quickly look around your room for any kind of weapon, but you find nothing, realizing that your pepper spray was in your purse that you left on your kitchen counter. You just have to be brave…That’s what you try to tell yourself, while slowly making your way out of the room.

The darkness seemed deeper that when you went in your bedroom. It is intoxicating, heavy, it pierces your skin and stings at your eyes. Your lungs scream for air as you try not to breath at all, scared to even make a sound. Your light costume leaves you in very vulnerable state and it makes you wrap your arms around your stomach that grumbles uncomfortably. What if the thing you thought followed you was a man and he somehow got into your apartment? You don’t know if a man is better than an entity, but it certainly would make you feel less crazy. You hope that the knocking was mistaken, that it was only someone at your door. You have to tell yourself that there’s no way for someone to break in, because you locked the door immediately when you came in. However something at the back of your mind is telling you that you have the right to be frightened.

And you were to death, when you stop at the corner, living room just right behind a wall. Your eyes didn’t get use to the darknesss and looking at the threshold leading to your living room, you realized you weren’t going after light. You were only going down the path that seeped warmness, blazing hot, coming right from your living room. There was no light, the one you switched on was left that way, but now there’s not a single flicker of it peeking out. You listen carefully, for your cat or your intruder, but the sound of your heart makes your ears ring, so you had nothing, but your sight right now.

Your hand almost tears the fabric of your skirt as you lean forward a little, squinting into the room. A whiff of the same feeling washes over you again, making you pull yourself back with a choked sigh. It is the same one — like the one you felt while looking into the hallway, like the one when you saw the silhouette of the man and the same one that has been following you. Your eyes become blurry with tears, panicking, mind racing. You have no clue what to do. You have no weapon, your phone is in your kitchen and your keys…right beside the door to your apartment.

It is a bad idea, but if you would run through the living room quickly enough, you can get out. There’s still a chance that the intruder had your keys, so you ask yourself — are you willing to take the chances? Of getting caught by this…thing. You don’t want to leave your cat alone or worse with it, but if you would just make it next door to your neighbor, you can safe her and yourself. Your hand tightens around your skirt, picking it up and sprinting out of your hiding spot, but as soon as you do — you see him.

You choke, the sound bumbling in your throat, your eye staring straight at the silhouette in the corner of your room. Even in the dark, you can see it. The mass of darkness coming from him alone and the hot air suffocates you, just by looking into his direction. Tears stream down your face as you turn back to the direction of the door and back at the man, but then you hear a soft purring sound. Your cat is rubbing herself against the man’s feet and even if you are thankful nothing happened to her, you are terrified from seeing her so close to that man. Her white fur is bright and you almost come rushing to her, but as your eyes go back to the door, you run to that direction instead.

Your hand outstretches, reaches for the doorknob, even if you can see the keys glimmering before your teary eyes there was no salvation for you. You are turned around, roughly pushed to the door and a whimper of pain leaves you as your back meets the wood. Your mouth opens, ready to scream, but like he knew, his hand falls over your lips, silencing your cry for help.

Your teary eyes stare at the faceless person, eyes streaming down your face and pooling at his hand. You are held against the door, but not with his body, it was like your whole body had frozen over. You want to scream in fear, instincts telling you to just run, but you can’t move an inch. Though your body trembles, eyes searching, trying to get a view of this man. He didn’t feel real, his skin is hot, breath fanning over your face. You are starting to sweat from all the different temperatures, sobbing in fear as you hear his lips fall apart.

“Don’t scream.”

His voice is low, quiet yet strong. You don’t want to fulfill his demand, but the tone of voice — it echoed in your mind, repeating and repeating. His hand falls from your lips and you take in deep breaths, choking. You can’t even muster to scream, you can’t and you don’t want to, because he maybe will hurt you. “Please, don’t hurt me — don’t kill me.” You are shuttering over your words, choking again in your tears.

You can see him tilt his head at your pleas, standing right before your shaking body so casually it made you sick. He didn’t even try to do something to you yet and that definitely heightens the terror in you. You sob, crying and you gasping at the sound of him sushing you. You back pressed harder against the door, finally finding enough strength to move just a little away from him, when he leans just a little closer to you. “Where’s the fun in that?” He whispers to you, teasing you almost, amused tone in his voice. You look at him slightly confused, eyes blurry, still not knowing what this man looks like. You don’t feel at ease at his tone nor his words of small assurance. It is like he could see you, because you can hear the click of his shoes, stepping a little away from you. “I thought you wanted me to make myself known?”

You are left even more confused, before it quickly comes clear to you. You can’t — you won’t believe it. Those words pierce you painfully and with seeing him this much away from you, makes you immediately think of the silhouette you have seen following. This man could be just a man, but his words…back at the small seance you spoke them. A sharp intake is heard, shaking your head at the thought of this man being something more. The thought crossed your mind, but you actually never would think that it might be the truth. If it is — if this man is something from the other realm, haunting you, making you tremble in fear that it probably thrives in…you can’t – “No…” Your disagreement is quiet, heart beating wildly in horror as you look over the mass of darkness around him, evil. “This is some sick joke — you are just playing with me. Who’s behind his?” Your words are not making sense anymore to you, too many thoughts of how it could be possible leaves you thinking that it might be just a stupid prank, but no human could make you this sort of fear.

The man sneers, hissing like a snake at your words. It sounded like you just insulted him, gasping loudly when he makes a one big step closer to you and you swear your noses almost bump together. “Do you think your friends can do this?” He says, raising his hand, putting it right before your eyes. Your wide eyes stare at his hand forming into fist and by the act you see the light in your kitchen flickering with every subtle move of his. You look at him, finally seeing in the small flickers of light his face. You didn’t know what to expect, maybe a gross man or the devil himself with horns and a face of death, but you are certainly left speechless.

His dark, brown hair is slightly in his eyes. They shine, deep red at the corners that flicker with the light. Long and sculpted nose leads you to trail your eyes over his high cheekbones to his cupids bow and then his bitten, plump lips. This wasn’t a face of evil, he looked like an angel, no face that should make you feel terrified, but you can see it in his eyes. Sinister, holding evil as well as wisdom that you could never imagine or reach. Even in this small moment you had enough time to look him over, but as his hand closes into tight fist, the sound of the lightbulb shattering makes you fall back into the stage of horror. You can hear your cat running away from the scene and your tears recur, because you finally start to believe. “Do you think your friends could ever make you feel so frightened?” You shake your head, head spinning at what just happened.

He turned on the light with just his hand in the air, with just putting his hand into a fist he crushed it and you don’t want to know what else he can do. “I don’t understand…w-who are you?” You are hyperventilating, praying that is just your imagination again, but you can’t close your eyes and let him vanish from your sight. You need to see him.

“The better question is… what am I?” You are again shaking your head and it’s like he can see your thoughts, because he is making you say out loud what you have been thinking all along. You don’t seem him, but his lips lift up slightly for a moment at his own memory. “When you were playing with that Ouija board, do you know, that you opened the gates for anyone to go through?” A cry leaves you, just as the light in the corner of the room is light up with a flick of his finger. Your eyes stare into his amused ones and somehow you wished you didn’t have to see him. “You didn’t even closed it...”

Realization strikes you, your trembling stopping when you thought of your friends. What if they are also in danger just because of you? You would definitely wouldn’t be able to live with that guilt. ‘What am I?’ His words are the one thing on your mind right now. How much is he dangerous? He doesn’t even blink, doesn’t even breathe it seems, your eyes staring blankly at his face. “Oh, my—“ You can’t even finish the word as his hand quickly by a blink of an eye wraps around your throat.

You feel him squeeze his fingers in a warning, not quite choking you, but it still makes you gasp for air. “Don’t say his name, he can’t help you. You did this to yourself—“

“Are you the devil?” You wonder out loud and his whole demeanor changes, laughing drily at your question.

“I preciete the compliment, but no.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his weird behavior. You still fear him, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to hurt you at all. Maybe he already has you right where he wants, under him with his hand on your throat, playing with your life.

He maybe might not be the devil himself, but he still had those rings of fire around his irises. He is evil, you know it and evil always wants something. Like he said, you have done this to yourself and you have to pay. You know he won’t let you go, he didn’t stop following you from the apartment and even if you know who or maybe what he looks like, it doesn’t calm you down. You still know so little and you wish you didn’t have to know further. You are completely at his mercy and you are pulled back into the present when his hand tightens again, pulse jumping against his fingers.

“Just take what you want—“

He tsked at you, he now being the one shaking his head and you can’t move away from him or even fight against his strong hold as he makes you lean closer to his face. “Be careful with your words.” His upper teeth are revealed with how much he is sneering and it makes you look down at his mouth. His upper front teeth are bigger slightly, but they weren’t the thing that makes your heart skip a beat — his canine teeth were sharp as a razor and you wonder if his sneering is prediction of him maybe biting you, eating at your flesh. “I’m not the type of evil you’re imaging right now…” His voice is a little softer than before and you wonder if he can read your mind.

Then what is he? “T-then what are you?” You ask him, genuinely curious about his answer.

He lowers his head, your breathing stilling, leaving you speechless as he comes close enough to you that your lips are almost touching. “Do you want me to tell you, or do you want to find out yourself, like the big girl you are?” His breath words bounce off your parted lips, taking in his raw scent.

Heat pools over you, watching him pull away from you just to look back at your face. His words sounded suggestive and you hope your own mind isn’t messing with you. “You won’t hurt me?” Was he just playing with you all along? Just taking in the pleasure of seeing you scared?

“Not if you don’t want me to…I still have to take something.” His dark eyes fall over your body and you want nothing more than to cover yourself, because you realize at the moment how much your costume is provocative.

“Why? I didn’t ask for you — this.”

He tilts his head again, his eyes not holding amusement and you can feel the air thickening around you. “Did you now? Or were your drunk thoughts just speaking for you?” You breathe out, embarrassment making your skin hot at touch and you know he can feel it under his hand.

You are not sure if you wished for it, but it quickly reaches the surface. Your darkest desire of being taken over, filled with heat and pleasure…”Are you—“ You don’t even have to say it as he releases his hold on your throat, just to press his thumb on your bottom lip.

His touch is electrifying, addictive almost and your whole mind and body swirls for a moment. “A demon, that’s all what you need to know.” You almost nod your head in agreement, letting him trail his thumb across your lips, dangerously close to slipping in your warm mouth. You are puzzled by your own behavior, but you can’t fight it. The urge of him just coming a little closer to you, so you can feel more of him is strong. He can see it on your face and then there’s the subtle smile on his lips again, pouting and nodding at how much your body stops to shake. It certainly had an effect on him as wel, but the look on your tear stained face makes the hunger in him even bigger. “Or I could visit one of your friends…” He teases, though also too occupied by the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Just take me.”

You try to justify yourself, that you are doing this for them, but both of you know you want it — need it more. The fear is at the back of your head, forgotten almost replaced by the fuzzy feeling your mind is in. “Careful what you say.” He warns you again, maybe not to provoke him into doing something you didn’t want, but it flies over your head rather quickly.

His touch leaves you, but you don’t search for it as you are again left in small confusion. You know that you somehow wish for something specific, but you never thought it would come in this way. It makes you feel dirty, used already, but also it makes your nerve endings tingle. Desire for pleasure is normal for humans and you wonder how much he has seen them before. “Why me?” You ask him, surely you can’t be the only one on this night wishing.

“You intrigued me — your soul.” He says and his words hit you deeper than they should. “Calling for something to fill this hole in your chest. I can see into places that people so desperately try to keep hidden…tell me, are you hiding something Y/N?” You are taken back by the sound of your name, but you are aware that he must know you better than you know yourself.

“No…”

“Really…interesting.” The soft light creates shadows across his chiseled face, when he leans over you. “The moment I appeared…you didn’t seem so scared anymore. Does this idea of being used by a blood thirsty demon excites you?”

“No…”

The smile is tugging at your heart, a little eery in some way. “Then why can I smell your arousal from here?” You swallow roughly and you soon realize how much you have been pressing your thighs together. You can feel your slick coating your inner thighs, but the embarrassment doesn’t even reach you, because he looks like he drinks it all up. “I’m a demon of pleasure and desire, there’s no need to feel even an ounce of shame…” He is now reassuring you and his soothing voice is so different from the one you heard moments ago.

“But you’re a demon.” You state the now obvious and the statement should make you laugh in disbelief, but it only strikes you with a feeling you definitely feel shame about.

You feel the heat of his skin way before you feel the subtle touch of his hand on your exposed thigh. Goosebumps spread all over your body, swallowing your gasp at how pleasurable just this felt. “And a man still…” His fingers trail over the outer part of your thigh and your leg does jump away a little, but he was too addictive. “Doesn’t this idea of someone inhumanly powerful taking over your body and soul not excite you?” His voice is hushed and it feels so sweet in your ears.

You shake your head, though not doing anything to move away from him. “I won’t let you take my soul.” You can’t let him take the thing that makes you who you are.

“Maybe not…” Your eyes blink at him, head rolling back against the door as he straightens his back to tower over you. “But your body will be mine—“

You have now words, not even a sound leaves you, because you are left paralyzed when his hand squeezes roughly at the soft skin of thigh. Your wide eyes are staring into his, taken back by the bold move. He doesn’t have to hear any permission to touch you, it was all written right in front of him — all over you face, body and even your soul that you seem to be very sure that it will never be his. He has to wonder himself about how much this might be true, because you are responding to his touch like you have never been touched before. Just by his hand, playing with the string of your garter belt that held your white stockings leaves you gasping.

You are in trouble, you know, because you shouldn’t feel this much pleasure from the touch of a demon. However you already feel your body succumbing to him, just like he wanted. His hand travels under the thin layer of your skirt, dipping right into the mess you made of yourself. A sound leaves you unknowingly, head empty as he moves your thighs apart. The skin of your inner thighs is raw from how much you have been pressing your legs together, but you find yourself not caring anymore. With every breath you take, his hand trails higher and he bites his lip at how hot you feel against him.

His eyes travel across your face. Your eyes are barely open and he thinks he has never seen someone so away from their own mind by his moves. And obsessive, disgusting feeling washes over him, watching you sigh out in bliss as the tips of his fingers finally press over your covered clit. Your back arches a little, breasts pushing against your tight corset and he marvels over your barely covered body. “Who are you?” He asks you. You are dirty, thinking that wearing something like this in public is proper. His nature rages at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this.

You are slightly puzzled by his question, because the feeling of his hand right between your thighs is already too much for you to handle. “Christine…from Phantom of the Opera.” You response, eyes blinking open at him, just as he starts to form circles over your twitching clit.

“Adorable.”

Sharp moan flies out of your mouth, when he suddenly pulls the material of your underwear to the side. The air kisses your cunt, but it soon is warmed up by his fingers again. You are horrified of yourself right now. Why are you enjoying this? You have to remind yourself who and what is touching you, but you think nothing ever felt better. You have never made yourself and definitely not anyone else almost fall apart just by running your fingers through your folds. He is looking at you so intensely, you want to quiver. “Already this wet?” You can’t feel any shame in you and it is definite that he is making you feel like that. Should you be thankful? He is giving you sheer pleasure, circling your clit directly, after pushing the hood away from it. “Just like that, huh?” You don’t have any response for him, only whimpers of euphoria. “How long has it been?”

Your head rolls back, gasping at his touch. He knew your body better than you. Rubbing just at the perfect pace to make you crazy, pressing hard enough for your hips to buckle. Saliva gathers in your mouth, listening to the noises of your dripping center. You are so lost already that the only thing that makes you wake up is when his movements come to a stop. “What?” You say more because you didn’t want him to stop, looking back at him with big eyes and you realize he just asked you a question.

He leans closer to you, head falling on top of your shoulder so his lips are right beside your ear. He doesn’t really like to repeat himself, but being so responsive to him, he will let you do it once. “How long has it been since someone touched you?” With his question, his fingers travel down, right to your hole.

His breaths hit the sensitive skin of your neck and you have to swallow back a moan when his pointer finger just barely dips inside of you. “Long.” You confess in a whisper.

He smacks his lips, pressing them against your neck so you feel every word that comes from his mouth. “You poor thing, such a pity, but don’t worry—“ He is looking at you again, hand leaving you, making you whine a little and he can’t help but smirk a little. “I will make you feel things you have never felt before.”

With his promise, his hands find the back of your thighs, before he lifts you off your feet. You yelp from how smoothly he does it, pulling you up into his arms and you have no choice, but to wrap your legs around his waist. You are shocked by his strength, not used to being picked up so easily, staring at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t look away from you, even if he walks with you to your couch, not even when he lays you down on it. You feel special in this moment, drowning in the thought of him wanting you, but still his nature is not forgotten. He is made like this, he lives from the pleasure of the other.

Your head falls on the armrest, looking up at him looming over your body. He is already consuming you with his eyes alone and it feels delicious, but it sends a small sense of danger. His eyes flash red under the soft light, body clad in dark clothing perfectly contrasting with yours. Your hands are still in the air, fingers just barely grazing over his broad shoulder, but he soon leans closer to you, letting you hug him again. You feel small, vulnerable and weak, but you don’t want him to know he was right about you liking this. But, oh, trust me that he knows…

His hands grip the fabric of the couch, coming closer to you, placing his lower body right between your parted legs. Your hands seem to push him away from how bashful you have become and he surprises by not entirely rushing you. His head falls next to your neck again, slowly trailing his lips over the skin. Your breathing is formed into short gasps at his wet, soft kisses, eyes falling shut for a moment to savor the feeling. He can smell your perfume, sweat and even blood and it makes him groan quietly, kisses turning rougher, just to get closer to you. “Is this it? Is this all that you want?” You say, shivering still from his own sound.

His lips still for a second, but he doesn’t move away. “Is this what you want?” He now asks you.

You know, you don’t have to think much about your answer, but you still pause for a second. Your fingers twitch on his shoulders, legs closing around his and is it even necessary to give him an answer? The only thing you do is pull is head back down your neck, rolling your head back to give him more room, you are too embarrassed to say it out loud. He lets you, he is letting you have your way a little too much he thinks, but he can’t refuse the offer of your delicious neck.

His tongue licks a long stripe up your pulse, making you moan loudly when he starts to suck all over your neck. His bunny teeth nip lightly at your skin, fighting the argue to just bite down. He feels your nails digging into him, while he moans with you, enjoying just the taste of your skin like this. However the strong scent of your arousal is playing with his head, growling at the thought of eating your cunt. He can picture your face of ecstasy and shock all together. He would suck you all up, fuck you with his tongue and you coating his face in your pleasure.

You are shaking at how rough he nibs and sucks at your neck, the small fear of his sharp teeth piercing your quickly forming into pleasure. But before you can feel it, he releases himself from your neck to slide all the way down on the ground to kneel before you. His sharp movements always leave you in disbelief, your senses not quick enough to keep up with him. You pull yourself up to your elbows, watching him put his hands on your thighs, making your skirt pool at your waist.

Your legs are already trembling, knowing your pussy is left uncovered by his touches, but his attention is still fully on you. “White looks good on you, you almost make me feel bad that I will ruin it—“ The ‘you’ is silent, but the smirk is just a small reminder of what he is capable of.

When his eyes fall down to your cunt, he can’t help, but groan. He maybe is the one living of pleasure of the other, but what he is about to do to you is mostly for him. He doesn’t waste any time, he is inpatient and you as well as he can see from your fluttering hole. He doesn’t trail kisses over your thighs, nothing soft, nothing that you don’t want and when he pulls on your underwear, tearing the fabric he is sure that this is what you really want. It stings a little, the fabric snapping against you, before it is thrown away. His head fall between your legs so quickly your hips jump, clit hitting his nose and hard. Though even if you wanted to apologize, he didn’t seem to mind it at all, only letting his mouth fall open to suck at your folds.

“Oh…” Comes out of you, hand flying over your mouth from the feeling of his blazing, hot tongue running all over you. He spits and drools, saliva mixing with your slick and pooling right under your ass. Your hips keep jumping from the sheer and sharp pleasure. Your clit burns as it is caught between his lips. You are shocked by how quickly you feel yourself on the edge.

His head tilts back, releasing your bundle of nerves with a pop to run his tongue over your labia. Your clit twitches in need, mewing, just as he opens his eyes to stare right back at you. You can’t look away from him, from his red irises, his mouth wide open to catch every drop you give him. The pleasure and pain from his grip on your thighs forms into something else — something you haven’t felt before. You didn’t even know that just by someone going over your lips with their tongue felt so good. You swear you have never been this sensitive and he looks like that he knows exactly how to push you. He doesn’t need any guiding, nothing — he is a true man.

You can’t stop your sounds, the pleasure so good, you think you need to run away from it just to catch your breath. He doesn’t let you, his one hand pressing down against your lower stomach, preventing you from trashing around as his other goes to your hole. When his two fingers breaches you, a silent scream leaves you, your own hand flying to his to stop him, but you are already falling apart. Heat, waves of nonstop pleasure wash over you and your ears ring. Your mouth becomes dry, whimpers turning into cries, because you are sure you are going mad. You didn’t want it to end so soon, you wanted him to stop, to feel more.

Your whole body shakes wildly, the skin of your thighs jiggling around his head. You try to catch your breath while your orgasm is still washing over you, siting up to grasp at his hand. Your mouth is open, eyes now filled with tears, pleading and he watches you in your full glory. “I’m not stopping.” He says, words you so desperately needed to hear vibrating against you, fingers scissoring in you.

You immediately fall back down in relief and you can feel his crazed smile against you. The orgasm is none stopping. You don’t know if it’s because he isn’t stopping or if it was just him, but it is a out of body experience. Your hands press against your eyes, moaning wildly as his fingers pick up speed, tongue not stopping to move your clit up and down. He suck just perfectly, curl his fingers just right and doesn’t stop to take a breath nor to change position — he knows what he is doing. You push your legs up to your chest slightly, wrapping them around his head and the sight is to die for.

His eyebrows are furrowed, hand on your stomach searching for yours to put it in his hair. You instantly run your fingers through his soft hair, before tugging roughly and the deep growl that seems to make the whole room shake, sends you over the edge again. It is stronger, more burning and even painful and he eat it right up. You go silent again, eyes rolling into the back of your head and you pull his head with you also. You do hear him release himself from your messy, puffy cunt, just to watch you fall apart again. You don’t need him to help you ride out your orgasm, it was too good to not let it take over your whole being again.

The taste of you is on his tastebuds, licking at his lips hungrily, before crawling over your body. Your skin is hotter, almost like his and his cock pushes painfully against his pants at your drunk state. You looked beautiful…he needs to have you now. His hand moves your hair away from your sweaty face, making you finally open your blurry eyes. “Kiss me.” You say, hands pulling at the hairs on the back of his neck.

You haven’t seen much emotion on his face before, but this felt unnatural. It was just a split second, but you saw it — disappointment. “I can’t.” He says, shaking his head. His eyes held longing, but he makes you forget about this whole moment by kissing you on your collarbone.

You sigh, pressing your chest closer to him, just as he begins to trail down the valley of your breasts. “Can I at least have your name?” His lips wrap around the soft skin of your breast, sucking it in his mouth.

You hiss, pushing at his head. He sucked a little too hard, maybe telling you something by his action, but before you can question it he glances at you back again. “Minho.” He tells you his name, looking into your eyes as you repeat it softly back. You stare at each other for a moment, you moving around a little and just by it you graze over his bulge. Your leg stops in middle of his legs, gaze still unmoving, even if you press your thigh against him. It makes him hiss and you gasp a the sheer size of it. You can see your own desire reflecting in his eyes and he just couldn’t wait anymore.

His hands fly over to his belt, watching you watching his hands as he works to unbuckle his pants. You are holding your breath as he stands up to push down his pants. Your legs immediately press back together as you finally see him. Your lips parted, drooling almost at the size of his cock. Thick, long, veiny, a little curved just to hit those spots deep inside of you with an angry red mushroom tip covered in cum. You are breathing heavier from just the thought of him splitting you open and ruining you for everyone after him.

Minho is breathing through his nose to take in the smell of your emotions, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and when you sit up, pulling down your skirt, he marvels over the sight of your body covered just in corset and stockings. You looked heavenly funnily enough. When he pushes his shirt from his shoulders you sigh at his muscular body — he was simply perfect. “Turn around.” He demands, voice so low you almost do a double take and when you don’t do immediately as he says, he just does it for you.

He moves you down the couch, turning your body around so your face is pressed into the cushion. Your ass raises in instinct and it grates you a smack across your right cheek. You cry into the couch, the soft skin rippling under his eyes. Then it’s his cock, slapping against you, before laying it flat between your asscheeks. “Fuck, look at that, I’m gonna split this little pussy apart.” You moan back at him, already hazy from just him humping against you teasingly. “Think you can handle it? Oh, you will, all of it—“ He is basically talking to himself right now, already drunk on you.

You are a little concerned, you have never taken something so big, but the thought of him not fucking you dumb is making you whimper like a bitch in heat. You don’t even recognize yourself. You press your ass back at him and Minho only slaps you again, but he finally at that guides his cock to your entrance. The sight of his precum mixing with yours is sending him over the edge, not believing that you are letting him fuck you raw, even if he sees it in the back of your mind. It makes him pull your head back roughly, wanting to watch you crumble on his cock.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, seeing the wild look in his eyes, pretty lips forming into ‘O’ as he finally pushes his tip inside of you. Just that is already too much, but you subconsciously push your hips back at him, swallowing another inch. He lets you adjust, because the way he will fuck you — you will need it. With only hallway through you already feel full to the brim, him already pressing against your cervix, but he is determined to fit all in. He knows you can do it and just after few moments, your ass is finally perfectly flush with his pubic bone.

Your walls suck him right in, wet, warm and soft. He wonders if he is the one being enchanted right now. His hand trails over the string of your garter belt again, loving the way it digs into your ass from how much you arch for him. Minho leans over you again, making him press into you even deeper and he sharply exhale at his tip basically breaks your cervix. “Feel that?” His hand falls down to press at the bulge on your lower tummy. “I’m in your fucking stomach that’s how fucking deep I am—“

“M-Minho—“ He enjoys his name falling from your mouth so much that he accidentally pushes a little too hard against your stomach. To his surprise you only moan louder, hips pushing against him. An open wide smile stretches across his face, watching you move your ass against him.

Your movements are put into stop rather quickly as he pulls out, before pushing into you again with a deep, long thrust. Your mouth is wide open, drooling on the couch already. You feel an abnormal tingling sensation, with his every move of his and with everything that happened that led to this moment it felt worth it. Your pussy molds into a form of his cock, making him smoothly pick up his pace. His one leg on the couch and the other on the ground gives him leverage and with the first sharp thrust of his, you both moan, the sound perfectly mixing with the wet slaps of your skins.

It’s not soft or loving, it’s hard. cock pushing with every move even deeper into you if it’s possible. You are too far gone to do anything other than to take him, your own hand pressing against the bulge in your stomach. It’s sickening how much you enjoy feeling his cock run into you under your hand. Minho has to hiss with every trust in your swollen cunt, hands pinching at your ass and pulling at the strings digging into you. “So g-good— ah!” Your face buries back into the couch, when he snaps at the string, skin burning.

Minho is literally going mad, thrust so harsh, that the couch rocks a little under you both. You can’t believe how much you enjoy feeling pain mixed with pleasure just like he enjoys doing it. The sight of your ass bouncing, hands tearing the material under you and mostly your sounds — he knows that he has to have you someday again. His hand pulls at your hair again, not even missing a beat as he pulls you to his chest. You can’t hold yourself on your own and he helps you rather kindly, with his hand on your neck again, but now he is not being gentle. “Fucking look at you—“ He laughs at your fucked out face staring up at him and he knows he is not looking any better. “Ever thought you would enjoy a demon cock this much?” You choke around the hand on your throat, legs shaking under you. He needs to see more of you, all of you. So he quickly pull out of you, not missing a beat and turning you around to lay you on your back again. You can’t even grumble, because he is inside you back again and the view you have is better than you could’ve asked for.

You don’t say anything, when he rips through the front of your corset, tits spilling out and bouncing immediately with his none stop movements. He spits down right at your nipple, making you gasp at how sensitive it is, feeling his thumb smear the liquid all over you, marking you. Your own hands dig into his hard chest, droopy eyes catching his, before he goes down to your neck, now biting roughly. It makes you arch your back, his sharp teeth piercing you and it doesn’t even hurt half as much as you thought it would.

Moaning, Minho licks at the small drops of blood, eyes rolling back into his head at your sweet taste. Everything about you was so fucking sweet, he can’t believe his own luck right now. Your nipples catch on his, letting you hug him close to you and with the trembling in your legs, he knows you are nearing your orgasm again. “I-I am close—“ You can’t even voice out your words with his rapid moves, feeling yourself drip down on the couch. Your clit rubs deliciously over his pubic bone and with you walls spasming you can feel him twitching inside of you, knowing that he’s getting close too. You just need so desperately something to get you over the edge, something that would make this experience even better and soon those words are spilling out of you. “P-please….kiss me.” You whimper in his ear.

Minho pulls away from your neck, seeing small smear of your blood on those plump lips. “I-I can’t.” He repeats the same words to you and you can’t help, but cry.

“Why?”

“It will tie us together, a kiss will ties us together and you will have to be mine forever.”

He is loosing himself, never he had thought about kissing someone, but yours lips — so perfectly bitten and definitely sweet as every part of you are calling his name. You hear his words, you realize what he is saying, but why would any of you want to end this so soon?

“I want it, I truly want it, Minho—“ Your hands press against each side of his flushed face, his eyes wide, going between your eyes and lips, before he finally leans in.

The whole room around you seems to be set on fire around you, tongues tangling around each other. You taste yourself on his lips and mostly him. You are moaning into him, biting down on his lip, like he did to your neck and he groans lowly when your own teeth breach his skin, mixing your blood now with his. “I’m yours—“ You mumble between kisses, just as you fall apart on him, squeezing him. Minho can’t help, but smile into the kiss, hips stilling as his cock swells, twitching inside of you. He fills with his warm cum, not stopping at kissing you. He will be here every day and every night like this for you and for himself, for eternity, because he found something more pleasure than anything else he ever knew.

And that was you.

[yan-lorkai]

Kicks the door open I have come! to request a Self-aware AU with the Twst bois. When they and the Darling/MC/Player/S/O switch bodies. However, the Darling isn't inside the game. So it's like the Darling waking up in the boys' bodies inside the game, and the boys waking up in the Darling's body in the real world. Thankyou very much 🙏👍🫂✨

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: self-aware au, my beloved. It was so fun to write this and I wrote a lot too 🥺💓. It took me a while to finish, so I hope you like it, darling!

Azul could always feel your presence through the puppet you control. He felt calm when you looked at him. He felt delighted at every laugh you laughed, and he wanted nothing more than to be beside you. The real you. He wished really hard for it to be possible someday, not knowing that this was exactly what was going to happen. Although his request was successful, there was just one error in the equation: he was in your body, your holy, beautiful body. Which means... You were in his horrible body.

While others would feel happy (and he really is happy to an extent), Azul feels a sense of trepidation knowing that you were awaking in his body and there was no way for him to check on you. Or could he? He tried calling his own phone but it wasn't possible. Resigned, he then took to explore your room and home and if you have any roommates / lived with your parents, Azul would try get along with them and collect information on you. While this isn't the ideal, Azul still has to think ten times ahead so when he take you to Twisted Wonderland (not a matter of if but more of when), he could make you sign a deal.

By the way, he definitely try to unlock your phone. And since he is in your body, Azul may try to unlock your phone with your fingerprint or your face if your phone has that function. If he is successful Azul will read your messages as if it were a magazine, he would see what type of songs you listen and videos you like to watch, what's in your history. Basically he is your fbi agent seeing everything on your phone, there's not a thing he'll not see. Good luck for you, reader. That's why I always I always delete my history lol.

Meanwhile you. You wake up on Azul Ashengrotto's body, the octavinelle dorm leader. Geez, are you dreaming? But everything is so real and feels so real. Jade and Floyd seems so real. And their voices, mocking and teasing, almost condescending as you tried your best to act like Azul. They seemed to know that something was wrong but neither choose to ask, brushing off as you being busy with a new scam plan. You were overjoyed but also anxious, without knowing what to do. Could you even return to your body at all? Only time will tell.

⠀⠀

Jade always knew that something was strange with this world, it was almost too... Surreal? He can't quite put into words the things he feel but everything was so much clearer whenever he could feel your presence when he was studying or riding his broom. He could feel your presence when he was cooking, when he was talking about this terrariums, when he was beating people who broke their part of the deal. You seemed to favor him, to love him. He could feel your affection seeping through your cellphone. And he wished to see you, to know you as intimately as you knew him.

And that wish became real. One day he woke up in a different bedroom, in a different body, then, while he is a little surprised, Jade just brush this off as something you did. Perhaps you wanted to show him your world? You wanted to show him your life? Or were you trying to show him something else? Either way, Jade is having the time of his life in your body. Though, as if he was mesmerized by it, he caught himself looking himself at the mirror to see your face staring right back at him. He looks like an excited kid making silly faces in front of the mirror. Honestly he is so unserious. Making faces and silly dances, and laughing because of it.

⠀

Floyd is instantly thrilled, if somewhat bewildered. At first, he messes around with everything he can find, marveling at your surroundings and taking a deep dive into your belongings — he finds it all so fascinating. He’s absolutely entertained by exploring your room, your things, and all the little details that give him insight into your life. But once the novelty wears off, his mischievous nature kicks in. He wants to know everything about you — what you like, your habits, your friends — and he’s not afraid to dig deep. Floyd starts exploring your social media, searching for anything that brings him closer to you and your world. If he finds anyone he thinks might be close to you, he’s ready to make them uncomfortable with cryptic messages or odd behavior, wanting to make it clear that no one knows you better than him.

Meanwhile, you, trapped in Floyd’s body, have to navigate his spontaneous, unpredictable moods and intense physicality — whether in class, on the basketball court, or during his shenanigans. He's having the time of his life while you are fighting for yours, even more when Azul send you to squeeze some people. Like??? How are you supposed to do this????

⠀

Silver always dreamt of you. He knew you, the feeling of your love and affection, the tone of your voice, even if when he woke up he forget everything. A blurry line separating you two. For a while, he thought that you were some higher being that he created on his mind, a simple part of his imagination. That is until this magicless student come around and your presence was all over them, controlling them, talking through them. He wanted to get closer, he wished he could talk to you, to bask on your presence. But he couldn't. He couldn't break his code. Not yet.

But when he slept that night something was different. He couldn't jump into another dream, his voice was different, his height was different, then when he inched closer to the mirror, he saw. A different face. And he knew instantly that it was your face. It was a very beautiful face, exactly how he had imagined. Though it was not what he wanted. He wanted to talk to you, to tell what he felt whenever your gaze was upon him. He didn't want to be you. Or for you to be him.

⠀

Riddle wakes up in your body, feeling completely disoriented and frustrated with the lack of control he has over the new, unfamiliar world around him. But soon, the shock turns into curiosity and then into obsession as he realizes he now has full access to everything about you, your routines, belongings, even your weaknesses, and insecurities.

Riddle’s meticulous nature drives him to organize your life, make everything as “perfect” as he can, so when you’re back, it’ll be clear that he knows what’s best for you. He spends hours exploring your things, setting up strict plans, and making lists, even going so far as to cut out people he feels are a bad influence. All of this, in his mind, is for your “own good.”

In Twisted Wonderland, you’re now bound to the rules of Heartslabyul, balancing Riddle’s strict schedule, navigating his many routines, and dealing with his high standards as you struggle to maintain his reputation without causing a commotion.

⠀

Jamil is quick to adjust, immediately masking his initial confusion in favor of stealthily gathering information about your world. He keeps a low profile, but behind that calm facade, he’s strategically piecing together every part of your life, figuring out who’s important to you and how he can stay in your life even if he returns to his world. Jamil moves through your world with subtlety, observing your friends and family with a quiet intensity, noting who to trust — and who to remove from your life. He’s ready to make subtle changes to your social circle or behavior, aligning your life with what he thinks is “best.”

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re handling Jamil’s carefully hidden responsibilities, feeling the pressure of his dual life between serving Kalim and managing his own ambitions, all while trying not to slip up and reveal your true identity. It's difficult.

⠀

Kalim wakes up in your body with sheer joy and fascination, his excitement overriding any initial confusion. He’s absolutely delighted to be in your world, taking in every little detail with childlike wonder. Kalim sees this as an opportunity to become even closer to you, and he goes about learning everything there is to know about your life, friends, and family, brimming with excitement to be part of it all. He’s incredibly affectionate with anyone he meets, happy to share his thoughts, and may unintentionally end up sharing details about “you” that leave people puzzled. He can’t resist splurging a bit on your behalf, thinking he’s treating you.

As for you, adapting to Kalim’s responsibilities in Twisted Wonderland is overwhelming, as you’re thrown into his high-energy life and surrounded by his devoted friends and followers. His cheerful, social world is a whirlwind of activity and expectation, especially with Jamil by your side, assessing every move you make with a scrutinizing eye.

⠀

When Ruggie wakes up in your body, he’s initially thrown off but quickly realizes the opportunity in front of him. Instead of panicking, he takes a strategic approach, savoring every moment as he explores your life and digs into your personal world. His tendencies kick in subtly but intensely; he’s not one for grand, showy gestures, but every action is deliberate, aimed at securing his presence in your life as deeply as possible, as he changes your wallpaper for fanart of him and enters the game to level up all his cards for you.

He begins by poking through your belongings, finding small things that give him insight into your personality, routines, and friends. Ruggie is careful to go unnoticed, learning as much as he can about your relationships and keeping mental notes about anyone he thinks poses a “threat” to his place in your life. He’s not above making subtle changes, distancing you from people he dislikes and reshaping your social circle to align with his preferences, but he does so with skillful subtlety — most people won’t even realize he’s manipulating things from behind the scenes.

If you have a job, he’ll blend right in, charming your colleagues and subtly gaining their favor, leaving an impression that makes it hard for anyone to forget you. He’s naturally resourceful, too, so he takes a look at your finances, maybe even setting aside a bit of extra money “for emergencies” (which, of course, he intends to use for things he thinks you’ll need down the line).

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re adjusting to the gritty pace of Ruggie’s life in Savanaclaw. His resourcefulness is evident in every little aspect of his world — from balancing odd jobs to navigating the intense social structure under Leona’s rule. You feel the constant need to stay alert, manage his reputation, and keep up with his never-ending hustle. It’s a life of quick thinking, constant negotiation, and clever shortcuts that keep you on your toes, giving you a firsthand taste of Ruggie’s way of surviving in a world that doesn’t make things easy. You made a note to dote on him when you get back to your body, he deserves.

[pomefioredove]

can I have a sugar cookie, #17, with whipped cream, chestnuts and candy cane?

literally these combos are so much fun

order #17, sugar with whipped cream, chestnuts, and candy cane

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ unusual

tropes: friends to lovers, sick fic, royalty AU characters: jade additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, royalty au didn't make it in here much word count: 600

"So," you start, wringing out a cool cloth and smoothing it over Jade's forehead.

"Let me get this right. Azul can't take care of you because he's studying, and Floyd can't take care of you because you think he's going to... eat you?"

Jade, a pale, shivering mess beneath you, grins. Even in his weakened state, it's unnerving.

"I attempted to do the same to him when we were younger, and I'm sure he's been waiting for his chance to get back at me,"

He says that as if it's a silly prank, or a joke. The twins are weird.

And then he shudders, and goes into another coughing fit. Seeing him like this is almost scarier than seeing him in his unnerving prime.

It's almost... pathetic.

You hesitantly reach out and hold his hand until he's done coughing.

"Ah... ahem... thank you," he says, his voice breathy. "The human form is rather weak."

"You don't get sick where you're from?"

Jade keeps ahold of your hand. "I have people to tend to me, that's all. I'm waited on,"

Of course. He and his brother are so weird, you'd almost forgotten about that. Though, when they say they're they're "heirs" you're pretty sure it's to a criminal empire.

But, oh, well.

"Well, I'm waiting on you. You'll be better in no time," you say.

You take your hand away to open some medicine for him, and Jade just grabs it right back, placing it on his chest.

"And I'm grateful,"

For a moment, you forget where you are and what you're doing, and you just stare.

Another grin pulls at the corners of his lips. "You look frightened. I'm not contagious,"

That snaps you back into place, and you return to tending to him, feeding him a few pills and a generous amount of water.

"I know. You already said that,"

Jade seemingly gets more comfortable in his bed, sighing contentedly as you check the cool cloth on his head again. You've been at his side all day. You were so willing to drop all of your plans to tend to your friend.

It's admirable, in a way. And strange in another.

He looks up at you with something that's almost soft as you replace the cloth.

"Azul isn't studying today. And Floyd most likely would not have eaten me. Neither of them know I'm unwell,"

You stop halfway through wringing out the cloth, turning to him. "What?"

Jade smiles and politely crosses his arms over his chest. "I have a fungal infection. I foolishly disturbed the soil home of a family of spores whilst hiking. I couldn't tell Azul or Floyd, or they would have taken the opportunity to remind me how unusual my interest is. They don't understand it; and they would have blamed my illness on the fungi. But it really wasn't their fault; I should have known better than to disturb their home,"

You blink. He says that all with a merry tone and a smile, but you can feel the vulnerability behind his nonchalance. He's giving it to you on purpose. He wants you to take the bait.

You do.

"...It was an accident. It's no one's fault," you say, sitting beside him again. "And your interest isn't... unusual."

"It's alright if you think it is," Jade smiles. "That doesn't make it bad. You're quite unusual yourself."

Your eyes widen. Since arriving at Night Raven College, you'd been called unusual. Strange, weird, confusing. But never in a kind way.

Never as a compliment.

"...Thank you," you murmur. "You're unusual, too."

"Am I? How flattering,"

Jade chuckles. You smile. He takes your hand in his again. It's quiet, for a short while, and then he starts coughing again, but you stay with him.

Always.

[luveline]

HEY JADE I HOPE UR DOING WELL ILY

im curious to hear ur thoughts on what an interaction between zombie!au steve and reader would look like had the apocalypse not happened. would she fly completely under his radar like in high school or would he be interested in getting to know her?? we know she knew who he was pre-apocalypse but does she really care? i keep thinking about what would happen if she walked into family video one day and if he would hit on her or not lmao

hi I love you! zombie au (ish) | fem, 1.3k

Voices force Steve’s attention. 

“I’ll be five minutes!”

“Two minutes or I’m driving off without you!” 

Steve’s more familiar with the second one. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and his creaky shit van idling on the curb outside of the store. That sheds some light on the first voice —one of the club members. Or, honorary club members? When Steve decides to be kind and drive Dustin home in the winter after his games, you can be seen occasionally sitting on stoops waiting for Eddie to finish. 

Who knew The Freak could get a girlfriend? That makes Steve being single even sadder.

You say something else. Eddie laughs. “Do you want popcorn or not?” you quip. 

“Why, are you paying for it?” 

“Not for you I’m not.” 

“You got a minute and counting.” 

“If you drive off without me, you can forget about Friday night.” 

Steve angles his head to watch you through the open door. Summer heat has made a mess of Munson’s hair where he’s leaning toward the open door. You’re holding the car door, in a light chequered dress with bows on the shoulders and the cutest pair of socks and buckled shoes. How the fuck does Eddie get a girl like that? Also, Steve’s been wondering, where the fuck did you come from? Clearly you went to Hawkins High, and when Robin told him that he swore he could remember you, but there’s nothing in his head. It’s like Robin all over again, in the same homeroom for two years and he didn’t know she was awesome until the summer after high school ended. 

“Can you just go get your fucking movie so we can go?” 

You’re still glaring when you turn around, but you’re quiet as you edge into Family Video. “Jerk,” you mouth to yourself, taking a quick cut to the slasher moves at the back. You don’t spend much time browsing, Steve can see from the back that it’s Day of the Dead. You emerge and head to the blockbusters. 

You catch Steve watching at the desk. 

He knows he doesn’t have a chance, you already have a boyfriend, so all he says is, “Let me know if you need any help.”

You smile weakly and turn back.

Maybe he wasn’t nice to you. He can’t remember, is the thing. He was such a jerk, Tommy and Carol were such jerks. 

He’s not a miserable person, but he does hate himself more often than not. It’s easier because he actually has friends who love him. Robin might give him shit every day, but she’s the first person to teach him what being loved feels like, and it makes him better. He’s less cruel, less quick to anger, less selfish. But Steve knows he isn’t completely kind or patient in turn. He’s a fuck up. He’s nearly twenty three working for $4.50 in an hour with no degree and no prospects and— 

“Hey,” you say, setting three tapes down on the desk. 

“Hey.” He clears his throat. “Is this everything?” 

You look vaguely embarrassed to ask, “Do you guys still do the bags of popcorn, do you know?” 

“Sure, they’re by the window, let me just–”

“That’s okay, I’ll get it.” 

You speed walk for the popcorn. Steve finds himself with a weirdly dry mouth as you reach for one, swallowing hard as you make your way back. It’s just the one bag of popcorn after all. Eddie must’ve really pissed you off. 

Steve rings up your movies. The barcode on Pretty in Pink won’t work. He opens the window and starts to type it in with his keyboard. 

Outside, someone lays on the horn for three long beeps. 

“I’m real sorry about him,” you say, letting out a breathy, nearly-timid laugh. 

“Is he always like that?” 

“Every day of his life.” 

Steve works in customer service. He has mastered the art of the polite smile. “I don’t think you should put up with it. Nice girl like you,” he says lightly. 

“That’s what friends are for, right?” you say with chagrin. 

Steve glances over your shoulder. Just friends? Who the fuck would put up with Eddie voluntarily? Steve understands that love isn’t a choice, but if you’re not even kissing to soften the blow of things, you’re just crazy. 

He slides your tapes back to you. “How long did you want them for, just the one night?” 

“Two, please.” 

“Awesome, can I have a phone number and address?” 

You give them.

Steve uses his employee discount and doesn’t really know why as he clicks it out. “It’s four dollars when you’re ready.” 

You take the swing purse from your hip and clip it open, pulling out a ten dollar bill. “He’s not totally mean,” you say, “I know he seems rude. But that’s just his character.” 

“Sure.” 

You offer him the ten dollars, shifting around on your shoes, eyes over his shoulder toward the back. You seem a little put off by him. He really must’ve been mean to you. Maybe he laughed when Carol called you names. Maybe he ignored you as he put himself in Nancy Wheeler’s path. 

“Steve?” 

He looks up in surprise, still counting your change out. It should be easy, except he doesn’t have a five dollar bill in the register, and he had three one dollars, so he’s counting quarters he’ll have to apologise for. “Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He pauses. “I’m good. Why?” 

You gesture to your eye. “You have a cut. Did you get hurt?” 

“This? This is nothing. I threw Robin, you know Robin? Robin Buckley? She’s going to college, she actually already left, but I threw her a surprise going away party. When everybody yelled ’surprise’ she sort of panicked and her ring caught me.” He chews his lip. “Yeah, I’m fine though.” 

“Oh, shit. Eddie’s going to do this internship thing in Michigan at the end of the week, I hope he doesn’t get me with his rings when I give him his goodbye present.”

“Lot of rings.” 

“Right? He’ll blind me.” 

Steve startles both of you when he laughs heartily, grabbing the remainder of your change and shutting the register tightly. “Can’t let that happen.”

“So we both find ourselves without best friends for the autumn,” you say, holding out your hand for your change. “Maybe if you’re bored, you can call me. We can go to the movies or something.” 

“You’re serious?” 

“How else do you make friends?” you ask. “If you don’t wanna be my friend that’s fine, I’m putting you on the spot, just don’t call me, but my number’s in there.” 

“And when you come back to return the movies, and I still haven’t called, that won’t be awkward at all,” he says wryly, teasingly, enjoying the way your face has changed. He wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re flirting, but your smile is something else.

“So… call me?” you ask quietly, grabbing your movies, your popcorn, and waiting for an answer. 

Steve thinks that sounds more like a date being planned than a burgeoning friendship, and his grin probably shows that. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll call you. We’ll go to the movies.” 

You’re decidedly quick as you escape the store, rushing down off the curb and upto Eddie’s van. You open the door and climb in fast, Steve only hears a snippet of your conversation as Eddie turns the engine back on. 

“What the hell?”

“What?” 

“I fucking knew you had a crush on that jerk! Look at your face!” 

“Shut up, can we go?” you hiss. “This is why I didn’t get you any popcorn.”

“This is why you can't come to Michigan.” 

Steve presses the back of his hand to his cheek as the van leaves the parking lot. He’s hot as a burning hearth. Probably red as one too. God, who are you? Where have you been this entire time? You might’ve just saved Steve’s life. (Or, his social life.) 

—

I was curious and maybe this is like an au of the au and it’s not as cute as I wanted it to be but I think they’d accidentally trap themselves in the friends box for a while trying to survive being without their best friends together and Steve still falls slowly, I was gonna make this a bit longer but I thought I won’t bother unless it’s something people really want cos there’s a few requests I wanna do soon!! thank you for requesting

[fidenciocryptidcreechur]

Note: this is me just making a wonderland post about the canonical character in twisted wonderland based on translations, vignettes and manga. everyone has differing opinions and interpretations and I'm not gonna bicker about someone's version of Trey in their writing or their au.

I feel like some folks in twst fandom are realizing that canonical Trey isn't really like early/previous fandom Trey, who was characterized as a sweet completely normal bakerman who's also the heartslabyul mom, but instead of just going "oh yeah no, Trey can be petty and mischievous sometimes. usually in situations where there are others also being petty and mischievous while still keeping on top of his duties and engaging in his hobbies" some of the fandom seems to have swung to the other side of the spectrum and are like "oh? so trey has been living a lie this entire time! He actually HATES baking and he's got a ✨secret agenda✨ and he probably is a mastermind and is part of a heartslabyul shadow government!!!!"

And while i know that there's a good chance many are just being silly and making memes and jokes, i have seen the way fandom genuinely boils down characters and strips them of all nuance. Notable with the leech twins, sebek and rook who are all canonically dorks and goobers with their passions and interests in both the games and mangas. They're all intense but most are just awkward and passionate/invested in their interests. Like Sebek being boiled down to shouty malleus fanatic and ignore his various interests and hobbies. he can and will question Malleus notable in the recent chapters and also times when Malleus acts in a way that makes Sebek confused<- mainly in manga and vignettes. Like Floyd being boiled down to unhinged and unpredictable, when most of his actions and activities happen because he got bored of something being monotonous or tiring or repetitive and goes to look for something more interesting like drama or someone with strong reactions to mess with. Guy just gets bored and goes to look for something interesting. Or Rook who gets extremely invested in whatever is his current interest/passion to the point of ignoring everything else. Jade also does this. They're all goobers tbh. Just guys, just folks.

Trey Clover is also just a guy. He is just conflict avoidant tbh. Trey just wants to keep the peace, to make sure people aren't fighting, people are following the rules and aren't making messes. Like that's something he mentions often and that many of his actions reflect from how he checks in on all the students and makes sure they're following heartslabyul rules but doesn't tell Riddle about any rule breaks so as to keep peace, to holding back in activities so he doesn't draw attention and not mentioning stuff he might know specifically so that he doesn't get asked about it (notably when Jamil wants to read ancient texts and trey only reads it upon finding out it contained an ancient tooth paste recipe). He seeks convenience, peace and calm. He's not exactly a schemer, out to get something specific or complete some goal in life like those such as Jamil, Leona or Azul. He's also not necessarily someone solely attempting to coast by and only seek stimulus/fun like with Kalim and Cater.

He's not secretly cruel and not the secret mastermind behind heartslabyul. Yes, He's mischievous and sometimes petty. Notably he gets this way when other petty and mischievous people are around him and it's usually in response to those that were acting like that (messing with ace, messing with Jade, etc). He does care and he does look out for his dormmates and peers. Honestly if he truly didn't care about Riddle or Ace and Deuce then he really wouldn't have helped them, plus he doesn't necessarily go out of his way to help every person anyways. If he truly didn't care then he could've abandoned Riddle when he was at his lowest like the rest of the dorm, or even just let Ace and Deuce carry out their punishment instead of helping them bake tarts and pies to try to help out with Riddle's anger.

As for if he likes baking? Imma be real, that guy can't not like baking. If he hated baking then he's a masochist (joking) because fucker is baking everyday with a smile and trying get everyone to eat his baking and constantly sharing all the goodies he's made (genuine). He's baking constantly in both the game and in manga. There are so many instances where he bakes experimentally, he bakes recreationally or bakes for his dorm. There're so many instances where he just carries cupcakes and scones and cookies everywhere. He bakes some to share with his Science club members, shares some type of goody with every iteration of the Yuu's (mangas and game). He goes out of his way to buy new recipe books with his own money to bake more things. In one vignette he bought an entire recipe book specifically so he can learn to bake this one (1) type of dessert he saw once because he liked the way the dessert looked so much that he wanted to make it and went and BOUGHT AN ENTIRE NEW RECIPE BOOK just to make that one dessert. That guy likes to bake. Yeah sure, he says "i don't bake with love 😏" but that doesn't mean anything in the context of NRC which is "emotionally repressed anti-feelings" central where nearly everyone can't be genuine and blunt with their feelings and emotions (even the more blunt and jovial characters have some deep sadness or deep trauma stuff that gets hinted at several times like with Cater, Kalim, Silver and Sebek). Folks in NRC are emotionally repressed and hate admitting connection with each other. Seriously, check out Yuurei20's post on how often the term "friend" is used in the original Japanese, there's very few canonical mentions of them calling each other friend EXCEPT WHEN ENGLISH TRANSLATION ADDED IT otherwise they don't normally actually acknowledge their connections and some never actually say friend at all. They'll call each other classmates or something but in JP they don't really like to acknowledge closeness.

Trey clearly likes to bake and invests a significant amount of time into it beyond just occasional cooking duty and he also shares his goods with practically everyone. Yeah sure he's from a family of bakers and I've seen some people say that "oh but he's just baking because of his family job" but it's not like they urgently need their son, who's in class and currently at the magic boarding school, to bake everyday for their baking needs and i guarantee that he doesn't need to go out of his way to get experimental with his baking and wouldn't bake that often if it's just cause of family business or practice. Plus if it's just that then why would he go out of his way to buy recipe books just cause he saw a single dessert that inspired him. He's not just baking for family business reasons. Trey likes to bake.

Honestly, I'm not surprised he says that he doesn't bake with love especially in a place like NRC. As mentioned earlier, everyone gets so weird and pressed about connection and also makes fun of each other for expressing care. Some even get anxious about another's intentions if given unasked for help (notable when Kalim helped Azul get his hat in the manga and Azul stresses about trying to repay this favor). Also baking is just a hobby, similar to crafting, drawing or writing and sometimes people just take satisfaction and joy in simply doing those things. When someone makes something, they don't always have to put in heartfelt feelings in it per se. When someone draws, sometimes it's cathartic or you just felt inspired and just wanted to draw. Sometimes it is specifically to destress or to get out feelings. Sometimes drawing is just because you can do it so you did. Similarly, baking can just be because you wanted to and you like baking. Plus it makes sense Trey wasn't like "i put all my love and feelings in my baking<3" because in the context of that line he seemed to be referencing baking for his peers and strangers. He's baking for people in his school or for events. So Honestly yeah??? Of course Trey wouldn't say he puts love in his baking. He's baking for his friends, for his club and for dorm stuff and also bakes experimental recipes. He isn't stirring that bowl of batter and going "now to put in all of my love and dedication <3" during those times because it would be kinda odd for most of those scenarios tbh. For experimental recipes, you're low-key kinda just fucking around and taking notes to see what works and i imagine trey would be doing the same and wouldn't be emotional over his bowl of batter during this time. For his club and dorm stuff, Trey isn't super close with EVERYONE in there and he's just trying to make sure there's enough so again fitting that he's not going "made with love". If he's making treats for his friends then he certainly tends to put in more effort, usually in regards to taste and diet (notable with vil and Cater as he tends to make things that they will actually like) and seems to like compliments on his cooking especially from those he's closer to. While he does put in that extra care which implies closer bonds, i do think most of the nrc boys would still be put off if trey was like "for you, made with love <3" (i think Ace would make fun of him so hard and even cater would be thrown for a loop). I will also note that in several vignettes as well as in several scenes in the manga, he gets genuinely put out if someone doesn't want to eat his cooking (notably in the manga if people were too busy to eat though this also happens in game) and in a few vignettes he even tries to adjust what he makes and what he pairs it with specifically so they will eat more of what he makes (notably with Vil and trying to make light desserts and pastries as well as pairing it with certain preferred teas) which to me shows he does put care and thoughtfulness into his baking even if he doesn't say it outright.

Long story short: Trey is not uncaring (he looks out for his dormmates and friends even baking treats specifically for their taste when he can), he likes baking (he wouldn't be so invested in trying new recipes, looking for inspiration or going out of his way to experiment with his baking if he wasn't), he's not really scheming so much as he's trying to keep the peace and avoid conflict to the point of either keeping quiet, thwarting shenanigans (notably with ace and deuce), or hiding his abilities (he's not like Azul, jamil or Leona who are aiming for top spot and in fact trey dislikes added fuss and dislikes the spotlight), and he's mischievous and petty at times though notably with those that are also mischievous or petty (he will mess with his younger dorm members though will try to stop them from actually messing up like with the oyster sauce joke for the chestnut tarts, and sometimes messes with others)

[kittenan]

Contract of Cravings

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Contractual Relationship AU

Word Count: ~8k+

Warnings: Explicit smut (18+), unprotected sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), dirty talk, light dom/sub dynamics, spanking, overstimulation, phone/video call sex, breeding kink, pregnancy, bickering, obsessive behavior, emotional chaos, detailed sexual content.

Summary: A contract meant for pleasure spirals into an all-consuming obsession. What started as a no-strings-attached arrangement with Jung Hoseok becomes a chaotic dance of desire, bickering, and unexpected love, culminating in a life-changing revelation.

The first time you met Jung Hoseok, it was at a dimly lit bar in Gangnam, the kind of place where the air was thick with expensive perfume and the promise of bad decisions. You were nursing a martini, your third of the night, after a brutal week at your corporate job. He was across the room, leaning against the bar, his tailored suit hugging his lean frame like it was made for him. His smile was disarming, all sunshine and mischief, and his eyes—God, those eyes—locked onto yours like you were the only person in the room.

You weren’t looking for anything serious. At 28, you’d sworn off relationships after a string of heartbreaks that left you jaded. But Hoseok? He was a walking temptation, and you were too tipsy to care about consequences.

He sauntered over, his movements fluid, like he was dancing to a beat only he could hear. “Is that martini doing you justice, or should I order you something better?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You smirked, swirling the olive in your glass. “Depends. Can you keep up with me?”

His laugh was infectious, bright and unfiltered. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”

That night, you talked for hours—about nothing and everything. He was a choreographer, he said, working with K-pop idols and international artists. His passion for dance spilled into every word, his hands gesturing wildly as he described his latest project. You told him about your soul-sucking job as a marketing analyst, how you craved something more but didn’t know what. The conversation flowed effortlessly, laced with flirtation and just enough tension to make your skin tingle.

By 2 a.m., you were in the backseat of a taxi, his lips on yours, his hands roaming under your dress. The kiss was desperate, all teeth and tongue, like you’d both been starving for it. You ended up at his penthouse, a sleek space with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of Seoul’s glittering skyline. Clothes hit the floor before you even made it to the bedroom.

That first night was a blur of heat and need. Hoseok fucked you like he was claiming you, his body moving with the same precision he used in his choreography. Every thrust, every touch, was deliberate, designed to unravel you. You came undone on his tongue, his fingers, his cock, until you were a trembling mess beneath him, begging for more.

When you woke up the next morning, tangled in his sheets, you expected awkwardness. Instead, he was making coffee in the kitchen, shirtless, his sweatpants slung low on his hips. “Stay for breakfast,” he said, flashing that infuriatingly charming smile. “I make a mean omelette.”

You stayed. And that was the beginning.

It wasn’t supposed to be more than a one-night stand. But Hoseok texted you the next day, a playful message about how he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moaned his name. You met up again, and again, and soon it was a regular thing—late-night hookups, stolen moments in his studio, quickies in your apartment. The chemistry was electric, undeniable, but neither of you wanted the baggage of a real relationship.

One night, sprawled across his couch after a particularly intense session, you broached the idea. “What if we made this… official? But, like, without the feelings part.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, his brow furrowed. “What, like a contract?”

“Exactly,” you said, sitting up. “We keep doing this—fucking each other’s brains out—but no commitments, no labels. Just… pleasure.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You smirked. “So, you in?”

He leaned in, kissing you hard, his hand slipping between your thighs. “I’m in, baby. But you better be ready for me.”

The “contract” was simple, scribbled on a napkin for laughs:

1. Fuck whenever, wherever, as long as both parties consent. 2. No catching feelings. 3. No exclusivity, but no sleeping with others without communication. 4. Either party can end it, no questions asked.

You both signed it, giggling like idiots, then sealed it with a kiss that turned into another round on his living room floor. The napkin ended up framed on his wall, a tongue-in-cheek reminder of your arrangement.

Living with Hoseok was a whirlwind. A month into the contract, he suggested you move into his penthouse. “It’s practical,” he argued. “We’re fucking all the time anyway. Save you the rent.”

You hesitated, wary of blurring lines, but the logic—and the promise of his body every night—won out. You moved in, and the penthouse was more than a home; it was a canvas for your relentless desire, every corner marked by the heat of your bodies and the echo of your gasps. The boundaries of your contract with Jung Hoseok blurred in the haze of lust, and the spaces you shared became sacred in their debauchery.

The Kitchen Counter

It was 3 a.m., the witching hour, when the world was quiet but your hunger for each other roared. You’d woken up restless, padding to the kitchen for a glass of water, your silk slip clinging to your skin. Hoseok followed, his presence a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist. He found you leaning against the marble counter, the city lights spilling through the window, casting shadows over your curves.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, his bare torso gleaming in the dim light. He wore only loose sweatpants, slung low enough to reveal the sharp V of his hips.

You smirked, setting the glass down. “Not when you’re in my head.”

He closed the distance, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against him. “Good. I like being there.” His lips crashed into yours, a kiss that was all fire and need, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owned it. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He spun you around, pressing your stomach against the cold marble, your slip riding up as he yanked it to your waist. “Fuck, you look so good like this,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You arched back, feeling the heat of him through his sweatpants, his erection pressing against your ass.

“Hoseok, please,” you whimpered, already soaked, your body begging for him.

He didn’t make you wait. He tugged your panties down, letting them pool at your ankles, and freed himself from his sweatpants. His cock was hard, glistening, and he teased you with it, sliding it along your folds, coating himself in your slickness. “So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Stop teasing,” you snapped, pushing back against him.

He chuckled, low and dark, then thrust into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. You cried out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the counter, the marble biting into your palms. He set a brutal pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that mirrored his dance. His hands held you in place, one sliding up to grip your shoulder, the other digging into your hip, anchoring you as he fucked you senseless.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, leaning forward to bite the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth sending sparks of pain and pleasure through you. The angle shifted, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, and you screamed his name, your body trembling.

“Come for me, baby,” he commanded, his hand slipping around to rub tight circles on your clit. It was too much—the stretch of him, the pressure on your clit, the heat of his breath against your ear. You shattered, your orgasm crashing through you, your walls clenching around him as you sobbed his name. He followed moments later, his thrusts erratic, spilling inside you with a guttural moan, his body shuddering against yours.

You stayed there, panting, your bodies slick with sweat, the counter cold against your cheek. He kissed your shoulder, soft and reverent, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered, and you laughed, breathless, your heart pounding with something you refused to name.

The Shower

The next evening, after a long day of bickering over whose turn it was to clean the dishes, you found solace in the shower. The glass enclosure was a sanctuary, the hot water cascading over your skin, washing away the tension. You didn’t hear Hoseok enter, but you felt him, his presence electric as he stepped in behind you, his naked body pressing against yours.

“Thought I’d join you,” he said, his lips brushing your ear, his hands sliding over your wet skin, tracing the curve of your waist.

You turned, smirking, the water plastering your hair to your face. “You just want to get me dirty again.”

“Guilty,” he grinned, his eyes dark with want. He kissed you, slow and deep, the water mingling with the taste of him, his hands cupping your face like you were something precious. But the tenderness didn’t last. The kiss grew hungrier, more desperate, and you sank to your knees, the tiles hard against your skin, the water streaming over you.

His cock was already hard, thick and heavy, and you looked up at him, meeting his gaze as you licked a slow stripe along the underside. He groaned, his head tipping back, one hand bracing against the glass. “Fuck, baby, don’t tease.”

You didn’t. You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around him, your tongue swirling over the tip. He tasted of salt and him, and you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, your hand wrapping around the base to stroke what your mouth couldn’t reach. His moans were music, raw and unfiltered, his hips twitching as he fought not to thrust too hard.

“Look at you,” he panted, his hand tangling in your wet hair, guiding your movements. “So fucking perfect, taking me like that.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him curse, his grip tightening. You worked him with your mouth and hand, slow then fast, teasing the head before taking him deep, your throat relaxing to accommodate him. The water made it messy, slick and sloppy, but you didn’t care. You wanted him undone, wanted to feel him lose control.

He warned you, his voice strained. “Gonna come, baby—fuck—” You didn’t pull away, doubling your efforts, your eyes locked on his as he came, hot and thick, spilling down your throat. You swallowed, licking him clean, savoring the way he trembled, his breaths ragged.

He pulled you up, kissing you fiercely, tasting himself on your tongue. “You’re fucking unreal,” he murmured, and you grinned, your body buzzing with pride and need.

The Balcony

The balcony was your favorite, a private oasis above Seoul’s glittering skyline. One night, after too much wine and laughter, Hoseok led you outside, the air cool against your heated skin. You wore only his oversized shirt, the hem barely covering your thighs, and he looked at you like you were his entire world.

“Out here?” you teased, leaning against the railing, the city sprawling below, the stars above.

“Out here,” he confirmed, his voice low, his hands already lifting the shirt, baring you to the night. He dropped to his knees, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh, and you shivered, not from the cold but from the promise in his touch.

He spread your legs, hooking one over his shoulder, his hands gripping your ass to hold you steady. His mouth was on you before you could brace yourself, his tongue lapping at your folds, slow and deliberate, savoring you. You gasped, your hands clutching the railing, the metal cool under your palms.

“Hoseok,” you moaned, your voice carrying into the night, unashamed. He hummed against you, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure through you, his tongue circling your clit with maddening precision. He knew exactly how to unravel you, alternating between soft licks and hard sucks, his fingers slipping inside you, curling to hit that perfect spot.

The city lights blurred, the stars spun, and all you could feel was him—his mouth, his fingers, his breath. Your moans grew louder, reckless, echoing into the Seoul night as he drove you higher, relentless in his worship. When you came, it was explosive, your body shaking, your cries raw and desperate. He didn’t stop, lapping at you until you were oversensitive, begging him to stop, to keep going, your mind a haze of pleasure.

He stood, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “You’re fucking addictive,” he said, and you pulled him closer, needing more, always more.

Hoseok’s business trips were a special kind of torture. When he was gone, the penthouse transformed from a vibrant, chaotic haven into a hollow shell, stripped of his infectious laughter, his scattered dance shoes, and the warmth of his presence. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the hum of the city below, and it gnawed at you. You hated the ache that settled in your chest, a longing that went beyond the physical need for his touch. It was the absence of his energy, his teasing grin, the way he’d hum off-key while making coffee. You missed him in ways that made your heart clench, and you loathed admitting it, even to yourself.

The first time he called from Tokyo, you were sprawled across his king-sized bed, drowning in one of his oversized shirts, the fabric smelling faintly of his cologne—citrus and cedar, a scent that made your stomach flip. It was late, the Seoul skyline glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and you were restless, your body thrumming with unmet need. The phone buzzed on the nightstand, his name lighting up the screen, and your heart skipped despite your best efforts to play it cool.

“Miss me?” Hoseok’s voice was husky, laced with that playful edge that always made your pulse race. You could hear the faint hum of his hotel room, the distant sound of Tokyo’s nightlife filtering through an open window.

“Nope,” you lied, your voice teasing, your fingers already toying with the hem of his shirt, tracing the edge where it brushed your thighs. The fabric was soft, worn, and it felt like a poor substitute for his skin.

“Liar,” he shot back, his chuckle low and knowing. “What’re you wearing?”

You smirked, leaning back against the pillows, the phone pressed to your ear. “Your shirt. Nothing else.”

He groaned, the sound raw and unfiltered, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “Fuck, baby. You’re killing me.” His voice dropped, darker, more commanding. “Touch yourself. Tell me how it feels.”

Your breath hitched, your body responding before your mind could catch up. You slid your hand under the shirt, your fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teasing yourself, drawing out the anticipation. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice already breathy. “I’m touching my thighs… soft, warm. Wish it was your hands.”

“God, I wish that too,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “Keep going. Tell me everything.”

You obeyed, your fingers slipping higher, brushing over your folds, already slick with arousal. “I’m… wet,” you said, your voice trembling with need. “So wet for you, Hobi. I’m rubbing slow circles on my clit, just like you do.”

He moaned, the sound low and guttural, and you could hear the faint rustle of fabric, the slick sound of his hand moving over himself. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Imagine it’s me, my fingers on you, my tongue. How’s it feel?”

“So good,” you gasped, your fingers moving faster, dipping inside yourself, your hips bucking against your hand. “But it’s not enough. I need you, Hobi. Need your cock inside me.”

“Shit,” he hissed, his breaths ragged, the sound of him stroking himself growing faster, more desperate. “I’d fuck you so hard right now, baby. Pin you to that bed, make you scream my name. Keep touching yourself. Fuck your fingers, pretend it’s me.”

You did, sliding two fingers inside, curling them to hit that spot that made you see stars. Your moans filled the room, mingling with his through the phone, a symphony of desperation. “Hoseok, I’m so close,” you whimpered, your thumb circling your clit, your body trembling.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice tight, on the edge. “Let me hear you, baby.”

You shattered, your orgasm crashing through you, your walls clenching around your fingers as you cried his name, your voice raw and needy. His moans followed, broken and desperate, his breath hitching as he came, the sound of his pleasure pushing you even higher. You lay there, panting, your body slick with sweat, the phone still pressed to your ear.

“Fuck, I miss you,” he said, his voice soft now, vulnerable, and you pretended you didn’t hear the weight behind it, the emotion that threatened to crack your carefully built walls.

“Miss you too,” you whispered, before you could stop yourself, and hung up quickly, your heart pounding with something you weren’t ready to name.

Video calls were a different beast, a cruel tease that made the distance feel sharper. One night, a week into his trip, he called from his hotel room in LA, the screen lighting up with his face—shirtless, hair messy from running his hands through it, his eyes dark with a hunger that mirrored your own. He was sprawled on the bed, the city’s glow spilling through the window, and the sight of him, all lean muscle and heated gaze, made your mouth dry.

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice low, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You look too good in my shirt.”

You grinned, angling the phone to show you were wearing another of his tees, the fabric barely covering your thighs as you sat cross-legged on the bed. “It’s all I’ve got of you right now,” you teased, your voice laced with longing.

“Not for long,” he said, his smirk widening. He propped his phone on a pillow, giving you a full view of his body, his hand already trailing down his chest, over the taut planes of his abs, to the waistband of his boxers. “Wanna play?”

Your breath caught, heat pooling in your core. “Always,” you said, shifting to mirror him, your fingers brushing the hem of the shirt, lifting it to reveal the lace of your panties.

His eyes darkened, his hand slipping beneath his boxers, freeing his cock—hard, glistening with precum, the sight making you ache. “Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, stroking himself slowly, his hips bucking slightly. “Wish this was you, baby. Wish I was fucking you right now.”

You moaned, your hand slipping beneath your panties, your fingers finding your clit, already swollen with need. “Me too,” you gasped, your other hand pushing the shirt up to expose your breasts, your nipples hardening under his gaze. “I’m so wet, Hobi. Thinking about you all day.”

“Show me,” he growled, his strokes growing faster, his eyes locked on the screen. You angled the phone lower, spreading your legs to give him a view as you pushed your panties aside, your fingers sliding through your slick folds, dipping inside yourself. His groan was visceral, his hand moving faster, his cock twitching in his grip.

You matched his rhythm, riding a pillow you’d grabbed from the bed, the friction against your core sending sparks through you. Your moans mingled with his through the screen, the sound of his voice, his ragged breaths, driving you wild. “Hoseok, I need you,” you whined, your hips grinding harder, your fingers circling your clit in time with his strokes.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he panted, his voice breaking. “Gonna fuck you so good when I’m back, baby. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your name.”

The promise pushed you over the edge, your orgasm hitting like a tidal wave, your body shaking as you cried his name, your moans echoing in the empty penthouse. He followed, his hips jerking, his cock pulsing as he came, thick ropes spilling over his hand, his groans raw and desperate.

You both stayed there, breathless, the screen a fragile tether between you. “Not enough,” you whispered, your voice small, and he nodded, his eyes soft with something unspoken.

“Never enough,” he agreed, and you both hung up, the ache in your chest sharper than ever.

When Hoseok finally returned, the air crackled with anticipation. You’d been counting the hours, your body buzzing with need, your heart traitorously loud in its longing. The moment you heard the key in the lock, you were on your feet, pacing the foyer like a caged animal. The door swung open, and there he was—tired, disheveled, but so fucking beautiful, his grin bright enough to light up the room.

He barely had time to drop his bags before you were on him, your hands tearing at his jacket, your lips crashing into his with a desperation that bordered on feral. “Fuck, I missed you,” you gasped against his mouth, your fingers clawing at his shirt, pulling it over his head.

He groaned, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you against him as he kicked the door shut. “Missed you more,” he murmured, his voice rough, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. You didn’t care. You wanted him to mark you, to claim you, to erase the weeks of distance.

He backed you against the door, the wood cool against your back, your legs wrapping around his waist. His kisses were frantic, all teeth and tongue, his hands roaming under your shirt—his shirt—cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples until you moaned. “Need you now,” you begged, your hands fumbling with his belt, freeing him from his jeans.

He didn’t hesitate, yanking your panties down, his fingers brushing your folds, finding you soaked. “Fuck, baby, you’re dripping,” he growled, his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you for a moment before he thrust in, hard and deep.

You screamed, your nails digging into his shoulders, the stretch of him filling you perfectly, like he was made for you. He set a punishing pace, each thrust slamming you against the door, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the penthouse. It was hard, fast, desperate, no time for foreplay, no patience for anything but this.

“Missed this,” he panted, his lips brushing your ear, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place. “Missed you.”

You couldn’t respond, too lost in the feel of him, the way he hit that spot inside you with every thrust, the way his pelvis ground against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. Your orgasm hit fast, a white-hot explosion that left you trembling, your walls clenching around him as you sobbed his name. He followed, his thrusts erratic, spilling inside you with a groan that vibrated through you both.

You stayed there, pinned against the door, your bodies slick with sweat, his forehead resting against yours. “Missed you,” he whispered again, softer now, and you pretended you didn’t hear the weight in his words, the love that lingered beneath them. You kissed him instead, slow and deep, your heart pounding with a truth you weren’t ready to face.

The contract was supposed to keep things simple, but it was anything but. You couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop wanting him, needing him, craving the way he made you feel. It wasn’t just the sex—though that was mind-blowing. It was the way he looked at you, like you were his entire world. The way he held you after, his arms tight around you, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

You started noticing little things. The way his eyes softened when you laughed. The way he’d kiss your forehead when he thought you were asleep. The way he’d linger in the doorway, watching you work, a small smile on his lips. It scared you, how much you liked it. How much you wanted more.

One night, you were lying in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers tangled through his hair. “Hoseok,” you said softly, your heart pounding. “What are we doing?”

He stilled, then looked up at you, his eyes searching. “Whatever we want,” he said, but his voice was unsteady.

You wanted to push, to ask what he meant, but fear stopped you. Instead, you kissed him, slow and deep, pouring everything you couldn’t say into it. He responded with a hunger that matched your own, his hands roaming, his body pressing closer. That night, you made love—not fucked—slowly, deliberately, every touch a confession neither of you would voice.

It came to a head during a rare moment of calm. You were cooking dinner together, a rare domestic scene, when he accidentally knocked over a glass of wine. It shattered on the floor, red liquid pooling like blood.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing a towel.

“It’s fine,” you snapped, sharper than you meant. You were on edge, the unspoken tension between you fraying your nerves.

He looked at you, hurt flashing in his eyes. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” you shot back. “Maybe it’s the fact that we’re pretending this is normal when it’s not!”

He froze, the towel dangling from his hand. “What do you mean?”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “This! Us! We’re fucking obsessed with each other, Hoseok. We live together, we fuck every chance we get, we act like a couple, but we’re not. What the hell are we?”

He stepped closer, his voice low. “You’re the one who wanted no labels. You wanted the contract.”

“And you signed it!” you yelled, tears pricking your eyes. “But now I don’t know what I want anymore, and it’s fucking terrifying!”

He dropped the towel, pulling you into his arms. “Hey, hey, breathe. I’m scared too, okay? I’m fucking terrified because I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing. “What are you saying?”

He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I’m saying I love you, you idiot. I’ve loved you for months, contract or no contract.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave. You wanted to run, to hide, but his eyes held you in place. “Hoseok…”

“You don’t have to say it back,” he said quickly. “Just… don’t leave. Please.”

You didn’t leave. Instead, you kissed him, your hands trembling as you clung to him. The sex that night was different—raw, emotional, a tangle of limbs and whispered confessions. When you came, tears streamed down your face, and he kissed them away, holding you like you were his everything.

For weeks, you carried the secret like a stone in your chest, its weight growing heavier with each passing day. The pregnancy test, hidden in the back of your bathroom drawer, had confirmed it one quiet morning—two pink lines that shifted the axis of your world. You hadn’t told Hoseok. The contract, the fragile love you’d only begun to embrace, the fear of upending everything—it all kept you silent. You wanted to protect this thing between you, to hold it close until you could make sense of the chaos it unleashed inside you. But your body had other plans.

It was a Sunday evening, the penthouse bathed in the golden glow of dusk, the Seoul skyline a quiet backdrop. You and Hoseok were in the kitchen, a rare moment of domesticity as you chopped vegetables for dinner, his playlist humming softly in the background. He was behind you, arms loosely around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, teasing you about your knife skills. “You’re gonna lose a finger if you keep chopping like that,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, his voice warm with laughter.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into him, savoring the solid heat of his body. “Says the guy who burns toast.”

He chuckled, kissing your neck, and for a moment, everything felt perfect—too perfect, like the calm before a storm. Then it hit: a wave of nausea, sharper than the usual morning sickness you’d been hiding, followed by a dizzying rush that made the room tilt. Your grip on the knife faltered, the blade clattering to the counter, and you swayed, your vision spotting with black.

“Y/N?” Hoseok’s voice was sharp, his arms tightening around you as you slumped against him, your legs buckling. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You tried to speak, to brush it off, but your tongue felt heavy, your thoughts sluggish. The world narrowed to the pounding in your head, the frantic beat of your heart, and then—nothing. You collapsed in his arms, your body limp, the kitchen fading into darkness.

When you came to senses, you were on the couch, Hoseok kneeling beside you, his face pale, his eyes wide with a fear you’d never seen before. His hands were on your face, trembling as he brushed your hair back, his voice low and urgent. “Y/N, come on, talk to me. What happened? You’re scaring me.”

Your mouth was dry, your head throbbing, but the sight of him—so undone, so raw—cracked something open inside you. “I’m okay,” you croaked, reaching for his hand, your fingers weak but desperate to reassure him. “Just… dizzy.”

“Dizzy?” His voice rose, edged with panic. “You fucking collapsed, Y/N. That’s not okay. We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

“No, wait,” you said, gripping his hand tighter, your heart racing. You couldn’t let him take you there, not yet, not when they’d find out and the truth would spill before you were ready. But his eyes, dark with worry, held yours, and you knew you couldn’t keep it from him any longer. The secret was choking you, and he deserved to know.

“Hoseok,” you whispered, your voice breaking, tears prickling your eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

He froze, his hand stilling on your cheek, his brow furrowing. “What is it?”

You swallowed, the words heavy, terrifying, but inevitable. “I’m pregnant.” Your voice was barely audible, but it hit the air like a thunderclap. “I’ve known for a few weeks. I… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for you to take it back. Then his breath hitched, his hand dropping to your stomach, his touch tentative, like he was afraid to believe it. “Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice soft, almost reverent. “You’re… we’re having a baby?”

You nodded, tears spilling over, your chest tight with fear and hope and everything in between. “I was scared, Hobi. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t know if you’d want this, if we were ready—”

“Scared?” he cut you off, his voice cracking, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” He pulled you into his arms, careful but fierce, like you were the most precious thing in the world. “I thought you were sick, thought I was losing you.” His voice broke, his face buried in your hair, his hands trembling as they held you close.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shirt. “I didn’t want to ruin us. I love you, and I was so afraid this would change everything.”

He pulled back, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “Ruin us?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Y/N, you’re everything to me. This—” his hand slid to your stomach, soft and protective, “—this is us. Our baby. I want this. I want you. I want it all.”

The weight of his words, the love in his eyes, unraveled you. You laughed through your tears, a shaky, relieved sound, and he smiled, bright and blinding, like the sun breaking through clouds. “We’re having a baby,” he said again, as if testing the words, his voice filled with wonder.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your hand covering his on your stomach. “We are.”

He kissed you, slow and deep, pouring every unspoken promise into it, his lips tasting of salt and hope. Then he pulled back, his forehead against yours, his voice low and fierce. “Marry me. Not just because of the baby, but because I can’t imagine my life without you. Contract or not, you’re my forever.”

You searched his eyes, seeing the truth, the depth of his love, and your heart answered before your mind could catch up. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears. “Yes, Hobi.”

The wedding was intimate, a small gathering of friends, the framed napkin from your contract hung in your new home as a reminder of the wild, messy journey that brought you here. The pregnancy was a rollercoaster—sickness, cravings, moments of doubt—but Hoseok was your constant, holding your hand, kissing your fears away, his excitement for your future infectious.

When your daughter was born, with Hoseok’s bright eyes and your stubborn smile, you looked at him, exhausted but whole, and knew this was real. The contract had been a spark, but this—love, family, forever—was the fire that would burn eternal.

A/N: For my Tumblr readers, I hope this warmed your hearts. Hoseok’s sunshine and spice are a lethal combo, and I poured all my love into this. Let me know your thoughts, and stay thirsty for more! 😘

Taglist: @the-djarin-clan . @btsstraykidsateez . @jeonjamiekim . @moonjinniecafe  . @minpdrecs . @mindurbuzznezz . @bontensbabygirl . @this-most-assuredly-counts

[harbours-lighthouse]

YOU KISSED THE CONCRETE

— PAIRING: Jason Todd x F!Reader

— A/N: I was going through my mess of a writing document (it's not that bad actually) and found this small piece. I believe this was connected to an AU I was originally writing, but never got around to finishing. It's a small interaction between the reader and Jason, and is open for interpretation. Whether or not I'll come back to this and create an actual storyline is unknown, but I invite anyone to use this as inspiration for something they might come up with (tag me if you do!) Hope you enjoy!

Smoke hazes the air in a grey sheen, and the fires burning inside barrels lick and simmer upward. It’s a horrible combination of coldness and unbearable heat, the scent of pig blood thick enough to taste. Watching butchers with stained aprons lug around thick limbs of animal meat over their shoulders, delivery boys hefting off crates from the open vans, and the odd passerby with a coat that’s far too nice, you wonder how Jason ever ended up here. 

Stuffing your hands into your coat pockets, you wait patiently on the edge of the curb. The tips of your boots hover above the asphalt, your heels dig into the cement, and you wonder if you could root yourself deeply into this city, or let the ashen wind take you away before the raven-haired man ever sees you.

You do this a lot: wondering. You’re half-convinced you live more inside your head than your own body, and the thought rudely snaps you back into reality as a taxi cab cruises past; tires leaving behind a gust of wind that flutters your coat. 

Blinking rapidly, you scan the street with a lip worried between your teeth, before your breath catches as a familiar figure stalks out of the darkened doorway of the butchery. Legs loose and arms strained as he carries a large, heavy paper bag, you watch as Jason carries the package to an open truck, shouting words you can’t hear to the lanky worker that takes it from him and hauls it into the shadowed interior.

It’s fascinating, seeing him in such an environment, but you suppose it’s not anything new to him. This was a dirty part of Gotham, a scene of its grime and sweaty labour that no socialite ever mentions in their charity events, and you know that Jason was born in the heart of Gotham. This could pass as domestic for the hardened boy. 

Inhaling deeply, and feeling the sting of exhaust fumes in your nostrils, you quickly cross the street and walk towards him. Eyes set on the broad slope of his shoulders as he speaks to another man, hands stiff at his sides. 

For a moment, you hesitate. Standing behind him with a flighty feeling in your chest. There’s no going back. He’ll turn around at any moment, so you clear your throat. 

“Jason?”

You see his neck visibly tense as he glances your way, eyes widening by a fraction. He swiftly looks back at the man he’d been previously speaking to, but the worker is already walking away with heavy footsteps. Jason turns to you fully, brows bunched in agitation.

“What’re you doing here?” 

His voice is deep—deeper than you remember—and it sends an awkward lurch in your heart; a painful reminder that he’s not the boy you knew long ago. You shrug lightly, smile weak.

“Looking for you. Why else?” 

Something tenses—his jaw, you think—and the crease between his brows deepens. 

“What do you want?” He asks, arms crossing over his chest. The sleeves of his shirt are loose, and you imagine it’s to hide the physique he carries. Not many butchers get ridiculously buff simply by hacking up meat or lugging crates. 

You sigh softly, shifting on your feet. “Very polite…listen, Bru—”

“No.” 

Blinking at his instant refusal, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts again before you’re sagging tiredly, muttering. “Jason, please—” 

The green in his eyes hardens to jade, cold and impenetrable. “I said, no.” 

Your chin dips. You knew this would happen.

“I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important,” you say earnestly. 

That makes him pause, and he trades his weight on his hips, glancing away with a rapid blink down the street. You can see the way the muscle in his jaw is working, and you stand stiffly while waiting for him to speak. You hope that the look in your eyes, the heat of your gaze on the side of his face, might persuade him to give in. 

Eventually, he says in a quieter tone. “...what does he want?”

“Your help,” you answer, bringing a hand to rub at your temple. “But he can’t get in contact with you, so—”

He scoffs harshly, nodding his head. “So he sent you to talk to me. Yeah, go figure—” 

“It’s one job, Jay. Just one.”

“Yeah? And then it’s gonna be two, and then three, and then he’s gonna be asking me over for family dinner.” 

You’re near desperate now, and you hope that he can see it when he rips his gaze away from the crowded, moving street to you again. You have the feeling that you’re sitting in the middle of an anthill—too many bodies moving around you while the two of you remain idle—you cross your arms against the chill. 

“That wouldn’t be so bad, y’know…” Your voice barely carries in the space between you, and you're sure that, if there wasn't the heat that pulses from the burning barrels, your words would have frozen and fallen to his feet. And he would crush them.

Something sad flashes in Jason’s eyes, but you don't quite catch it. You’ve never been able to. His voice softens when he speaks again, like he's trying to convince a crying toddler that it's not a good idea to chew on lego pieces. 

“It would be, sweetheart. You know it will,” he murmurs. 

You want to yell, a steady throb of dull pain beginning to make itself known at the back of your skull. You sigh heavily through your nose, glancing up at him. 

“Jason…just help me here with this,” you say quietly, hands lifting in weak, desperate gesture. “I’m tired, too. But Bruce is persistent, and he’s certain he needs you on this.” 

There's a beat of silence as his gaze carefully roves across your face, flickering between your eyes as if to find something that diminishes the wariness in your tone. The sincerity behind your exhaustion. 

“Yeah—okay. Sure.” 

Your chest constricts with silent surprise. Did he just…agree? With you? To help Bruce? You might as well call it a miracle with the state his and the billionaire's relationship is in. You bite the inside of your cheek, containing the burst of relief that floods through you. 

“Cool. That’s…” you mumble, nodding, as if to confirm a business deal. You inwardly cringe at how awkward you sound. “Yeah. Thank you, I appreciate it.” 

Jason brings a hand to rub at the base of his neck, eyes flitting to the butcher's store front. People continue to weave around the both of you, splitting like water as the two of you stand like stones in a river.

“I should get back to work," he says quietly, stony eyes flitting back to you. You look tense, eyes distant.

"Yeah, that would…that would be best," you reply, and a heavy feeling starts to form inside your chest like a pebble sitting between your lungs—you don't feel like you should leave yet, but you know you have to.

Taking a step back, you shove your hands into your pockets, pushing out a breath that tremors in a way you don't want it to.

"I'll call you, okay?" you say, though it sounds more like an offer, like there's something else hiding behind what your words mean.

I miss you. I want to talk to you.

Jason's lips press into a thin line, raven-feathered hair sticking up as the wind shoves itself down the street like an invisible wave, thick with smoke and sweat.

You nearly miss the short nod Jason gives you, and the sweat lingering along his hairline makes him look nervous. A part of you wonders if he's feeling the same fluttering in his pulse as you do.

Swallowing the saliva and awkwardness pooling inside your mouth like thick molasses, you take another two steps backward, wondering if lingering might push him to say anything else.

You see his brows furrow, eyes snapping up to you before narrowing.

"You don't have my number?"

A rushed breath escapes past your lips before you can contain it. With cold fingers, you pull out your phone from your coat pocket, holding it up like a trophy. It glints beneath the sky's iron glow, winking as if it holds secrets.

"I have my ways, Jay," you say, voice barely carrying over the noise in the street.

Jason's head tilts, and your heart clenches at the subtle curl of his lips, the faint comma dimpling his cheek like a quiet whisper. He nods as if he's submitted to your game, a gentle flash of pearl white teeth the only true gift you've gotten in years.

Biting back a grin, you turn away from Jason, feet carrying you across the road.

The noise of the street fades, and the ash stuck inside your nose burns. Something beats inside you, pulsing like adrenaline but feeling much softer. A thought bursts to the front of your mind.

I'm going to call him.

Giddy is the only thing to describe how you feel now as you push past other pedestrians, dodging elbows and legs. You're not aware of a pair of sea-foam eyes watching you as your feet hit the curb and take you towards the T-section that'll bring you back to the less dark, less hazen streets of Lower-District Gotham.

And as you turn the corner, disappearing from sight, you're not aware either of the clenching of fists, and a heart that thuds against ribs with the knowledge that you found him. Talked to him, and promised that you would later.

Jason's boss asks him later that day why there's a lightness to his face, a spring in his step.

"Bein' happy while you're workin' here's weird, kid. You got something waiting for ya after?"

"No, sir."

"Heh. Could'a fooled me."

Thank you for reading! God bless <3

tags: @kitkatlover015

top divider credit: @/saradika-graphics © harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au 3

authors note: well. this got freaky. some smut ahead, folks. this really is starting to feel like a completely different story, low key.

part one // part two // au solana instagram

warnings: smut

taglist: @sayyestoheav3nn @fearlesschimera @cyberdejos2 @annfg8 @trentybenty @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @zoeyybellex3

word count: 4.3k

"I need to talk to you."

Solana should have been talked to someone about this.

But, she's felt torn.

Torn on just who she can talk to about it.

And lack of options hasn't been the issue.

If anything, there's a copious amount of resources and trusted confidants she could go to. Courtesy of her large family, host of cousins, and other good friends.

It's actually easier to start with who would absolutely be the worst person to go to.

And her mom, interestingly enough, is that person. Ironic given how close she is to her madre. One of her best friends, in many ways.

But, not for this. Because Nina will go to Xavier, Solana's dad, and somehow Wes, Solana's brother, will get involved, and it'll just be a whole mess.

Beyond that, there's her cousins. Jade and Anriel will scold the living shit out of her and probably confide in their mom, Solana's aunt Sharmell, out of concern. Aunt Sharmell will go to her husband, Booker, who won't hesitate to literally fly out to Miami just to tell his brother, Xavier, Solana's dad. Thus, the whole damn family knowing.

Then there's her cousin, Roxanne. Roxanne would be great if not for her inability to hold water. And Solana definitely doesn't need her mom's side of the family knowing. They'll kidnap her and force her to live in Mexico for the rest of her life, believing she's gone mad.

Might not be too far off though.

Rhea will just kick her ass for being so 'fawkin stoopid'. Jaida will encourage it, because Jaida encourages all things questionable. But Kayden....Kayden could be the one.

She's also bound to not respond well, but still, someone Solana knows will ultimately keep this between the two of them.

Kayden Carter looks over at Solana with intrigue. With over 15 years of friendship, she knows when her roommate and best friend is truly in a dilemma, that nervous, panicked voice she typically uses present already. This is definitely one of those times.

"Okay." Kayden motions for Solana to sit down on the other end of the sofa, waiting until she does so to ask, "what's going on?"

Solana takes a deep breath, both hating and needing to share this. "You know the event I attended with my family this weekend?" Kayden nods. "I—I met someone there."

At that, Kayden lifts a pierced brow. "Oh?"

Solana looks away, explaining, "I was trying to get away from Ethan and ran into this man by accident, and he ended up helping me out. Pretending to be my date or whatever. It got Ethan to leave me alone, so that was good."

"Forget about Page's annoying ass, what about the man? Is he attractive?"

Solana scoffs. "Very." She's not quite sure how to describe just how fine Roman Reigns is. "But—"

Kayden's expression sours. "He's an asshole, isn't he?"

"Notorious." Though Solana does her best to stay tucked away in her little corner of the world within that's away from the mafia life, she's not stupid nor entirely disconnected. It's common knowledge that Roman is a dick.

And yet....

"But, he was nice to me. He's been nice to me." Kayden's expression shifts into confusion, Solana clarifying, "he—he came to my job this morning."

"Holy shit, he's serious about this." Kayden scoffs and smiles, clearly intrigued by the mystery of it all. "Wait, who is this guy, Sola?"

And now, here comes the part that Solana has been dreading since decided she would confide in Kayden. "It's....it's Roman."

Kayden blinks, not catching on. "Roman who?" And it's just one 'you know' look from Solana that has her eyes widening. "No." Solana closes her eyes. "Please tell me you're kidding." More silence provides the answer she's certain her roommate didn't and doesn't want to hear. "Roman fuckin' Reigns? Solana, have you lost your mind? Do you know who he is?"

Solana leans back into the sofa, murmuring, "of course."

"No, you must not, because this man is the devil himself. He's a monster, Solana. If you heard half the things he's done, you'd be running the opposite way. You'd be on the other side of the goddamn world to get away from him." Kayden continues to freak out, lecturing and chiding Solana for what she clearly feels is a bad call. "I just-I don't understand. Solana, you've always been so against our world. You've essentially lived in seclusion just because you don't want to be a part of it, and now you're entertaining the literal embodiment of said world?"

Solana runs her hands over her face. "It's not—it's not like that."

"Then tell me what it's like, because maybe I'm just confused, but I'm pretty sure you're telling me that you're talking to Roman Reigns?"

That's exactly what she is, but Solana is lost on just how to express that despite everything that's been said about this man, in the two interactions she's had with him, he's been nothing but kind. In his own way, of course.

"He....he hasn't been that way with me," she finds herself defending while also recognizing that it truly is a weak defense. "He's been....nice. He helped me out with Ethan. He came to see me at my job just to ask me out--"

"Wait, he already asked you out?" Kayden looks like she's about to spazz out even more. She shakes her head, taking a second to calm down. "Solana, you're my best friend, and I love you, but he's probably just trying to fuck you. You're gorgeous with a great body, and he obviously sees how innocent you are. It's just a chase."

It makes sense, and Roman more or less confirmed as such with his comment about wanting her with no clothes on. That should be enough evidence for her to find a way to ward off his advances.

But.....

There's this part of her that's absolutely intrigued by him, as he so smugly pointed out. A part of her that wouldn't mind to get to know him more. Even if it makes no damn sense to her.

"I can take care of myself." It doesn't come out as confident and assured as she would like it to be, nor is she entirely certain of her assertion herself, but it's expressed regardless. "I—I can handle this."

Kayden looks just as unsure as Solana feels. "Your family doesn't know, do they?"

"No." Her eyes widen a bit. "No one does, except you now. So please, please don't say anything to anyone." Solana needs to at least figure out just what's going on before she has to face the inevitable backlash from her family and others.

Kayden shakes her head. "You know I got you, girl. Even though I do think you're fuckin' crazy, you've always supported me in my fucked up relationships, so I'll do the same with you." Kayden suddenly gives her that teasing expression, poking her arm. "Besides, it's not like he's ugly, am I right?"

So right.

"I get so nervous around him," Solana whines, laying her head back against the sofa. "He's just so....he comes on so strong."

Kayden smirks, leaning over and playfully nudging. "He wants him some Sola, girl." She laughs as Solana covers her blushing face. "Who could blame him? You're gorgeous, babe."

It's such weird experience. Solana is still trying to heal and learn to love herself again after calling off her engagement, so a man like Roman Reigns coming into her life out of nowhere and being so intent on just....her....it's a lot to digest. Because taking away all of the things about him that make him dangerous and avoidant worthy, he's still, hands down, the most handsome man she's ever seen.

"So where are ya'll going?"

Solana bites down on her bottom lip. "He invited me to WarGames. Said he'll send a car for me."

There's obvious surprise on the face of her best friend. "First date is watching him beat the shit out of other men?" Kayden says aloud, nodding and shrugging. "It tracks." Solana rolls her eyes. "Well, what are you gonna wear?"

She shrugs, truly unsure when she remembers what he said. "Something....something red." Kayden is curious, as Solana shares a version of what Roman said. "He....he asked me to wear red."

Told. He told her to wear red, but Kayden doesn't need to know that part.

Smirking, Kayden nods, impressed almost. "Damn. He already wants you wearing Bloodline colors? First lady type shit." Solana grabs a pillow and throws it Kayden's way, her friend laughing and then gasping. "Holy shit, you have to wear that red dress I got you last year for your birthday!"

The mention of that little piece Solana swore would never see beyond the back of her closet has her eyes widening. "Kayden, no, I can't. That's way too revealing."

"That's the point, duh." Kayden tosses the pillow back and stands up off the sofa, pulling Solana up with her. She then looks over at Dulce who's been sleeping peacefully as her mama stumbles into one of the most questionable decision of her life. "Come on, Dulce. We gotta get mama ready to get dicked down."

"Kayden!"

--------

Solana is a nervous wreck.

She hasn't been this anxiety ridden since taking her NCLEX-RN, and that was a damn near traumatic experience.

This is literally just a date.

Kind of.

Cause she's never actually been on a date before where the man will be preoccupied the whole night.

But, she's also never been on a date with someone like Roman before either. It's just all around a brand new experience that has her so in her head. She's in it during the car ride and especially when she arrives at the Warehouse and is escorted to Roman's locker room.

She nearly has a heart attack when the door is opened and she expects to see him waiting, but it's postponed, God looking out for her, when she sees he's absent.

The security leave her alone without any guidance or clue as to just what she's supposed to do, so Solana takes that time to text Kayden and let her know she's arrived and that she's safe.

For now.

Not wanting to focus too much on the unknown of it all, she takes in his locker room which is much nicer than what's probably necessary. Craft table. Weights section. Sofa. Flat screen TV. A trainers table. The works, essentially.

It makes sense when she thinks about it.

Roman seems like a man who only accepts the finer things in life, if not the finest.

But, it's the section on the craft table with a bottle of wine that keeps snatching her attention.

Drinking is probably the last thing she needs to be doing, but that's exactly what she does.

She quickly grabs the bottle and and a wine glass, filling it up halfway before downing almost all of it. It's the perfect combination of sweet and bitter and hopefully helpful in taking some of this edge off.

"You sure don't disappoint, do you?"

It's a pure stroke of luck that she doesn't drop the glass in her hand at the rumble of his deep voice behind her. But, it's truly a miracle that both the glass and herself don't fall to the ground when she turns around to look at him.

Mio dios.

Roman is standing by the door, his hair down and clearly wet, water droplets sliding down his bare chest, Solana unable to take her eyes off his bulging muscles and the intricate tribal tattoos that somehow add to the magnanimity and beauty of this man. He's wearing black cargo pants tucked into black boots, with the sacred, red ula fala resting around his majestic neck.

Roman Reigns in a suit is one thing.

But Roman Reigns shirtless is something entirely different.

She's almost certain the ground underneath her shakes a bit, also deeply impacted by the god among mere mortal men.

If not for Roman initiating something beyond her embarrassing gawking. she would continue to stare. For a long time. A very long time.

He walks toward her, every step bringing her closer and closer to melting into the ground. This man is a giant. In every sense of the word.

But, it's when he takes his finger under her chin, lifting her head a little and has the audacity to say, "you can do more than just look, if you want" that Solana just about spontaneous combusts on the spot.

He's maybe said a total of 8 to 10 sentences to her in the entire time they've 'known' each other, yet even in the midst of that brevity, he still gives her more of a visceral, bodily reaction than her ex ever did.

"I—" Words are a thing of the past, something she was once capable of but not anymore. The sight of God himself has a tendency to rob anyone of the right to verbalization.

Roman chuckles, his other hand moving to her hip. "You listened."

Solana is certain it's her that's trembling and not the room around her. It takes her a minute to process he's referring to her dress. "You—you said wear red, didn't you?."

"I did." He acknowledges, once again giving her a one over as he bites on his bottom lip. "Good girl."

Oh, fuck.

Solana has to get the hell out of here. The room is freaking in shambles at this point.

Or, maybe that's just her.

She's a stuttering mess trying to communicate with this man. "I—you—probably have to get r—ready."

Roman smiles, and her entire world flutters. "Do I not look ready to you?"

Hardly. This man probably doesn't even know what it's like to be unready. Never experienced that. That's a mortal thing.

"No—I just.....S—sorry."

Similar to their last two interactions, Roman brings his hand to her back and tugs her into him. Solana, once again, places one hand on his chest, not even thinking about the fact that the water from his hair continues to dampen his body.

Until water hits her palm.

Solana is on fire. In all areas. She stammers out, feeling stupid as all the outdoors for stating the obvious. "You're wet...."

His gaze flicks to the space between her legs. "I'd bet you are too."

What the hell?

How is he so.....raw?

She absolutely refuses to move an inch, refuses to cause any kind of movement with her legs that could alert her to the fact that he's probably not wrong.

Not wrong at all.

If only Roman was on the same page.

"You are, aren't you?" His eyes narrow slightly, hand gradually starting to move down from the her back to the sizable swell of her ass. "I bet that pussy dripping for me already."

Solana's eyes shut, her nails clawing against his chest. "R—roman." Her breathing is labored, heart beating a mile per fucking minute, and that only intensifies when he squeezes her ass. Her natural reaction being to arch into him, her breast pressing against his solid body. "Oh my God....."

"God can't do for you what I can, sweetheart."

Blasphemy. Filth. Pure disrespect, and yet her head drops against his chest as he slides his hand to the front of her, wiggling it between her thighs.

Solana means to stop him, means to push him away, but her body seems to have a mind of its own, because she finds herself widening her stance, giving him all the access he needs.

The go ahead.

And he takes full advantage of that, Solana gasping loudly when he moves to cup her through her underwear. Her soaked underwear. "Dripping." He taunts, and it's true. Legs no longer mushed together, she absolutely feels the wetness dripping down, soaking her panties. "I'm taking you out to dinner after the match, but I think we should just skip to dessert right now."

Eyes widening, she gasps again when Roman removes his hand and picks her up, her thighs naturally wrapping around his waist. He carries her over to the trainers table, plopping her down on the edge.

"Lay back."

Her stomach is all kinds of twists and turns. She's not stupid. Far from it. There's only one place this is headed. "I—what?"

Roman, however, looks bored, stating so plainly. "I don't make it a habit to repeat myself, Solana. Even with a pretty thing like you, so do me a favor and just lay back."

If someone told her this is how the night would kick off, she'd call them crazy as all the outdoors. There's no way in hell this man is about to do what she thinks he is.

Is he?

Voicing her thoughts, she struggles with just how to word what is an otherwise simple thing to ask. "Are you...."

His gaze is piercing. "Can I?"

What a fucking question.

Once

Once has she had someone go down on her, and it wasn't even her ex-fiance. It was a guy she dated in college for a few months. To say it was......disappointing would be an understatement.

She didn't even finish.

Back to the borderline crisis at hand, she finds herself oversharing. "My ex. He didn't—he wouldn't....."

"Well, he's a fucking idiot." Roman's cruel but accurate remark is accompanied by his big hand moving up the sides of her dress until its scrunched by her stomach. "Eating pussy is a delicacy."

Her eyes shut again. He's so nasty.

So why is it only making her wetter?

Roman's fingers lightly tugging the waistband of her underwear reminds her of the proposed question.

This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. She doesn't sleep around. Doesn't let random men go down on her, and yet, the minute Roman licks his lips, the decision is almost made for her.

"Y—yes."

That alluring, small smile is back as he moves his hand to her stomach, pushing down just enough to get her in position. "Lay down, and let me show you what it's like to be with a real man."

Sweet baby Jesus.

Solana is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, back flat against the cool table when he goes to pull down her panties, leaving her open and exposed.

She hears Roman make a sound. "Mmm. Pussy just as pretty as I imagined."

Her hands clench at her side. He's thought about this? About her? About her—

"Ahhh." Her back is almost entirely off the table the minute his thick tongue gives one full, sensation stirring lick up her cunt. "Roman...." she moans, hands planted on the table, head thrown back as his cool breath blows against her pussy.

Seconds later, his tongue is back on her, fingers spreading her lips while his tongue teases a languid circle around her clit. "Oh my....."

The sound of his deep chuckle travels from his space between her legs. "I'm gonna make a fucking mess out of you."

And before she can process that, he tugs her by her thighs, diving face first into her cunt. Solana is a mewling, writhing mess as he sucks on her pussy like its the fuel and energy he needs for the fight to come. Laps at her with a hunger and desire that nearly matches her own, because whatever her ex did to her that one time is nothing compared to what he's doing to her right now.

"Shit...." Her body is hot, her nipples hardening by the second, and Solana can't help the way her thighs squeeze against his head, her lower half coiling and twisting from pleasure she's never experienced.

"You like that, don't you?" He hums, voice haughty and knowing. "Like me eating this pretty pussy, don't you, sweetheart?"

Her answer is an obvious one, breathed out over and through heavy pants. "Shit, yes." He sucks on her clit, the slurping sound practically filling the room and egging on her moans.

He pulls away, the absence something that's so much more noticable and painful than it should be. Only for her to arch again when his finger plays around with her nectar that feels like it's spread all over her lower half at this point. "Look how wet you are. I can tell she been neglected." Roman swirls his finger in circles around her clit, thumb applying just the lightest pressure. "Can tell she been needing me."

Solana can't and won't disagree. Not that she could anyway. Logic is very much a thing of the past. The only thing on her mind is ecstasy, and he's giving her more of that than she's ever had in all sexual interactions with all of her ex's put together.

"Goddamn, you taste good." He goes back to licking and sucking on her again, groaning almost. "Would stay down here all night if I could."

Solana nearly comes right then and there.

She wouldn't be opposed.

At all.

He stays with his head between her legs for what feels like inhumanly possible, long enough for that feeling she's only ever been able to give herself starting to rise. Toes curling and stomach twisting, she manages to whine out, "Roman, I—I'm gonna—"

He kisses her clit, coaxing her, guiding her, encouraging her. "I know, baby." She can practically visualize the smirk on his face. "Now be a good girl and come in daddy's mouth."

It's disgusting how that one filthy command manages to evoke her orgasm from her, Solana nearly sitting all the way up as her release shoots through her entire body. Roman continuing to suck on her and lap up every bit of it until there's not a fucking drop left.

Solana's practically lifeless body collapses against the table. Everything below her belly button is numb. Eyes shut, pulse probably in the danger range, she has no ability to do anything other than lay there and recover.

She's never come that hard, that much, that long.

Who is this man?

Solana whimpers a bit when she feels something against her, wiping her. A towel most likely. Strong but surprisingly gentle hands help her body to lift up only for her to fall against a solid chest, her forehead against Roman's shoulder.

She clutches onto him as he kisses her temple. "That's my girl." His girl. His anything. She's whatever he says and more. That's how fucked out he has her. "I'll see you after the match, okay?"

Sure. Fine. Whatever. Her ability to agree to anything was sucked out of her by that dangerous tongue of his, so the most she can do is nod against him.

Roman chuckles and gradually pulls away, Solana gripping on the edge of the table, eyes opening just enough to see that strong, muscular back of his as he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

She isn't sure how long she sits there, dress pulled up, towel covering her bottom half. She just knows that even after sitting for what should be a long enough time, her legs are still wobbly. Even as she moves around the room to look for her underwear only to see they're nowhere to be found, leaving her with one conclusion.

Roman took them with him.

The thought shouldn't make her pussy flutter. It really shouldn't and yet, here she is.

God, what did he do to her?

Swallowing, she does her best to maintain her pride and walks out, guided by the same guard who escorted her to Roman in the first place. He takes her up to what must be VIP seating. It's the perfect view of the celled ring and cages on the side intended for the participants.

Sitting there alone and with nothing else to occupy her mind, Solana's mind starts racing. That shouldn't have happened. She should have stopped him. Should have said no.

Even if she did want it just as much as he seemingly did. Nevertheless, that shouldn't matter. He's him. She's her. They're very different people. She's supposed to have morals and standards. Women who have that don't let men who are practically strangers go down on them.

But, that's exactly what she did, and she feels terrible about it.

"You must be my brother's flavor of the night."

Solana is already nervous as all the outdoors, yet somehow the interruption of her overthinking only serves to exacerbate that anxiety.

But, when she looks over and sees the source, Solana is unsure which is worse: what's said or who said it.

Rosalia Reigns isn't as tall or built as her twin brother. Not at all. A given considering their different sexes, but she's every bit as intimidating as him, and they do share some similar features. Same set of pretty brown eyes. Those full, pink lips and that overall powerful aura.

You know just by looking at her that she's an important person.

And she is. She comes only second to her brother.

Roman

Solana swallows and adjusts her dress as Rosalia gives her a oneover, not even trying to hide her distaste. "H—hi. I'm—"

"I don't care." Rosalia interrupts, a level of venom in her voice. "You'll be an afterthought come tomorrow morning when you join the rest of his whores on the island of forgettables."

Sting.

Solana shouldn't be surprised nor hurt by such cruel words. Rosalia, much like her brother, has never been known for kindness. Regardless, that knowledge doesn't stop the tears from pooling in her eyes.

Cause the words hit way too close to home given what just happened.

Something noticed by the other woman. An equally cruel smile growing on her face. "Aww, did I hurt your feelings?" Her smile deepens as she scoffs, sitting down in her chair. "Yeah, Ro definitely dropped the ball with you. You're dumber and more naive than the other stupid bitches my brother loves to entertain."

A stupid bitch. Any other time, Solana would disagree. She may not verbalize as such, but she would inwardly reject such a thing. But, she can't. She can't because it's true.

She gave Roman exactly what he wanted. Fell into his trap. Another of many nameless, faceless, forgettable conquests.

She's no different or better than any of the other women Roman messes around with.

She's now one of them.

And she feels disgusted with herself.

Not wanting Rosalia to see her cry, or anyone else, Solana mumbles a quiet 'excuse me' and rushes past the smirking woman. She needs to get out of here. Needs to go home.

Needs to never see or speak to Roman Reigns ever again.

This was a mistake. All of it.

And it can never happen again.

[blondeaxolotl]

MonoDuke's TWST au masterlist

I don't really have a name for this au, but basically it's just me assigning random non-human beings to TWST characters and also making up new lore for them to go along with their new lives

These are the current assigned species, but some may change in the future because sometimes I just don't vibe with them anymore

Ebi (My Yuusona) - Full Shrimp Monster

Yuuken Enma - Griffin

Yuuta Mito - Sheep

Yuuka Hirasaka - Panther

Yuuna Oujou - Red panda -

Riddle Rosehearts - Jackalope

Ace Trappola - Imp demon

Deuce Spade - Imp demon

Cater Diamond - Bearded Dragon

Trey Clover - Mini-Macaw Harpy -

Leona Kingscholar - Lion (nothing much has changed)

Jack Howl - Grey Wolf (nothing much has changed)

Ruggie Bucchi - Spotted Hyena (nothing much has changed) -

Azul Ashengrotto - Octoling (Yes like splatoon)

Jade Leech - Moray eel/??? hybrid (tho nothing much has changed)

Floyd Leech - Moray eel/??? hybrid (tho nothing much has changed) -

Kalim al Asim - Tiger

Jamil Viper - Rattlesnake -

Vil Schoenheit - Angel

Epel Felmier - Moth

Rook Hunt - Cheetah -

Idia Shroud - Hellhound/Goat hybrid

Ortho Shroud - Hellhound/Goat Hybrid -

Malleus Draconia - Dragon (nothing much has changed)

Silver - Human (only full human L)

Sebek Zigvolt - Komodo Dragon

Lilia Vanrouge - Vampire Bat -

Neige LeBlanche - Brittany Spaniel

Skully J Graves - Grim Reaper

Rollo Flamme - Gargoyle -

Divus Crewel - Kitsune

Sam - Grim Reaper (disguised as a human) (More characters will be added)

Honestly on paper these don't look like much but they're more interesting in design wise, they don't really have to make sense I'm just here to mess around with these guys like they're dolls hehe.

[the-kr8tor]

Wildflower and Barley

Pairing: Robin Hood! Hobie Brown x princess! Reader

Word count: 10.1k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, medieval au, Robin hood au, royalty au, R has unnamed parents and siblings, cw food mentions, mentions of arranged marriage, cw suggestive, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff. Part 2 of the Robin Hood au.

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Octobie 🎸

Part one <<<

Now dry and out of your sopping wet clothes, and now free of mud caking your skin, you look at the various trinkets and knick knacks littered around the small yet well decorated room. Aunt Janet was kind enough to lend you some clothes and let you stay in the treehouse which surprisingly had a wooden contraption that brings you up and down the tree without you even setting foot on the ladder. Aunt Janet told you that Hobie invented it and calls it a ‘lift’. You thought he was a genius for coming up with it. Just thinking about climbing up with that huge mess of a dress of yours gives you a headache.

The room they've temporarily put you in is cozy, the bed is carved with various woodland creatures on it with vines and swimming fishes etched on the headboard. The wooden bed is covered in soft quilt blankets piled up to make the bed softer. It's pretty, you thought. Janet and the others are nicer than any captors you've ever had. Well, except for your would be suitor, you find him annoying with his pretty eyes, handsome smile, scent that wakes the butterflies in your stomach and calloused hands that are warmer than the blazing sun— you're done for.

A knock wakes you up from your stupor, turning around, you clear your throat and thoughts of Hobie.

“You decent?” His voice almost makes you dizzy, it's either that or you have a looming concussion from your recent fall. You won't know until you see him for yourself.

“Yes, I'm dressed.”

Hobie opens the door, you notice his different outfit this time. He has leather bracers on with tiny spikes protruding on each of his wrists. His blue pants fit him better now than the clothes that you surmise he nicked from an unfortunate courtier. A blue tunic with jade green thread is stitched at the hems, and a thick belt helps cinch his waist as if it needed the help. You swallow down your loud beating heart, but it doesn't help when you spot the silver and gold piercings he now has on his ears and face. His hair is more gorgeous than ever with the silver accents weaved and placed around it like tiny stars dotted on his hair.

He raises a pierced brow, hand reaching up to place it atop the doorway to lean on it while the other hand is on his hip. His waist length cloak unfurls behind him, draping him in brilliant blue, revealing the spider stitched on the cloth. Unbeknownst to you, he's admiring you too. Now without the layers upon layers of fabric hiding you, he sees the real you without all the jewels shining in his eyes and the crown glaring down at him as if he's unworthy of your gaze. He tries to shake…whatever he's feeling but it keeps coming back to him whenever he meets with your pretty eyes.

So he plays it off casually even though he could only see you in front of him and his senses seem to dull within your presence. He just chalks it up to you being attractive in his eyes. Sure, that could only be it, right?

“See somethin' you fancy?”

“No, just staring at the bow and quiver of arrows on you. Have you finally decided to kill me? I know your aim is nothing to be scoffed at.” You don't show an ounce of fear.

Hobie snorts, “nah, just admirin’ you in my room, and coat.”

You scoff, not believing that Janet would place you in his room *and dress you in his clothes. So you turn your head away to avoid looking at him. You suddenly find an unassuming lute more interesting, or rather acting like it is. “You weren't lying about the lute. Do you still play?”

He follows your gaze towards the well loved instrument. “Yeah, d’you?”

“No, but I do know how to play the piano as it was required of me.”

He raises his chin, gesturing towards you as you cross your arms atop your chest. “If you could choose, what instrument would you like to learn?”

“Why?” You chuckle at the uncommon question.

“Just askin’ ‘m a curious lad.” He shrugs with a small smile.

“The flute probably.” You sit on the soft bed. “I always loved how it sounded.”

“I think a flute would suit you, princess.” Hobie crosses the small distance, he then sits on a stool adjacent to the bed. He's quite close to you, knees brushing along your own. But not close enough to feel how your breath hitches in your throat.

“Don't mock me, Hobie.”

He knits his brows together. “‘m not, that was genuine.”

“Alright, why do you think it would suit me?” You lean closer, elbows placed atop your thighs and chin resting on your palms.

He tilts his head with a quiet chuckle. “You have the lips for it.” You're taken aback, a satisfying reaction for him. “But do you have the lungs for it, love?”

Silence stills the air around you two as you try to breathe in and out while he waits for a response with his unreadable gaze towards you.

“...stop fucking with me.” You say with a loud scoff, standing up and hitting his knees when you walk away to face the window on the far end of the room. His chuckles continue as you put your arms on your chest, huffing and puffing away the warmth from your cheeks.

“You're easy to tease, princess.” He wipes a tear from his eye after recovering from his bout of laughter. “I didn't even know you have it in you to curse.”

You abruptly turn around. “I want to get out far away from here.”

“Is my joke that bad?” He says with a raised brow.

Sighing, you put your foot down, steely gaze staring right at him. “You saw how they treated me, I don't want to marry a stranger and become like my siblings.”

“You were ready to marry me.” He pretends to not understand. Or that's what you think, he's riling you up again to get a reaction from you.

“I was pretending so the courting would stop.” A half lie on your end. You're attracted to him, sure, but you thought that marrying him would be the lesser evil than marrying some pompous rich lord who would only treat you like a walking womb. Inhaling, you continue. “I don't want to be stuck.”

Hobie's gaze turns serious. “Is that why you barely fought back?”

You rub your face tiredly. “Yes. I don't want to end up like the rest of my siblings. I want to have a life, a life that doesn't end with me dying during childbirth or being killed because of my husband's mistress hired an assassin!”

“That sounds oddly specific.”

“Because that all happened to them. I'm a sister to ghosts.” You don't realize that a single tear is sliding down your cheek. Quickly wiping it away, you don't notice his eyes filled with empathy. “I'll tell you about the secret passages in the castle that would lead you to the royal jewels.” Hobie blinks and perks up in his seat. “in exchange, you bring me with you to grab my things—”

“As much as I want to see you lock pickin’ your way in your own castle, you'd be a liability, princess.” Hobie stands up with his hands placed on his hips.

“Without me you'll get lost in the passageways. It's a labyrinth in there, I once got lost in there for an entire day before my handmaiden found me.” You explain. “After the whole ordeal, you'll flag down a ship for me heading towards the northern territories.” Walking towards him, you face him fully with your finger jabbing him at his toned chest. “Then and only then, we'll be even.”

Hobie sniffs, nodding along. “That's all then?”

“You're not gonna ask why the north? Or ask me to map the passageways instead of coming with you?”

“Why should I ask when I already know the answer, hm?” He takes a step forward, closing in on you while your accusing finger gets trapped in between him and you; in turn, you put your palm on his chest as he smirks down at you. “I won't ask you to draw a map because I don't trust you, blue blood. As for the first part— Your royal pain in the arses don't have power over in the north ever since the rebellion. And you'll be safe there until you can hitch a ride out of the country. As long as they don't find out that you're the princess.”

You don't back down, challenging him with your head raised high. “That's why you'll forge documents for me.”

“Who says I will?”

“Well, you got into the palace, and the only way you did that was taking on the identity of some poor sap who might've stopped in the middle of the road to help some injured woman or…” you push him away, looking at him up and down without shame. He looks befuddled, but he recovers quickly, expression turning into amusement. Even enjoyment from the banter. “Some man screaming for help. Either way, he has been your mark ever since you planned this whole thing. And it wouldn't have worked without some legitimate looking papers.”

“Or we stole the papers from him when we took his clothes.” He dares you.

“You could've, but you were worried that he won't have it or it might rip during the scuffle.” You click your tongue. “Hence the dried up ink, stolen seal of the registry and hundreds of balled up parchment on top of your desk says otherwise.” a smile slowly spreads across his face, a sign that you're right. “Do you want me to tell you that I was your plan B or do I have to explain to you how I found that one out?”

“I have to train you in case shit gets hairy.” He flicks his eyes downwards and then without shame, he roams his eyes up to your determined eyes. “Whip you into shape and shed all that royal ego off of you.”

“You have to train me?”

“I don't trust anybody else with you. My closest crew could but I'll still be there watchin’” Hobie reaches for your hand, waiting for you to close the deal. “You might charm the trousers off ‘em. Do we have a deal, princess?”

“Do you agree with my terms?”

He shrugs, hand still in place. “As long as you don't leave us high and dry when the time comes.”

“I give you my word, take my tiara as a sign of my cooperation.”

“I already have it.” He flicks his eyes to his hand, fingers stretching out, still waiting. You raise a questioning brow, “fine, I pinky promise, princess.”

“Once more, but without your mocking tone.”

Hobie tamps down his laughter by biting his lip, with a sigh, he relents. It's not a bad deal, you get to leave and not snitch to your parents on where Doverhill is, and he gets the jewels to feed his people and lessen any unwanted encounters with your stealth approach.

“Deal,” taking your hand, he shakes it.

“Good, when do we start?” You say with determination in your eyes.

—

Your face hits the mud covered ground with a resounding smack. Your audience cheers and Mayday’s giggles egg you on to stand up despite your face full of thick mud clinging to your cheeks.

“C’mon now, princess, it was just a shove!” Yuri teases you some more as she stands behind you.

Lifting up your head, you see Hobie leaning on the fences while munching on an apple casually. “Told you to dodge.”

You lift yourself up by your elbows, muddled eyes glaring at him. “I thought you were supposed to train me!”

“I am.” He takes a juicy bite from the fruit. “I didn't want to be responsible for marring your pretty face. And Yuri volunteered.”

“And I'm so glad I did!” She jumps up and down on the mud, invigorated by the so-called fight. “C’mon and get up, I want to show you my upper cut!”

“Oh god.” You thump your head on the mud. “I thought you'd teach me how to lock pick or even archery.”

“Nah, you gotta earn that.” He says while chewing. “We've got a month until they take out the red alert on the castle, you've got plenty of time to train, love. Besides, free entertainment.” He unfurls his long arms, and cheers erupt from the children watching you get your ass beat by Yuri.

Standing up on wobbly feet, you continue to scowl at him. “I hate you.”

Hobie does something you least expect, winking and keeping his eyes glued on your own as if he's imagining that you're the apple that he's currently taking a bite out of.

Flustered, you turn away from him. The second you put your fists in front of you, you get

knocked out by Yuri and her fierce uppercut. Darkness envelops you while you fall down on the soft ground.

You've got a long month ahead of you.

—

“Fuck!” You curse after breaking what must've been your fifteenth lock pick. Throwing it away, you thump your head against the wooden door, feeling the rough material under you. “Can I at least get the better lock pick instead of using your shitty ones?” You address Hobie, who's sitting on the bed while mindlessly strumming his lute. The sound would've been lovely but with your situation, you just find it annoying.

“You know the answer to that, blue blood.” He glances briefly at you, throwing another leather pouch at you that you already know is full of badly made lock picks. “You're stuck with me until you open the door.”

“This is torture.” You narrow your eyes at him, knees aching from how long you've been kneeling down on the floor. Not even the pillow underneath you is helping. “And this one won't even work!” You show him a bent lock pick.

He mocks you by opening and closing his hand like a yammering mouth. Your supposed mouth.

You've had enough, your stomach is growling and the back of your neck is sweating. So with a precise aim, you throw the bent metal at him. It lands straight in the hole in the middle of his lute.

“What the fuck?!” His astonishment makes you guffaw.

“I told you that we should've started off with archery.” You say in a sing-song tone. His mouth opens widely, and with you having twelve siblings, you already know what he's about to do. “Don't you dare—!” Hobie screams at the top of his lungs, prompting you to cover your ears. “You're a child!” He strums his guitar loudly and without a thought. “Stop!”

He stops to catch his breath. “I'll keep screamin’ until you unlock that bloody door.”

“No—!”

He shouts again, and you immediately try to lockpick your way out of your personal hell. The metal breaks again, and you stop yourself from throwing it at him again. At least he seems to be having fun.

—

The stew is warm in your hands and the chatter reminds you of dinners back at home when your siblings still lived there. You look at the long tables placed in the town hall where they serve dinners every night to provide a sense of community within the village. They all eat together, laughing with their families and friends while you're left standing at the far end by your lonesome.

You find that there's no place for you here.

Beginning to turn around, you feel someone tugging on your shirt. Looking down, you see a hair of red and freckles staring up at you with her big blue eyes.

“Hi, Mayday.” You give her a tight-lipped smile. You can still feel how the ground met your nose.

“Aunt Janet asked me to say sorry to you.”

You wait for her to do so.

“But I don't want to.” She says defiantly.

“Alright then.” You try to walk away but she stops you by pulling at your borrowed coat. “What is it?”

“Do you want to eat with us?” She glances behind her. When you look at the table, you see Hobie's entire crew merrily chatting and eating while the man himself meets with your eyes with a glint in those hazel eyes. Pouting, she tugs at you again. “When Aunt Janet asks—”

“I'll tell her that you apologized.”

She puffs her chest out, curly hair cascading down her cheeks. “Good,” leading you towards the table, she continues to pull at you. “You have to meet Miles and Gwen!”

As you get closer to the table, Hobie smirks and tells people to make space for you to sit down. You can't help but smile at him while Mayday excitedly introduces you to Hobie's crew that you already know by name. Of course you wouldn't tell her that, lest you get on her bad side again.

Mayday talks your ears off after getting used to you. Even after dinner and when people start cleaning up, she stays with you and asks you numerous questions about your time being a princess and living in a golden castle; all the while you braid her hair out of her face which she's happy enough to stay still for you.

“Do you bathe in milk?” She asks while you brush her hair. “Do you have a dragon?” She gasps. “A pony?!”

“No, no and yes, I did have a pony.” You chuckle.

“Did? What happened to it?”

You blink, hands pausing on her hair. “I don't know actually.”

Mayday turns around, brows furrowed at your expression. “They sent it to the farm didn't they? Hobie said that Jared is at the farm too.”

“Jared?”

“My squirrel!”

You fully understand what the farm actually is. “...Sure, probably.”

While you continue to tie her hair, you don't notice Hobie's soft gaze towards you as he leans on the doorway with his hands in his pockets and with a smile that never leaves his lips with every topic you and Mayday talk about.

“Careful now, don't fall for her.” Ned suddenly appears by his side, voice whispering, sending goosebumps on the back of his neck. “‘Don’t fall for the mark,’ remember?”

Hobie cranes his neck towards Ned, who teases him with a light smirk. “I bloody know, Neddy, ‘m not daft. She's a princess.”

“And? That doesn't mean you're immune to falling for her. Hell, there's a reason why I've kept James away from her.”

Hobie snorts, arms crossed over his chest. “James fancies her?”

“I smell jealousy, Hobart.” Ned half jokes. Hobie glares at him, jaw tightening before he opens his mouth widely. “No!” Before Hobie could yell (as if he would at night) Ned is already running away with his hands cupping his ears.

With a victorious chuckle, he returns to watch you interact with Mayday only to find a gaggle of children asking you questions and requesting for you to braid their hair too. Your smile brightens up the night while you try to placate each child with patience and a childish grin. He blinks and he meets with your eyes that look at him with a tender gaze.

He's in trouble.

—

The string in your hand is taut and rough against the pads of your fingers, a stark contrast to the smooth wooden bow in your other hand. You close one eye, aiming directly at the painted target that looks awfully like your father.

Hobie stands next to you with his own bow in hand, eyes trained on your posture, making sure you don't hurt yourself by standing close to you. The sun bares down on both of you while birds chirp, and the wind blows gently at the canopies.

“Remember to inhale before lettin’ go.”

“How philosophical.” You raise a brow, and with a sharp inhale, you let go of the arrow. It soars above, curving atop the target and landing on the grass behind it. “Damnit.”

You expect Hobie to laugh at you or tease you, instead, he walks towards you. “‘ere, let me.” With a nod, he corrects your posture. The tip of his fingers push lightly at your shoulders, straightening your back. You then feel his knuckles ghost above your spine, tracing it without touching you. “Keep your shoulders aligned with your hip.” His warmth radiates off him as he gently holds your hips, pushing and twisting you to position your body to the correct position.

You stand like a marble statue in his space, you dare not breathe, afraid that he'd let you go. “What now?” You ask while he nocks an arrow in your bow with his hands briefly brushing along your own.

“Now…” with his fingers holding your chin, he moves your head. Feeling his calloused skin on your warming flesh. “You shoot.” He whispers against the shell of your ear before leaving your side. “I know you could do better than the lockpick.”

Your head is all jumbled up because of him, how could you train in this condition? More or less shoot a sharp projectile?

“C’mon, princess, I don't have all day.” You can practically hear his smirk from his tone.

“Asshole.” You curse under your breath, nocking back the arrow to release. To his surprise but not to you, it flies overhead, much higher and farther from your last shot. The arrow overshoots, soaring over the trees and out of the village. “Ah shit.”

Now he laughs, “what happened, hm?” He nudges you with his shoulder while chortling at your miserable aim.

You glare at him, chin hidden atop your shoulder to mask your flustered self. “It was the wind.”

Hobie shakes his head with a chuckle, “don't think so.” Without looking at the target, he loads an arrow, quickly nocking it back and shooting directly at the sack target. “See?” He proves his point. Smirking, he nocks three arrows at the same time, and again he doesn't look at what he's aiming. Pulling the bow string, you can see his muscles straining from under his tunic, you barely even saw the arrows fly and hit the target simultaneously and effortlessly. Breath stuck in your throat, he smirks triumphantly at you.

“Show off.” You hide your impressed expression with a well timed scoff.

Hobie's satisfied with your reaction based on his lopsided grin. “C’mon, we need to get that arrow.” He says as he places his bow on his back, quiver placed right on his hip like always.

You groan, tired from today's activities. You're more than ready for lunch. You still have a full schedule after this session. “Why? You have plenty of arrows.” Gesturing towards the bucket full of arrows, you complain.

“Because if someone sees that they'll figure out that there's a settlement nearby.” He pats your back, urging you to walk with him. You stand there, groaning at the thought of hiking. “I can't let you go alone, can I? You might run.”

“And here I thought you were concerned for me because of the bears.” You follow him.

“If we see one I'd let it get you.” He smiles, waiting for your reaction.

“No you won't.” You roll your eyes.

You two reach the vines, he orders his people to unfurl it. “Maybe I will, maybe not. You don't know that, love.”

He passes by the ‘gates’ nodding a thank you at the guards on watch. One of them seems to look at you for far too long. Too long for Hobie's liking, he snaps his head at the said guard, prompting him to return to his duties while avoiding Hobie's gaze. You saw the whole interaction unfold, giving you the right teasing ammo.

“I didn't know that you're the jealous type.” You walk with your hands behind your back while you continue to follow him. He knows the forest better than you, and you'd rather not get lost in it.

“I don't know what you mean.” He swipes away at a branch, lifting it up to let you pass through unscathed.

You nudge him, pushing him lightly as leaves crunch underfoot. “Sure you don't.”

“You always know how to rile me up. And not the good kind.” He fights back with his own teasing.

“Likewise, Hobart—!” A protruding tree root catches your foot, making you stumble and trip over it. Before you could fall and meet the ground once again, Hobie catches you in his arms. Cheek pressed on his chest, arms holding him close.

“Should I start callin’ you clumsy?” He rhetorically asks while he's still holding you in place. You don't find it in yourself to let go.

“Anything to keep you from calling me princess.” You huff, and you see goosebumps appear on his skin.

“I'll do it if you stop callin' me Hobart.” You feel his breath fan the top of your head, and his fingers splayed over your back.

Leaning away, hands still on his chest, you look at him with feigned annoyance. “Fine.”

Hobie sees himself reflected in your eyes while leaves dance in the wind. The cacophony of the forest lulls you and him into a bubble of affection, just you and him in the vast greenery of the land you call home.

His hands latch off from you, with one last look, he leads you where the arrow could've landed. You follow him wordlessly, his back facing you while he guides you.

Soon after, the silence fades away as you hear the rushing of water. Hobie pushes a thick bush away, parting it to reveal a waterfall and a clear pool hidden in the deep forest.

It takes your breath away. “Wow.” You gasp, eyes shining at the glimmering water.

Hobie watches your reaction with a fond smile, “Pretty, innit?”

“Beautiful.” You turn towards him, smiling brilliantly.

For a moment, you two share a look, just languishing in each other's presence while listening to the water cascade down the pool.

Clearing his throat, Hobie returns his attention towards the water only to see the arrow embedded at the bottom of the mirror-like pool. He chuckles when he spots the scales underneath the tip of the arrow.

“At least you hit somethin' this time, clumsy.”

You follow his gaze, walking closer until your shoes hit the cool water. “Is that?”

“Lunch.” He grins, “and I've got the perfect place to cook it.” Gesturing with his head at the waterfall, you tilt your head questioningly. “C’mon then.”

—

You're drenched from head to toe, Hobie didn't say that you had to walk into the waterfalls to reach it. And by it, he meant his secret hideout hidden behind the waterfalls. It's a sizable cave with its moist walls and camping gear that he must've left behind for himself.

You warm yourself near the fire while he rubs salt and spices onto the fish that he's preparing. “Do you take all your women here?” A half joke on your end.

“Only the fit ones that provide lunch.” He glances at you with a smirk while you hide your face in your hands, pretending to rub it and warm yourself. “Why leave?”

“Laying it on thick, Hobie?”

“Alright, do you want bread with your fish?”

“Sure—”

“Too bad, we don't have bread.” He places the fish in the hot skillet, it sizzles in place, the smell making your stomach grumble. “So why leave your cushy life? D’you really want to be a jester?” Joking and recalling your words you uttered in the throne room a few weeks ago, you roll your eyes with a small smile.

“Simple, freedom. All my life I've been told what to wear, what to eat and when to speak. For once I want to decide for myself, even if it means leaving my cushy life behind.” You squeeze out water from your sleeve. “I–it's not like I decided on a whim. I've been trying to leave ever since I heard that I'll be the next one to be married off. I know it'll be hard after, but I know it'll be worth it.” You meet with his eyes, “Your turn, why do you have this secret place of yours?”

“For debauchery, of course.”

You chortle, “I don't know if you're lying or not.”

He mirrors your smile. “I like my silence.”

You instantly know what he means. “I have twelve siblings, I like my silence too.”

“Siblings,” he repeats with a soft smile while staring at the crackling fire. “I guess Ned and the others are my siblings.”

“I guess they are.” You say delicately. “My turn to ask the heavy question, why do you do…” you gesture at him. “All of it? The risk is higher than the reward you get for stealing shit from aristocrats, so why don't you keep it for yourself?”

Hobie turns the fish around, cooking it fully until it's golden brown, letting your question simmer in his mind. “‘m content, love, I've got my place, and I've got my people. Why do I need to hoard wealth when I've got everythin' I could ever need?” He chuckles softly, “I steal from the wealthy to give back to the people they stole from. They need it the most, and I don't do it for satisfaction, I do it so that people have a bigger chance of surviving another day when their own lords fail to provide for them. Or in most cases, their king.” The fish sizzles, filling the cave with smoky air. “I failed my people once, I won't let that happen again. You'll never understand it, princess.”

You look at him through the flames, “then let me see. Let me understand. Show me all the failings my blood has done.”

Hobie gazes back with an unreadable expression. Silence replaces the smoky air, you can only hear the cackling of the fire and the rushing of waters behind you. After a while, Hobie speaks again. “What are you plannin’ to do after all this?”

“Asking me out, Hobie?” You manage a jape after the previous heavy conversation. An attempt to lighten the silence.

“Care to find out?” Your teasing backfires. His lopsided smile makes you falter, heart thudding loudly while your skin feels like the poor fish who met the end of your arrow. He always recovers faster than you.

You look at a rock in the corner, trying to play it cool but he can't be fooled by your failed attempt at hiding your sheepish self. “...probably a flower shop.” You mutter.

“What's that, love? I can't hear you.” He riles you up again, hand placed behind the shell of his ear in a mocking fashion.

You sigh, brows furrowed and cheeks aflame. “I said I might start a flower shop.”

“I didn't peg you as a horticulturist.”

“I don't know, it just sounds nice.” You play off your lack of plan casually.

Hobie laughs and shakes his head while he takes the skillet away with a cloth around the handle. The fish still sizzles, and smells mouth wateringly good. He then takes out a knife, cutting your share while smoke wafts out of the meat. Giving you a piece, you take it without a word, embarrassment still lingering in the pit of your stomach.

He reaches for a piece himself, lifting it up like a goblet towards you. “To not havin’ plans.”

You guffaw above the rushing water, “to not having plans.” ‘Clinking’ your lunch with his, you happily eat with Hobie, occasionally laughing at the banter.

—

You make your way towards the city center with your disguise billowing in the wind. Your dark cape and hood makes you blend into the cheering crowd, oblivious to your stealthy movements. You're out of Doverhill and into the city where you were born and raised, but you've never been out in the actual streets in your entire life. You can see the castle, your home looming over the cramped city. The same city you've always looked at with longing through your bedroom window. You once dreamed of stepping foot on the cobblestone, to interact with your subjects and listen to their problems so you could help in any way a princess can. And now that you're in the thick of it, you now see the truth.

The city is filled to the brim with people surviving on measly coin for the entire day. Mothers, who have barely anything to feed their children. The elderly begging for scraps. People, *your subjects, scrounging for leftovers in the streets when up in the palace, your family and the courtiers had everything they could ever eat and more. If not for Hobie giving you one final task, a test to see if you can handle the heist that you've helped plan together with him and the rest of the crew; you wouldn't have seen how bad it is in the land you love and cherish.

You grip onto your hood tighter, wandering the streets all the while avoiding Hobie and his crew. He tasked you to pick a mark within his group to steal a single coin without being noticed or caught. If you do it successfully, you get to join them and do what you need to do before leaving the country, only to never return.

Blending into the gathering crowd, you finally see Hobie and his crew that you've grown to know. Yuri helped you with your hand to hand combat patiently, and as thanks, you made her a simple embroidery of a lily because you once remembered her talking about a flower that she couldn't remember the name of but remembers what it looked like. She was ecstatic, but Ned, who taught you how to disappear in a crowd, was a bit jealous, so you made him his own embroidery of a bumblebee. After that everyone in Doverhill wanted their own exclusive embroidery from the princess herself. It's safe to say that your embroidery classes were put to good use. The only person you haven't given a piece to is Hobie, his embroidery has been hidden in your pocket for days since you've finished it. You're too nervous to give it to him, more or less show it to him.

Hobie speaks in the middle of the crowd with boxes and crates upon crates full of food and supplies to help the people. You watch as his crew hands them out to the waiting crowd. Quickly, the air fills with gratitude, smiles and even some tears. While they're busy, you head towards Hobie and Mayday, who are occupied with a gaggle of children munching on honeyed candy while vying for their attention.

“We have a new person with us!” Mayday's excited chatter makes you pause midstep. “I can't tell you who she is but she's amazing! She taught me how to sew and write poetry.” A chorus of ‘wows’ and ‘woahs’ can be heard. “And look, she even braided my hair like how a princess wears her hair!”

Hobie chuckles by her side, coin pouch almost half empty while he gives most of it out to people. “Tell ‘em the part where you tripped her.” He spots you in his peripheral whilst you stalk on the outskirts of the crowd. It's impossible not to, as if his senses have attuned itself to your presence. He doesn't say anything.

“I did!” She proudly says, and you almost laughed.

“I thought you liked her?” A child asks, nose scrunched up.

“But back then I just didn't like her very much.” Mayday says and you almost falter as you sneakily ease your hand in James' pocket. Mayday continues to tell stories about you and your old pony while Hobie pretends that he doesn't see you.

Yuri suddenly appears by his side, nudging his shoulder. “Should I tell him?” She chuckles, whispering to him. “I gotta hand it to her, she chose the most oblivious one to steal from.”

“Taught her well,” Hobie mutters back, “don't tell him or her. Let it happen.”

“Is this one of your brilliant plans?”

“Maybe.” He sees you scurry off to an alley all without James or people noticing you. Smiling fondly, he returns his attention to the task at hand. “We need to hurry up and distribute these before the guards get ‘ere.”

“Aye, aye.” Yuri turns away with a knowing look that Hobie has a feeling he knows the reason what it pertains to.

—

You watch as the sun gets smaller and smaller on the horizon. The sea is calm while the salty breeze flutters your lashes. The hustle and bustle of the dock has calmed down ever since you made yourself comfortable on a crate. Munching on a loaf of bread, you watch a ship leave the dock, its anchor slowly emerging from the waters.

“You're late, Hobie.” You felt him before you saw him. Looking over your shoulder, you see him in a similar cloak and hood, bow and arrow hidden behind him. “I got the coin from James, but…” you show him the half eaten bread in your hand. “I used it already.”

Hobie admires you in the orange and pink hues, your eyes seem to glow in the light, while your lips curl into a gentle smile. He inhales, making his way towards you, leaning on the dock bannister, and watching the ship sail away into the fading horizon.

“Can I have some?” He asks, head turning towards you.

You grin with a chuckle, breaking the loaf apart to give the biggest side to him. “Here, you look like you need it more than I do.” You poke at his cheek, feeling his tired muscle underneath it.

“Runnin' away from your guards is hard work.” He takes a bite, “do I look that bad?”

Without thinking, you reach for the corner of his lip to wipe away a crumb stuck on it. “Nothing like a good nap couldn't fix.” Realization hits you, flinching away, you play your behaviour off by returning your attention towards the sea. “Sorry.” You clear your throat.

Hobie stands there, frozen and in the middle of chewing. Swallowing down the bread and his sudden nerves, he brushes his knuckle over your cheek where dirt clings onto your skin unbeknownst to you.

“Now we're even.” He says gently, and you gaze at him through glassy eyes and warm cheeks. With a sigh, he moves away, casually finishing off the bread. “D’you need anythin’ else for tomorrow?”

You take a deep breath, eyes glancing over to the castle. “Guts?”

“Don't think we can get that from the shops, love.”

You chortle, fingers playing with the hem of your cloak. “You didn't exactly give me this test to see if I can successfully pickpocket someone right?”

Hobie turns sideways to look at you fully, still leaning on the handrail. “No.”

“You wanted me to see this.” You gesture around the city. “And how bad the situation here is.” He nods, eyes trained on you. “If I had known…” you ball your fists around the fabric of your trousers. “...I could've done something. Anything.”

“Could've, would've, should've. The important thing is that you're ‘ere now.” He tentatively takes your hand, you're cold under his palm as he feels you slowly warm up from his touch alone. He gives you enough space to let go. But you don't. “You're doin' somethin' now. You're better than them.” He points at the palace behind you. “And if all goes well tomorrow, you've helped more than they have ever since they've taken the throne.” Squeezing your hand, he lets you fall atop him, your face hidden on his shoulder. “You’re good, Y/N, I know you are.”

You let go of his hand, arms embracing him fully. “You're good too, Hobie.” While you hold him, you sneak the embroidery of a bow and arrow you made inside his pocket.

With his arms around you, the moon slowly appearing in the sky, and face on the crook of your neck, he lets you cry while his palm rests on your shoulder blades, gently caressing. Your words have sparked something in him, and your touch ignited it within him, warming him up from the inside out. It doesn't engulf him nor burn him, it soothes him at his core, and he sense that you can feel it too through his chest.

—

Your hands are sweaty while gripping the dessert cart. The sweet confections wobble while you make your way towards the kitchens. Dressed in the cook's attire, you blend in with the rest of the busy staff walking briskly on the marble floors.

The plan was to split up, to dress like the staff and infiltrate the castle with only your disguises. You all plan to meet up at the library where the main tunnel leads towards the royal apartments where the crown jewels are located. If everything goes to plan, they'll have the jewels in their satchels without ever being noticed.

Your eyes dart around the halls, trying incredibly hard not to stick out like a sore thumb. *So far so good. You think to yourself, attempting to calm your nerves. Some staff glance at you but they thankfully let you go without questioning you and why you're pushing a cart full of cakes towards the library. The courtiers don't even pay you any heed.

Out of danger for now, you walk faster when you see the double doors leading to the library you've spent most of your days in.

“Halt!” A deep voice calls after you, and you stop in your tracks, hands already shaking.

“Yes?” You fake your voice, eyes downturned to hide your face.

“Where are you heading?” He asks, head gesturing towards the tea and cakes.

“The library, s–sir.”

“I've been patrolling this hallway for hours and not a single person has entered the library.” He narrows at you suspiciously.

You clear your thoughts, determination surpassing over your anxiety. “Lady Caroline has asked me to deliver them in advance. Says she has some sort of meeting with the other court ladies.” It's a long stretch, but the said lady is known for her gossiping circles.

“Hmm,” he straightens up, thankfully not recognising you and believing your bold lie. “Go ahead, just don't make a mess.”

“Understood.” You don't look back as you make your way towards the doors. Shutting it close, you can finally breathe on your own. “We made it.” You shakily walk towards the long table at the center of the large room, chest heaving, and pupils fully dilated. “I— fuck.”

A sudden hand grasps your bicep gently which almost made you yelp in surprise. “Just breathe, it's over.” Hobie has come out from under the cart to soothe you by rubbing his palm up and down your trembling arms. “Y/N, can you look at me?” With his fingertips, he moves your head to face him. “There you are,” he smiles, “breathe with me, yeah?”

You nod, hand upon his clavicle, eyes watching his chest go up and down while you mirror him. “I—I thought I fucked it up.”

“Nah, you did brilliantly. I thought I had to shoot an arrow at his eye.” He pats your cheek, thumb tracing under your eye. “You alright?”

“I think I am now,” you whisper, eyes darting over to his lips, and breathing normalized. “Are you?”

“Nothin' gets the heart pumpin’ than almost gettin' caught.” Hobie says softly as he gazes at your own lips. He says your name as if he's tasting it on his tongue. “Can I—?”

He aches for you.

“Yes.”

And you yearn for him.

The doors open with a squeak, and out comes Yuri in her handmaiden dress with her eyes wide and blinking at the two of you. You and Hobie freeze on the spot.

Her surprise turns into amusement. “Am I interrupting something?”

You're the first one to move away, acting casually as if she didn't catch you in the act. Meanwhile, Hobie finds the rows of books more interesting than Yuri smirking at him.

“No, you're just in time, Yuri.”

She hums with a knowing gaze at the two of you. “Bet you two wished I was late, huh?”

“No.” You and Hobie manage to say simultaneously. Hobie clears his throat while you grab a discarded book to hide your face under. You can practically hear all the future teasing that you'll face after this.

“Where are the others?” Hobie recovers much faster than you could. “They should be ‘ere by now.”

“Don't know, I didn't see them in the halls.”

Their words concern you as minutes tick past. While the three of you wait, you find the hidden passage hidden behind one of the bookshelves. After a quick scan, you see the book you've been looking for. The cover is in a deep shade of blue, the title worn down from the years, but you can briefly read the words ‘between’ and ‘sea’ on the fading paint. You've read it dozens of times, but so far you still don't know the title.

Before you could reach for it, the doors opened once again, much louder this time. Instead of just Ned, James and the rest of Hobie's crew, they're joined by someone. They dragged the guard that was patrolling outside. His body is limp but still clearly breathing while Ned and the crew drags him further inside the library.

“Can we get some help here?” James huffs, hands occupied with the guard's legs.

“What the bloody hell happened?” Hobie rushes towards them, helping get the man inside the room.

“Shit happened.” Ned pants, “we don't have time so we'll explain later. For now we need to tie him down.”

“My specialty.” Yuri reveals a thick rope from under her apron, “help me with his arms.”

Hobie glances towards you, shrugging his shoulders with a ghost of a smile. “Open it, love.”

You nod, giving him a smile. With a yank on the book, the secret passage opens with a wooden groan. It opens a smidge, so Hobie helps you with pushing it further open.

“Love, huh?” James mutters under his breath. Ned snickers by his side.

The tunnel is dark and dank, air stale and moist. The walls are lined with thick cobwebs upon cobblestones. There's not a single light in place as the breeze drifts inside.

“A bit creepy innit?” Hobie glances at you, “can't believe you slept in a castle with jester tunnels behind your bedroom walls.”

“When you put it that way, yes, that's fucking creepy, Hobie.” You chuckle as he chortles back.

“Move over, love birds.” Yuri pushes the two of you away from the door with a flaming torch in hand. “We have to steal some shit remember?” She says over her shoulders, and the rest follows her with a teasing grin on their lips except for James who has a deep frown. “And you have a ship to catch, princess.”

“Oh,” you almost forgot about you leaving for a second. Hobie glances at you, smile faltering. “Y–yes, I remember, of course.” Stepping inside the passageway, you make your way towards the front of the group as Yuri passes you the torch. Hobie stays a few ways behind the group, eyes trained on your back. “Let's go.”

—

Your hand glides along the wall, feeling every indent and curve of the rocks. You know the tunnels well enough to know about the secret markings etched on the walls. Every two feet you walk, there's a subtle ‘x’ carved on the stone. If you pass by a wall that doesn't have that mark after the last two feet, then you could get lost if you don't retrace your steps. So with measured steps, you carefully guide the group through the tunnel, making sure that they're holding onto each other and to you. You've learned this trick after your older brother taught you how to sneak into the library at night without being noticed. You have no idea how he is now.

Hobie's hand upon your shoulder is gentle, you can feel his reassuring squeeze every time you shakily breathe in the dusty air.

You pass by a door on your right, remembering that it's your father's study. You almost ignored it but with your name being uttered by his advisor, you stop your movements while the others follow suit. Moving closer to the door, you look at the crack in the wood, seeing your father at his usual place in his study, and your mother sitting nearby. A testament to their love. They had a lot of love to give each other, but none left for their children.

“My king, I think it's high time we start looking for the princess again. After the first ransom note there was nothing else. I fear for her safety.”

Your father continues to scribble away at his paperwork, while your mother sits near the window with a cup of tea daintily in her hand. They look unbothered. They did stop looking for you.

“Don't worry about her, she has always been independent. I'm sure Robin Hood will grow tired of her and is about to give her up any moment now.” The queen says without missing a beat or a forlorn tone for her missing child. “What news does my son bring? Another grandson?”

“Which prince, my queen?”

“The one with the heavily pregnant wife, Jeeves.” She scoffs out, entirely forgetting about you, and your brother's name.

“Ah, my apologies. I heard that the baby girl was born healthy, but his wife is in dire condition. The prince is beside himself, in fact he requests for your presence—” Your father’s adviser says with a solemn tone.

“Pity.” She could only say.

You couldn't continue hearing her words and his lack of them. “Let's…” your eyes water, lips wobbling. “...we need to go.” Hobie calls your name softly, thumb pressing carefully on your shoulder blade, trying to calm you down. “I'm alright. Let's continue.” You ignore their looks of concern.

A heavy silence follows you and the crew, making your way towards the crown jewels through tear filled eyes, you manage to guide them in the room without getting lost. You shed off your cook uniform, donning the tiara you left with. Even without your gown, you hope that it's enough to convince the guards inside that it's still you.

“Stay here, I'll knock three times when they're gone.” You murmur.

“Are you— will you be alright?” Hobie asks gently, palm cupping your cheek.

You give him a weak smile. “I will be once we get what we came for.” Cracking the door open, you make your way inside before Hobie could express his concern.

—

The group lies in wait behind the closed door within the dark tunnel. The light from the torches are starting to burn out, leaving them with only the sunshine coming from the crack in the door for a shed of light.

The second Hobie's starting to get agitated and worried for you, he grabs the door knob with protests from his crew. But before he could open the door, he's met with you staring back at him.

“They're gone.” You say as you open the door wider for them. Sure enough, the only soul left in the room is you. “I told them that I escaped and for them to get the physician. It took some convincing but they eventually left.”

The others pat you in the back, eyes widening at the glittering jewels and crowns sitting on tables and shelves. But Hobie's eyes were only on you, hands already reaching for your own.

“You should go, I think we only have fifteen minutes before they march back here.” You try to walk away but Hobie holds onto you, fingers laced around your own, warmth helping you at ease. “Hobie, I'll be fine. Help the others.”

He glances at his crew who are efficiently working together by lock picking and grabbing the jewels that they can easily carry and transport. They're not blinded by the shining large crowns and scepters, but only taking whatever they can hold in their satchels. One precious stone could feed the whole village for a year, and one crown could provide for the whole city for six months.

“They can handle it, you said you needed to grab somethin'. Let me help you.”

You stare at his worried eyes. “It's not— are you sure?”

“Yes, you said fifteen minutes and we're already at thirteen. No time to lose, love.” His lips curl into a smile, hand bringing your own to his chest.

“My lucky number.”

—

Without wasting another minute, you arrive at your apartments. Its familiar purple walls take you back, your bed is made and fluffy, closet and desk clean as if you never left.

Hobie's hand is still grasping yours as if he's afraid that someone would snatch you away and drag you into the dark tunnels. His eyes roam around your room with a faint smile, he admires your portrait on the wall above the fireplace.

“D’you think if I nick this one I'll get away with it?”

“You're stealing from the crown and you think stealing my portrait would get you a bigger punishment?” You chuckle, letting go of his hand reluctantly to grab your satchel hidden under your bed.

“Yes, this is the real treasure right ‘ere.”

You poke your head from under the bed, meeting with his eyes and his wide grin. “If you keep saying stuff like that I'd think you're being genuine.” Going under again, you reach for the strap of your bag, and you finally grab it from under the dusty bed.

“When was I not genuine, hm?” You come out only to be met with his smirk. He flicks away a dust bunny clinging on your tiara while you gawk at him.

“You're not joking?”

“No,” he says seriously. “I meant everythin’ I've said and more.” Kneeling down, he fixes the tiara above your head. “Besides, I wanted a reminder of you once you're gone.”

“Do you want me to leave?” You reach for his jaw, thumb grazing along his stubble.

He could only smile, afraid that if he audibly said no, you won't go and do what you've always planned to do. He doesn't want to bar you from leaving or sway you into staying. It's your decision, and whatever you decide to do, he'll be right behind you.

Tears cling to your lashes as you caress his cheek. You want to stay, but not just for Hobie and the people you've grown to love. But also your subjects, your people that you could still help by staying. Something that you could not do if you left. You're conflicted. “You don't have to take the whole painting. I have a smaller one in my drawer.”

“Alright.” Hobie stands up despite his feelings swirling inside him. He helps you up, and follows you towards your desk.

You open a drawer, giving him a circular frame that contains an exact copy of your portrait. “To remind you of me. Or to sell it once you're bored of my face.” You joke.

“I’ll never get tired of your face.”

You have an intense urge to kiss him. Instead, you reign yourself in, “let's get back to the others. Then let's get the fuck out of here.” He nods in agreement. Before you could follow, you leave your letter that you've written days ago for your family. It contains everything you've wanted to say to them, every ire, and sorrow you could translate from ink to paper.

Hobie waits for you in the doorway, arm holding up the tapestry that hides the passageways. You look at him and you see your future, would it be selfish of you if you stayed? Or would it be better if you just left?

With one final look at your old life, you leave it all behind.

—

The clinking of silver and gold rings around the tunnel as you lead the group out of the castle. The smiles on their faces can't be wiped away even when the torch burned out a while ago and your only guide was the marks on the walls. Despite the hiccups, you all made it out into the beach in one piece and with bags full of jewelry enough to take care of everyone.

Ned hoots and hollers on the beach while Yuri lies on the sand with a huge grin on her lips. And James hides his sobs by laying face first on the beach while a crab tugs at his hair. The others are getting the loot on board the fishing boat while they sing a merry tune.

You watch them carry your family jewels with a fond smile. A brooch peeking from one of the bags catches your eye, it's the one piece of jewelry your mother is fond of, except for her crown. You know that it'll be used for a better cause now instead of gathering dust on the shelves.

Smiling, you hear Hobie's footsteps upon the sand. “Havin' second thoughts about your crown jewels?”

You shake your head. “No, none of them holds any sentimental value to me.” Reaching for your tiara, you hand it to him. “Even this one. Let Mayday play with it, I think she'll appreciate that.”

Hobie chuckles and sits down next to you while the others finish off loading the boat. His hand traces the emeralds and diamonds on your tiara before placing it gently on his lap. You see him take something from his pocket, which he immediately shows to you.

“Maybe this one will hold sentimental value.” A simple silver necklace hangs from his hand, you could cry from the sight of it. “It's not from your family. I bought it yesterday while we were in the city.”

“Is that why you were late?” You laugh with tears filling your eyes. Your fingers gently graze the chain, feeling the cold metal against your skin. The smile on your face hasn't faded. Recognition hits you, and your eyes immediately fly towards his neck where a similar silver chain rests upon his skin.

He doesn't only see the crown atop of your head. He sees you. And you truly see him as the one you would love until your dying breath.

Hobie notices your awed expression, “it's identical to mine. I would've gotten you a pendant to go with it—”

“Help put it on me?”

“Sure,” he tells you to turn around, smiling while his hands brush along your neck as he clasps the necklace on you. Once it's secured, his thumb hovers on your nape, eyes warm on your skin. “I— thank you for the help. I've got your papers ready, and if it weren't for you keepin’ your word—!” His words get smothered by your lips upon his own. Your kiss catches him off guard, eyes wide open, not knowing what to do with his hands, and lips not kissing back. You take it all as rejection.

You quickly lean away, “fuck— I'm sorry. I thought—”

He grabs your face, lopsided smile and lovestruck gaze staying on you. “You thought right, love.” His lips meet your own, within a second, you kiss in tandem as if you two were meant to be. He thinks so too.

The crew's claps interrupt you, even with their cheers (except for James) Hobie doesn't let your face go in his warm hands.

“Rule breaker!” Ned shouts with a proud smile.

“Fucking called it.” Yuri claps, “Janet owes me a coin.”

Hobie flips them the bird, all the while sharing your smile. He turns towards you again, eyes soft for you. “C’mon, before they attract the guard's attention.”

“Wait, Hobie.”

“Love—”

“Before this I had no purpose. I was just existing with a crown on my head.” You stand up and you help him up on his feet, with his other hand carrying your tiara. “I want to keep helping my people, I will not abandon them like they have.” You look up at the palace, its shadow encompassing you. “I see that now, thanks to you and them.” You address the crew behind him.

“Is that what you want?” Hobie cups your cheek, not even hiding the fact that he's happy about your decision. He still tries to hide it though. And he's failing miserably. “Just say the word and I'll take you to the docks—”

“I want to stay here with you. That's my plan.” You pull him by his bow strap that's over his shoulders, thumb placed on his clavicle. Eyes crinkling at the corners and incredibly lovestruck by the man before you. “Because I found my purpose right here.”

“As you wish, love.” With a smile, Hobie leans close for another kiss, one of many to come in your future with him, and part of his band of merry men.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @the-shroom-garden

[violetjedisylveon]

Shadowpeach AU, where Macaque was originally the guardian of the Immortal Peach Trees, and Wukong had to get past him in order to get an immortal peach...

But Past Wukong ISN'T as strong as Current Wukong, so Macaque keeps preventing him from getting a peach...

One day, Macaque mockingly bites a peach in front of Wukong...

Wukong suddenly has an idea; he kisses Macaque on the lips, to get the peach in Macaque's mouth...

Macaque was frozen, as Wukong smugly takes the peach from the stunned Macaque's hands...

But once Macaque unfreezes himself, he knocks Wukong out with a single punch...

Wukong wakes up, in love with Macaque! 😍

Oh fun!

The idea of a celestial realm dwelling macaque makes me think of @anxiescape's Celestial Bodies au, which is, in their own words, sleeping beauty with gay monkeys and war crimes, and their art is super pretty too! Their Macaque has galaxies in his fur!

As I was answering this, the idea of Macaque having been adopted by the Jade Emperor and Xiwangmu (Queen Mother of the West), popped into my head, so now the Jade Emperor's issue with Wukong isn't just that he's wrecking his shit, but he's flirting with his son and making a fool of him!

This idea just became a whole lot funnier.

This could have been a tragedy, it became a comedy. I might find a way to get some angst in here

Macaque works in the peach orchards with his sisters, sometimes the peach maidens are Xiwangmu's daughters, because he enjoys it and it's a natural habitat for a monkey like himself.

He was not expecting the new stable boy to be so brazenly bold as to kiss him, a celestial prince, as a ploy to steal from him! He punches Wukong in the face for it and hopes nobody saw that, it's so embarrassing.

Meanwhile Wukong is absolutely smitten with the guy who could knock him out like that and thinks he's super powerful and strong and pretty. So he keeps visiting Macaque specifically, he doesn't know that he's the Jade Emperor's adopted son, he just thinks he's pretty.

Macaque is super confused and annoyed, he's just trying to do what makes him happy and be a good son and this stupid cute monkey keeps getting in his way!

He confides in his big sister Iron Fan, she immediately clocks in that the other monkey has the hots for her little brother and is not a fan. She asks their cousin (Erlang) to keep an eye on Wukong just to make sure he doesn't do anything.

Erlang, who is also not a fan of this monkey with the hots for his cousin, completely understands.

So now Xiaotian Quǎn follows Wukong around whenever he's in heaven, giving his the upmost disapproving looks whenever he interacts with Macaque.

But then! Horror of horrors!

Macaque catches feelings for Wukong! And he wants to die, it's so embarrassing and unbecoming! And it'll never work out! Wukong isn't a celestial, and relationships between celestials and demons or mortals are forbidden!

Macaque is super easy to fluster now and any time Wukong shows up to talk with him he is a blushing mess and is not hiding his affections very well.

Luckily Wukong is as dense as the rock he hatched from, and doesn't get the hint.

Unfortunately, nobody else is and everyone thinks he's toying with the six eared prince's heart. This just makes the rest of Macaque's family like Wukong even less.

Wukong tells Macaque about his cool friends and how they are all about taking on the injustices of the heavens, (he hasn't done anything super destructive yet he's just been a nuisance).

Macaque challenges their ideas with the question of how they would fix it, and how much suffering their war would cause for the mortals, and does a former celestial like Azure really know better than the being who's spent millions of years keeping things balanced?

They are good questions.

Wukong is left doubting the brotherhood.

Man's gay crush is giving him second thoughts.

The Jade Emperor and Xiwangmu still don't really like Wukong because he's clearly got a thing for their son and they are protective parents to say the least.

Once Macaque admits his feelings to his family, and that he wants to date the most infamous"bad boy" in all three realms, well something like this happens:

Jade Emperor: Where do you think you're going, young man? Macaque: Wherever he'll take me. JE: I forbid you to go out with that hoodlum! Macaque: But Daddy, I love him! JE: Go to your room! Macaque: I don't even live here anymore! JE: Well, then, go to your old room that your mother turned into a scrapbooking room!

It's from a Looney toons episode, someone actually made a comic of a similar idea only LBD's the parent in that situation, it's so funny.

So Macaque is grounded now, JE and Xiwangmu have already lost at least two daughters to their lovers (their over reactions to the relationships are what really caused those tragedies but the royal couple doesn't want to admit that, @quitealotofsodapop has a lot more and better detailed ideas about this concept on their blog).

Good news for the brotherhood! Azure can turn this in their favor by making Wukong think the monkey he's in love with is being held prisoner by the Jade Emperor. He still doesn't know Macaque is his son, because macaque liked being around someone who didn't know that and never felt the need to tell him.

So Wukong is amped up to fight the Jade Emperor to rescue his crush/friend!

Meanwhile, Macaque is stuck in his room listening to the dumbass he fell head over heals in love with.

Will this end good? Bad? Who knows! Not even me!

I have ideas for a good and bad end, but I might put it to poll for the decision of what really happens.

Thanks for asking! This was a really fun one, hope you like it!

[merakiui]

ahhhhh thank you for answering my ask!!!! i have even more!!!! (this is both the anon from contractual fwb and the milking anon TT i was super tired when i sent that in lol. if you don’t have an eepy or sleepy anon feel free to dub me. also ignore the spelling mistakes my fingers are moving slower than my brain) btw this brainrot is not based on my last asks, but more on the canon of what you wrote. it’s been bouncing in my mind all day.

you thought that since azul didn’t want your relationship to be known when it was first starting that he’d not want it to be shown off either when it’s official. but you’re dead wrong! (500 mora on the fact that he just wanted to keep it on the dl so that way no one could try and break y’all’s contract up.) but no, bitch you work in the monstro lounge and you best believe that every single person who walks through those doors knows you ride his dick with how much he lets you get away with. you mess up an order? it’s met with a sigh instead of a lecture. a tables being rude to you? doenst matter how busy yall are, they’re going to someone else. you’d like to order food after last call for workers? he’ll make it himself.

ruggie’s poor ass even commented one time on how yall act like you’re married. he called you azuls work wife and all azul heard was “wife” (listen people, i don’t care what gender you are because work couple names are gender neutral. only reason you’re the so called wife in this scenario is purely because id love to call azul my husband. got it? good.) and so now azuls on this whole thing about how you’re his wife and you’re married and he refuses to respond to anything other than “my husband.” it’s a bit tiring to explain to random strangers that yes, you are too young to be married, and no, you’re not actually married to this crazy tako. but don’t worry, his silly little nicknames are still used.

you’ve practically moved into octavinel’s dormitory at this point. you sleep there nearly every night. of course you occasionally go back to ramshackle because of any slight disagreement you get into (and also ace and deuce are tired of having to babysit grim every night and that cat ain’t going near the fish dorm with a ten foot pole) which means you get woken up to a flushed azul with flowers and a roundabout half apology. you forgive him every time.

back to the marriage thing. yall really do act like you’re already married. you’ve even started helping him sort out his papers in his office instead of being in the floor. (this definitely started because you wanted more of him and he was busy so you were like fuck it i guess im in) you’re his proof reader for his contracts. he has yet to make a mistake. and if he’s in back of house you run the front, even if jade and floyd are there! he’ll never tell you this but it’s somehow a super long winded plan he created through a careful game of 5d chess to get you to own a business together that’s completely unnecessary because you would’ve said yes to co-owning a restaurant.

he’s so happy his pretty work wife wants to run the lounge with him. and it’s definitely not so he can tie you down more to him because we know he’d love you to live the sugar baby lifestyle—oh no not at all. his tells his mommy about it and she ends up requesting to meet you. he wouldn’t sent her a quick no if you didn’t put your hand on your hip and raise your eyebrow. he finds it just as sexy as you batting your pretty lashes up at him but he’ll never tell you. he has a thing for boss lady’s.

(bbg if you want more i’ll deadass ramble to you about how i think meeting his mom would go. i have sooooo many thoughts on this au it’s genuinely concerning)

AAAAA EEPY ANON!!!! You have blessed me with your brilliant thoughts once more (that milking ask was so delicious btw.... I need him clinging to me!!!!!).

Handing over that 500 mora to you because you're right LOL. Stingy tako did not want to share or publicize your relationship because he just knew in his soul that someone would try to get in the way of your contract...... he covers all of his bases in the most meticulous ways. >_< so silly...

AAAAAA THE WORK WIFE/WORK HUSBAND DYNAMIC WITH HIM!!!!! This is so true!!!!! He spoils you so much. Ruggie is very right to make that observation. <3 Azul is so lenient with you and it's so obvious he's down bad for you. Insisting on making food for you even though you were just planning to take leftovers. So quick to forgive you if you make a mistake, and Floyd whines about how Azul's not like that whenever he messes up. >:( you really are his work wife and one day hopefully his real wife and it will say so on the legal documents and you'll get his surname and and and !!!!!!

Omg Azul and his 5D chess plans........ oh, he is so over the moon when you show interest in the lounge and wanting to help out... he melts if you give him a shoulder massage while he writes up contracts. >:D can he just marry you right now already!!! OTL I love the idea of him folding whenever you do something he finds attractive. Batting your lashes, hands on your hips, every playful glance, etc etc....... somehow he ends up folding so hard for you that it gets you a trip to the Coral Sea to meet his parents, and his mother and the restaurant staff fawn over you and Azul's partnership. Such a cute couple. They adore you. Azul thinks this is the most blue he's ever looked because he's so embarrassed, yet you soak in their attention like a thirsty flower. Even more embarrassing when you're sleeping in his childhood room and you tease him for it. He is definitely fucking you in that cramped sleeping nook and you're going to fall asleep wrapped up in his tentacles, the both of you clinging to each other.

(please ramble as much as you want!!!! I love these thoughts so much,,, contractual fwb with Azul will always be one of my favorites hehe. I need to know how the meeting with his mother goes...... AAAAAAA)

[twst-drabbles]

Ok hear me out

House pet au

But for some weird reason, reader woke up small like their pets.

Hahaha, I really should get on the ball with this, it's practically begging to be written. Sounds like a funny old time to be had, with a caretaker that's going to be pretty peeved because obviously this has to be the work of reckless magic. If it's Crowley, they will probably kill him, or ignore all his phone calls and bar him from visiting their home for a while. That too will probably kill him.

Riddle and the rest of the plant nymphs would be a little paranoid because "big caretaker guardian is small and squishy, we have to protect at all costs." Hell, I'm having a hard time imagining that Riddle would even let the Caretaker walk. It's travel by roots or flowers baby. Ace and Deuce would drag them into shenanigans because of course...

Leona is going to rub this in, he's gonna be smarmy for a good hour before he gets bored. May or may not kick the Caretaker every once in a while when they pass by him. Ruggie is messing with the Caretaker way more, via buffs of wind to knock them over. And Jack is Jack, he's standing way too close, worried out of his mind.

...Seafolk try to take the Caretaker into their tank. They almost drown them on many occasions. They really don't understand that just because the Caretaker is small, it doesn't mean they can breath underwater. They love the Caretaker so much that the seafolk just put them in the "you are a part of our little group, so you gotta breath underwater" mindset. You know, in the same way a cat treats you like a big, clumsy kitten? Yeah, like that. Oh and you can bet your shit that Floyd and Jade were laughing their asses off. And will probably proceed to play tug-o-war with the Caretaker once they realize that they can't split their time as much as they could.

Jamil is also being a smarmy little shit. He's taking joy in the fact the Caretaker needs help to do many a basic thing. And what is he to do but to provide since he has all this extra length to him? Go on, get on his back, he'll get them from place to place because he is the most stable ride.

If Vil has a nest, the Caretaker is not leaving that nest until their appearance is fixed to his weird and unspecified specifications. They will come out of it decorated to hell and back, probably slathered in paint. He is so proud. And Epel is relishing in the fact that Vil's attention is all on the Caretaker. He will come around to rescue them at some point, but for now he's taking a break. Little shit.

Idia, after his initial near meltdown panic, actually vibes with the Caretaker...and also takes joy in the fact that they're tiny because it's funny that someone one incomprehensibly powerful to him is now on his level. And Ortho wants to drag them into his little games.

And Malleus...he's kinda frozen in place. Like, full on blue-screens and initially thinks that this must be someone else. But he is quick to connect the dots once he nearly tears through the house trying to look for them, and he does as all fae dragons do: try and kidnap the tiny Caretaker back to Silver's house. He doesn't succeed on the account of every other pet fighting against this. Lilia does nothing to stop this, he is having a time. And getting the Caretaker some little snacks, the young ones have to eat after all. And Sebek is...oddly behaving well actually. He's standing closely, keeping guard like anything can and will harm the Caretaker. And he nearly cries when they get scratched.

A very hilarious time to be had indeed.

[luveline]

Hi jade if you’re doing requests I’d love to see how prince Steve and his soulmate are doing after the wedding

prince!steve soulmate au —you’re sick from stress and Steve's adoring as always. fem, 1k

“Hello.” 

You nod dazedly from your bed. “Hello, husband.” 

Steve leans on the door, a bouquet against his chest. “Are you feeling any better? At all?” 

“Yeah.” You’re lying, but it doesn’t matter —your hoarse voice betrays you. You sound as sick as you had yesterday and the day before. It is putting a real dampener on the honeymoon. 

He puts his bouquet down on the dresser, the big white petals of its lilies drooping past the cellophane to kiss the drawers. You focus too much on that detail and startle when he sits on the bed. 

“You had everything you needed while I was gone?” he asks, hair falling into his eyes. 

You raise your hand, smiling softly as he leans forward, allowing you to fix it out of his eyes. He’s terrifying this close to you, absurdly pretty, absurdly yours, a golden ring on his finger and a furling white light turning pink braceleting his wrist. He’s very much the prince he was when you met, but now he is your prince, and that’s a strange thing to come to grips with, worse when you’re so achingly sick. 

“Hey?” he prompts. “You have everything?” 

“The serfs won’t leave me alone,” you complain worriedly. It hasn’t been nice to have them coming in and out all day. “I try to sleep and they wake me up coming inside. Sorry, I’m not– I’m complaining, I’m–” You rub your headache. “I should be grateful–”

“You’re allowed to complain about that!” he says, grinning. “God, I want you to! I’ll tell them to stop coming in, I just thought you’d probably die in your sleep while I was gone.” 

You lean back into your pillows with a wince. “You sure?” 

“Am I sure?” He holds your arm with both of his hands. “I’ve just sent the maids in to harass you for six hours when you’re sick as a dog and you’re asking if you’re allowed to be mad.” He rubs your arm with his thumbs. “I’m sorry. Do you want to sleep now? I won’t let anybody come in.” 

“No, um,” —you clear your throat— “I did– I missed you. I want you to tell me about the meeting.” 

“Yeah?” he asks softly. 

You have the feeling you’re being doted on. “Did Robin go?” 

“Let me just set us up and I’ll tell you. Okay?” 

You nod your agreement. Steve kisses the back of your hand absentmindedly and stands.

He shuts the curtains to hide the sunshine, clears away the jargon of the holoscreen against the wall, and closes the door. The room is big and the mess you’ve made since you fell ill the night of your wedding is expansive, taking ages to clean. By the time he’s done all this, you’re dozing again with the blanket pulled up to your nose. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, climbing into bed beside you. A kiss is placed on the edge of your eyelid. “You can sleep. We’ll talk about things when you’re feeling better.” 

“No, please tell me about today,” you croak. 

“Nothing really happened,” he says, up on one elbow, looking down at you lovingly. “They asked me when we’d begin our tour now we’re married.” His voice grows softer as he leans down, eyes on your lips. “I’ve asked for it to be pushed back. So they’ll wait until we’re ready.” 

“Mm. And news from the west?” 

“None.” He holds your face. “Sorry, you’re distractingly pretty today.” 

“Stop it.” 

“You are,” he says. He sounds playfully smug, or maybe he’s not playing at all. His tone is wry all the same, that slight fry that might make you pop a knee if you weren’t already wed. “I’m sorry you got so sick. I knew the wedding was going to be too much for you. I should’ve looked after you better.” 

“You didn’t make me sick.” 

“But the stress made it worse. I know it did.” 

“You shouldn’t believe everything the head doctor says. She made you eat dandelions for depression.” 

“I know, I was there,” he says, smiling down at you, eyes like dark dimes. “But she also recommended more fencing, and that did make me feel better.” 

You turn your face to the side and curl a tentative arm around him. “Can I have a hug?” you ask, and then, when he’s given you an enthusiastic yes and pulled you onto his chest, “I can nearly forget I’m sick.” 

“I can’t. You sound full of it, sweetheart.” Sweetheart said soft and quiet as a secret. Like he’s sorry and adoring at once. 

“It’s in my face.” 

“We’ll go to the sauna together later and clear you out.” 

Together? In your skivvies? If the sickness doesn’t kill you, the sauna with Steve alone certainly will. “I can’t tell if you’re being mean to me on purpose.” 

“Why would I do that? I like you. An embarrassing amount, I–” He clears his throat. 

You’re not sure what he would have said, but you like him too; you dive in to save him. “You’re like that, Steven, you mess with me.” 

“No, don’t start the Steven stuff again, I like it much more when you call me Steve. Remember when we first met, you’d only call me your prince? And you definitely wouldn’t have let me hold you.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” you plead through a nervous laugh. 

“Am I saying something wrong?”

He’s murmuring, nearly flirting —is it flirting if you’re married?— his arms threaded around you, his hair tickling your cheek as he leans down. “Not wrong…” Your eyes widen as he closes in. 

“Would a kiss make you feel any better?” 

“I’ll make you sick.” 

“Shouldn’t you? I’ve vowed to be with you in anything, haven’t I? In sickness…”

You hold your breath as his fans over your lips. 

“Just one?” he whispers.

“As many as you want,” you whisper back. “Just don’t get mad at me if you’re sick next week, Steve.”

“Never.”