#but I did used to keep this same kind as a child

[mezzo-morte]

Being a Mulder/Scully shipper (aka everyone except Chris Carter) is such a profoundly confusing experience.

You get gaslit by the showrunner himself because for the first 6(?) seasons the characters are platonic. You get six years of them glancing at the other's lips, standing and walking so closely they're always touching, you get tender touches and warm embraces, you get forehead kisses, you get displays of jealousy and one of them even admitting to being territorial. You get this as soon as the damn pilot.

You get Mulder speaking into Scully's hair, you get Scully cradling and singing to him, you get Mulder making a scene threatening to fight anyone in sight when Scully is returned to the hospital, you get Scully wanting to have his child of all people.

You get that the connection is so profound they only trust the other and would (and have) gone to hell and back for their partner.

You have all of these feelings culminating in the intense way in which they gaze at each other, both directly and when the other isn't looking.

Then you have the actors, who were so horned up and fed up with the tension they went off script and made out like that, the same actors who did photoshoots in bed and kissed at award shows and interviews despite never being together, despite the characters never being canonically a couple. You get David, who when asked if he played it like he wanted Scully, he said he simply played it like he cares about her input and you get Gillian, who kissed David in the mouth before turning to kiss her husband when she won an emmy in 1997.

It's clearly love and although the absence of romance and sex don't make a connection any less legitimate or meaningful, I just don't buy it that there was never supposed to be an attraction from the beginning. That they remained friends for that long.

And still you're left questioning if it isn't all just projection because the two actors are so insanely attractive you can't help but want to see them in a sexual setting. If it's all just two good friends having so much chemistry that it makes it easy to come off as romantic. You're left to wonder if you have just been so blind in your own personal life that you have never so much as seen that kind of connection in marriages, let alone with coworkers. That perhaps you've just never had the fortune of having such a special connection with your platonic friend that you make out just for fun. You're made to believe that what you're seeing isn't desire but a deep understanding and care for the other's well being and happiness.

What is the truth. It's out there and at this point I have to believe it's all a ploy from the shadow government and Old Smokey himself to cover up what everyone already knows. The evidence is right in front of us and they keep trying to veer towards a specific answer and call bias if you don't agree.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

While I don’t think the senti-kid story necessarily works if the writers wanted to keep the show focused on kids, I think it would’ve gone over a bit better if it was just Felix who was the senti, rather than also Adrien and Kagami (especially Kagami, she was a complete retcon in that regard).

Picture this:

Gabriel, Emilie, and Natalie find the Miraculous (Butterfly and Peacock) because they have an expensive hobby (archeology/collecting rare items, as wealthy people like to do), not because they need the magic at all. They just heard a rumor of an old Tibetan monastery and wanted to check it out, got lucky in finding the two jewels. The Peacock doesn’t even have to be broken.

We can keep the basics of the backstory shown in Representation- minus the detail of Adrien being made with the Peacock. Gabriel and Emilie conceive Adrien normally, but Colt and Amelie aren’t able to like in canon, so Colt has that same jealous outburst at Gabriel. Because Emilie feels bad for her sister, and Gabriel sees an opportunity to make a deal, they lend, or maybe trade, the Peacock to them to create a child. As in canon, Colt uses it, and his jealousy makes Felix a physical copy of Adrien.

Emilie gets sick for non-magical reasons. (I wouldn’t mind having her use it for funsies and not realizing it was broken, but it’s very obviously cracked, and I can’t imagine at least one of their two kwamis not giving them a warning.) As for what happens to Colt, I’m on the fence about him being alive in present times because that kind of abuse is really heavy, so maybe he just dies for unsaid reasons (though I vote Amelie poisoned him or something).

This version would allow for a really cool contrast between Adrien and Felix’s stories and characters. You have Adrien, a normal human, capable of disobedience, but who bends easily under others and is a people-pleaser. Versus Felix, a senti being magically compelled to obey orders of whoever has his amok, but fights to be free every chance he gets. That contrast would also further Felix’s frustration and jealousy of Adrien, in addition to his own father’s hatred of him and being identical to his cousin, because Felix would kill for Adrien’s free will, but he squanders it. But then there’s also the issue that he’s essentially victim blaming Adrien, not realizing that magic isn’t the only way to force obedience- not to mention ignoring the times that Adrien did stand up for himself (like running away to school). I think that would be a really great discussion of free will, how jealousy can blind you, family conflict (and resolution), and how different kinds of abuse/trauma aren’t automatically better than each other just because they’re opposites (ex: someone with heatstroke shouldn’t be jealous of someone with frostbite. Both suck.) The intensity might be worse for each circumstance (since Felix has magical abuse and physical+verbal abuse), but he would be in the wrong for saying Adrien has it easy.

(I think at this point my ADHD is over-explaining, so I’ll leave it at that lol)

Do you think a route like that would’ve improved the show at all? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

The sentiplot has many issues and one of the big ones is that it's not a great fit for a show where Marinette is the one and only main character. They've given Kagami, Felix, and Adrien this massive weight that begs for them to take center stage for at least a few episodes, but probably a whole season or two. The show isn't going to do that, so it's near impossible to really fix the sentiplot without truly massive changes to canon.

That being said, I think that this idea would have vastly improved the sentiplot in its current form! Right now, the senti thing truly doesn't matter to Adrien's character. His mom could have gotten sick for any random reason and the only meaningful change would be that Gabriel couldn't use the rings to keep Adrienette from kissing that one time. Outside of that, Adrien's status has no meaningful effect on the story. It doesn't even keep him out of the final! He does that on his own! The senti thing is just there for cheap drama.

There's also the issue that the current storyline makes the Agreste's look awful which is clearly not the story's goal. Emilie is supposed to be an angel and Gabriel is supposed to be a grief-stricken man who loves his family. That doesn't fit with the kind of monsters who would make a magical designer slave to be their child and then wear his control rings around as daily accessories. Remember, they picked their freaking wedding rings for his slave collars! Most people wear those every day. The implications are nasty!

It makes way more sense for the Agreste's to have the peacock for more mundane reasons and for Colt to get it somehow. Maybe even have him steal it after he finds out about it to really remove the Ageste's from the perfect slave child issue. This allows for the contrast between Gabriel and Colt that canon so clearly wanted, but failed to write. It also makes Felix's actions towards Adrien make way more sense. It feels like canon Felix hates Adrien and we still don't know why that is.

As nebulous as Felix's character is, he still feels like the kind of character who needs to be tied to something like the sentiplot. It's part of the reason I don't think I can use him in my own stuff. The sentiplot is - or at least should be - such a major, defining thing for him that the only possible way to use him is to keep that plot or to give him a plot about freeing the Kwamis since they're also slaves and his abusive childhood could make him feel a bond with them.

Focusing the sentistruggle on Felix instead of spreading it out to include Adrien and Kagami would also keep the sentistuff from dominating the story. Making the male romantic lead an artificial being without true free will whose creation killed his mother is a massive thing that needs to be the focus of his character for the rest of the story. People are on the edge of their seats waiting for Adrien to learn the truth and want this to be a big plot. I do not think they're going to get that, but they should.

Having a side character be the artificial human allows this to be something that is dealt with and then Felix either leaves or fades into the background once his story is over because his story allowed to have an ending whenever they want it to. That's not true for Adrien. Adrien's ending is happily every after with Marinette and the sentiplot needlessly complicates that plan because it means that Adrien's character is always going to be center stage, making people want the sentiplot to mean something since it's apparently impossible for him to ever be a real boy who has true free will. That's such a massive thing that it begs for Adrien to be the main character, which is an asinine writing choice. I have no idea why they keep giving Adrien all this massive narrative weight. You don't do that if you want the female romantic lead to be the main focus! You do it if you want them to be true costars or if you want the male lead to get the majority of the focus. This is writing 101!

As you said at the top, I'm not sure how well this works for a show aimed at five-year-olds because it's still a pretty heavy stuff, but as a general idea, I'd be down to watch it! I didn't have a ton to add to this one because your pitch was already excellent!

[dracolizardlars]

Also took the opportunity to get a decent shell size comparison photo

Their relative sizes definitely correlate with how often I see them each eating. They're about halfway to average adult size now

[soracities]

if we should protect children because they are vunerable, this means you would protect cruel children who bullies people who different than them then. the children who responsible to trauma for someone else's entire years

You're assuming that "protecting" children is the same as absolving them of responsibility and that's not what I said. All children are vulnerable, because all children are children; they don't come out of the womb with a perfectly working moral compass anymore than they come out of it waiting to hurt people--they're vulnerable because their understanding of the world is entirely at the mercy of what we, as adults, consistently tell them and show them. Children behaving cruelly aren't exempt from that--they learn that cruelty from somewhere, or someone. Your job, as the adult, is to make sure they understand that it's unacceptable so it will not happen again--but your job is also to ask why someone that young is behaving this way to begin with, so you can ensure they become better.

"Protecting" kids is not ignoring when they hurt or torment others, it's not refusing to teach them consequences or right from wrong, it's not "zero tolerance" policies in schools that treat a child being bullied and the child bullying them as equal instigators, and it's certainly not protecting them from recognizing, and atoning for, the pain they have caused someone else. You don't have to make peace with the now-adults who hurt you when you both were kids, but you cannot let the horrors of your own childhood impact how you treat or respond to the children living theirs around you right now, either.

You don't protect kids so they can get a free pass for bullying or tormenting another child. You protect them because kids are impulsive, emotionally reactive, and profoundly social (which means deeply impressionable) human beings who are still learning & processing insane amounts of information every day about what it means to be alive, to be alive as yourself, to be alive as yourself with other people. Protecting them is realising that you can't isolate the responsibility of a 10 year old from the bigger responsibility of the literal grown adults around them, adults who are in charge of teaching them about the world and how to behave in it. Whether you have children of your own in the future or not is completely irrelevant to this; we all become those adults eventually--no matter what happened to us as kids.

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[enigma-absolute]

…

[agayconcept]

.

[laughingcatwrites]

As a reminder that good exists out there, a coworker recently confessed to me that he found out his child is questioning their identity (kid's gender redacted for this post). The kid is keeping it from him, so he can't say anything to them or show that he knows, but he's doing his best to get mentally prepared and educated so that he'll be ready whenever his kid does feel comfortable enough come to him.

For context, this guy is a big, bulky middle aged dude who loves sports and typical outdoor "manly" activities. As his coworker and friend, I know he's a kind and sweet teddy bear of a person, but his kid probably views him as a stern, authoritarian figure, the way most teenagers view their parents. His family lives in a conservative area, so I'm sure between that, their dad's looks and interests, and the fact that their dad is a Figure of Authority, the kid is worried that they won't be accepted.

But you know what? When he found out about his kid, the first thing he did was reach out to his closest queer friend and ask for resources for parents of questioning children. His biggest fears are that his kid will be bullied or discriminated against and won't feel comfortable enough to be themself. His second action was to find himself a mentor in another parent who went the same situation (kid coming out in a conservative town). The other person is preparing him for some of the struggles his kid may face and the fights he may need to take on as a parent to make sure his kid is safe and treated well.

Something I want to emphasize for people focused on language as the primary method of allyship is that when we spoke, he used some outdated terms and thoughts about gender and sexuality. That does not make him bad. These were the terms and thinking used about questioning teenagers when he was growing up and he never needed to learn more current ones. But now that he does have that need, he's throwing himself in head first because that's his kid and he's darn well going to make sure that his kid feels welcomed and has a safe place to be themselves even if they never come out to him.

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

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

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖���: wc: 16.0k

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

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

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

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He desires an answer.

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

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

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

You think you dislike the feeling. 

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

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

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Purity.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You simply shake your own. 

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

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

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

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

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

You had not been optimistic since then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did he know your name? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only wish it was that easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do not like to think of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what am I meant to do?” 

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

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

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

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

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

At least that is what you hope. 

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

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

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

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

What a strange feeling it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause.

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

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

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

“But if someone were to see them–” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good lamb.”

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

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

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

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

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

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

“I– Prince Kim…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

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

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

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

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

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

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

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

“What…?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

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

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

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

“Taehyung.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

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

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

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

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

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

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

He is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.” 

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

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

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

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

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

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

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

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you going to marry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

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

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

“Who do you belong to?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are bound to him by blood after all.

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

[ro-is-struggling]

Self care || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

Warnings: established relationship, brief mention to Bucky’s past trauma, a fuck ton of fluff, my little knowledge of skin care lol

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: this was inspired by a dream I had. I thought it was cute and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote this little thing. If it doesn’t make sense, blame my dumb dreams lol

It was one of the first times you slept over at Bucky's place that you discovered he didn't have a skin care routine. He would look at you cleansing your face from the bathroom door, watching you apply creams and serums with a mixture of admiration and confusion in his expression. And every time you picked up a new product, he would ask you what it was and what did it do. 

It didn't really surprise you, most of the men you had dated tended to use a small number of personal hygiene products and usually the facial skin was only treated with soap and water. And if that was men your age, it was to be expected that Bucky and his over one hundred years of age were not aware of the benefits of skin care.You found his reactions kind of adorable. It wasn't every day that you caught Bucky acting with the naïve curiosity of a child, and you couldn't help but laugh as you answered his endless questions.

"Please tell me you at least wear sunscreen." You said and Bucky remained silent. "Oh my God, Bucky!" you complained, explaining to him how dangerous the sun was for his skin.

"After all I've been through, I don't think a little sun is going to kill me, doll." He laughed, coming up to you to hug you from behind. You wrapped your arms around his, smiling at him in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

The bastard knew how cute he was —looking at you through the mirror with blue eyes full of love—, and he was using it to his advantage to keep you from scolding him. He was probably right, the super soldier serum surely protected him from skin cancer in the same way it protected him from hits and falls that would be fatal to the rest of humanity. But still, it wouldn't hurt him to take care of himself a little every now and then.

"You smell nice." Bucky praised you, inhaling the subtle floral scent the creams had left on your skin. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive face. You laughed and he knew he had won.

"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily." you warned, tilting your head to the side so you could kiss him. "Flattery will get you nowhere!"

From that day on you decided that you would put together a skincare routine for Bucky. Super Soldier serum or not, everyone's skin needed a little help from time to time. And besides, you believed it was something that could benefit Bucky in more ways than just one. It would teach him to take better care of himself and to value the precious 'me time'. And god knew he needed that. So you made a mental note to buy a couple of products for him the next time you went to restock some of your kit and stopped thinking about it for a while.

That was until one day Bucky came home tired from a mission. You didn't quite know what he had to do and he didn't want to tell you much about it either when you asked him. Not knowing tore you apart, but you respected his wishes and didn't press the issue, deciding to help him in a way that wasn't invasive. You started with running him a bath, filling the tub with warm water and using some of your bath salts and lotions to create a more relaxing environment. You insisted on taking care of him, although Bucky didn't put up much resistance, surrendering to the soothing power of your caresses on his hair. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, coating it with shampoo to remove all the dirt before rinsing it and repeating the process with conditioner.

He still found such intimacy a bit strange. Even though he enjoyed it, he still wasn't completely used to being cared for with the affection you showed him. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such love and care that he could hardly remember it. But he felt safe in your hands, happy to have you in his life. A light of hope at the end of the dark tunnel of agony that had been his life. That was what you were to him. His second chance to live, to love. So he relaxed under your touch and let your gentle caresses take all the tiredness and worries out of his system.

But your pampering didn't end when Bucky got out of the tub. After he changed into his pajamas and laid down on his side of the bed, you emerged from the bathroom with a small white bag in your hands. You rested it on the nightstand and began pulling out various products he recognized from your skin care routine, arranging them in a nice neat line. 

"Doll... what are you doing?" Bucky asked, looking at the pink cat-ear headband you held in your hands. It was the one you always wore when you did your makeup or skin care routine, a tool you used to keep your hair out of your face while you worked. He always thought you looked adorable when you used it, but he didn't understand why you were directing it at him this time.

"Taking care of you." You replied as if it were obvious, "I want to show you the benefits of having a good skin care routine." Bucky hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to your soft smile and the sparkle of enthusiasm in your eyes. There was nothing he could say no to if you looked at him that way.

He gave you a slight nod and you took that as a signal to continue. You climbed onto the bed, settling onto his lap with one leg on either side of him, so you could face him and work more comfortably. Bucky put his hands on your hips instinctively, the cold metal of his fingers giving you goose bumps at the unexpected touch. But you didn't move them, you liked his hands there.

"First we have to make sure your hair is out of the way." You announced as you placed the headband on his head, making sure no hair was out of place or near his face. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you admired Bucky wearing the accessory. The pink, furry cat ears looked so out of place it was ridiculous. The clear feminine energy of the headband clashed against the distinctive masculine look on his expression in a fun and charming way. It made him look adorable if you were honest, especially when he smiled at you. He could definitely pull it off.

"How do I look?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. 

"Adorable." You replied between giggles, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

When you broke apart, you began your skin care routine, taking a piece of cotton and your favorite micellar water to cleanse Bucky's skin. He looked at you closely, taking advantage of the position you were in to admire your beauty up close while you concentrated on soaking the cotton ball in the liquid. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, he was sure, and not only that, you were kind and loving too. A wonderful person all around and he still didn't understand how he had managed to get you by his side, but he was happy about it.

"Why do you have to clean my face? I just showered." Bucky mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling your delicate fingers on his chin as you ran wet cotton across his face.

You let out a giggle. "Water is not enough! And regular soap is too harsh on the skin of our face, so you need to use a cleanser or cream that is meant for the face."

"I never heard about that." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.

"Because you're a guy and guys are used to using one product for everything hygiene related."

“That’s not true!” he tried to defend himself, although he didn't sound very convinced.

You decided to skip a few steps in the routine to keep things simple. The idea was not only to pamper Bucky and help him relax, but also show him that maintaining a skin care routine didn't have to be complicated and could bring him many benefits. So you went straight to the eye cream, taking some with your ring finger and carefully applying it to the bags under his eyes.

"Stay still! You're gonna make me poke your eye if you move like that!"

"It already feels like you're poking my eye!"

"Don't be so dramatic!" You laughed, men really were cry babies. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Bucky grumbled, pouting. You planted a quick kiss on his lips, and that seemed to please him because he kept his eyes closed and stopped moving. Carefully, you spread the eye cream over his dark circles, giving his skin time to absorb the product before proceeding with the last step.

"What is that?" Bucky asked you curiously as you reached for the last tub in the line of products. 

"It's a night cream. You're supposed to use it at night after you wash your face to keep your skin moisturized."

"Isn't that what the other cream did?"

"No, silly! That was just for your under eye area, this helps hydrate the rest of your face. We need to give back all the good things we got rid off when we cleaned your skin of all the dirt and oils clogging your pores."

Bucky made an annoyed face, muttering about how complicated it all sounded. But the truth was, he was enjoying the extra attention you were giving him. He had you all to himself, the warmth of your body enveloping him in a comforting embrace as your fingers gently massaged his face. He couldn't think of a better definition of paradise than that. Just the two of you sharing an intimate moment, far from the horrors of the outside world. He could commit to a skin care routine if it involved at least a third of the pampering you were giving him at that moment.

"You don't need to use much," you continued your explanation, dipping one of your fingertips into the cream before bringing it up to Bucky's face. "Just a little bit here, here, here... and here." You painted a couple of white dots on his cheeks, forehead and chin, kissing the tip of his nose before applying a bit of cream to the area. It was such a cute and intimate act he almost blushed.

The first thing Bucky noticed about the cream was the scent. It had a light rose fragrance that was familiar to him, comforting even. It traveled up his nostrils as you massaged the cream into his face, sparking a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It took him a few seconds to understand that it was because that was the same rose scent he recognized on your skin whenever he kissed you, that sweet floral scent he had learned to recognize as home. He finally knew he had your choice in moisturizer to thank for it. 

"You're using your cream on me?"

"Yes, it's the only one I had. The perfume doesn't last long, don't worry. I'll buy you an unscented one tomorrow."

"No, don't! I like this one, it smells like you... it's like having a little piece of you with me all the time."

You didn't expect him to say that, so you weren't prepared for the tingling warmth of love that coursed through your body. The idea that he wanted to keep you close at all times, that he recognized your scent and found comfort and safety in it, made your heart melt with love. Bucky was normally a man of few words, and tended to show his feelings with other things rather than words. Acts of service were his most common way of showing how much he loved you, although he also resorted to spending quality time together whenever you had free time. But every once in a while, he would manage to drop a sentence like that, which in concise words made it clear how much he loved you. Always taking you by surprise, he would drop them at the most casual moments, leaving you completely stupid for a few seconds as you processed his words and wondered what you had done to deserve having someone so wonderful in your life. 

Bucky gave you a shy smile, cheeks turning pink under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looked so adorable that you couldn't help but join your lips with his in a slow, loving kiss. He reciprocated immediately, one of his hands leaving your waist to cradle your cheek, pressing you tighter against him and deepening the kiss. 

"I love you," you muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed into his deep blue eyes.

Bucky smiled, feeling the last bit of stress evaporate from his system thanks to you and your sweetness.  "I love you too."

[5sospenguinqueen]

Pocket Money | Lance Stroll x Reader

Summary: Since the start of the relationship, fans have been convinced you're only with Lance for his money. When he mentions your future in an interview, they accuse you of trying to baby trap him.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst but mostly just for sadness. Hateful fans.

Female reader with various facelaims. Pics found on Pinterest.

A bit different to the other three.

next.

Main Masterlist

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lancestroll, chloestroll and others

YourUserName lovely london was kind enough to be sunny for me this weekend 🇬🇧

2,385 comments

chloestroll i’m still so jealous that you didn’t take me

→ YourUserName yes but if i had, i’d have spent the entire time trying to stop you from running off with a brit. i doubt scotty would appreciate that

→ scottyjames31 do NOT let her run off with a british man

→ YourUserName make sure you behave yourself then

User1 oh, so she’s on yet another holiday funded by her sweet, naive boyfriend who can’t tell he’s with a gold digger

User2 that’s it sweetheart. post pics of your trip that your boyfriend undoubtedly paid for whilst he’s busy racing all weekend without your support

User3 she’s quite possibly the worst wag. give the role to someone who would enjoy being there

→ User4 it’s not a fucking role, sweetheart. being someone’s fiancée is not a role you play, and i think y/n happens to do an amazing “part”

danielricciardo bring me back some crunchies

→ YourUserName no, i got into trouble last time. your trainer told me that you’re not allowed them

→ danielricciardo boo, you whore

User5 so she’s on yet another weekend away in london the same weekend that lance is racing in jeddah? can she make it anymore obvious that she doesn’t support him?

→ User6 her job means she has to travel a lot - just like lance - so unfortunately she cannot follow him around the world

→ User7 you tell ‘em, honey. y/n is a successful businesswoman but everyone seems to forget that? she makes every race when she can but sometimes she can’t get out of work

→ User8 at the end of the day, their relationship is none of our business

astonmartinf1 missing your face in the paddock this weekend

→ YourUserName i miss you too! although i bet nando is enjoying the peace and quiet

→ astonmartinf1 can neither confirm nor deny but he did mention something about yapping

User9 this is so cute. the way his whole face lights up when he’s asked about/talks about her

User10 not lance revealing that y/n would run away and marry him just to call him her husband

→ User11 yes! but he’s so dedicated to giving her the wedding she wanted since she was a child. these two have my whole entire heart 🥰

User12 ugh, where can i get a lance stroll? the way he loves his fiancee 😍 and not him being desperate to have babies with her

User13 so is this confirmation that y/n is pregnant? like, if he wants a baby in a year, then..?

→ User14 wouldn’t surprise me. if they get married, he can still make her sign a prenup and divorce her without a worry, but a baby would tie him to her for life so she can continue to spend his money

→ User15 okay but i’m with you on this. it’s the best way to ensure she can keep him around in some way because let’s be honest, their relationship doesn’t seem the best

→ User9 what the fuck is wrong with you two. where in that entire interview were you getting the impression their relationship is on the rocks? he’s literally planning an entire life with her???

→ User15 yeah and where is she? unbothered in london. she’s only with him for the money and that’s the only reason why they’re engaged.

→ User13 they’re engaged because they love each other! he’s also the one who said he wants her to have his children so he can keep her home????

→ User14 no they’re engaged because for some reason, he’s infatuated with her and she’s only using him, and she’s clearly tricked him into wanting children without realising that’s further entrapment

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YourBrother just posted

liked by danielricciardo, yourbestfriend and others

YourBrother when sprout takes time out of her busy life to visit, Nonna cooks a whole feast (can you tell who the favourite is) tagged: YourUserName

879 comments

YourCousin the only reason we look forward to y/n coming home is because nonna feeds us GOOD

→ YourCousin2 agreed, nothing to do with us missing y/n at all

→ YourUserName this is why i left 😂😭

User1 anyone else find it odd that she’s in a different country again on race weekend? i mean, i know her and lance were still a couple last month but i’m starting to wonder if that’s changed

→ User2 she’s also not been active on socials despite that being part of her job description?

→ User3 can you blame her when everyone constantly hates on her

→ User4 being on media isn’t part of her job, she just liked to share her adventures with us and some of you arseholes ruined that.

User5 oh my gosh, her parents are so cute together. i want to be like that when i’m older

→ User6 and her brother and SIL curled up in the chair together. this family really do produce the cutest couples

→ User7 looks like the only absent spouse is lance :(

→ User8 um because he’s currently in china? he has more important things to be doing??

User9 i love that her brother's first idea to cheer her up is to give her beer

→ User10 well, at least we know she’s not pregnant currently

→ User11 thank god. we know lance is free from her in that aspect

→ User9 seriously? making these comments on twitter wasn't bad enough, you people are actually commenting on her BROTHER’s instagram

(Comments have been disabled for this post)

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astonmartinf1 just posted

liked by estebanocon, YourUserName and others

astonmartinf1 our first race back in shanghai sees a p7 finish for fernando with the fastest lap. lance comes home in p15 after contact earlier in the race

1,443 comments

User12 literally give the seat to anyone other than lance stroll please

User13 can we all stop hating on lance, please? it was an accident, they happen

User14 not him blaming danny ric. sweetie, the car has brakes for a reason

User15 danny ric was fuming but also seemed like he was trying not to be

→ User16 no literally. it was like he was trying not to say something but in one interview slipped up and said that lance has been really distracted due to issues at home

→ User17 i saw that! and the way he ran away after like ‘oo the team is calling me’

→ User18 are we smelling a breakup?

User19 i personally think lance stroll shouldn’t be in f1 but can we take a moment to think that whilst it was really bad driving, he’s not been himself lately? he looks really sad in all the media things

→ User20 literally, like he’s constantly coming under hate for his fiancée, and then she hasn’t been to any races recently and he’s not talked about wedding planning once. this is the man who was telling everyone about his wedding even if they didn’t ask

→ User1 maybe he realised that his girlfriend was a gold digging bitch

→ User2 literally. he talked about having children with her and then realised that meant she’d never leave

→ User3 you people are actually crazy. how do you turn a man talking about wanting children into the woman he loves trying to baby trap him? y/n has never talked about wanting kids

→ User4 this. like i definitely think they’ve broken up but for all we know, it could be that lance was talking about children and y/n realised she wasn’t ready/didn’t want them.

User5 can’t believe people are still running the baby narrative. we know nothing about their relationship because they’re quite a private couple - and after this, we can see why - and yet people have somehow created a whole drama about babies from nothing

User6 i know lance is one of the more private f1 drivers but i really think he needs to comment on this? the amount of hate y/n is getting is insane and shouldn’t be ignored

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YourUserName just posted

liked by estebanocon, danielricciardo and others

YourUserName the view from my office is better than yours. sorry, not sorry

863 comments

BestFriend i’m looking for a woman in finance, trust fund

→ YourUserName you know you’re welcome to my trust fund anytime

→ BestFriend the best sugar mommy i’ve ever had

YourBrother congratulations on your promotion, shithead. one step away from ceo!

User7 wait why did no one tell me she was running a company?

→ User8 babe, we’ve been telling you bitches this from the start! but none of you listened

chloestroll congratulations, business barbie 💕

→ YourUserName thank you, music barbie 🤍

→ User3 so chloe is still here? does that mean we’re still getting a wedding

→ User9 idk. lance isn’t in the likes..?

→ User10 @ chloestroll please tell us what you know. Some of us are rooting for them to end up together

User11 so she goes radio silent for three months just to come back and pretend like she has a job? nothing about the man she supposedly loves?

→ User12 seems shady to me. you got caught out for being a gold digger so now you’re going to act like you actually go to work?

→ User13 i really hate people like you

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Daniel's Version | Max's Version | Lando's Version

Charles’ Version | Oscar’s Version

Tag list

@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @elijahslover @gaypoetsblog @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @raizelchrysanderoctavius @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @dullypully @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @leclercsluvs @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane

[remember-the-fanfics]

Gen-Z!Overlord!Reader

• Died at 18, been in hell for a few years.

• Came in after Alastor disappeared, just before Vaggie showed up.

• You were never one to follow what everyone else did. Killing, drugs, theft, or porn.

• Kept to yourself for a few months, getting use to being dead and in hell.

• Accidentally became an Overlord after you killed one in self defense.

"In my defense, she was like super creepy and an asshole. A big one."

• The souls were free but you kept your new territory nice so they didn't leave.

• You made jobs and kept the housing in better shape, only made deals to help souls.

• Gave them a job, house, and protection. You give them a limit of a few years of the deal and if they don't mind it, they can renew it.

"Well I don't want to force them to do something, its rude."

• In return, they keep your territory nice, clean, and less violent than most. Work the jobs you made and protect your little town.

• There's been occasions were you trade souls to other overlords, either the soul did something against them or just an asshole.

• The time on the contract would restart

• To every other overlord, you are a child with a knife and to much power.

• You demolished another overlord because they thought you were weak and tried to destroy you territory.

"You ass eatting bitch-"

• You let others fight for new open territory because you're fine with what you have.

• Panicked when you got invited to an Overlord meeting.

• Apparently you had enough power to be one, then you realized you actually were one.

• It was awkward to meet the most of the overlords. Not knowing who you were to begin with.

"This is for overlords only."

"Oh, I'm (Y/n). I got invited."

• Chatted with Rosie before and after it.

• Camilla likes how you run your territory but you seem so young.

• Did apologized afterwards, introducing you to her daughters, apparently you were around the same age.

• Zestial wanted to know how you took over you territory, interested on how you did it.

• You've only meet Velvette because you need some clothes. She recognized you as the up and coming overlord.

• Throwing the clothes you had in your hands away, saying you need to be in the best lastest trend of clothes.

• You were now stuck having a fashion show as she decided what look good on you.

• While not enjoying all the clothes she had you try on, you kept being nice having conversation when she wasn't yelling at everyone else.

• Velvette learned that you were around the same age so she decided that you were acquainted enough to have her number.

• Apparently it wasn't optional for you.

• You brought back way to much clothes for one person, atleast now you have style.

• Chaotic neutral energy

• Charlie meet you after she heard that you improved a part of hell, wasn't expecting someone so young looking.

"Dying just after I turned 18 just means I look young forever."

• Laughing at your own dark humor.

"Ha...ha.

• Charlie did not find it as funny.

• Told you about the hotel idea and you were right on board.

• Thought it was a good way to stick it to the man and help people.

• Vaggie was surprised when Charlie brought back a child.

• More surprised that you're the Overlord that Charlie wanted to meet with.

• Definitely said Vaggie's name wrong for the first time reading it.

• Meeting Angel Dust after he decided to crash at the hotel.

• Not knowing what he was known for but definitely heard his name from someone.

"You're a kind of actor?"

"Of the sorts."

• After you heard what he was famous for.

"Well, he'll do him and I'll do me but never do each other."

• There was an awkward silence of confusion from everyone.

• Having to explain every reference you make.

• Vaggie made jar for everytime you make a dark joke.

• Charlie has asked you why you were in hell. You shrugged, never living a truly bad life but probably just too chaotic for heaven to handle.

• You leave every few days to check back in your little town to make sure everything was running smoothly.

• You know when something happens, feeling the souls you own in a panic.

• Having to let everyone remember why you were in charge a couple of times.

• Either with your words or actions.

• Luckily Rosie just adores your mannerisms and how you don't completely turn away from her with what or who she eats.

"You could say the food was to die for!"

• She finds your dark humor funny.

• So she keeps an eye out for you, sending letters to you every few days.

• You vist her every other week to just chat, she tells you about easy territories that you could get. You say you would rather show up some punks than have more responsibility with more souls.

• Offers food everytime, you say no thanks everytime.

• Rosie would tell you all the tea about the other overlords or her own town.

• Yay! You have an allie with an another overlord by being friends.

• Also with offering truly worse souls sometimes. On a rare occasion.

• Rosie knowing when you offer a soul to her, she would take her time with it. Enjoying every bite.

• Anyway- Sinners would come up to asking for deal when they are completely down on their luck.

• But whats following a couple of rules for free house and job.

• You give them enough warning before you would shake hands then saying you would know if they even thought of fucking your shit up.

• Putting an add for Charlie's hotel in your territory.

• Charlie almost hugged you to death after seeing it.

• When Alastor showed up, the two of you would have a intense staring contest.

• He wasn't expecting another overlord here, oh wait, you're new.

• Alastor not actually taking the hotel serious, pissed you off but he was more powerful.

• Charlie having to keep you and Vaggie from trying to fight him.

"I didn't know there was a new overlord! Charmed to meet you. Whose territory was up for grab?"

"She was a bitch-."

"I know who exactly you speak of, that's good. She never had any manners."

• Watching him summon Husk and Niffty and was shocked.

• Tried it and summoned one of your workers.

• Excited that it worked! Apologetic for interrupting their day.

"Ah ha! It worked! Oh shit it worked! Sorry!"

• You and Niffty vibe on a similar level. Charmingly violent.

• Vaggie has to make sure either of you give the other one a bad idea to do.

• Husk question your age when you went to the bar. Making you do the math.

"Well I died at 18, it's been a few years so old enough."

• Gave you a hard drink which you spit out after tasting.

• You decide hard alcohol wasn't for you.

• Knowing how technology was when you died making you the most technical advance Sinners in the hotel.

-

That's enough for now, just a thought I had when working.

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Yandere bruce wayne with neglected!daughter reader

Seen a bunch of neglected reader fics recently but I haven't seen one of a Reader who slowly starts to take advantage of the situation and uses batfam for their money and connections so here's this! This only focuses on Bruce for now but if anyone is interested I'd be willing to do some for the other batfam members + hcs for when/if they snap and kidnap the reader. 

Was suppoused to headcanons but ended up more as long rambles than anything lol mainly set up for later posts detailing the situation

Pt1 it got too long, word count ; 2461

Unedited

___

Bruce is absolutely the most susceptible to this behavior, he feels the most guilt about the situation (as he should for being a neglectful father) and he is not going to lie to himself to try and save face and make himself feel better and if he does it's only for a short while before reality slaps him in the face and he has to see the truth. The truth is that there is no one to blame but himself.

When he first noticed your disappearance it had happened slowly… entirely too slow when he really took the time to think about it. You had been gone for a full year and he hadn't even noticed? Were you even old enough to be on your own like that? Something he felt ashamed that he even had to ask. When Alfred informs him that you're nineteen just this month he's shocked not only that you're an adult and that he didn't even realize your birthday had passed but that he couldn't even remember your face. He searches his memories for your Visage but all that he can recall is murky; he can't even remember the correct shade of your eyes or your hair and it startles him how long has it been since he took the time to properly look at you? 

It takes some time but eventually he remembers your face with sudden clarity, he hadn't seen it in a while and the only image he could conjure up was when he first saw you, a small helpless looking child left on his doorstep by commissioner Gordon.  your eyes held the same dull glassy look that his did the night his parents died, you had lost your mom in a similar vein he felt he could relate to at the time. he remembered seeing you and feeling sad for you but not in the way a father does for his child the way he felt was the same way he felt as Batman seeing victims in Gotham streets you didn't deserve this life but you weren't anyone close to him. 

His chest aches and he remembers the way you'd clung to him your first week in the manor and then the way you wilted when he shut that down, it wasn't like he was trying to hurt you but he couldn't have you following him around everywhere especially not when gothams crime was getting out of hand even with the other members picking up his slack. So he reprimanded you, way too harshly now that he looks back on it he knows he only meant to keep you from discovering his secret but he could have worded it better instead he made it sound like you were a burden. Maybe you were to him at the time he thinks and is disgusted with himself for even letting the thought cross his head. 

He reads your diary page after page until he reads through the whole thing. The first few pages are hopeful but solemn detailing how much you missed your mother but you're glad that you have a whole new family and you hope that they will like you, it's heartbreaking to read that kind of childish hope turn into sadness and then hate. You detailed how no one would make time for you that you'd tried everything to get their attention but you'd get blown off by each one it turns into rants about you asking what was wrong with you and why no one ever spent any time with you the writing was scribbled on so he knows you did it in a hurry just to vent out your frustration. The part that hurt most were the pages about him, you had nothing good to say about him in fact in one of the pages you had written that you didn't have much to say about him at all that you hardly knew him and barely saw him once a month and couldn't even call him your father. 

Surely that couldn't be true right? He's not the best father figure by far but he always tried to make time for dick, Tim, Jason, Steph, Damian and Cass ... .surely he did for you. 

He tries to find memories of him being a good father or at least trying to be any kind of father figure to you at all but he can't he can only see the times he rejected your pleas to spend time with you for things he deemed more important than you he sees it clearly each time he rejected you how you got sadder and sadder how you seemed to wilt at each and every rejection until you stopped asking. 

he tries to tell himself that he did it for your protection that he just didn't want to get you involved in the crime fighting scene and since gothams streets were never without crime he spent an exorbitant amount of his time as Batman down in the batcave or out fighting crime with his other children and that's why he couldn't spend time with you. And that's why he seemingly had so many memories with them in the recent years; hell even in the recent weeks he has more memories with dick and the others than he ever had made with you. he tries to use it as an excuse to mask the truth; that you didn't matter in the grand scheme of his life, at least not then but he's going to do everything to make this right.

You'll be surprised to suddenly get a ton of texts from an unknown number even more so when you find out it's from bruce. Suddenly he's asking you how you've been, how was the move, are you in college right now, what major did you take? Obviously you're taken aback when the man who acted like you didn't exist suddenly wants to know everything about you. You would think he'd needed something but you know better than that what could he possibly need with you now? You don't have any money and he wouldn't need that anyways. Maybe he's dying and needs a kidney or something…whatever you don't care that man can rot. 

You leave his messages on read of course, because you don't owe him a response and well maybe to be a bit petty and give him a taste of his own medicine. You don't know how bitter the taste is in Bruce's mouth, he knows you've seen them so why won't you respond? Bruce usually isn't a multi texter but he'll send more and more trying to get any kind of response out of you, he's constantly checking his phone hoping to see three little dots appear and he's noticeably slightly more angsty when out patrolling with the others. 

The texts were annoying but you could mute his notifications and after the first few weeks you basically forgot about the texts going about your normal life until he started calling. It seemed like he was always calling Day in day out, you blocked his number because of how annoying it was but he always just gets a new one leaving the same text “ hey your name its dad” and then the calling would resume. 

One day you pick up and Bruce sounds so relieved when he says your name into the receiver you figure he might really need that kidney if he sounds this excited to see you.

When you answer back he knows you aren't excited in fact you sound completely disinterested in him which takes him by surprise, isn't this what you wanted? What you cried for in your diary begging God that your father would notice you. You're older now so maybe you just aren't looking for that kind of attention anymore, the thought haunts him the idea that he could never truly make it up to you still he pushes through his voice sounding nervous as he starts to tentatively ask about your day. You cut him off with a scoff after some terse conversation telling him to just get to the point already and stop wasting your time. 

The silence is deafening and you almost hang up before he croaks out a response “sorry name, I just wanted to know what you were up to I know we uh.. haven't talked in awhile I just wanted to hear from you and know that everything was alright”  could this really be your father? He sounds so pathetic to you at that very moment, nothing like the confident man you saw on television often nor the man you saw taking care of everyone but you. 

And no nothing was alright you were working a job you hated in some shitty little apartment in Gotham that you had to fear if it would get broken into or not because the damn landlord wouldn't change the faulty locks a rage takes you and you just let it all fall out cursing him for your shitty life and the shitty apartment and for being a shitty father letting all that rage out until you're left heaving.  its silent after your outburst you think he might have hung up but after a moment he offers to pay for a new place and offers to pay your current rent until you can break the lease and that he will take care of you and not to worry about anything financial telling you to quit your job and to send him your bank so he can get things sorted out.  

At first you wanted to vehemently deny this, wanting to prove to yourself that you didn't need him or his help but something In the back of your head tells you to accept it, that if he expects anything back for it then that's his fault for assuming. So you tell him and soon there's a large sum of money in your account more than you have ever had in there. For once you can actually afford to treat yourself instead of eating shitty microwaved ramen, and so you dine out in a nice reasonably expensive restaurant with your friends and you enjoy yourself. 

A week passes in silence and then he's sending you pictures of luxury apartments telling you to pick out any one you want and that he'll get everything settled and you almost can't believe this. Would he actually pay for something so outrageously expensive? You almost doubt it but once your lease is up Bruce is at your door helping you move out any furniture you wanted to keep which was almost nothing seeing as everything was already worn out anyways. 

You didn't say much to him and he seemed to realize you were in no talking mood so he allowed you to be quiet and told you about himself instead talking about the boys and what he'd been working on recently, it feels like what he should've been for you years ago an interaction you'd have killed for when you were fourteen and it just pisses you off so you turn on the radio instead to drown out his words. You don't care how he's doing, you don't want to hear about dick or damian, you're only accepting his help because you're tired of living in that shitty apartment. The ride is otherwise silent except for the annoyingly upbeat pop music which would probably make Damian or Jason have an aneurysm if they had to listen to it. 

The goodbye is  awkward. You can tell Bruce wants to come inside and talk more but you thank him for helping you move in the furniture and shut the door. 

He buys you new furniture without you asking and sends it in by the second week you're in the apartment. You don't realize that he stalks your posts and that he saw one of you complaining about the lack of good furniture.

Life has never been better for you, you live in luxury and can go on shopping sprees literally whenever you want and Bruce sends you a random stream of cash whenever you start to get low and you're definitely not going to look a gift horse in the mouth not when you enjoy every luxury you are afforded. 

Life is good until a certain black haired prick starts inserting himself into your life and this time it isn't bruce, nope it just had to be your annoyingly bubbly, touchy, and all too friendly ‘stepbrother’ dick grayson.

___

So yeah all in all Bruce has the capability to recognize your strained relationship is all his fault and that he never should have ignored you and how selfish he was to put his duties as Batman above his duties as a father to you. He realized he didn't even try to balance the two. 

And Despite himself he ended up hurting you and neglecting you so he feels he owes it to you to make things right even if 'making things right' entails him buying you a luxury apartment or purchasing the latest phone or new car. The best part is that Bruce will not demand time from you (yet) because of his guilt.  He simply suggests that maybe you should come out with him saying that he planned a whole day for the two of you but the ball is in your court since whether or not you ever accept his invites he will continue to be your cash cow to absolve himself of his guilt. 

It's fun because now you get to watch him wilt everytime you reject his attempts at reconnecting, you get to have your petty revenge watching as a part of him dies inside each and every time you ignore the conversations he tries to start when pulling money out of the bank,  you get to watch how he seems to lose all of his luster when you leave once the cash is in your hands without so much as a thanks. Bruce isn't stupid he knows this dynamic is unhealthy and recognizes it for what it is but this is the only way he can get you to talk to him or to even look in his direction. He has his limits though eventually you will talk to him whether you want to or not 

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

sukuna skipping gym to sleep in and later on does his workout in their living room, using her as a weight when doing push ups, may turn heated hehe

college Sukuna's masterlist

turned this into a college!sukuna drabble lmao sorry!! no smut this time, i wanted to elaborate a bit on sukuna's protectivness toward yuuji :)

You're humming a song from your studying playlist when you hear someone knocking at your door. You look at the clock you keep on your desk near a plant Yuuji gifted you last week. On the terracotta vase there's a scribbled note in the obvious handwriting of a child.

To: baby peach, but no more annoying screams when we play, please!

You smile. He always chooses to be baby mario when you play Mario Kart together because he doesn't want you to feel alone in case you're the only baby character. He's such a cute kid, you're lucky to have him as one of your almost-roommates.

You get up (it's still pretty early anyway) and stretch your back, hearing it pop. You open the door, and standing in front of it is the same kid you were thinking about.

"Hey," you wave at him, a happy tilt to your voice. You look at him shuffling and avoiding your gaze.

"Is everything okay, Yuuji?" you start getting worried. He mumbles something you don't hear clearly, so you make him repeat himself. He juts his lip out, then looks straight at your face.

"Can you take me to school please?"

You raise your eyebrows. Usually, this is a big brother kind of duty: where is Sukuna? Yuuji takes your silence as rejection and starts backtracking.

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, I can just go alone-"

"Sure, let me grab my purse and we can go," you stop him, changing your expression to one of calmness, ruffling his pink, unruly hair.

"Are you sure it's not a bother?" he asks you hesitantly. "Big bro closed his door and I can't seem to be able to wake him up... and I'm supposed to be accompanied by an adult..."

"It's not a big deal, Yuuji. I'll take you in my passenger seat, okay? We'll be there shortly," you reassure him, nodding.

"Thanks," he says, blushing, giving you one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen him do. Your heart melts a little, and he looks at you like you've physically hung up the sun shining outside.

When you get back home, you're not even able to get to your room when you find yourself being squished between the nearest wall and a hot, rapidly rising and falling chest.

"Where the fuck is my brother?" Sukuna grits out his teeth, breathing down your neck. You wince. He's controlling his strength, but he's still a mountain compared to you, and your ribcage is starting to hurt.

"Get off of me right now or I'm calling the police, Itadori."

He notices he must have been too rough and takes a step back, mumbling an apology while still looking at you menacingly. You pat your clothes, making sure there are no wrinkles before answering him.

"I took him to school. He told me he was being neglected by his own caretaker, so I had to intervene," you shrug.

"He did not say that. He doesn't even know the word neglect," he says, sighing. His shoulders drop and he takes on a more relaxed appearance.

"What's wrong with you? You've never gotten up later than 6 am," you ask him, trying to sound nonchalant, walking toward your fridge to make yourself a toast. The truth is, you're starting to get attached to him. In the last couple of months, you've created some sort of bond, and it's probably also thanks to Yuuji and his stubbornness in making you do things like you're a family. Just last night, he forced you both to make cookies with him because apparently his friend Megumi was coming to play this afternoon and "he wanted to make a good impression".

Sukuna, on the other hand, can be a lot. The majority of the time he nudges you to get you to move out of his way (he just does it to see your annoyed face, but he's not going to tell you that), huffs in your face when you say he hasn't cleaned his dishes from the night before, and flips you off whenever you try to have a civil conversation about who's turn it is to choose the film on Friday night. But he's also pretty attentive. It's not like he makes you notice it, but he does feel bad for you when you get out of your room after an all nighter because of your studies. He thinks you're annoying because you're always trying to pry into his private life, but when you're not home Yuuji always asks of your whereabouts. Yeah, that's definitely why he can't stop thinking about you laughing with the boy he literally raised. The boy whose disappearance was driving him insane this morning.

Because sure, Sukuna tells Yuuji he's a brat 95% of the time, and the kid yaps way too much for his taste. He also manhandles the kid badly, telling him he's way too weak to be called his brother, and more often than not Sukuna tells him he's adopted and that he'll kick him out as soon as he can. But you've seen the way he prepared soup every night when his little brother caught the flu in December—he's just full of shit. He'll never admit how hard it was to raise a brother he didn't want at 13, alone and broke. But he'll make sure the child never doubts of having someone to fall back into like Sukuna did since he was much younger than Yuuji is now.

"Didn't sleep well and I missed the gym," he responds, munching on an apple. You hum in acknowledgment, not turning around from the stove.

"You know that pilates class you suggested to me last week? I found their videos on YouTube. I was thinking of starting them today," you quickly change the topic. You know you won't get more than that; him admitting he didn't sleep well was already a win.

"Wanna start them with me, chipmunk?" he asks you. You turn around to slap his arm slightly.

"I told you to stop calling me that," you say rolling your eyes.

"No."

You whine. "Yes, by the way. I want to see you suffer like the men I see on TikTok."

"Come be my weight and I'll do pilates with you today," he suddenly says. You're biting your toast and you're so caught off guard that you start coughing up crumbles. He hands you a glass of water while telling you you're too fucking dramatic.

"What does it mean to be your weight?" you tentatively ask him when you can breathe properly again.

That's how you find yourself sitting crisscrossed on his back, gripping his shirt as hard as you can, while he does pushups and tries not to laugh every time you scream about him moving too much and almost making you fall.

[dclovesdanny]

Dead on Main

4/5

Jason had always loved the drawings littering his arms. As soon as he knew how to write and had markers, he would write notes to his soulmate. He knew Danny like the back of his hand. Danny was the first person he said good morning too and the last person he said good night too.

He barely managed to scribble out a message to Danny before he died, apologizing.(He prayed Danny forgave him for leaving him alone.)

After Jason was resurrected, he didn’t know what to say to Danny. Danny still wrote on his arms, and Jason would be lying he said he didn’t look over those notes and feel tempted to write back. But Danny deserved better than what Jason could give him.

(the only person Jason ever showed the notes to was Damian. He would let the little Demon trace over them silently as he explained. He knew the league’s policy on soulmates was not kind. He hoped Talia would be kinder to the kid)

Then the writing started getting sloppier. The notes became those of a vigilante, the one thing he had hoped his soulmate wouldn’t have to be. Jason wasn’t supposed to leave the League. Jason should be working towards his revenge on The Joker, his plans for Gotham.

But then Danny wrote about Vlad. About the creepy guy that made his insides crawl and Jason couldn’t keep himself from clenching his teeth.(all of the trainees got used to Jason having some days where he was worse than others. Sometimes, the pit would rage inside of him at the thought of Lasters, but oddly enough messages from Danny seemed to ground him and make it harder for the Pit to control him)(maybe that’s why the league didn’t approve of soulmates.)

It was when the writings stopped that Jason really got worried and started preparing to leave. Talya caught him quickly, but was surprisingly willing to let him go. Her only request was that He took Damien with him. (Sometimes, he noticed how Talia wore the same sleeves that he did. He wondered sometimes if Talia only pretended not to have a soulmate.)

The last message that he got from Danny was the one that made him leave three weeks earlier than planned, with a demon child to his back, and guns ready to fire.

I never expected to be a teen dad. I’m kind of scared, but like hell I’m letting the fruit loop raise these kids.

I wish you were raising them with me.

[aperrywilliams]

Has a Nice Ring to It (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

------------------ 

Author Masterlist

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Wife!BAU!Reader.

Request: Hi, I would like to request one where the reader and Spencer adopt a 4-year-old boy that they rescued in a case.

Summary:  It's pretty much the same as the request says, but focused on how they met with the boy and took the decision to adopt him.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort and angst with a happy ending. CM typical stuff, murder, unsubs, death of relatives, orphancy. Pregnancy and adoption are discussed. I don't know how the adoption system works in the US, so bear with me.

A/N: I loved the request. Dad!Spencer lives rent-free in my mind. Tell me your thoughts.

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

‘(Y/N)? What's your location and status? I repeat, what's your location and status?'

Hotch's voice echoes through your earpiece, but you are not able to speak. Not when the scenario in front of you is so overwhelming.

Although in your eight years working at the BAU, you have seen the most horrendous things one human being can do to another, from time to time, some cases can still paralyze you.

Like now.

As you look around, you can only think of the terrible minutes those who lived in this home must have gone through when the unsub forced its way in.

But something snaps you out of your stupor, and it's not Hotch's voice shouting in your ear; it's the sound of sobs.

The sobs of a child.

You take off your earpiece to get a better notion of where the sound is coming from, and you notice that at the back of the room, there is a closet with its door closed.

You quickly run over there and open the door, only to find a little boy sitting on the floor, hugging his knees and with teary eyes. When he looks at you, you can see the shock and fear in his eyes. The little one must be four years old at most. It breaks your heart to see him like this, but it immediately makes you go into alert mode again. You holster your gun first so as not to scare the kid.

"Hey, sweetheart. It's okay. My name is (Y/N), and I'm a cop. Everything is okay. You're safe," you tell him with a reassuring voice and kind eyes while you crouch to get to his level.

His hazel orbs are glued to your form as he blinks a few times.

Before you can talk again, he launches to wrap his little arms around one of your legs. With an arm, you hug him back as you block his view of the room with your body. He doesn't need to see the same you did as you got there.

"I've got you, sweetheart. You're okay," you repeat him as you put on your earpiece again. "I'm in the master bedroom. No unsub, but I found the kid," you murmured into the com.

Yet crouched, you lean back to look at the boy. "I'm gonna get you out of here now, okay? But I need you to keep your eyes on me until we get outside. Can you do that for me?"

The kid nods timidly. Removing your FBI jacket, you take him in your arms, covering you both with it as you make your way out. A bunch of agents enter the room at the time, but you keep your eyes on the boy, using your peripheral vision to keep walking and not fall.

Spencer is waiting for you at the base of the stairs. Concern is visible on his face when he sees you coming down with a child. When you reach the first floor, you withdraw the jacket that covers both of you.

"Good job, honey," you say to the boy with a smile. And then you briefly exchange a knowing look with Spencer. He nods, and you continue your way out of the house with the kid in your arms.

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

It turns out the child, named Elliot, is the son of the unsub's two recent victims. Unsub that you have been chasing all over DC for three days now.

You get confirmation of this information from Garcia by phone as the EMTs are checking Elliot in an ambulance parked outside the house where you found him.

It's still unclear what really happened inside. Still, it's likely Elliot's mom hid him in the closet before the unsub got upstairs. You don't know for sure because the little boy hasn't said a word to anyone yet.

And although it's heartbreaking, you know you have to make him talk about what he saw and heard.

Hotch, a few meters apart, beckons you to approach. 

"I'll be right back, okay?" You say to Elliot. But as you're about to step away from him, he starts crying and grabs your sleeve so you don't go. You look at your boss, confused as to what to do, and Hotch nods, showing you his cell phone, a sign that he'll text or call you so you don't have to leave Elliot's side.

A ping of your phone signals a text from Hotch.

'We need to know what he knows. You'll ride with him to the quarters. Spencer is going to drive you.'

You think it's reasonable due to the rapport it seems you already have with the boy.

"It's okay, Elliot. I'm not leaving you. But we need to go to another place now, okay? So we can be more comfortable. It's getting cold here," you point it out as the reason why you need to leave and not because he needs to be questioned. 

A faint 'okay' escape from the boy's lips, and it's the first word you hear him say. And a lump forms in your throat, acknowledging the vulnerability of that little human being.

From the corner of your eye, you see Spencer getting closer, presumably having talked to Hotch.

"Elliot, this is Spencer. He will drive us to a comfy place. He is a good friend and will take care of us," you announce.

"Hi, Elliot," Spencer says as he waves.

"Hi," the child murmurs as he waves back.

The ride to the station starts mostly quiet. You are in the back seat with little Elliot as Spencer drives. From time to time, he looks at you both from the rearview.

Spencer knows you are trying to come up with a strategy to talk to the child, so he takes the lead in doing the small talk to give you some insights.

"So, Elliot. Can I ask you a question?" Spencer starts, and the kid perks his head up and nods, with a 'yes' slipping from his lips.

"What is your favorite food?"

The boy pouts a bit while contemplating his response. "Pizza," he decides. "I like pizza."

"Pizza is cool," Spencer agrees. "Would you like some now? I can stop by and get one," Spencer offers.

"With ham?" Elliot quirks an eyebrow questioningly.

"If you like ham, then ham it is."

"I like ham and tomatoes," he adds. Spencer smiles.

"Did you know pizza with ham and tomatoes is (Y/N) 's favorite?" Elliot's gaze turns to you, asking for confirmation. You nod, backing Spencer's statement. A timid smile crosses Elliot's face, and you could have melted right then and there.

Spencer continues asking the boy little questions; that's how you know he likes airplanes, his favorite color is green, and he prefers Hulk over Ironman.

At the BAU, you head with Elliot to one of the meeting rooms—the most little and cozy so that the boy could settle in a less intimidating environment. Spencer follows you back, stopping by to grab from Garcia the pizza box and drinks he asked her for earlier.

"Here it is. Pizza with ham and tomatoes. I got some drinks, too," Spencer announces, placing everything on the table. He knows you have to talk to Elliot about what happened in the house, so he suspects you need privacy with the kid. He stops at the door and looks at you. You stand to approach him while Elliot is occupied with a slice of pizza.

He grabs your hand and, after kissing it lovingly, gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"You're doing good. It's for the better. He trusts you. We need to catch the guy."

It's just what you need to hear. You're still unsure about the whole situation, and Spencer, as always, can see it. Your husband of two years can read you like a book, and it's not because of his profile skills. You both have been through a lot together in the years of working together, being friends at first and then as a couple.

You nod, and Spencer kisses you on the cheek before letting you alone with Elliot.

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

It's shocking the wretched details that a 4-year-old's mind can retain and still see the world innocently. In some way, you're grateful Elliot can't understand everything that's happening around him.

You pass the information he gives you on to the team to improve the profile and get better clues about how to catch the guy. Spencer was right; Elliot trusts you, and that's why you feel responsible for his well-being. After tiring hours, he falls asleep on the couch, where you tuck him in and watch him sleep.

Spencer peaks into the room. He wants to talk with you.

You leave the little one sleeping while you go out and leave the door half open.

"You need a break. You hadn't eaten or slept in hours."

"I'm okay," you say flatly. Spencer raises an eyebrow. "I can't leave him, Spence. You know that."

"Baby, I know you're worried for him, but you need to take care of yourself too. I can stay with him for a couple of hours."

You know Spencer is right, but you don't want to admit it. Instead, you try to change the subject.

"Did Garcia locate any relatives?"

Spencer sighs. He knows the answer to your question, and it's not a good one.

"There is literally no one in his family except those who were in the house: his parents and an aunt. There is a distant cousin, but she lives in Sweden, and she doesn't even know his existence. And even if she wanted, she could not do the adoption procedures because she lost her American nationality."

That means Elliot will fall into the system, waiting for someone to adopt him. You don't even know how to respond to the news. They are devastating and break your heart.

Spencer looks at you with concern.

"Are you okay?" your husband cautiously asks, although he knows the answer from the look you return to him. It's a look that says, 'I'm not okay, and there is nothing I or you can do about it right now.'

In silence, he envelops you in a tight embrace that you reciprocate, hiding your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry," you mumble after some minutes. Spencer leans back to look at you.

"Why are you saying sorry?"

"Because I should be working my ass right now to catch the son of the bitch who did that to his parents," you pause to control the anger that starts bubbling inside of you. "Instead of being a mess and useless here."

Spencer cups your cheeks so you can look at him.

"Hey, don't say that. You are doing even more than it is expected from our job here. You are the only one Elliot has talked to about what happened, and it has given us solid leads. Beyond that, you are helping him, caring about him, and being by his side in this horrible time."

"It's so unfair, Spencer."

He knows what you are talking about and nods in agreement. You continue talking.

"And I know there are so many other children that have to go through something as horrible as this, and they, too, have no one to take care of them. But with Elliot, I - God, I don't know why it feels different with him. The mere idea of him in the system makes me sick."

Spencer feels his chest tight, but he doesn't want to be vulnerable when you're the one who needs to be comforted. He pulls your body towards him again, holding you tight.

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

A whole two days have passed, and after much insistence and even convincing Elliot to tell you not to feel bad about leaving him for a few hours, Spencer gets you to take a break. So you can take a shower, eat and sleep.

The rest of the team works full-time and around the clock to catch the unsub. With the new clues you had him identify, it was only a matter of hours before they could finally get him.

Spencer is with Elliot while he colors with crayons. On the sheet, he is painting the sky blue.

"Do you know why the sky is blue?" Elliot asks Spencer, whose lips quirked up in a smile.

"Well. It's because of something called the scattering of sunlight by the atmosphere." Elliot's eyes widen in confusion.

"Scattering of sunlight? What's that?"

"It's like when you bounce a ball off a wall, but with sunlight and tiny air particles."

Elliot giggles, picturing what Spencer just said.

"So the sun is playing ball with the sky?"

Spencer laughs, amused by the kid's imagination.

"Haha. Well, sort of. You could say that."

An excited Elliot decides what he wants to do next.

"I wanna play ball with the sun too! Can we?" 

Spencer raises an eyebrow, contemplating his response.

"Maybe not with the sun directly, but we can definitely play ball later. How about that?"

"Yes! Can I get my red ball? It's my favorite!" Elliot chirps and Spencer's heart swells.

"Sounds like a plan, buddy."

Spencer's answer seems to satisfy Elliot, who continues coloring.

He doesn't have the heart to tell the kid that maybe he will have to leave soon once a child service professional gets assigned to his case.

After a while, Elliot finishes his drawing and passes it to Spencer, who examines it curiously.

In it, there is something that resembles a woman holding hands with a child. Next to it is a sketch of what appears to be a tall man, and in the blue sky, two winged figures.

Spencer asks him who they are, pointing to the drawing.

"She's (Y/N)," Elliot points to the woman holding hands with the child.

"That's me after she found me," he explains, putting his finger over the drawn kid. "That's you," he continues, indicating to the tall man.

"I look really good here," Spencer jokes. "And these? Spencer now points to the figures in the sky."

"Mom and Dad," Elliot says, and Spencer's breath hitches in his throat. "They are in heaven now and look after me. They sent (Y/N). Mom told me."

Spencer doesn't know how to respond to that, although he's curious about the last thing he said.

"What did your mom tell you?"

"When she left me in the closet. She told me I was going to be fine. That good people would find me and take care of me. And (Y/N) found me. She's good people."

Spencer's heart protrudes with pride and love as he sees how the boy recognizes you as a good person and seems to appreciate you much more than he thought.

"She is," Spencer concedes, with a little tremble in his voice.

"You like her?"

Spencer's cheeks blush. Even a 4-year-old can catch how hooked he is for you.

"What makes you think so?"

"You look at her like dad looks to mom. And my mom told me when people look like that is because they like each other."

"You're a very clever boy, Elliot. And you're right. I like her. We are married, actually. Do you know what is that?"

The kid nods, pointing to the gold band adorning Spencer's ring finger.

"Exactly."

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

After a few hours, you return to the BAU and find Elliot asleep in Spencer's arms, who is lying on the office couch.

A sad smile crosses your face. On the one hand, the image triggers so much sweetness, seeing your husband, the love of your life, taking care of a little one who needs so much love and care. But on the other hand, the certainty that there is nothing you can do to change the destiny of that little boy who, at such a young age, has already experienced such terrible things.

You are so absorbed in the image that you don't hear Garcia until she is next to you.

"This pair hasn't wasted any time. Elliot colored for a long time while he asked Spencer everything he could think of. Of course, Boy Wonder was fascinated to answer all his questions. Afterward, they gave a tour of the floor; they even ran through the hallways. They even went to play football in the parking lot. That's why they are both exhausted."

"My husband running through the hallways and playing football? Who would have thought," You joke. Garcia nods, smiling and placing a hand on your shoulder.

"How do you feel?" She also realizes how difficult this case has been for you.

"More rested, although until this is over, I don't know how I'll really deal with this."

You wouldn't have to wait long to get to that point. Just as the social worker comes to check Elliot's case and, inevitably, takes him away, Garcia gets a call from Hotch saying they have the unsub in custody.

Everything happens too fast to process, and the only thing you manage to do is sit next to Elliot while Spencer talks to Nancy, the social worker, and tells her the details of the case. The kid is awake now and telling you everything about his afternoon with Spencer.

When Nancy and Spencer peek in the door, you know what it's about. Turning to Elliot, you talk to him softly.

"Sweetheart, this is Nancy. She wants to ask you some questions. Is that okay with you?" you probe. The kid lifts his gaze to the woman at the door and frowns.

"About mommy and daddy?"

He's too smart and perceptive for his own good, you tell yourself.

"A few, yes. But you can say only what you are comfortable with, okay?"

Elliot does not look very convinced.

"Can you stay?"

Your eyes soften as you exchange a knowing look with Spencer.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't."

"And Spencer can stay?"

"I can't either. I'm sorry, buddy. But we promise we are going to be right outside," Spencer affirms.

Elliot reluctantly agrees, and you leave him with Nancy. Once you're out of their sight, you feel tears begin to roll down your cheeks. You turn to look at Spencer, and you see his glassy eyes, too.

He takes your hand. "Let's talk in a more private place," he tells you, entering another of the offices nearby.

Closing the door, you give free rein to your emotions and begin to sob. Spencer hugs you tight, and he cries with you. You two know you need to hold each other up right now.

When you feel you have released some of the tension, you both separate from your embrace and sit in chairs adjacent to each other. Spencer holds your hand.

You still can't believe the little boy is going to get into the system. You bite your lip in pure frustration.

"I know," Spencer says. "I don't like the idea either, but someone has to take care of him. More so now that the case is closed."

"Does the bastard even understand the damage he has caused?"

It is a rhetorical question because even if the answer were positive, it does not change the fate of little Elliot in any way.

Spencer is affected, too. During the time they spent together, he became fond of Elliot and stole his heart in the same way he did with you.

To be honest, in the last few hours, Spencer has been mulling over an idea, but he needs to talk to you first. Although he already guesses what your position could be in the matter.

"Maybe we can do something," Spencer muses, and you look at him baffled.

"We do?" you question. Spencer nods, smiling at you.

You are trying to read your husband, but his warm smile and understanding eyes won't let you anticipate what he will say to you.

With a hand stroking your cheek, he spoke next.

"Well, if you ask me, Elliot Reid has a nice ring to it."

Your eyes widen at his words.

"What? Are you saying that we- Spencer, you are suggesting that we -"

It's not that it hasn't crossed your mind. But you didn't think it was something Spencer might have considered. Although thinking about it and knowing your husband, his heart and kindness have no limits.

"We can do it. I mean, it's not going to be easy, but we could try. I think Elliot is worth it the effort."

For a moment, you're at a loss for words. Shaking your head, you are debating the idea.

"Spencer, if you only are thinking of doing this for me, it's not fair."

This time, he shakes his head before cupping your cheeks with both hands.

"Hey. If I'm suggesting the idea, it is for all of us. Elliot needs who can take care of him. And we talked about having kids a while ago, remember?"

It's true. Before getting married, you talked about it and agreed it was something you both wanted, but not yet. After two years of marriage, you had not discussed the topic again because it was tacit that you both wanted it eventually.

"Yeah, but what we talked about was me getting pregnant. This is different."

Spencer chuckles. You're right about that. But for him, it doesn't change his mind about it.

"The method? Yes. But the outcome is the same. A family. Our family."

"Are you serious about this?" You ask him, locking eyes with him as you hold his hands, pulling them out of your face.

"Absolutely," Spencer replies right away. "Is this something you want too? It won't be easy, though. There will be a lot of paperwork and interviews, and we'll have to make adjustments to our routines. And if everything goes well, we could move to a bigger house, in a neighborhood with good schools. I could lower my workload here and start teaching," he rambles, and you start giggling out of nervousness and excitement.

"I want to try this. And there is no other person more perfect than you, with whom I want to try it. I love you, Spencer Reid."

"And I love you, (Y/N) Reid."

A tender kiss seals the moment, and you're sure you've never felt so confident about doing something like this. Or at least try.

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

Spencer was right. 

It took time and work. 

Months passed before you got the news that you could actually adopt Elliot.

However, while the process was happening, you became Elliot's temporary home.

If Hotch did something to make that happen, nobody mentioned it.

With periodic visits from the social worker, you showed how well cared for he was and how good he adapted to your family.

You stopped working at the BAU and started teaching. Something Spencer had suggested for him, but you decided to give it a try first.

And you never have regretted your decision.

Elliot is now part of your family. The boy you found scared inside a closet can now smile again and feel safe with you and Spencer next to him.

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

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