#good thing I haven’t gotten dressed yet

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12) [note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]

first chapter >> last chapter

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He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.

All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.

John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come. 

“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence. 

You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips. 

“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”

His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east. 

Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive. 

“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest. 

“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks. 

It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest. 

You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.

“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”

You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection. 

Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers. 

But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing. 

“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”

“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”

“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.” 

The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back. 

He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?” 

That gets you to zip your lips. 

When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away. 

A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him. 

He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating. 

John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse. 

Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you. 

Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out. 

It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either. 

“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing. 

His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.

“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”

“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it. 

“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.” 

John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.” 

And then he’s on you.

He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you. 

You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit. 

“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance. 

“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls. 

John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.  

You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase. 

“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.

“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”

He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do. 

The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in. 

It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom. 

“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”

You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back. 

“What’ll you never do again?” he growls. 

“I—I’ll—”

“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”

“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”

At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself. 

Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise. 

Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you. 

You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out. 

“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly. 

You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot. 

The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache. 

He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.

Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out. 

Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world. 

It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though. 

It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question. 

From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town. 

When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze. 

He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be. 

You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs. 

When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does. 

Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now. 

Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy. 

Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection. 

The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.  

The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears. 

Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel. 

The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap. 

The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good. 

When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden. 

You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste. 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in. 

She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”

You frown. “Gaz?”

“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”

“Way back when?”

“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”

You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”

The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn. 

The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now. 

“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.

Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”

“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”

You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”

She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden. 

“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”

Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly. 

You nod instead of answering. 

“Did you give it to him?” she asks.

“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely. 

“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”

Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold. 

“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. 

“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might’ve said.” 

Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips. 

“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out. 

It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much. 

You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was. 

When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word. 

If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it. 

It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same. 

If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words. 

You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again. 

It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself. 

It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.

“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house. 

He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface. 

You understand. It sits under your skin too. 

"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."

Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.

And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?

[starlightseraph]

finished dead boy detectives!!! (spoilers ahead!)

quick disclaimer: i haven’t gotten around to the comics yet but i’ve been very interested since the sandman came out and i do plan on reading them eventually lol.

- edwin is my new blorbo cutie and i too would go to hell for him. also, his style is immaculate, exactly how i want to dress all the time.

- i am SO sad about niko. but i’m glad that it seems like she’s not totally gone? i hope she’s not an antagonist in the next series (the ending was a touch ominous), but i’ll honestly be happy either way. it’s so rare to find good western-japanese characters. it made me incredibly happy when she switched into a japanese accent when saying “osaka” because it’s something i recognise in my family and in me. i know people from lots of different backgrounds do that with words from their own languages, but i’d never seen a japanese character do it before so i was very tickled.

- charles. man. please fall in love with edwin. how tf are you quite literally dragging him out of hell and he confesses to you and you look him in the eyes and say that you love him but you’re not in love with him. i mean that’s the best possible way he could’ve gone about it, but if i were edwin i might just have gone back down to the doll face spider thing.

- i hope that crystal’s past doesn’t land her in jail or anything. i really like her dynamic with the others but i’m not sold on her and charles romantically, mostly because edwin is so fucking sweet and i don’t want his heart to be broken. he’ll be happy if charles is happy, but i cannot stand see him get hurt even the tiniest bit.

- jenny is amazing. she’s literally me fr. also i love how she just hands people cleavers.

- i found the night nurse’s breakdown when she was in angie’s stomach very relatable. i feel like that a lot lmao. and i love her accent. i will go to bat for my own weird ass culchie irish/valley girl hybrid, but if had to pick another accent…

- i need a wise and eternal south asian man to talk me down from the ledge. it’s almost finals week and a ring from kashina would be a big help.

- tragic mick (top tier wordplay name) is a sweetheart and i hope he gets to be a walrus again eventually. my first reaction when i saw the cat king was “oh my god, it’s the piss kink guy from You!” but that aside, he was ok in the end. so was monty. i hope the night nurse can help crystal drag david the demon back down to hell.

[lilyarchived]

distanced [simon "ghost" riley]

a/n: can you tell i like writing angst?

warnings: swearing, hurt to comfort, fem outfit, a little ooc if you squint, 1.201 words oops

summary: after a fight with ghost, you don’t pay any attention to him for the whole day, deciding it’s what he wants anyway.

“forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” you sniffle, turning your back and grabbing your keys, storming out of the little apartment complex you two had been sharing for 6 months. his breathing was heavy, his huge form heaving up and down as he just watched you leave. ‘that’s it, then?’ you think to yourself, hesitant to keep walking to your car. god it was freezing. you go to fix your coat but you haven’t brought one. sighing, you quicken your pace to the car. it was dark out. 

your drive to your old apartment was quick, it was 2 am and the only cars out were people who had night shifts. you just wanted to talk to him, that’s all. you just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend, that’s all; yet that seemed to set him off. screaming and tears were all that you remembered. you remembered how you flinched when he raised his hand to fix his hair. you remember his horrified look. you remember getting in your car and, oh. that’s now.

you reach your apartment and the first thing you do is lay down for 10 minutes to cool down. after deciding that’s enough moping around, you take a good look at your surroundings and decide it’s time for redecorating. you spent the whole early morning moving furniture around and hanging up new posters and renewing bedsheets, and adding new scents to your humidifier, and blasting feel good songs, and.. and.. you miss him.

never mind that, you finish up and decide to take time for yourself to unwind, showering, skincare, reading, and doing all sorts of your hobbies you haven’t gotten the chance to do. sitting comfortably on your polished couch as you flip through the pages of your book and take a long sip of your warm coffee, you start to appreciate life and yourself just a little bit more. that doesn’t help the fact that there is a part of you longing for him, missing how he’d usually be behind you cuddling, some documentary playing in the background as his soft snores fill the silence.

stop it! god! get a grip, [Y/N]! stop thinking about him! what’s so good about Lieutenant Simon “ Ghost “ Riley anyway!? it’s not like he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, not like he has that one soft look whenever it comes to you, it’s not like,, you love him. a long and exaggerated sigh came out of you as the realisation hits. you do love him. but what does it matter now? it’s been 4 long hours since you’ve seen him, he hasn’t even called! you check your phone again to look for any missed calls but all you get is a message from soap saying “yer late 2day?” ‘ohhh no.’ “shit.” you mumble as you search for your keys as you race to your car and get to the base as fast as you can. 

you blast through the debriefing room wearing a brown tank top with a brown cardigan hanging loosely, your moss green long skirt ruffled as you plop your messenger bag on the table, hair claw barely keeping your wild hair up. headphones still hanging on your neck as you apologise for being late. “glad to see you’ve dressed up first, eh?” price remarks with a small smile as he continues talking, your cheeks blushing from embarrassment, forgetting to get into uniform since you had left in such a rush. you straighten your hair as you take notes during the whole meeting, all while feeling a familiar pair of eyes scan your body.

you’re purposefully ignoring him, going straight to your office once the debriefing was over, despite his calls for your name. he didn’t wanna spend time with you? that’s fine, you’ll give him what he so desperately wants. you lock yourself in the room to take at least 3 minutes to just get a hold of yourself and breathe. you finally get up to do some of the paperwork you’ve been putting off, and get to price’s office to be assigned more.

“this is unusual, you want more work?” he raises an eyebrow at you before filing some more paper. “yes sir.” a hum is all you get out of him. you stand there for at least another minute waiting for more orders, that is until he calls in the man you’ve been dreading to see. “WHAT? NO. WHY WOULD YOU-” you shut up instantly as you hold your breath when his big frame comes in. “go help him out with drills, since you so badly want to work.” your captain’s sassy ass voice is making your eye twitch, but you nonetheless comply. you were the first to step out of the room infuriated and hot-headed, awaiting more orders from your lieutenant.  

as soon as you finish up helping the new recruits as ordered, you ignored your boyfriend's orders of wanting to talk after the drills. you speed walk to your room to lay down, bruised feet and sore back, whining and groaning at the pain. you immediately sit up as you hear your bedroom door creak open, wondering who it is since you had it locked. you go through the list of who could have your key and the only one to cross your mind is your boyfriend you’ve been ignoring for the whole day. and to no surprise it’s him, simon riley, who walks into your door and kneels beside your legs.

“what’re you doing?” you ask, rubbing your eyes and groggily shuffling your hair. he just sighs and starts massaging your legs, hoping you would take this as a silent apology. “god stop it, simon.”

he doesn’t listen to your complaints as he pushes your small frame (compared to his, i mean c'mon this man is a giant) on the bed, laying you down as he cuddles on top of you. “si- i can’t breathe.” he only shifts a little to the side so that he wouldn’t accidentally crush you with his sheer strength. “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to make you cry like that.” your eyes flutter shut as you calm your breathing, still being bear hugged by your lieutenant beside you. “was so worried, thought i’d never see you again.” his deep vibrating voice tickles your ears, making you slightly happy. the warmth you’ve been longing for was back.

“don’t you ever do that to me again.” you whisper, finally hugging him back and facing him for the first time in a while. “yes ma’am.” he replies, moving your stray hair strands back to see your face better. “won’t ever let you go again.”

a/n: outfit i was thinking of ,, anyway this was kinda like forced, i’ve been wanting to write this for so long and only got the time to do so now sooooooooooooo hope u like it mwua mwua stay hydrated

[heartchoi]

tutor ㅡ c.sb

pairing: tutor!soobin x fem!reader

wc: 1.1k

warnings: dom!soobin, sub!reader, clothed sex, unprotected, creampie, slight overstim, dirty talk, cockwarming, pet names, dacryphilia, (Kind of) dumbification, a bit of possessive soobie at the end

(continuation of this blurb)

originally, soobin was supposed your english tutor.

however, you think that you’ve gone too far to consider soobin as just your tutor now. not after this.

it’s quite unclear how you’ve gotten yourself here; sitting on soobin’s lap while his huge cock rests inside you, filling you to the hilt. a discarded stack of books are pushed onto the side of your desk, a witness to the situation you’re both in.

soobin bounces his leg, laughing at the way you whimper, clamping your walls on his dick immediately. “please,” you gasp. “don’t tease, soobin- fuck!” you whine, soobin bouncing his leg again. “do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, mock sympathy in his voice.

“tell me, pretty girl.” soobin turns your head gently to face him, flashing a dimpled smile once you meet eyes. god, it’s hard to believe that this is the man whose huge cock is buried deep in your guts. “tell me, how badly do you need me?” he rolls his hips slightly, the tip of his cock pressing against a spot that had your eyes rolling back. “can’t speak? i haven’t even fucked you properly yet.”

soobin chuckles at the effect he has on you, a mess already and all he’s done is let you cockwarm him. “i’m sorry, baby.” he whispers. wet tears filled your eyes from desperation and the pleasure of just having his cock inside you. you’re only able to blink before the tears drop, and stream down your face in tiny wet streams.

soobin kisses the tears away gently, softly apologizing as he promises to fuck you like a proper man should.

soobin kisses the tears away gently, softly apologizing as he promises to fuck you like a proper man should.

carefully, soobin sets aside the stray pencils and pens that littered your desk, opting to put them in a ceramic pen holder nearby. he lifts you easily before setting you on the desk.

you’re finally allowed to get a good look at him as you face soobin, his cock throbbing inside your heat. hair messily framed his face, strands falling in between his eyes and nose while his dress shirt continues to cover his figure. a few buttons have been undone at the top, courtesy of your desire for him. his jeans and belt were barely halfway down his thighs, clear evidence that you both were too horny and impatient to undress fully.

damn. he looks nice.

soobin brings an arm under your thigh. lifting it slightly over his shoulder. his free hand reaches up to grab one of your boobs, kneading the flesh.

“are you ready for me? i won’t be gentle.” he says, eyes boring into yours. you gulp, nodding your head. a fresh wave of arousal wets his cock. soobin hums, pulling out until the blunt head rests in between your folds before plunging himself right back in. the powerful thrust rips a cry out of you, there was no way he wasn’t going to fuck you stupid by the time he was finished with you.

"ah, you're tight." soobin groans out, bucking his hips into yours. "might fuck you like this every time i see you. maybe you'd actually pay attention to your lessons, hm?"

the words barely registered in your head, already too cock drunk to think straight. "thats what you are, isn’t it? just a doll for me to fuck into place." soobin hums. you whine incoherently, agreeing to whatever he said despite the fact you don't know what the hell he's talking about.

the only thing on your mind is how fucking huge his dick is, gliding smoothly inside you and hitting all the right places.

soobin's husky voice continues to feed dirty thoughts into your ear, the raspy tone sending vibrations through your body. his hips barrel into yours repeatedly, the sound of skin slapping becoming louder and louder. strings of wetness connect the two of you, the fresh waves of slick from your pussy covering both your thighs.

a tight knot forms in your stomach. tears flow down your face again, the pleasure too much for your body and mind to handle. soobin grins as he presses his forehead against yours. "does it feel too good, baby?" he asks. "i know, my cock just feels so good, doesn't it?" soobin brings a thumb to your cheek, wiping away a single tear. "what do you want, pretty? use your words. i know you can do it." he stares straight into your eyes, never breaking the eye contact. the man wants nothing more but for you to tell him directly what you want, it seems.

"i..." you stutter. "i wan.. want to come. p-please." soobin flashes a toothy grin, an innocent face compared to the way he changes his pace inside you; rutting into you like it's the end of the world. "is that so? come on my cock then."

soobin delivers a few more thrusts, and your vision turns white from how strong your orgasm is. by the time you come to, theres an increased wetness between the two of you, soobin's thighs covered in your sweet nectar.

and yet, he's still fucking you.

the sensitivity makes you moan, telling him that it's "too much" and that you "can't handle it." soobin hushes you, pressing a finger to your lips. "wait for me." he says, sternly.

soobin's thrusts grow harsher and harsher as he nears his climax. theres no way he hasnt dug into your stomach at this point, you think. his movements become rougher as well, groping your tits and sucking hickeys on any fresh skin he can get his hands on. "you're mine now, baby. no one can fuck you as well as i can." he growls. the newly possessive nature of his makes you moan out his name.

"fuck, you're so hot. you don't know how long i've been waiting to do this. say my name again." he demands. "s- soobin!" you cry out for him. soobin's thrusts falter, becoming sloppier and sloppier as he lets out a loud, breathy moan into your ear. "good girl."

minutes feel like hours when he finally gasps, pushing himself inside of you as far as he can before he fills you. warm, white ropes of cum paint your insides, marking himself inside of you. soobin pants exhaustedly, pulling out his softened cock before flopping back into the chair behind him.

"fuck."

[sleepyangelkami]

Heyyy I haven’t requested anything in a while but the way you write Ellie is pure perfection so I had to request something and of course you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to :) but I was wondering if you could write something fluffy and domestic where reader is always taking care of Ellie, she makes sure Ellie eats well and gets enough sleep/rest gives her massages after patrol or if it’s cold reader makes sure Ellie stays warm making her wear proper winter clothing or something like that you know, but maybe she comes off as clingy or annoying according to some people and she thinks Ellie might think the same but that’s not the case

(Thank you in advance if you decide to write it!)

CHECK, CHECK, CHECK e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 3.2K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY -you've always been one to fuss over ellie, making sure she was warm enough or full enough or making sure her muscles didn't hurt too much after a particularly long patrol. ellie loved the way you fussed over her, constantly making an effort to assure both herself and yourself that she was always feeling just right. you knew she loved it until one day you questioned if she did.

 ☆ WARNINGS - ditzy!reader, suggestive joke, slight insecurity (r.), ellie not taking care of herself right, reader doing it for her, use of y/n, petnames, dina n jesse are kinda mean but they don't mean it, sensitive!reader, crying, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread  🩷

fussing over ellie came as a second nature to you. the minute you'd gotten together you'd made it your personal responsibility to make sure ellie had everything that she needed. whether it was food, sleep, a massage, anything of the sort. you were there, with too many supplies in your hands, stumbling about like a fish out of water. always so ditzy, her clumsy girl.

but whatever you did, you made sure ellie's problem was fixed.

your eyes glanced to the lunch you'd packed ellie. check. then fishing through the bag and making sure she had everything. check. you could hear ellie coming down the stairs, dressed but still groggy. you glanced down to your watch to see the time. check. you'd done everything for ellie this morning, as you always did, making sure she got to sleep in extra and didn't have to do anything before going on patrol. "oh, baby." she spoke once she laid eyes on you, standing in front of your work. "you didn't have to."

"wanted to." you grinned, skipping your way over to where your girlfriend stood and leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek. as much as she reminded you that she didn't need all this, you'd always wave her off, stating that she deserved it. she was so good to you, it was only fair that you were the same back.

you handed her one of the little blue plates from the kitchen, two waffles sitting on it with her favourite syrup. "for me?" she seemed surprised, as if you hadn't done it every other day for her. that was the thing about ellie. she was so easy to please and not only that but when you did things for her over and over, she still never expected.

"'course, silly." you giggled. she fell in love a little bit more.

to ellie, you were the most bubbly girl she's ever met. always skipping and hopping around with that ditzy head of yours. you did everything for ellie, everything you could. yet, even when you were making her favourite meal, she was still putting a hand on the cupboard door to make sure you didn't slam your head against it.

ellie had been sitting at the little round table in the kitchen, her eyes glancing to where you sat next to her. your chin was resting in your hands, a little frown etched to your features. "what's got my sweet girl frownin'?" ellie questioned, her lips in a tight knit smile at you. you always had such a bright aura surrounding you, passing it on everywhere you went. when ellie woke up, seeing your face was enough to have any frown erased from her face, a big grin widening on her cheeks.

"your clothes." you mumbled, almost pouting at her.

"my clothes?" she wore a little smirk curving up at the left side of her lip. "you wanna take 'em off?"

you rolled your eyes, placing your chin on her bicep. "ellie, 'm being serious." you informed her. "you're gonna be so cold in that." she was clad in a black shirt, that was it.

she shrugged her shoulders. "I'll get my jacket." pressing a kiss to your lips. "nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

but you weren't sold. "gimme a minute." and you were already hopping up from the kitchen table. ellie tried calling your name, stating that it wasn't worth it and that it didn't matter but you were already making your way up the stairs. ellie couldn't help but sigh, you never did listen when it came to things like these. seconds later, you were reappearing in the room, this time with one of ellie's brown sweaters in your hands. "gonna need it."

"thank you angel." she spoke softly, her upper arm finding its way around your shoulder. she pulled you in, pressing a kiss against your forehead and you tried to ignore the way your cheeks flamed up. "but you know you really don't have to worry so much."

ellie said this because she doesn't like to think that you worry. i mean, she knows you worry. you'd worry either way, whether she wanted you to or not. this was shown to her the many times she'd returned from night patrol ten minutes late with you sitting on the couch, worried expression etched across your features as you ran up to her, questioning if she was alright and asking why it had taken so long, all while your eyes dragged over her skin, assuring yourself that she wasn't hurt in any way. you were the worrier while she was the warrior, she thought it was a cute mix. even so, she still didn't wish to see the way your brows knit together and your lips formed a pout. don't get me wrong, she still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, but you looked even more gorgeous when you relaxed and took a breath.

"I know." you mumbled, suddenly feeling flush. you knew ellie could take care of herself, there really was nothing to worry about but you just needed to make sure.

"hey." ellie spoke, noticing the way your face had fallen a little. "doesn't mean i don't appreciate everything you do for me, sweets, you're the best." pressing kisses all around your face and ignoring the way it scrunched up, focusing on the grin on your lips. "jus' wanna make sure you're not worrying about me so much that you forget to take care of the one who really matters." one last kiss to your nose. "you."

you rolled your eyes a little, hands folding in on themselves. "you're so cheesy, els."

it was her turn to roll her eyes. "you love it."

"maybe." and you did, you really did.

ellie moved to pick up the bag that was strewn across the kitchen counter. "i gotta run, you know how jesse is when i'm late." jesse was possibly the most sour yet loving boy in the world. "see you later, princess."

you returned her goodbye kiss in full, standing on your tippy-toes while she had her hands splayed across your face. "bye, els." and so, she was out the door.

the house suddenly grew awfully quiet.

you liked taking care of ellie, liked fussing and worrying over her. now that everything was in check, you suddenly had nothing to do with your day. you supposed you could go visit your good friend dina, if jesse was on patrol it was no doubt that she'd be bored too. perhaps you could go to the tipsy bison with her, sipping on the sprite they sell while she drinks the alcohol. you two were so different.

just as you smiled fondly, thinking about your favourite jewish girl, your eyes flickered to the lunch bag that sat on the counter.

oh no, ellie'd forgotten her lunch!

ellie stood by the stables, giving jesse a sharp eye as she unbuckled shimmer. "you don't know anything about women." she told him. "you and dina break up every week, me and y/n are never even arguing let alone breaking up."

"yeah, well," he rolled his eyes, trying to find the words. he was currently all fussy because she was a couple minutes late, when she'd told him it was because she was with you, he didn't seem so happy. "whatever, williams."

she smirked at him. "no comeback?" he stayed silent to which she could only chuckle to herself. jesse talked a big game that he could never keep.

"hey." squinting his eyes. "isn't that y/n right there?" at that, ellie whipped around, confusion evident on her face.

"els!" you were practically running towards the stables, out of breath and cold. but you'd wanted to get there before ellie had left, insuring she had food with her.

"yep." jesse nodded, chuckling as he took out his own horse. "there's your clingy clutz."

ellie threw a glare at him but before she could speak, you were in front of her. now that you were closer, she could see the redness of your nose and the slight shaking of your arms. in all your rush, you'd completely forgotten to cover yourself up. "what are you doing outside, baby? 's freezing." her gloved hands came up to your arms, rubbing them up and down to attempt to console you. truthfully, the snow on her gloves made it worse but it was her touch, you'd never refuse.

you breathed in and out, catching your breath. you held out the brown bag. "you forgot your lunch."

you heard the chuckle from her lips almost instantly as she took the bag into her hands. "thank you, bunny, would'a been starving." you nodded your head as your cheeks tinged pink. "now go get home, you're gonna catch a cold."

you giggled to yourself, feeling all floaty when talking to ellie. "okay, bye els." before she let you go, she grasped your arms, hauling you forward. she made sure to give you the tightest hug she could before murmuring one last 'thank you' then letting you go and bidding goodbye. "bye, jesse!"

the asian boy turned around, brows slightly raised. "what? no homemade meals for me?" you knew he was joking but you deflated a little.

"I could make you something next time, if you want?" shuffling your feet forward a little.

"i'm kidding." he shook his head. "but listen to your girlfriend, you're gonna get sick and if you get sick, ellie takes patrol off and i am not being stuck on patrol with max for the week." you giggled, giving ellie one last kiss to her cheek and bidding goodbye to both the pair. when you fled from the scene, jesse was shaking his head. "It's cute she cares about you and all but i could not handle dina running after me like that."

ellie scoffed, placing the brown paper bag in her bigger bag that held everything else. "lotta talk as if dina would go through the trouble." dina would never wake herself up that early on a tuesday morning just to insure jesse had a packed lunch.

he led the horse out by its lead. "love has made you cruel." he informed her, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes.

jesse was in love too, there was just a big difference between the way he loved dina and ellie loved you. jesse would die for dina, perhaps that says more about how disposable he views his life but ellie? ellie would kill for you. she'd take every drop of blood on her hands if it meant sparing your own. "you're just jealous."

but the next words that fell from his lips caused her to stop right in her tracks. "id' rather be known as jealous than clingy." the mutter caught her off guard.

it was said under his breath, as if she wasn't truly meant to hear it. "dude." she scoffed at him. "don't call her that, okay?" she didn't want to argue with jesse but then again, nobody was allowed to talk about you and just get left off the hook. sure, he probably hadn't meant it in a condescending way but it was jesse, he often didn't think before he opened his mouth. "she's not clingy, she's just good to me." rolling her eyes suddenly. "sorry you don't know what a healthy relationship looks like."

he placed a hand on his chest, offended. "what me and dina have is very healthy." one two weeks, off the next three, yeah, very healthy.

she huffed out a laugh at him, almost in shock. everyone was well aware that what dina and jesse had was not healthy. it was love, sure, but it wasn't healthy love. "as healthy as a rotten pear, jesse."

"oh wow." pushing his hands up in fake awe. "how long you been waiting to crack that one?"

she dragged shimmer by her lead. "can we just go?" the quicker they were, the quicker she could get back home, and home was wherever your sweet soul lay.

ellie knew to others you may seem like 'too much' people have commented on it, both to her and to you, sometimes even to you both while you're standing next to one another. you'd always feel deflated afterwards, trying to shrug it off as to not upset ellie but she knew how you could be, one minute inside your head and you were caught up in a loop.

of course, everyone in jackson always felt the need to comment on just about everything that didn't concern them. like other people's relationships and family feuds, ellie remembered when her and joel had fallen out and suddenly everyone was approaching her. "well, if i were you..." but that was the thing, they weren't her, they weren't you either, so ellie thought they should just learn to keep their noses where they belong which was not in your guy's business nor relationship. they'd often commented on how ellie 'acted like a man towards you' or that you were 'throwing away your life for her' many more things. often, they were targeted towards her. that was the thing about ellie williams. people in jackson either loved her or hated her, there never was an in between. they told her that she was forcing too much pda, or that the names she called you in public were merely inappropriate, so on, so on.

but ellie didn't care for what people said about her. if they wanted to talk, they'd talk. and that was exactly what everyone in jackson was good for, talking. yet never was the topic of discussion about themselves.

but what really got ellie mad, what genuinely made her blood boil and her eyes squint, the only time she'd ever lay hands on someone let alone merely yell at them. was when they talked about you. her precious girl.

ellie knew you better than anyone meaning she knew that when people talked, it got the better of you. you had the habit to stay inside your head for days on end, trying to scribble away what someone had said about you. she'd always notice it, her bubbly girl suddenly all deflated. you were her pride and joy, seeing a frown on your face could lurch her stomach.

but she also knew that you had the tendency not to talk back. when something was bothering you, your head being 'at' you. you kept it there. you didn't release it, you made sure that no one even knew who planted the seed in your head. merely because you thought it wasn't fair, if you said it out loud it was like talking about someone behind their back. you thought you were doing something wrong when all you were doing was feeling what your body was making you feel.

that's why now, as ellie lay on her stomach wearing only her sports bra, you straddling her bottom with your hands working your way through her muscles, she knew something was off.

perhaps your breathing pattern was different than usual, perhaps it was the way you hadn't said anything in minutes. or maybe it was the way your fingers were moving so softly against her tense muscles, not applying nearly as much pressure on her as you usually did.

she could tell, your mind was far away.

she'd asked you once she'd come home if you were alright, you seemed sort of off with her. but you shook your head, stating that all was okay.

before she could grill you more, you were taking her bag off her shoulder, jacket off her back and leading her up to the bedroom. it wasn't unusual for you to give her back massages after her patrols, while she didn't expect them, she sort of knew they were coming.

"okay." ellie sighed, not having any more of your silence. "up." you did as she said, confusedly albeit. you hovered from her backside, sitting on your knees.

ellie used this time to flip herself around, plopping you back down on her crotch and leaning up against the back of the bed frame. "els, what―"

her back was scrunched against the pillows, your hands folding in on you, confusion evident on your face. "what's wrong?" she deadpanned, though there was nothing but concern in her eyes.

suddenly, you were squirming. "told you, els, nothin'" the way your eyes couldn't look at her, staring down at the side dresser or the roof. your tell tale sign.

"hey." her fingers reached out, hooking around your chin and sort of forcing it forward. "look at me when you talk to me, yeah?" you nodded your head, dumbly. "now tell me what's wrong, i don' wanna hear your 'nothing's because somethings obviously wrong." her hands fell around your waist, hooking you close. "you're too quiet, baby."

you didn't tear your eyes away from her, scared she'd get frustrated. "'m sorry―" you started but ellie was quick to cut you off.

"no you're not, you're not sorry remember?" you'd had the talk with her multiple times. you weren't allowed to be sorry when you didn't do anything wrong. "jus' tell me whats wrong, wanna know what's upsetting my sweet girl."

you could feel the tears welling. this time when you looked away, she didn't drag your face back. she let you collect herself. "was jus' talking to dina today..."

ellie's face fell a little. "what did she say, baby?"

she'd placed a hand in yours, letting you fumble with her fingers. she caught you doing it before, seeing the way you couldn't stop your hands from moving about at one another and she decided that you could use hers instead. she let you play with her hands while you got nervous. it sort of just stuck. "she wasn't trying to be mean." you spoke, still defending your best friend. "sometimes, she jus' says stuff... like 'm clingy." you finally got it out. "'m too much, ellie." the first tear rolling down your cheek. "dina thinks 'm too much, jesse thinks 'm too much, you probably do too!"

"oh, honey." her face was looking at you all saddened, a coo falling from her lips. "you know i'd never think you're too much." she held you when you started to cry, your head in the crook of her neck, her sensitive baby. "jesse 'n dina don't know what they're talking about half the time, m'love." she pulled your head from her neck, letting you look at her. "wanna hear a story?" pathetically, you nodded. "today, me 'n jesse were walking the same roads we've been taking for years. and jesse still managed to forget there was a massive pole in the middle. so next time you see him you better tell him that the bump on his head is too much, it's practically weighing down his whole body."

you gently hit the girl. "els." you whined. "that's so mean." but you couldn't help but giggle at the thought of jesse with a large, red bump on the middle of his forehead.

"there she is!" grinning at the smile on your face. "need to see more of that pretty smile on that pretty face, m'kay?" you nodded at her, big doey eyes staring up at her. "words, baby." reminding you.

"okay, ellie." and your grin couldn't stop stretching.

your smile could be so big that it was occupying your entire face and still, to ellie it would be downright beautiful, never too much.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

[kimingyuslover]

DOKYEOM FIC RECS

f*ck my thighs by @ourdawnishotterthanourday (smut, workplace!au, fluff, slight angst)

Ever since you started working at XTREMEGEAR, you’ve been hopelessly obsessed with Lee Seokmin...god damn Lee Seokmin and his fucking divine thighs. You didn’t think you’d ever stand a chance with him. But when your company forces you to go to a sports and wellness retreat with the whole HR department, you discover that you haven’t been as discreet about your little crush as you thought you were.

please sir by @starryseokmins (smut, college!au, professor!dk)

summary: you fail your favourite professors class and you make a deal with him to help you pass.

best neighbor of all time award by @drunk-on-dk (slight fluff, smut)

✦summary: Seokmin is the best neighbor you've ever had, making it impossible not to fall for his charms.

open wide by @kittyhuii (smut)

synopsis:  It's been months the last time you've been with your boyfriend since he's been on tour with the members, or in other words — it's been months since the last time you’ve gotten off with your boyfriend. Finally, after such a hectic time for your boyfriend, he takes you out for a date. You haven't even gotten out of your house yet you were already fighting unwanted thoughts upon seeing how your boyfriend was dressed. A pair of jorts that perfectly hugs his muscular pair of thighs and a polo shirt with its sleeves rolled up, accentuating his vein-covered arms. You try your best to avert your gaze and survive this date. However, your efforts will soon be in vain as your boyfriend drags you to the nearest comfort room to stuff you with something else other than food. 

tipsy by @onlyseokmins (smut)

epistolary yearning by @himbocoups (epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut)

synopsis: a series of letters, speckled with notes of budding romance and longing, exchanged between a newly married couple separated by seas and the ongoing war the emperor sent his commander to end.

amanda? by @gyupinkys (smut, reader is not amanda, that's just the question dokyeom asked when he first met her)

"DK, I know you're trying to kill me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

crazier for you by @onewmin (smut, husband!dk)

Summary: While getting ready to your husband's work gala, you get startled by how amazingly he looks in a suit.

werewolf!seokmin by @multi-kpop-fanfics (smut)

christmas favour by @xddaengx (romance, smut, christmas, ceo!seokmin, fake dating)

🎄 Summary: You just wanted to avoid your creepy boss, you didn't know you would have to rely on an old friend to be your imaginary boyfriend.

dad!dk by @number1mingyustan (fluff, dad!dokyeom, smut drabble)

professor, who? by @sunnylovespickles (smut, fluff, college!au, professor!reader)

⋆ summary| You’re his muse, he’s your student. You’ve gotten exceptional close to Lee Seokmin, a star student in your photography class. His eye is above else’s and he’s able to recognize the inner beauty in the little things, even you. The artistry becomes stronger between the two of you, exceeding the camera’s lense. 'Through his lens, I saw myself in ways I hadn't before—strong, sensual, and beautifully imperfect.'

pediatrics department by @taeyegu (smau, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers? nurse!seokmin)

“to me, you became the one ray of sunshine that lit up my lonely hours gone by and became the promise of eternity that glitters like a jewel upon your small white palm… ” (me to you, you to me, mido and falasol)

trivia 承 : love by @viastro (enemies to lovers!au, humor, fluff, band!au)

ミ★ synopsis: who thought it was a good idea to be in a band with your sworn enemy? that’s right. absolutely no one.

memories of us by @wongyuuu (angst, fluff)

summary: every night seokmin dreams of his past lifes, when he met and fell for his soulmate countless times.

[wordstome]

kingdom come - iii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

7.7k words

tw: explicit smut, animal death, mentions of child death, violence, mild body horror, ableist language (use of the word "cripple")

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"I'm not going to sleep with you." -quote from woman who is about to sleep with him

There’s a portrait of a woman in your room.

Of course, König offered to have it removed or replaced, but you’ve procrastinated the decision because you never thought you would be here long enough for it to matter. Yet here you are, staring up at this lovely young woman on the wall.

You tilt your head, studying her. Her expression is neutral, almost pensive, but the artist captured a playful sparkle in her eyes, as if she’s keeping some sweet secret.

It’s the first queen, of course. König’s first wife. The one who died many years ago. It’s strange that after so long, he hasn’t gotten rid of the portrait.

What happened to you? you wonder. If someone had asked what you thought when you first arrived here, you would have said, without hesitation, that König had her killed. All your life, you had been taught that he and his father were evil, unfeeling tyrants. Now, this conviction has wavered.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s ridiculous, to be thinking better of his character. You only ever wanted to know him better to kill him. But the more you understand about what makes him tick, the less you think that he would do such a thing. Perhaps it’s true, then, that she died in childbirth.

Your eyes travel all over the portrait, poring over every detail of her features. Did you know him? Did you understand him? Did you love him?

Did he love you?

What did that feel like?

“Good. You haven’t left yet.” Calliope comes into the room, bustling with energy even before the sun comes up. You don’t know how she does it.

“We’re about to.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You notice she’s wearing gloves, but more importantly, she’s holding a necklace: a silvery chain with a small, intricate pendant. Vine-shaped pieces of metal hold a white, almost clear jewel in place, its various facets reflecting the candlelight in vivid colors.

“Jewelry? I’m going to be living in the woods for the next few weeks,” you tease as she lowers the necklace over your head. It does look quite durable, but you’re not exactly dressing for a costume ball here.

“Consider it a reminder that I await your safe return,” Calliope responds, securing the necklace behind your neck. “Look at it and remember me. You’re not to do anything reckless out there, am I understood?”

“Understood.” You give her a soft smile as she arranges the necklace on your collarbones. You’re grateful for the gift: though she can’t come with you, a small piece of her will always remain with you.

“Good. And don’t let that handsome husband of yours distract you and get yourself killed.”

“Calliope! What happened to ‘something’s not right with him’?”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t handsome!”

You snort and roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face.

You used to think that living in König’s home already exposed you to an exhausting amount of the man. As it turns out, going on a journey with him is even worse.

There’s nobody else to talk to, nowhere to run or put distance between you two when he frustrates you. It’s not so bad for the first few days: the towns surrounding the capital are still populated enough to provide some respite from him. But once the two of you have made your way outside the bounds of civilization, it doesn’t take long for things to become stilted and awkward.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the last town.”

“I don’t feel talkative.”

“Really? I’m out of my mind with boredom right now. Come, you’re not in the mood to get to know each other a little?”

You give him a look. “What else is there to know? I’ve lived with you for several months.”

“But we don’t talk.” König nudges his horse to walk closer to yours. König is such a large man, his horse is massive too: comically so, next to your normal one. You let out a sigh.

“There’s nothing to know about me.”

“I doubt that. All I know about you is you’re a princess trained to be an assassin. ‘Your whole life’, according to yourself,” he says with a touch of mocking.

You purse your lips, determined not to let him get under your skin. “There’s nothing else to know.”

“Truly? Nothing about what you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…your favorite food. Or hobby.”

“Hobby? …I suppose I spend a lot of time at target practice.”

“That’s not a hobby.”

“It’s relaxing to hone my skills.”

He gives you an amused look. “You remind me of myself as a young man.”

Something about that irks you. “We’re nothing alike.”

“I used to have the same mindset as you, at least. I held one objective in my mind and didn’t seek purpose outside of it.”

“I…”

As much as you loathe to admit it, he’s right. You have been focused on one objective your whole life. If you probe deeper, you can’t remember having any friends outside of Calliope, nor any interests outside of the curriculum your father set for you. “It wasn’t as bleak as you seem to think it was.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I never had fun. I had my own way of finding it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, when my training progress stalled, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Naturally. I eventually learned how to climb out of my window at night and go foraging in the woods for something to eat.” A smile curls your lips as you reminisce. “Eventually I even worked my way up to hunting—little things, like squirrels. I spent many a cozy little evening cooking for myself over a fire.”

You turn to find an abject look of horror on König face. “What? What’s wrong? Is there danger?” You turn around to scan your surroundings, but nothing immediately jumps out at you.

“No. No danger. I just…he sent you to bed with an empty stomach so many times you learned how to crawl out of your room and hunt squirrels to eat?”

You blink at him. “You’ve never had squirrel before?”

He looks scandalized. “Of course I have! That is not the issue with what you just said.”

You shrug. “It was important discipline. Besides, it gave me hunting experience at a young age. Squirrels are hard to skin, but I could do it in twelve seconds flat if you gave me one now.”

König looks like he wants to say more, but instead he looks up at the sky. “We should make camp soon.”

“Is it that time already?”

“It needs to be set up before it gets dark. We should also start hunting while it’s light out—not all of us can catch things in the dark, squirrel-girl.”

“Hey!”

Later, you’re both chewing on a rabbit when he speaks.

“You know, when you said you wanted to travel with me, I was quite concerned.”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t think I was capable of handling myself.”

“Not just that. I was worried you would be…unaccustomed to living rough.”

“You thought I would be a spoiled princess.”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes.”

You snort. “Well, now you know. I can handle myself in the outdoors.” You toss the rabbit bones you’ve just picked clean into a small hole dug into the dirt. When you leave, you’ll cover it with dirt to prevent predators from smelling the remains and following you on your journey.

“You want the other leg?” you ask. König seems startled, for some reason.

“You caught this one.”

“Yes, but you’re bigger than me. You need the food.” You reach up to pluck a leaf from a nearby tree and wipe your hands. Rabbits sure are greasy…

There’s a strange look in König’s eye as he regards you. You raise an eyebrow at him in response. “What?”

“…nothing.” He reaches for the rabbit while you shrug and walk off to find some water. The back of your neck prickles as you go, as if his stare is physically touching you.

You can’t stand to be near him nowadays, and you don’t know why.

Of course, you have no choice but to. There’s a tension that feels weighty, forbidden. You know he can tell, because he’s been more cautious around you, giving you as much space as he can afford to. Somehow, that irritates you even more.

Tonight, the two of you are camping in a dense, thick part of the forest not far from a road. It’s quiet, secluded: even the usual soundscape of ambient animal noises is silent.

The fire crackles and pops as you stare into the flames, as if you’ll find any answers in it. Instead, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as König returns from washing himself in a nearby stream, approaching you from behind.

“This won’t work if you’re constantly upset with me for some unknown reason.”

You don’t turn to look at him, though some invisible force compels you. “Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’m worried about your comfort too, you know. If you just told me what I’ve done wrong, then we can resolve it before it breeds resentment.”

“I’m just stressed.” Everything he does or says seems to irritate you nowadays, but you know in your heart of hearts that it’s not his fault. It’s your own problem—you assume camping outdoors for so long has taken its toll on your psyche.

He frowns at you, but doesn’t pry any further. You can’t help but watch as he walks around to the other side of the fire, drying his hair with his shirt. God, he is a work of art: all chiseled muscles and glowing skin. Your eyes travel down his torso, drawn by the line of his abs, down to the happy trail leading to the slightly askew waist of his trousers.

“You’re drooling, princess.”

Your eyes snap back up to his face. His eyes are dancing with mirth as he realizes he’s just caught you ogling him. You make a face at him, but it only makes him laugh. “Was not.”

“Incorrect answer. You should have attempted to strike at my ego. Now I know you were looking.”

“I think I’m just being driven mad by spending so much time alone with you in the woods.”

“I know several ways to drive you mad, sweetling.”

You slouch against a tree, your face hot—and not from the fire. In a blink, he’s standing before you, with a gleeful expression on his face like he’s just discovered a cure for dropsy.

“I know what’s making you sour as vinegar. You need to be fucked.”

You bury your face in your hands, unable to look at him. “I thought we had moved past this,” you groan, trying to ignore your rapidly quickening heartbeat.

“What, your ever-growing carnal lust for me?”

“You being a pervert.”

“I’ve never made a secret of it. You, however…” You suck in a startled breath as he leans down, trapping you against the tree just like he had the day you sparred with him. “You’ve been denying yourself.”

Your breath is ragged as he looks you in the eye, the tension between the two of you as taut as a bowstring. A familiar sense of panic rises in you, the same way you feel every time he’s close to you like this. Before, you thought it was because it felt dangerous to be so close to your enemy. Now, you’re second-guessing yourself.

“So what if I have?” you mumble.

“There’s an easy way to fix that.”

“…The last time you had me in this position, you were threatening me.”

He tilts his head slightly, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t feel threatened now?”

You don’t respond immediately, and heavens forbid, he takes it as hesitancy, his demeanor instantly transforming. “One word. One word, and we will never speak of this again. But if you tell me you want this, I will fuck you senseless.”

“Yes,” you whisper, and his lips on are on yours.

It’s a strange sensation, considering half of your mouth is pressed against the cold, smooth surface of his mask. You don’t even ask him about removing it—it’s become a part of him in your mind. And maybe part of you even finds the mystery of it alluring.

You all but melt into the kiss, against him. It’s different, everything is different than that first awkward kiss from when you were younger. It makes you ache, makes you long for him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before.

You have to separate to breathe, but your reluctance to break apart from him is clear by the way you chase his face with yours. He laughs at you, but it’s not condescending at all. It settles in your chest, warm like honey.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmur.

“Luckily for you, you’re in good hands.” It’s the cockiness in his voice that does you in, what makes you let go and give yourself over to him.

You feel flustered, awkward, and like the least desirable creature on earth, but he looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like there’s nothing else he wants more than to have you right now.

“You can trust me,” he says softly. You try to respond, but suddenly find you’ve gone mute. All you can manage is a small nod.

To your surprise, he lowers his mouth to your neck. You gasp, a full-body shiver running through you as he kisses you there, sucking and nipping at you as he goes. “W-wait, I’m—”

“Sensitive? I can tell.” You squeak as he continues to lavish you with attention, his fingers trailing down the front of your torso to undo your pants. His movements are deliberate but slow, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. But of course, you don’t.

You let out a quick little breath as he finds his way to your pussy, his deep chuckle reverberating against your throat. “You’re so wet…did I do that to you, liebling?”

You’re about to respond, but instead let out a sharp gasp as he dips a finger into your pussy. “How are you ever going to take me into this tight little hole of yours…” he taunts.

Oh, God, you hadn’t even thought about that. Your mind flashes back to your wedding night, and the first time you tried to kill him. You had mostly been shocked by his audacity, but only now do you recall how big he had felt between your thighs.

He’s gentle with you at first, patiently stretching you open as you whine and beg in his arms. You just about sob when he finally pays your clit attention, circling it with his thumb, and in what seems like no time at all, you’re cumming, hard.

“That didn’t take long at all,” he says with that awful smirk of his.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you stammer. “You know…”

“I’m only teasing you.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead as you come down, shivering with pleasure.

He makes you cum twice with just his hand. Your legs are trembling by the time the two of you properly get undressed. You’re soft and pliable, helpless putty in his hands as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Ready, liebe?” he asks.

“That is not going to fit,” you say, eyes wide and fearful. There’s absolutely no way, you think, staring down the absurdly thick and long monster between his legs.

“Trust me, remember? We’ll take it slow,” he reassures you. You bite your lip and nod, giving him the go-ahead to sink into you.

Instantly, you realize that no matter how well König could have prepared you, there was no chance that it would have been enough to ready you for the stretch of him. You feel like you can hardly breathe as he splits you in half with his cock, your mouth dropping open in a wordless cry.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he groans, but he keeps his promise to go slow, feeding himself inch by inch inside you until he’s sitting snug up against your cervix.

The two of you stay there, suspended in a moment in time, connected to each other in the most intimate way two people can be. It makes your head spin, makes you dizzy with the sensation of his body pressed against yours.

You nod, and he starts to move.

If you had thought before that his fingers felt good inside you, then his cock is something else. The delicious stretch of him is almost electrifying, and you wonder how you went all your life without it.

All you can do is let him take control—you don’t have the presence mind to do anything but hold onto him, gasping and moaning. He’s all around you, above you, inside you, and it feels like nothing else in the world matters, or that there is a world other than König, König, König.

Your third orgasm surprises you, waves of pleasure flowing through you as you cry out, your pussy sucking him in as if it wants him to stay inside forever. That’s what seemingly pushes him over the edge too, a string of expletives bursting from him as he floods you with his cum.

You’re limp and weak, all but purring as he shifts to lay next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You are sweet when underneath me like this,” he purrs.

You swat him in the chest, but it must feel no heavier than being hit by a branch, because he just laughs.

“There’s no reason to be shy now. I’ve seen everything at this point.” You pout at him—something that only seems to bring him delight, because he pulls you in for a kiss.

“This isn’t how I wanted to take you the first time,” he says, a hint of shame in his tone.

Your heart twinges with affection. This isn’t how you imagined your first time, either, but the idea of him wanting you so badly he thought about it beforehand, fantasized about it even…“I’ve slept in trees before, this is nothing,” you reassure him.

He shoots you a concerned look. “You continue to share alarming events from your childhood.”

You sleep together that night, curled up against him with your legs tangled with his. He falls asleep first, the slight rumble of his chest as he sleeps against your cheek. You lay awake a little while longer, watching him, breathing him in. Now, you have no choice but to be confronted with the truth that you’ve been refusing to acknowledge this whole time.

You don’t hate him anymore. You don’t even dislike him now. And you certainly don’t want to kill him.

On one hand, things are easier. Crossing the line feels more like having torn down a wall, with no more need for pretense. On the other, König is somehow even more insufferable than before. Or perhaps insatiable is a better word for it. You go from having daily sexual tension with him to daily sex, period.

It’s like the floodgates have opened. He’s always loved to tease you, but it gets a hundred times worse now that he knows just how to make your cheeks feel warm.

“I was thinking…” he muses one night as you cuddle by the fire. “You may have to start riding on my horse.”

“Don’t I already do that?” you ask, sleepily playing with his hair.

He snorts. “Your susceptibility to my corrupting influence is truly something to marvel at.”

“You’ve been enacting psychological warfare on me for months.”

“Anyhow, as I was saying.”

“Your horse is quite large, but I don’t think it could handle me astride it as well.”

“Well. Certainly something else that’s large could handle that…”

You sigh. “Get to the point.”

“It’s becoming quite distracting, watching you moving up and down with the horse’s stride.”

“I cannot believe you. Innuendos twice in a row?”

“This is a legitimate grievance!”

“Riding on your horse would not fix the problem. Unless you plan for me to sit behind you in the saddle, which I refuse to do.”

“You’re no fun.”

You lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth instead of responding.

Your newfound…activity, however pleasingly distracting, can’t eclipse what comes next.

The mood is somber as you arrive in the village: it’s a quiet, sleepy place, just a scattering of simple houses dotting rolling hills and one singular street lined with buildings in the center of it all.

In sharp contrast to his playful, almost jubilant mood on the road with you, König instantly snaps into his authoritative persona. It especially suits him when he puts on the hood: it makes him seem that much more intimidating and threatening. Almost inhuman.

The first order of business is to hold counsel with what passes for the leader in this tiny village: a local merchant patriarch. He’s a sturdy man in his older years, face lined with both wrinkles and scars. He must have been quite the warrior when he was young: you can tell by the way he carries himself.

He gives both of you the lay of the land, and it’s a grim predicament indeed. Herding the livestock is a job most often given to the children, as it’s a relatively safe job with less skill required than the tasks the adults take care of. That’s changed, of course, with the arrival of the beast a few weeks ago. He confirms the most gruesome details that have been brought before König by previous messengers, and it turns your stomach just to imagine it. Those poor children…

The two of you set off early the next morning, with directions from an experienced hunter who had been keeping track of the beast and reporting its movements. At first, it feels normal: just another walk in the woods with König. The solemn silence between the two of you serves as a stark reminder that this isn’t like normal—followed promptly by increasing signs of a presence in the woods. Snapped branches, giant pawprints, and worse, streaks of blood.

Then you break though into a clearing, and your blood runs cold.

The beast before you could only be described as a wolf for lack of a better descriptor. It’s monstrously large, being König’s height and half again, with all of its proportions just slightly wrong: its legs scrawny and just slightly too long for its body, the snout lean and far too sharp to fit the rest of its head. Dried old blood crusted into the fur of its muzzle and chest belies the savagery of the creature, even streaking onto the fur along its neck. And the most obvious tell-tale sign of an unnatural creature is that fur: a dark, rusty blue that shifts with impossible pinpricks of light, like the night sky is ensnared in this feral animal’s coat.

You heard its growl before you saw it. But now when it lays eyes on you and König, it opens its snout and…speaks.

“What do we have here?” The voice comes out as a broken, reedy croak, as if stretching vocal cords that haven’t been used in a long time.

Something about it raises your hackles, like your body’s responding to an ancient, ingrained fear. Fae.

“Don’t listen to anything it says.” König’s voice is suddenly soft, dangerous. “None of it is trustworthy.” Slowly, deliberately, his hand moves to his back and draws his sword.

“Ah, the boy king,” hisses the beast. “You simply couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“You’re eating my subjects,” König responds. Your eyes flit to where his hand tightens its grip on his sword. “This is not personal.”

“But it always is, is it not?” The beast and König circle each other, like two combatants in an arena. “You are as ever driven by your past mistakes.”

“König, what is it talking about?” You feel like you’re witnessing a conversation you shouldn’t be, but you feel helpless to do anything about it. If you tried to make a move towards the beast now, it would have its jaws snapped around you in an instant.

“It’s lying, liebling. It’s what they do. It’s trying to throw you for a loop so it can catch you off guard.”

“Liebling now, is it?” The beast lets out an awful, barking laugh. “My, the two of you have come far. But not far enough, it seems.”

König gives you a quick, sidelong glance, then tilts his head back towards the beast. The message is clear. We need to distract it. I’ll keep it talking.

“From her response, it seems you’ve been keeping secrets from your lovely little bride.” The beast shakes itself, its fur puffing up to look larger and more intimidating.

“There’s nothing to keep. None of that is important.”

“I would beg to differ. And if your liebling knew what it was, she would disagree as well.”

“You know nothing about us,” König growls. Yes, you’re in a life-or-death situation right now, but the viciousness in his tone sends an excited shiver up your spine. You’re opposite König now, almost completely hidden behind the beast’s monstrous form.

“You know nothing about each other!” Before either of you can react, the beast whips around. Its glowing-white eyes are fixed on you. “Not that it matters any longer.”

You barely have time to scream before the beast is upon you.

“No!” König’s voice rings in your ears. You can feel the creature’s hot breath, its vile drool spilling onto your clothes, its teeth closing around your neck—

Time slows to a crawl, the events unfolding one after the other in sequence. The first thing you’re aware of is the beast’s roar of pain, booming deafeningly all around you. I’m inside its mouth, you think numbly. The second thing you notice is your necklace: it’s glowing red, as if the metal has become molten hot. But you don’t feel any burning sensation, just a faint tingle.

The third thing you see is König shoving himself between the two halves of the beast’s snout, physically holding it open with his body.

It’s truly an impressive sight, like watching Atlas hold up the sky. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up at him in awe.

“What are you doing?! Get out!” he yells, and you snap back to your senses.

You roll aside out of the beast’s range, scrambling to get back on your feet. König dodges out of the way just as the jaws snap shut.

“Is that..?” the thing wheezes. You rush to help König up as it glares balefully at you. Its beady eyes focus on the pendant around your neck, narrowing in disgust.

“Calliope,” it spits. “I should have known. This bears marks of your meddling all over.”

Your blood runs cold. “What did you just say?” What does your lady in waiting have to do with this?

“You—” The beast doesn’t get a chance to finish its sentence, because König takes advantage of its consternation to stick his sword into its neck. The creature bellows in pain and lunges at König, who barely manages to dodge the strike but loses his grip on his sword in the process. The monstrous animal whips around and around, attempting to grab hold of the sword with its teeth.

“Strike, now!” König calls before promptly getting clocked in the head with the pommel of his own sword as the beast thrashes and screams.

You don’t hesitate to spring into action, unsheathing a wicked-sharp blade as long as your forearm and sprinting towards the creature. König’s left you a perfect opening: as long as the beast is trying to get ahold of the sword, its chest is wide open for attack.

You don’t waste the opportunity. With the running start, you leap forward, sinking the blade into the wolf’s chest, right where its heart lies. The long, keening wail that the beast lets out is confirmation that your blade has struck true.

You have to throw yourself into a roll to get out of the way before the massive body crashes down on top of you. It lies on the ground, its heaving breaths growing shallower by the moment, its wounds staining the ground with a faintly shimmering golden ichor. So the fae do have golden blood, just like the old legends said, you think, watching the macabre scene with stunned terror.

“Brought low by two fae-touched mortals with barely a fight…” the beast huffs. It sounds weary and resigned to its fate, strange for a creature that had seemed so deadly and menacing just moments before. “Fate is cruel.”

“Fae-touched…what do you mean?” you ask, eyes widening. “Wait! What do you mean by that?!”

The beast doesn’t respond, its chest now hardly moving with its breaths. It’s not long for the world, now.

Behind the hulking, dying animal, you spot König staggering into a standing position. “König!” You gather yourself and rush towards him.

He’s visibly unstable on his feet, swaying slightly and looking dazed. The sword must have hit him hard, because his hood has been partially torn away. Despite everything, though, you can’t see any visible blood or injuries from this angle. Until he turns.

A bloodcurdling scream tears its way out of your throat. König cringes slightly at the sound, but you can’t help yourself. The sight is terrifying.

The skin above one half of his mouth is simply gone. He has no lip, not even any flesh up to his nose. His upper teeth and gums on one half of his mouth are just exposed, giving him a grim, unnatural appearance. He looks like Death itself, resembling the skeletal depictions in the manuscripts.

You should be afraid—scratch that, you are afraid. But you realize quickly your fear is not of him, but for him.

“Did it do this to you?!” you say, panicking. You dash forward and grab ahold of his face, turning it so you can examine the injury more closely. The act seems to startle König, who simply looks down at you in confusion.

“What are we going to do? There’s no way this village has a healer who could dress this wound…” you fret. An injury on this level is almost certainly a death sentence if he doesn’t receive adequate attention immediately, and he certainly won’t last the night if you’re forced to travel by horseback again—

“Schatzi…” König grabs your hands with his and removes them from his face. “I’m fine.”

You stare at him in shock for a moment. “You—how can—you—”

He heaves a heavy sigh, as if a massive burden has been placed on his shoulders. “I’m alright. The wound is…not new.”

“How can it not be new.”

König screws his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather his composure. “It’s been this way since I was young. Look,” he says, touching the area with a finger. “There’s no blood.”

On closer inspection, you realize he’s right: not only is there no blood, but the skin around his mouth and nose appear to be completely healed. And not even as if it were a true wound: there’s no scarring, no uneven flesh. The skin and muscle are simply…missing.

“What…how…” You’re at a total loss for words. Since he was young? What happened? How had he survived such an injury as a child? You have a million questions, but you find yourself unable to ask any of them.

You watch him, stunned, as he walks past you towards the beast’s body. It lays completely still now, all semblance of life having fled from the corpse. With one hand on the grip and one foot braced against the beast’s body, he wrenches his sword free, then bends to pull your knife out.

“I know you must have questions,” he says, wiping the blood off of both weapons onto the wolf’s fur with a grimace, “but I can’t answer them here. Please, if I promise to explain, will you…will you wait until we’ve left the village?” He turns to look at you beseechingly.

“I…” Now that the adrenaline and initial panic is beginning to fade, your whole body feels heavy and exhausted. You don’t have the energy to be angry, or afraid, or demand an explanation now. You have no choice but to agree, nodding quietly. König seems relieved at your calm response.

“So that’s why you always wear a mask or a hood,” you say numbly as you watch him take the ruined hood off, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. He gives you a sad, regretful look.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

“I never meant for anyone to find out.”

The villagers throw a celebration. A modest one, to be sure, but the relief on the peoples’ faces is enough of a reward for you. You can tell König is glad to see it as well—though every time you look at his face, hidden once more behind his mask, you feel a twinge in your heart as you remember what lies underneath it.

You can’t find it in yourself to enjoy the celebrations, even as excited children and grateful parents swarm you to give their thanks. You give them all a smile and a kind word, but that’s all you can manage. Dread and curiosity mix to form a terrible feeling in your gut.

The days between your defeat of the beast and your departure go by in a blur. You’re grateful for the rest, but you can’t stop thinking, worrying, about König’s condition. You manage to stop being petrified that he’s going to drop dead of infection at any moment, but you can’t look at him anymore without thinking about it. About the secret that he’s kept from you, from everyone who’s ever met him. You can’t even wrap your mind around what it all means. You have no point of reference for what could have happened to your husband’s face.

Husband. What a strange thing, to be wed to someone whose full face you had only seen a few days ago, months into your marriage. You haven’t thought of him like that at all. He’s always been König: the king, the enemy, the annoyance. And your lover, you suppose. For the first time, you start to wonder exactly what kind of man you’ve bound yourself to.

Because it’s exceedingly clear to you now. You can’t kill this man. Not just because you don’t want to anymore, but because he might be unkillable.

The village hasn’t yet vanished in the distance behind the two of you when you speak. “What the hell?”

König’s eyes slide to you, then back to the road ahead. “Language.”

You sputter in indignation. “Lang—that’s not what I want to hear!”

“Forgive me. I couldn’t resist.”

“König, this is serious! You promised an explanation.”

“I know what I promised,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“Well?”

König takes as deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

Then he begins.

“Well. What do we have here? You’re awfully young for this, little prince.”

He’s fourteen. He’s about to make a decision that will shape the rest of his life.

He had done as the crone’s old tome instructed. Bone from an animal slain in its youth. Flowers bloomed under the cover of pitch black night. A blade whet on the summoner’s own flesh. He’s knelt under the light of the full moon, round and blindingly white.

The ethereal creature standing before him is easily twice his height, with an unearthly glow to their skin and hair and a smile that could almost be mistaken for kind and benevolent on their unnaturally beautiful face.

He’s done it. He’s summoned a fae.

With no small amount of difficulty, he rises to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane that helps him walk. The fae lets out a noise of amusement as they watch the young boy struggle.

“Usually, mortals don’t gamble away their lives until they’re older, and greed begins to dictate their actions.”

He glares at the fae but doesn’t respond.

“Come, now. Do not look at me so. Give me your name, little prince.”

“…you may call me König.”

The fae’s expression sharpens, ever so slightly. “Clever boy. ‘König’…don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

“I want to make a deal.”

The fae sighs. “Straight to the point, I see. Well, I can’t fault your efficiency. Or is it desperation?” They smirk at him, their eyes taking the rest of him in. He knows he must make for a pathetic sight: a cripple with a harelip, spine curled and legs thin and spindly.

He doesn’t care. This is the last day he will ever be this pathetic.

“Let me guess. You wish to no longer be a cripple.”

“I want to be able bodied. I want to be strong enough to defeat my enemies. I want to be rid of my harelip.” Clear, concise language. He’s spoken these words to himself in the mirror countless times.

“You’ve certainly done your research. Then you know what price I will ask for such things.”

He swallows nervously. “Yes.”

“Very well then. Let us begin.”

It starts in his toes, the strange sensation that flows up through him that he will know all his days. He can feel the strength rushing into his limbs, feel his spine straightening, withered muscles coming to life.

Then comes the pain.

It’s white-hot torment, as if his body has become a living coal. He falls to the ground again, screaming and writhing as his bones crack and realign themselves. Somewhere, in the distance, he can hear the fae’s cruel laughter as they watch him suffer. For a brief moment, some primal, animal part of his brain thinks he’s going to die.

“Fret not, boy king. You won’t perish—I won’t let you until you give me what you’ve promised me,” the fae says, as if they can hear his thoughts.

He’s not sure how long he lays there on the ground, body wracked with agony. It feels like hours pass before he regains use of his limbs. But the pain does eventually fade away, leaving him dazed but still alive. Slowly, he manages to stand up again.

He stares at himself in wonder, legs and arms stretching. For the first time ever, he’s able to stand tall and straight on his own, his cane discarded to the side. And he feels strong. At last, he doesn’t feel weak for once.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The fae’s face has changed: they still look the same, but there’s a beastly, ugly quality to their lovely features that chills him to the bone.

His hands fly instantly to his face. The harelip is still there, he notes with displeasure.

“You forgot something,” he says, frowning in his lopsided way.

“Oh, I didn’t.” Before König can react, the fae’s eyes hollow and grow dark, becoming two pools of endless void. Their teeth sharpen, their face grows gaunt.

“Remember what you owe, boy king,” they remind him. “On the day and the hour your first child is born, I will come to collect.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream before the fae reaches forward with black talons and tears off his mouth.

You’re rendered speechless by his story. Where do you even start?

Your first thoughts are of the way he described himself as a child. König, weak and crippled? König? You look at him now, eighteen hands high astride his horse, the picture of raw strength and dominance. You can’t imagine it at all.

Your second thought is— “You made a deal with the fae? Do you know how foolish that is? Fae never give you what you want, and the cost is always far too high!”

“Don’t lecture me,” he says tightly. “I know what I was getting myself into. I had no other choice.”

“What do you mean, no other choice? You were the king’s son—you are the king! You could have had servants carry you everywhere if need be!”

“You don’t understand what it was like,” König snarls, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “Nobody would have accepted a cripple as their king. My life would constantly have been in danger, having to rely upon others. Unable to even defend myself if an assassin set upon me in my bed.” He’s getting angrier, more worked up as he goes.

“I told you that I was once poisoned as a child with nightshade berries. Did you wonder why there was such a plant in my mother’s garden? Why the royal heir was unsupervised for so long in the first place?” König’s expression is twisted, his voice turned bitter with betrayal. “It was a plot against me by some of my father’s advisors. They conspired with my nursemaid to make it seem like an accident…they expected me to die.”

“I…I’m sorry, König. I didn’t think.”

He glances at you and takes a moment to collect himself before speaking. “I was lucky. My father sent for the best healers he could find. My mother cried at my bedside for weeks.” His brow furrows. “My lot in life could have been worse: my parents loved me, at the very least. But it made me hate myself even more—that I was such a profound disappointment.

“My mother had a difficult birth. Some whispered that it was penance for what my father did: that the spirits of those slain during his campaigns had cursed my mother’s womb. She never was able to conceive again…so all their hopes rested upon my shoulders. My crippled, useless shoulders.”

The venom in his voice when he talks about himself makes your heart ache with sympathy. You move your horse closer to his and put a hand on his arm, squeezing him in what you hope is a comforting manner. His expression softens as he looks down at you.

“It would have been easy for you to kill me if I were still like that, liebe.” You feel your face grow warm again at the term of endearment.

“It makes sense, your strength being fae-given…Calliope said there was something not right about you.”

“Calliope is a perceptive woman.”

You study his face, eyes regarding his mask in a new light. “It really doesn’t look so bad. I only reacted that way because I thought you were injured.”

He shrugs. “Never was that good-looking anyway.”

You make a face. “Are you suggesting I sleep with ugly men?”

“You’ve only slept with me.”

“I’m trying to compliment you.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“When you’re not annoying me.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, now you know.”

You study him. He seems relieved to have finally gotten this off his shoulders. “Do you regret it?”

He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “…No.”

The village’s leader had advised an alternate path back home: it might take you a day or two longer, but it was less remote and lined with other villages. You arrive at the first inn just as the sun is about to duck beneath the horizon, the sky streaked with orange.

It’s a serene part of the wood, and the inn is quite quaint as well. Whoever runs it has done well for themselves, you think absentmindedly as you and König dismount and prepare to unload.

A side door swings open, and a quite frankly huge man walks out, facing away from the two of you. Your sense of scale is attuned to König now, so he’s of course not the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but he’s broad-shouldered and thick with muscle. You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can just about spot his blond hair—

“Shit. Shit.” König instantly spins around so his horse is between him and the man who’s just walked out of the building. You squint. Is he…hiding?

“What’s going on? Should I be worried?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Is he cringing? “Do you think it’s too late to set up camp?”

“Set up camp? When there’s a perfectly good inn right there?”

“Yes!”

“What has gotten into you? That man is quite big, but he’s not that sc—”

“I’m not scared of him, I just recognize him. And I don’t particularly feel like seeing him.”

You’re agog at the scene before you. “You’re the king.”

“Even kings have their hangups, alright?”

“I am not sleeping in the woods.”

“As your husband and supreme ruler, I demand it.”

“Come now. I know you’re tired of fucking me outside.”

That gives him serious pause, which almost makes you giggle. Ridiculous man. You could probably lead him onto an executioner’s block if you held him by the cock.

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward to hold his hand and giving him the biggest, most wide eyes you can muster. “I’m not ready to go back to sleeping on the ground yet.”

His face scrunches up in a hopelessly endearing, almost childlike way. “Fine. But you have to go in and talk to the innkeep. I’m going to stay out here.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is, but fine. You big baby.” You hand him your horse’s reins and make your way to the front door of the inn.

You’ve barely pushed the door very far at all before you hear a friendly voice from inside. “Welcome, traveler! Come on in.”

“It’s wonderful to make your—” You stop in the doorway, frozen with shock.

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, your highness.” A pair of familiar sparkling eyes look back at you. “And you can tell his majesty that he can come inside, I’ve already seen him.”

König’s first wife stands before you, watching your reaction with clear amusement.

Forgive me for that smut. It's been years since I've written anything nsfw, and I wrote this at like. 5AM after a very long day because when I'm not exhausted, writing smut becomes impossible. It's quite the pickle.

Well...I did say that part 3 was going to be a doozy! I'm looking forward to all the reactions...🤭

Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @keiva1000 @catluvwr @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @channelsoph @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @lexuria @complexivelovely

[writing-intheundercroft]

The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties.  You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.  

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages.  Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons.  Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded.  So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day.  You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching.  It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people.  You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.  

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”  

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose.  “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch.  I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly.  It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow.  At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another.  You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson!  Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.” 

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit.  He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion.  Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel.  He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice.  It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out.  And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years.  The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work.  You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.  

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine.  It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her.  “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think.  You’re at the top of your field.  You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you.  The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy.  Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom.  It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital.  It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes.  Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains.  Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline.  Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward.  Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames.  A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth.  There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information. 

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful.  Lost a few–even more are bleeding.  It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them.  Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name.  Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain.  And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them.  The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.  

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects.  His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them.  They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love.  You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath.  The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the  blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.  

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised.  Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year.  You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars. 

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting.  He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to.  Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest.  You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut.  The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later.  In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.  

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done.  From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included).  Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital.  But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them.  Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring.  They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened.  You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you. 

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest. 

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied.  Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps.  She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.” 

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.  

“How is Sallow?  The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you.  Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door.  It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!” 

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you.  He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns. 

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really?  I’ve lost five damn years in my head?  What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.”  Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed.  Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie.  Was it a lie?  You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back.  “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay.  We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?” 

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water.  Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this.  You’ll feel much better,” you assure him. 

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes.  He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere.  But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period.  It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.  

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body.  With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him.  The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso.  Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.  

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy.  He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room.  You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago.  You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered.  Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.  

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off.  His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union.  You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you.  You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.  

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch.  Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her.  She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here?  It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you.  I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth.  That we ended amicably.  That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt.  Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde.  It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact?  Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home.  Visitor hours are over.”  you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry.  I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours.  I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks.  Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart. 

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave.  You’re finally able to start your rounds.  Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward.  Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week.  Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in.  Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep.  He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart.  Nothing particularly new, and no memories back.  He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies.  It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell.  A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops.  You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving. 

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.” 

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian.  Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me.  Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that.  I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again.  You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably.  One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.” 

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely.  You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles.  It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child.  It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”  

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.  

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.  

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully.  Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning.  Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean.  It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound.  You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue.  His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me.  I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that.  I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve.  Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.” 

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him).  “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument.  “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer.  It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters.  You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl. 

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it.  She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him.  He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me.  Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian.  You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else.  Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him. 

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind.  Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable. 

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice.  That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.” 

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold.  I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?” 

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies.  You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).  

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron.  When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man.  He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles. 

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face.  The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful.  Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable.  And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore.  In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen.  He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights. 

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight.  You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname.  And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room.  But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you.  At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes. 

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily. 

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them.  Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars.  They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart.  I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure.  That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have.  You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that.  So I packed my things and left.” 

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back.  After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work.  Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted.  Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love.  He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley.  Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror.  A damn good one.  The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others.  I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you.  We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks. 

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement.  A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it.  But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged.  It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight.  And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay.  That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly.  “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him. 

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t.  And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him.  From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger.  And that’s good–it’s good for us now.  It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy.  I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man.  That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you.  But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly.  You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love.  You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest.  I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together.  The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy.  Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat.  Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration.  At least he was when you were younger.  Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even.  The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.  

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.  

The words replay in your mind.  It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years.  That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.  

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened.  That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself. 

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room.  You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion.  Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual.  Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.  

This is it.  This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed.  It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red.  You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan.  There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives.  The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings.  You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs.  Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included.  Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group. 

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head. 

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin.  He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.�� Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon.  For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door.  Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub.  Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.  

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers.  You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one.  Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker.  It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room.  He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).  

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night.  He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life. 

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him.  I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life.  He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs.  The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk.  Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face.  He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.”  You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin.  The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine.  You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done.  That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.  

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you.  You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place. 

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips.  It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years.  You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer.  His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think.  So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving.  You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body.  He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest.  Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past.  But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.  

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week.  And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

[azullumi]

“lyra” ; dazai osamu

summary — the many times you felt loved by him and the one where a confession happened.

pairing — dazai osamu (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (kind of), utilization of the friends to lovers trope, slightly proofread, 2.1k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs

note — i literally haven’t written for him for years now and i swear i lost my mind and pulled my hair,, i could have done this better !?

Dazai is unpredictable.

In more ways than one, he is erratic, able to conceal his intentions beneath that long trench coat of his, tucked in the loose parts of his bandages, hidden somewhere only he can see. He is the definition of an enigma, he is more than a puzzle, not just a paradox that continues to exist despite death being the only companion and comforting thing to him—a man of mystery that is better left unknown.

“My, you always look as ethereal and beautiful as a lotus blossom.” The dark-haired man says as he holds your hand in his, his finger delicately tracing the lines of your palm, and his eyes looked softer than usual, his gaze holding something that lies between the line of affection and seduction. Sparkles and flowers seem to bloom behind him, the background of the cafe fading and turning into a plain pink one with hearts that float around his figure.

(Flirty.)

He’s fluent in the language of amorous words laced with playfulness accompanied with gentle touches and slow caresses on your skin. He doesn’t hesitate in getting close, invading your space and going over the line, and maybe he’ll show that he is into you but only a fool would think of his words as genuine affection meant for you and only you.

“My eternal light to the darkness, would you be willing to—” However, he’s unable to finish his sentence as you take your hand back from him, offering him a smile instead as you subtly set a distance between the both of you—as if you were telling him to never cross the line, to stay at an arms’ distance.

“Good morning, Dazai. What brings you here to the cafe?”

Fortunately, you weren’t a fool.

“Ah, rejection again, I see.” The pink background that blooms behind me seemingly shifts into a dark one as the man’s expression contorts into a mix of sadness and disappointment, all displayed in an overly dramatic way; his form is slumped, faux tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, and his lips are in a pout. The sound of a short (mirth) laughter is heard from you—you’ve gotten used to this sight of him, of his dramatic expressions, and flirty approaches just to ask you something ridiculous.

“I’m here for you.” He says.

(And persistent.)

You have witnessed evidence of his persistence expressed in his words and actions every time he’s free from any of his work and he comes to the cafe you work at (his definition of free is escaping from his responsibilities and choosing to slack off). He’ll always take the opportunity to hold your hand, whisper such affectionate words only one would say to their lover, and he’ll kiss your skin so gently as if it was made from glass.

That was what happened in the first meeting between you and him—first day on your work in this cafe and just as you were serving the order of this loud group that the owner is acquainted with, you caught the eye of the man covered in bandages and dressed in a somewhat messy yet orderly way. Then you know how it went and from then on, Dazai doesn’t let the chance to bother you slip from his grasp.

But you don’t fall for it, never would you. You’re not supposed to and you’re not going to. He has said such similar things to other people who he deems beautiful or attractive, he has touched others and tainted them with his caresses the same way he did with yours, his lips have felt the softness of others’ skin, not only yours. You’d be stupid enough to think that there’s something more lingering in the depths of his voice, something different that tugs at his tone and threatens it to break.

The two of you are just friends, maybe even less than that.

“Where’s Kunikida?” You ask him, eyes roaming around to look for a single strand of golden but there was nothing. You failed to notice the falter in the expression of the man before you, tension seeping into his features for a moment before it eases at the mention of another man’s name. You continue, “Are you slac—” only to be interrupted by the sound of the door chime ringing followed by a set of heavy footfalls.

A loud shout of Dazai’s name is heard, echoing off the brick-patterned walls of the place, as Kunikida enters. There was a furious look on his face, nose fuming as he spotted the one he was looking for and as soon as he did, Kunikida smacked the back of Dazai’s head. There goes it, you know how this would unfold, how everything would happen—you’re used to it, having already seen this scene enough times to tell how it would end: Kunikida will scold Dazai, calls him with a new nickname (it’s President of Wasted Bandages this time), drags him outside but before that, he’ll apologize on behalf of his co-worker’s behavior, and you’ll wave at them as they leave.

“Why do you always come to ruin good moments, Kunikida? Do you not wish to see me happy?”

“Happy?! Maybe if you stop slacking off, you'll be happy.”

You could hear their distant argument and you heave out a sigh when they disappear from your sight, the smile fading from your lips as the loneliness looms over your figure. Silence rests heavily on your shoulders and you ignore the ache in your chest.

The cafe is located on the first floor where the detective agency is and you work alongside a waitress and a kind owner. Members of the agency are often seen frequenting the place, thus you’ve become familiar with their faces, memorized their names, and even learned some things about themselves. Honestly, it’s all simple for you; you have a nice and peaceful job (ignoring the chaos around you and the occasional disturbance from Dazai), and you’re being paid well. What else could you ever wish for? It was all serene for you.

Not this time though.

It seems like luck has run out for you seeing that you’re bound on the ground right at this moment, becoming a hostage to a small criminal group. Everything that happened prior feels like a blur, you remember men suddenly entering the cafe with guns and threatening everyone, you remember them hurting the owner, and you remember being taken away. They want to use you as bait, a guarantee for the detective agency so that they will bite and get lured into the criminals’ trap, or whatever they were telling you earlier. You weren’t listening—maybe you were but their words just passed from one ear to another—, hands curled into a fist as it trembled, the cold floor felt like spikes stabbing into your skin, and as the rope dug into your skin.

Afraid? Perhaps you were. It’s not everyday you get a gun pointed at you and a man threatening your life. Is this how you’re going to die?

You try to distract and ease yourself by thinking of other things, your mind drifting to somewhere else instead of staying at where you are—the cat that you occasionally see across the street, the passing cars you’ll see outside the window, the music playing from the vinyl in the cafe, the ringing of the chime as the door opens, and the dark-haired man and eyes that reflect the earth. Dazai with his never-ending tab, with his continuous ridiculous offers, his dramatic expressions, his stupid whims, the way he would always annoy you as if it was a daily requirement, his messy bangs that frames his face, his words that poke and probe at your being, and his—

You are snapped out of your thoughts, a familiar voice calling your name, coming into the stream of your senses, and pulling you out of the daze that you are in.

“Dazai?” Something is drowning in the pools of his eyes, lurking in the depths, and the way he looks at you is different. The usual calm in his expression is disturbed by a mixture of emotions—like rain droplets on a surface of still water—, anger, worry, care merging into the gentle lines of his features. Your hands that were once bound were free, though your wrists are left with marks from the rope bindings and you could still feel the way it burns on your skin.

“What happened? Why are you here? Are you hurt? Did you come alone? How did you find me?” Many questions came pouring out of your mouth but your voice trembles as you speak, tone unstable as the words fall and shatter on the ground. Dazai only lets you, your form crumbling and he holds your pieces in his hand, and he assures you: “Everything is alright.”

He continues, taking off his coat to wrap it around your form, “Were you scared?” And you meekly nod, knowing that your voice will only betray you. Dazai doesn’t say anything and only pulls you close to him, embracing you in his arms (“I’m sorry I took so long.”). There was the scent of his perfume accompanied with a trace of gunpowder when you buried your face on his chest—you feel a sense of relief, comfort and warmth that makes its way through your thoughts and the feeling of suffocation slowly leaves you.

He draws small circles on your back as he tries to soothe you, “You’re safe now.” He whispers as he kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering for a few seconds as he inhales the smell of your hair. (You’ve never had him this close before, this soft, this warm. It feels like the man you have known him as before were all fabrications from your illusive mind and the one before you is a different person.)

He brings your hand towards his lips and he presses a kiss on your pulse, right where the marks of your wrists are, ever so gently, ever so sweetly, “Nobody will hurt you ever again.”

You descend down the flight of stairs leading to a basement—a bar tucked away and hidden in plain sight. You’ve only known of it all thanks to a certain blabbermouth, he said it’s his favorite place to go. When you arrive, the interior shifts to a dimly-lit one with warm lights illuminating the whole place in contrast to the dark and foggy street outside. There’s the sound of jazz softly playing in the background, setting the tranquil ambience the whole bar carries.

And there he is, the man of the hour, basking underneath the golden glow. Sitting on the stool by the end of the counter, he has a glass of whiskey settled in front of him.

“I didn’t expect for you to actually come.” Dazai speaks, his voice molding into the gentleness of the song playing.

“I was curious. Though I didn’t know you'd be here at the same time.”

“Come sit.” He pats the spot beside him and you follow. You order something to drink as you sit and a glass is served in front of you after a few minutes. Silence crept up to the both of you as you didn’t say anything—and you wish you could read his mind at this moment, to know the thoughts that plagues his mind—and the stillness was an unbearable kind;

You begin, “Do you always come here?”

Dazai takes a sip from his glass before he answers, “Just often.”

“I see.” And before the silence could last even longer, you spoke once more: “You haven’t been coming to the cafe lately.”

“Why? Did you miss me? Are you finally going to take up my—“

“No.” He muttered a small “aw” at your firm rejection. “You still have an unpaid tab.” And he groans at that while you chuckle, finding amusement in the way his expression crumpled.

The sound of your laughter dies down after a few moments, trailing off to a gentle mutter of an: “Thank you.”

“For?” He asks, even if he already knows what you’re talking about.

“For back then.” For giving you his coat as he noticed you shivering, for assuring you that everything is okay and you’re not going to be harmed anymore, for blocking your sight of the men’s bodies that laid like lifeless corpses on the ground, for protecting you.

It has been weeks since it occurred but you could still feel the warmth of his body against yours and maybe his scent will linger no matter how much you try to wash it, and maybe you’ll have to forever carry the thought, the wishful thinking that maybe there’s something more. And maybe it’s the alcohol making him light-headed but three words are whispered to the air that settles in the space between you and him.

“I like you.”

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[fan-fantasies]

Worship

A/N: I need more Rhea fics in my life 😩 I’m using fanfiction to cope with my real life feelings so I need as much as possible 😅

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Warnings: cheating (with Rhea), verbal abuse (from shitbag boyfriend), semi-public smut, oral (reader receiving), fingering, swearing, mentions of relationship issues

“Oh, please please please! I need your help!” You begged. Rhea looked at you with an annoyed expression.

“I don’t understand why you need my help for that,” she sighed.

“Because I need someone else’s opinion on whether I look good or not,” you said.

She wanted to tell you that you always look beautiful and no one else compared to you. She wanted to tell you that your no-good, sleazy boyfriend didn’t deserve you and the effort you put into the relationship. She wanted to tell you to choose her instead— but she just settled for “fine.”

“Thank you!” You yelled, jumping into her arms. She knew she was going to come to regret her decision, but your puppy dog eyes were no match for her.

You drove the two of you to the mall and headed straight to your destination.

You grabbed a few pairs of lingerie while Rhea did her best to look uninterested.

“What about this?” You asked, holding up a pink babydoll. The look on her face said enough. “No then, got it.”

“You so owe me for this,” she whined as you continued to browse.

“I definitely do! Whatever you want, just name it,” you said with a smile.

I just want you, was the first thought that popped into her mind.

“I’ll think about it,” she mumbled. “I think you have enough, now can we go?”

“I haven’t even tried them on yet!”

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

“Try them on? You didn’t say anything about that,” she said nervously.

“Well duh, that’s what I need you for; to tell me if I look good in them,” you said nonchalantly. Rhea felt like she was going to die. “Sit right here and I’ll be back.”

You sat her down in the back where the dressing rooms were and took your finds into the little room.

The first piece you tried on was red and left little to the imagination. You stepped out confidently and held your arms out.

“Well?”

Rhea’s mouth went dry at the sight (something else was definitely wet though).

“It’s lovely,” she nodded, not able to take her eyes off of the floor in front of her.

“You aren’t even looking!” You whined. Rhea forced herself to look up and play cool.

“It’s really great, sweetheart,” she said.

“I think I like it, but I still wanna try on the other ones,” you said as you went back into the room.

The next one was a white one-piece and much simpler than the first one.

“It’s cute,” Rhea chuckled.

“Cute? I’m not going for cute!” You scoffed.

“What are you going for exactly?” She asked.

“Fuck me.”

“What?” Rhea asked in a panic.

“I’m going for ‘fuck me’ vibes,” you said simply.

“Oh, yeah. I knew what you meant,” she said. “I still don’t get why you’re doing all this. He’s lucky to even be with you.”

“I know, it’s just…things have been different lately and we haven’t done…anything in a while. I figure maybe I just need to spice things up,” you admitted.

Rhea couldn’t believe her ears. How could someone have you and not want to worship you every second of the day? Before Rhea could say anything, you continued.

“And I know what you’re probably thinking-“ she doubted it- “he’s probably getting it somewhere else but I really don’t think he’d do that, right? Maybe he’s just gotten a little bored with me so I figured maybe this would help.”

Rhea couldn’t help but feel sad at the pain in your voice. If Rhea didn’t hate your boyfriend before, she certainly did now.

“I can guarantee it doesn’t have anything to do with you. If he doesn’t see how lucky he is then he’s an idiot. You don’t have to try and do something extra just to get his attention. You’re beautiful even when you’re in sweats and no makeup.”

“Thank you,” you said with a shy smile. “I have one more I want to try on and then we can go grab lunch, okay?”

“Sounds good, gorgeous,” she said. You went back in to try on your last piece. It was black lace with purple detailing.

You stepped out and Rhea was convinced she had died and gone to heaven. She stood up and circled you, taking in every inch.

“Now this, this is a winner,” she said, playing with the strap on your shoulder. A shiver went down your spine and you took a shaky breath. The way she was looking at you looked like she could eat you right then and there.

“You think so?” You whispered.

“I know so, but I do think it would look better on the floor,” she said, leaning in closer. “How about we find out?”

You should’ve been embarrassed at how fast you nodded. She pulled you into the changing room and locked the door behind you. She was so furious at your boyfriend for making you feel less than, she was determined to worship you exactly how you deserved.

She began to kiss your neck, her hands groping your ass. She finally pulled you in for a kiss and everything seemed to click. Years of friendship melted into more and it just felt right.

She slipped her tongue into your mouth and easily won dominance over yours. She began pulling at the straps of the lingerie and you let her strip it off of you. You tried to pull her belt off but she stopped you.

“This is about you, gorgeous. There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” she chuckled.

She sat you down on the little bench and knelt in front of you. She kissed up your leg and nipped at you thighs before diving into your center. Her tongue worked wonders on your clit. You were extra sensitive, not having been touched in so long.

“Oh shit, more,” you begged. She slid a finger between your folds before sinking it into you. She added another and began to pump them into you while continue to lap at your clit. You did your best to contain your moans, only a thin door separating you from the store outside.

“You taste divine, sweetheart. I bet he never made you feel this good,” she smirked, stretching you with a third finger.

“Never,” you moaned, rolling your eyes back in pleasure.

As if on cue, your phone began to ring. You wanted to ignore it, but Rhea grabbed it with her free hand and handed it to you.

“Answer it, love,” she said. You looked at her like she was crazy and when you didn’t listen, she pulled her fingers out which made you whine. “Answer.”

She lowered her head back down and began to suck on your clit. You pressed answer and took a breath to compose yourself.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you? You were supposed to pick up my dry cleaning and bring it to the office half an hour ago!” Your boyfriend yelled on the other line.

“Shit,” you sighed, Rhea speeding up her actions. “Um, yeah sorry, I forgot.”

“Well get them here asap!”

“I’m busy right now,” you told him.

“I don’t give a shit, bitch,” he snapped. Rhea’s eyes lit up with fury as she pulled away. You began to panic, worried she’d take the phone.

“Go get them yourself, asshole,” you quickly said. Everyone froze.

“What did you just say to me?” He asked, venom in his tone.

“You heard me. We’re done. Now leave me alone, I said I’m busy,” you said before hanging up the phone. You tossed it to the side, not caring where it lands. Rhea looked up at you with a shocked expression.

“I think that deserves a reward,” she chuckled before diving back in. She slid two fingers back into you and thrusted them, circling your clit with her tongue ring. You were getting closer and she could tell. She focused on stimulating your clit, finally pushing you over the edge. You bit onto your fist to keep from screaming out. She slowed down as you came down from your high and finally pulled her fingers from you and licking them clean.

“Guess I had dessert before lunch,” she said with a smirk.

“I guess so,” you laughed, pulling on your clothes. You just finished when she stopped you by grabbing your hands in hers.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sincerity in her voice.

“Never better,” you gave her a genuine smile. “It was long overdue. And I think I might have something better on the horizon anyway.”

“You most definitely do,” she said, kissing you softly.

“I think we have to buy that now,” you said, pointing to the discarded lingerie on the floor.

“As long as I get to take it off of you, we can buy whatever you want,” she chuckled. “Now let’s get out of here, babe.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hm I like the sound of that,” she smirked. She grabbed your hand and pulled you from the dressing room.

The smile on your face never left for the rest of the day. Rhea ended up accompanying you home and you spent the rest of the day making up for lost time.

——————

Please comment and reblog! I love reading replies!

[pray4byron]

hey mio! Hopefully ur less burnt out! Could I maybe get some head cannons with vox, velvette, and mayhaps gn reader(yes I'm replacing that bitch Valentino) ? Maybe them having a movie night and arguing over what movie to watch, what snacks they all have, them all snuggled up on the couch!! Just some fluffy stuff, luv ya mio!!

-🎺 anon

hello 🎺 anon!! this actually inspired me quite a bit, so i’mma be bold and do a few scenarios!!

this was so fun and cute so i hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Profanity, use of Y/N

“Maybe Rom-Coms Do Come True…”

Vox x Reader x Velvette

You come into the lounge, setting the tray of snacks down on the small table infront of the T.V., your boyfriend and girlfriend already saving a spot between them just for you, smiles on both of their faces, and you couldn’t help but notice how cute they both looked.

Velvette had a matching pink and black P.J. set on, a buttoned short-sleeved shirt, and shorts, with matching slipper with bows on them.

Whilst Vox has just gotten out of work, he was in half-work clothes, half-casual clothes, he still had his dress pants on, but he sported one of VoxTech’s new hoodies.

“Soo…” Vox mumbles under his breath as he fiddled with the remote. “What are we watching tonight?” He asks, turning to both of his partners, his eyes scanning them for an answer.

Velvette’s eyes light up immediately, “We should watch a Rom-Com!”

Vox’s screen rolls back, as he let out a groan, “We watched one last week!” He complained.

“Actually, bitch, you’re wrong! We watched one last time I picked!” Velvette corrected, crossing her arms, leaning forward to get a better look at her boyfriend while she spoke.

“Which was three weeks agooooo! That’s basically the same thing!!” Vox groaned once more, “Let Y/N pick this time! They have better taste than you anyway!”

Velvette jokingly scoffs, putting a hand to her heart, “Well at least I don’t play the same, dumb traffic-light, high school broadway musical!” Velvette retorts.

“Well I’d rather watch that every week than ‘Dance Moms’ or that stupid mafia romance!” Vox argues back.

“‘Heathers’ is a blessing to the musical world, don’t you dare, Velvette!”

“Exactly what I’m saying!”

“Vox you don’t even know anything about ‘Heathers’…” Velvette rolled her eyes.

“So what?!”

Eventually, you guys settled on a Rom-Com, against Vox’s better judgement.

Honestly, you were pretty neutral about Rom-Coms, but tonight was very enjoyable for you.

Between Velvette’s screams about why the protagonist and love interest haven’t kissed yet, or when Vox would boo and throw popcorn at the T.V when something would happened that he didn’t like, it was very entertaining to watch your lovers get so invested into something.

As the movie went on, you and Velvette began to notice that maybe, just maybe, Vox was enjoying the movie after all…

Through all the screams, laughter, and tears of the movie, it really was the best movie night yet, maybe Velvette did have good taste.

But once the love interest and protagonist do kiss, you’re surprised there’s no screams… No screams from Velvette… No screams from Vox…

Your head turns, you notices the limp grip Velvette’s hand has on yours, and you notice that your girlfriend is curled up against Vox’s side, and Vox has a lip arm around you both.

And the only thing you can do, is smile.

Maybe Rom-Coms do come true…

[angelic-sturniolos111]

Matt’s Teammate 💙

You get selected by Laura to be Matt’s teammate at The Versus Tour. As you compete together, Matt seems a bit off his game, because he has instantly started crushing on you. Matt knows that there’s a chance he may never even see you again… but that changes after he talks with Nick and Chris backstage after the show.

matt sturniolo x fem! reader

warnings: slight cursing

themes: tons of fluff

author’s note: haven’t been to a show yet so idk what order the challenges are in so I might have gotten them mixed up but you get the idea :)

You stood watching the show live from the television backstage waiting for the triplets to introduce their teammates for the challenges. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest— you couldn’t even believe this was genuinely happening to you.

“Okay Y/N, the boys should be ready for you three in about two minutes. I told the other girls to line up by the curtain if you could join them over there for me.” Laura, their manager, said to you gesturing to where the other teammates were standing.

“Sure!… I don’t know if I have ever been this nervous before, honestly.” You say letting out a deep sigh all while a big smile was plastered across your face.

“Awe don’t worry hun they are sweet kids and I’m sure Matt will make you feel comfortable once you’ve sat with him for a bit. Good luck, and remember to have fun!” Laura’s words of encouragement made you feel a bit better. The two of you walked over to the curtain just behind the stage. You could just barely see the stage through the opening of the curtain where you saw the canvases, aprons, and paints already set up for your first challenge.

“Alright you guys so as you already know we have a few challenges set up for us tonight that we will be doing with a fan from tonight’s show. Let’s welcome our teammates for the night!” Nick says through the microphone as the audience erupts in cheers. Oh man, here we go! You think to yourself as you follow the others out past the curtain into the bright stage lights.

Matt’s POV:

I watch as our teammates come on stage, and keep my eye out for a girl in blue. I see as she turns the corner, and I am stunned. She’s dressed in a cute sporty blue top and joggers, but it was her smile that immediately caught my attention. I’ve met tons of fans before, and many of them are very pretty, but she is beautiful. I felt like everything was in slow motion for a moment until she drew me out of my daydream.

“Hi Matt I’m Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you!” Ugh, even her voice was cute! She wraps her arms around my shoulders as mine wrap around her body as we hug. “I am such a big fan of yours!” She says as she gives me a soft squeeze before releasing the hug.

“Awesome!” I replied. Awesome? That was the best I could come up with?

***

We had already begun our “Work of Art” challenge, but I had to stand behind the canvas until the timer was finished. I watched Y/N’s face as she concentrated on painting all while laughing out of nervousness as she switched from color to color sporadically. Luckily, she was too concentrated on the challenge to notice me staring at her, admiring her beauty.

“Dude, Matt literally said the same thing.” Chris’s voice echoes through the microphone. “Right?” He says looking at me for approval. I was so zoned out looking an Y/N that I had no idea what he had even just said.

“Oh.. what? Ohh yeah yeah I did say that.” I stuttered, trying to bring myself back to reality and focus on the performance. Did I say what Chris said I said? No fucking clue. Nick turns and gives me a slightly confused look. “Matt, wake the fuck up we have a show to do bro!” Chris shouts and the audience erupts in laughter and cheers. I smile and let out a small laugh to hide my embarrassment. I turn back to Y/N to see she is already looking up at me with a small grin on her face. Great, now I’m really embarrassed. I’m hoping these colored stage lights can mask the fact that I feel my cheeks burning red at the moment.

Y/N POV:

The score was currently 5:7:8 with Chris in the lead, Nick in second, and Matt and I in last. We were off to a strong start from Matt winning popular vote, and us winning the painting challenge, then Matt scoring most of the baskets in the free throw challenge. We were down to the last challenge, the jenga showdown, which was by far the most tense. Though we were in last, I was still having such an amazing time.

I cheer Matt on as he gently pushes a block from out of the stack and places it on top the tower. He did it so easily and confidently that the audience roared in unison, screaming for Matt.

“Okay, maybe I can redeem myself in jenga, but Chris is still probably going to win… I’m sorry.” Matt turned and said as Nick took his turn. Matt looked at the ground, and had a defeated look on his face.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! We did are best, and we had fun which is far more important than winning in the end anyway.” I say, and he looks up and gives me a smile before putting his arm around me for a side hug. Our hug was interrupted by the audience screaming loudly, and we look to see the jenga blocks on the floor as Nick covers his face with his hands and stomps in anger at his team’s loss.

I cheer for Chris during his “crowning ceremony,” and he gave each of the teammates a hug as we congratulated them. I saw Nick, and gave him a big hug telling him I love him as I totally fangirl. Lastly, I turn to Matt who looks bummed from our loss.

“I had such an amazing time tonight! I hope you three have so much fun on the rest of the tour, and good luck! I’ll be rooting for you.” I say to Matt as I give him one last hug. I was surprised to find that he wasn’t pulling away from the hug right away as to finish the show, but he remained with his arms wrapped around me in a sentimental embrace. “It was great to meet you, Y/N. You’re an amazing teammate.” Matt says as he pulls away from the hug halfway, smiling down at me.

“K dude… let’s go.” Chris nudges Matt, and I realize I am the only teammate left on stage. I pull away fully and wave bye to the triplets as I exit the stage. What a night.

Matt’s POV:

My brothers and I were backstage packing the last of our things after finishing the post-show meet and greet and VIP backstage fan experience.

“Matt, are you okay? You seemed off tonight bro.” Chris says.

“Yeah I was gonna say the same thing but I haven’t had a chance to bring it up since the show ended. Is something going on?” Nick says concerned.

“Yeah… no. I don’t know. It’s stupid.” I said as I continued to pack and try to ignore the conversation.

“Come on Matt, you can tell us!” Says Nick.

“Was your teammate being freaking weird or something? Making you uncomfortable?” Chris exclaims as he comes to my side grabbing the things from my hands and putting them on the couch to stop me in my tracks.

“No she wasn’t weird at all. Her name is Y/N, and she was amazing. She is amazing. I wish you guys could’ve seen more of her because she was just so damn nice and sweet and—”

“Hot?” Chris cuts me off as he laughs.

“Well, yeah. I mean, she was beautiful. Not only that but in between challenges we were talking about how she appreciates my mental health content, and what videos of ours she likes. The whole show too she just had such a positive attitude and it made me feel really… happy. You know?” I said passionately, and I could feel the heat rising in my face once more.

“Aweeee Matty B you have a crush on a fan! That is too cute!” Nick says adoringly. “But seriously, she sounds wonderful. Did you get her social media or anything?” Nick asks, and by this point the three of us are all sitting together on the couch talking about it. I shook my head no.

“Okay, well, you got her name and she was on stage tonight so I’m sure something of her will pop up on social media somewhere.” Chris says.

“Why does it matter if she posts? Sure, I can follow her, but it’s not like I’m ever going to see her again or anything.” I snap at the two as I get off the couch and continue packing my bag.

“But why not though? Yeah she’s a fan, but she looked like she was around our age and she lives in the states as far as we know.” Chris says. “Mmm but she could have a boyfriend.” Chris says hesitantly.

“Or girlfriend!” Nick chimes in.

“Alright whatever, can we let this go and get to the bus?” I said, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

***

We walk out of the venue and hear the cheers of those fans who stayed behind after the show to watch us get back on the tour bus. I walked behind Chris and Nick, walking a bit slower, trying to scan the fans for Y/N, but no luck.

On the bus, I reposted the group instagram post of Chris’s win to my story. I took a picture from inside the bus, and captioned it “Even though I lost tonight I had fun, and that’s what matters 💙🩹”. I hit post, and immediately was getting tons of replies and tags. I was casually scrolling through my DM requests, when a username with “Y/N” catches my eye. I click on the request to view the message.

“You’re the best Matt! I hope to see you perform again in the future 🥰” the message read. I click on her profile. No way. It was Y/N! My heart started beating a little faster as I skimmed through her instagram feed. She was insanely attractive, and looked like a great person to be around, which I had gathered from our interaction tonight. I go back to the message and stare at it for a few minutes, my mind and heart racing. Do I reply to her message? Do I ask her out somehow? What if she does have a boyfriend, or girlfriend like Nick said? What if I make a complete ass of myself, or worse, she posts my reply all over the internet? I was playing a million different scenarios in my head. I’ve always been so shy, having trouble talking to girls I like, but my brothers and the fans have really boosted my confidence over this last year. I want to roll with that confidence…

“I had fun tonight, Y/N. You seem like a really great girl, and I would love to see you again if I can.” I typed out. I immediately hit send as to not give myself too much time to rethink my decision. Now, the waiting game. I throw my phone down on the table because staring at the screen waiting for her to reply made me too anxious. Chris and Nick came and sat down with me soon after, and I didn’t dare tell them what I just did in fear they’d yell at me, or tell me I made a huge mistake. Time goes by, and we watch tv as we travel to our next show. My phone dings, and I grab it as quick as I can to open the notification.

“Woah you’re smiling big, who’s that?” Nick asks.

I’m silent for a moment. In disbelief. Smiling from ear to ear.

“It’s Y/N!’

****************************

Thanks for reading my first Sturniolo short! Let me know if you’d want a part two! <3

UPDATE: Part 2 linked here !

[astronomysturniolos]

matt sturniolo x gf-reader!!

our love in pink and red

summary: after you’ve had enough of matt ignoring you all valentine’s day, you go to see him to get to the bottom of this, only to find your boyfriend and a romantic gesture waiting for you. (fluff)

warnings: slight kissing??

——————————————————

today was february 14th. which means it was valentine’s day. i would normally be excited for today, considering i would spend the romantic holiday with my boyfriend, matt.

we have been dating for nearly two years, and every year he would always do something small and intimate to ask me to be his valentine. but i haven’t gotten any calls, texts, or even a “good morning” from him, even though it’s now around 6 at night. which is very out of the ordinary.

i’ve called him at least 10 times, and texted him 5, but he has yet to answer me. so, i quickly get dressed in a light pink sundress, with white hearts on it, to possibly hint to him as to why i’ve been so adamant to talk to him. i make my way towards his house, the silence of the car ride making me more anxious, thinking the worst possible. what if something happened? what if he forgot? what if he wants to break up?

i hadn’t even noticed i was standing in front of his door until it suddenly swings open, with a smiley matt in front of me, dressed in light baggy jeans, with a pink shirt and hat on, coincidentally matching. “hey babyy” he says instantly wrapping his arms around my waist, snuggling his head in my neck. “hi love” i reply, sighing in relief. “are you alright?” he asks lifting his head up so i can see the slight furrow in his brows. “yes baby, im alright” i say with a small smile on my face. “okay good, because i have a surprise and it wouldn’t be very enjoyable if you weren’t” he says his smile returning as he drags me by my wrist inside.

i enter the house, hearing a distant song coming from somewhere. i follow the sound into his backyard, to be greeted by a blanket on the grass with handwritten cards and all my favorite things. chocolate covered strawberries, pink lemonade, m&ms, jolly ranchers, cherries, and sparkling water. and to my surprise everything is pink and red.

i can make out the song playing. our song. “cant help falling in love” by elvis is playing softly. the soft lights hanging over the picnic, illuminating his smile as i turn to him. “no way.” i whisper to him, in which he just nods rapidly running up to me and engulfing me in a hug. “you really thought i would forget?” he says as he leaves a kiss in my hair. we both then look at eachother, and he leans in, connecting his lips with mine. a soft, gentle kiss. we pull back but stay so close our noses are still touching. “will you be my valentine, baby?” he whispers. all i do is nod, kissing him again. spending valentine’s day with the love of my life.

——————————————————

anna speaks: in honor of valentine’s day coming up, i wanted to feed all my matt girlies. i was planning on posting this on valentines but its been sitting in my notes staring at me, and i am impatient so i hope yall liked this🤗🤗 feedback is very appreciated!!!

[sunfyresrider]

The Company Party

Aegon II Targaryen x Assistant!Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve worked for your boss since you graduated college, and to say he was the best superior you’ve had would be an understatement. After a heated argument at a company event, you both discover some things about each other. Tags: Aegon is a childish rich boy, mutual pining but you’re both oblivious, jealous boy, arguing to eventual smut, p in v, cunnilingus, cringe after talk (pls hes too funny.) Author’s Note: this is just self-indulgent, 5am ramblings of an insane woman (me).

You’ve worked as Aegon Targaryen’s assistant for one year, one excruciatingly long year. You’ve spent more than 75% of your time following his every order like a dog. Unfortunately, you didn’t hate it all that much. It wasn’t like you had a social life you were missing by working. You had sorta become friends in a way or like a partner in crime minus the crime.

He was the perfect boss in a lot of ways. Aegon truly cared about his customers, or well you. There wasn’t a day he forced you to work late, you did that by choice. He always paid you more than he should, gave you more time off than he should and treated you better than other superior you had worked for previously. He also massaged your shoulders once when you said they hurt…

You should be used to it by now, little gestures of appreciation. He always pats you on the back if you impress him enough. He’ll compliment your hard work, your outfit, and sometimes he’ll completely paused in his steps to gaze at you and tell you that you had beautiful eyes. He tells you he’s grateful for you, you’re funny, you’re one of the nicest people he’s met… but it’s all platonic. A very disheartening fact of the matter.

Yet, while knowing this, every single time Aegon does anything you’re immediately turned into a blushing mess. An instant mood improver, a very minor turn on. Maybe it was because you haven’t gotten laid in a century and could be considered a born again virgin. Or maybe you were secretly falling in love with him and refused to admit it to yourself.

At some point you would have to face your feelings, not right now though. You were at a huge event for the company, the goal being to seek out new investors. You didn’t have to come considering he always does the majority of the talking but he also rarely goes anywhere without you. Aegon always needs an eyewitness, just in case.

The rooftop bar is extravagant, more so than what you’re used to. Maybe you should have opted for something other than a black dress with heels… rich people seem to appreciate modesty. Odd, considering they are the ones to buy the most hookers and cheat more frequently. You took your seat at the bar, deciding to drink away your boredom.

“Hey stranger,” the voice from your right caught you by surprise, you whipped your head around to glance at them. “Oh my god, Jacaerys?!” your mouth gaped open in shock. His smile stretched ear to ear, “It’s me, alright! What the hell are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that! My boss has me tag along to all of these events.” You beamed, thinking of Aegon. It was good seeing a familiar face, you two used to date, briefly, in your second year of high school. Though, he had long since grown out of his awkward stage and was fully matured with a sharp jawline to prove it. “I work for the company running this event. It’s kinda my job to be here.”

He blushed, basking in all the attention he was receiving. “We should catch up! I haven’t seen you in years man!” Jacaerys scooted his seat closer, his cheeks lightly flushed. “I’d love that.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were talking to him for what felt like hours, turns out it was only twenty minutes, when you felt someone step behind you, their body lightly pressing against yours. “You remember mrs-” Jacaerys words slowed to a stop as he looked above you.

You turned around, your frown quickly turning into a wide smile. “Mr. Targaryen, how can I help you?” He smiled lightly, nodding in your direction. His gaze turned to Jacaerys and his soft smile fell flat. “Who are you?”

The question came out with an icy tone, which made your eyebrows furrowed together. “Jacaerys Velaryon, marketing director for Driftmark Corporations and you are?” he inquired, his words slow as he kept his eyes locked with Aegon.

“Richer than you. Are you purposely distracting my assistant from doing her job?” Your eyes widened; he had never been this outwardly rude before. “Maybe. She would probably prefer working for someone who doesn’t have a stick up their ass.”

You gaped at the insult, “What the f-” Aegon chuckled, baring his teeth as if he were a wolf. “Little dogs always bark the loudest,” he spat. Your morals told you to defend your old friend, your hormones were telling you to keep watching your boss telling someone off.

Jacaerys was silent for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching before he spoke, “I see you work for one of these guys… If you ever want to move to a company that treats their workers fairly, please don’t be afraid to reach out.” He slipped you a business card with his information on it.

Aegon scoffed, “We’re leaving… Now!” He snatched your arm and practically dragged you out the door and into the car. You were eerily silent, still trying to process whatever the fuck just happened. Once inside, he looked over at you, his eyes wide and bloodshot. You could see the anger bubbling under the surface.

He gripped the steering wheel tight, his knuckles turning white. You swallowed the lump in your throat, not knowing what to say to make this situation any less tense. You’ve never seen him angry, not even when his half-sister tried to take his spot as ceo.

The rest of the drive was silent, an awkward tension in the air since you had no idea what to say. You were also a little ticked off how quickly he chased Jace away, granted it was kinda hot. He pulled into your parking garage, parking his luxury car in the far back. You know, just in case anyone tried to break in.

Aegon hopped out of the car silently, opening your door for you. “You don’t need to walk me up to my apartment,” you spoke plainly. “Yes I do,” the tone of his voice was more serious than you’d ever heard it before. Once again, the silent treatment was back on as you walked to your floor.

He walked you all the way inside, even letting himself into your home without your permission. “I pay you too much to live in a rundown apartment.” You closed the door behind you, finally he had said something to make you snap, “What is your problem tonight?!”

“It’s not a problem, just an observation.” You scoffed, “you know exactly what I meant.” His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring, he looked like he wanted to say something but not too much. “You’re my assistant and you’re meant to be by my side at all times, but you were too busy flirting it up with my competitors.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I was catching up with an old friend!” Aegon’s brows furrowed, he strode towards you, so he was barely a foot away from you. “Oh please! You were practically swooning. Also, you never call me Mr. Targaryen!”

“Are you serious right back!” You spat back, pushing his chest. Unfortunately, Aegon still had enough energy to argue back. “I just don’t want to lose my assistant to a lesser man!” You scoffed; "you've been a fucking douche all night because you’re jealous?!” His jaw fell slack, eyes widening in surprise. “I didn’t say-”

“Dude, are you genuinely blind?! I’ve been pining after you since you hired me, following you around like a fucking dog, doing everything you say and them some! I’ve even thought about having your babies!” The last statement took him off guard, he looked at you like you had two heads. His gaze flitted back and forth as if he were looking for any signs of joking.

Now you were embarrassed, “I didn’t mean that last part-” Aegon stepped closer grabbing you delicately by your arms, eyes still searching for any sign of disapproval. “You think about having my babies?” The question was quiet and desperate, his pupils dilated.

You felt your heart drop in your chest, you swallowed the lump in your throat. You nodded slowly, “maybe.” You stared back up at him, trying to telepathically make him kiss you. You’ve tried this manifestation method before, it did not work.

“I can do that.” His lips were on yours before you could register his words. The kiss was fiery and passionate, even better than what you expected. Your eyes fluttered shut as you relished in the moment. Aegon wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

You bit back a whimper, reaching up to intertwine your fingers in his silver hair. Aegon pulled away, his breaths coming out ragged as he gazed at your swollen lips. He wasted no time kissing you again, his tongue dancing across your bottom lip.

His hand moved to grip your ass, squeezing lightly as he picked you up off the ground. You let out a squeal of laughter, gripping onto his shoulders to prevent you from falling. Aegon dropped himself on the couch, keeping your leg straddled around him.

You took the liberty to start unbuttoning his dress shirt, ripping off his bowtie and revealing his toned torso and chest. Aegon was quicker, pulling your dress above your head and throwing it across the room.

His eyes widened when he realized you were braless, his fingers kneading your perky breasts. His lips molded with yours once more, you nipped at his lip, tugging it between your teeth and causing him to groan in approval. Aegon moved your panties to the side, groping your inner thigh and spreading your legs wider across his lap.

His cock was already straining against his pants, but Aegon didn't seem to want to rush. He gently kissed down your jawline and to your neck, licking and nibbling at your ear. Your breathing became shaky, your core growing wetter as he took a nipple in his mouth and began to suckle on it.

"Aegon," you whined. You reached down, wrapping your fingers around his hardness, causing Aegon to moan into your ear. He lifted you up, unzipping his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers.

His member sprang out, bouncing as he pushed you back onto the couch. His cock was definitely the biggest you’ve seen thus far. You gasped when he rubbed himself against your slick, he kissed you again, this time deeper as he slowly thrust his hips forward and entering you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned loudly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Fuuck you’re so tight,” Aegon thrusted forward, his top hitting the sweet spot inside you almost forgot existed. Your moans grew louder as he pounded into you, his grunts echoing through the living room.

You clawed at his back, pulling him closer as he thumb moved to do circles around your clit. “You’re such a good little assistant for me, hm? Taking my cock so fucking well.” Aegon gripped your ass with one hand, holding you still. He took the opportunity to slow his pace and roll his hips in circles, dragging his cock along your walls. “Mmm sgood,” you slurred.

You rolled your hips against his, earning you a pleased groan. His finger moved faster around your bud, “think you deserve a reward huh?” Your eyes began to roll into the back of your head as his movements quickened. “Yes, yes, yes,” you whimpered.

“Yes, who?” The coil in your stomach began to tighten as he moved his fingers away, “Yes Sir! Please!” Aegon growled into your ear, kissing you again as he sped up once more. The low noise sent shivers down your spine, causing your cunt to clench around him.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned before plunging deep inside you, making you cry out into the kiss. You threw your head back and moaned, your thighs beginning to shake as ecstasy washed over you. You completely tightened around him, your pussy fluttered around him as you rode your orgasm out.

Aegon’s movement stalled for a moment, letting you catch your breath before he flipped you onto your back. Aegon lifted your legs above his head, “you’re so perfect, I think you deserve more than that.” He licked a strip up your slick, pressing a kiss to your sensitive bud.

He used his fingers to spread you apart, greedily licking along your walls and lapping at your sweet juices. You let out a deep moan, your fingers tangling in his silver hair pulling him closer. Your mouth hung open, eyes half lidded as he devoured you.

His tongue skillfully circled around you, his lips sucking at your swollen bud. “Taste so sweet,” he mumbled, sending vibrations that sent tingles down your spine. You began to grind against him, desperate for release. Aegon took it as an invitation to move his hands to grip your hips and begin to fuck you with his tongue.

Your juices were dripping down your thighs, covering his face in a glossy sheen. You felt a new wave of heat wash over you as he pressed his tongue inside you, curling and twisting it. You rolled your hips, fucking yourself against his mouth as your second orgasm began to build.

He groaned against you when your legs began to clench around him, the vibrations sending you over the edge. Aegon continued to lap up your juices, causing you to jerk your thighs around him. His head finally lifted up, a strand of your slick connected from his bottom lip to his chin.

You pulled him towards you, crashing your lips together, he wasn’t wrong you did taste sweet. Aegon grinder against you, wetting his cock before he quickly plunged into you once more, filling you to the brim as he went. You let out a loud cry, gripping onto his back. “You still want more?” He spoke breathlessly.

His thumb returned to your sensitive bud, circling it slowly as he thrusted into you. You squirmed beneath him, his grunts echoed off the walls. “P-please please, sir.” You whimpered, the sound of skin slapping echoing in your living room.

His hips snapped forward, dragging his cock against your sweet spot. “Tell me how badly you want it.” Aegon's eyes flashed up at you, his hips slowed to a teasing pace. "I-I want it so bad," you gasped as he thrusted harder. “I- want to have your b- babies.” Aegon’s thrusts were quickening their pace, "please give it to me sir."

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. His rough thrusts become sloppy. You could feel your third orgasm beginning to rip through you as he circled around your bud. “P-please cum for me, sir.” Your words sent Aegon over the edge, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his soft moans filling the room. You could feel his cock pulsating inside you, his warm cum filling you to the brim.

Your thighs quivered as your orgasm came crashing down on you, your breathing became labored. He leaned down, kissing you lovingly as his hand caressed your cheek. You could feel his cock slowly softening inside you as he slowly pulled himself out.

Aegon pulled away from your lips and trailed kisses down your jawline and neck. His voice mumbled, “I wish you’d told me sooner.” You couldn't help but giggle silently, petting his hair. “Hm, couldn’t let you fuck me for free could I?” He scoffed, propping himself up to gaze at you with his baby blues.

"This pussy is priceless," he murmured against your lips. “Oh god,” you groaned, how his cringe captivated you, you would never understand. Aegon rolled off you, cuddling close and wrapping his arm around your waist.

You stared at the ceiling, feeling a sense of calmness you haven't felt in forever. "So... does this mean you want to be more than my assistant?" His fingers ran through your hair, “and have my babies for real?” Aegon's voice sounded almost child-like, You giggled quietly, "is that our new contract?" He stared at you for a moment, his eyes lit up with something you hadn’t seen before. "It’s a deal," Aegon smiled brightly.

[virtual-bunny]

Not Fair

A/n: This was supposed to be for kinktober but i forgot 💀💀

Tendou bully’s your pussy :D

Pairings: Tendou x Reader

WARNING: Overstimulation, bad bad smut, orgasam denial, SHORT FIC

“S-satoriii, c-cmooonn.” You whined, wiggling around the bed.

Tendou only chuckled, his eyes never leaving you as he kept fingering you.

“I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He sighed, his finger going in deeper making you gasp.

“P-please, I-I-I-ah-“ you were a mess. It was embarrassing really, how pathetic you looked. And it was true, he hadn’t even fucked you, and yet, you were already so weak.

“Is n-n-ot fa-ah-ir.” You held onto Tendou’s wrist as he slowed down his pace, humming.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t worn that pretty dress of yours, we wouldn’t be here.” As he said this, you squirted for the fifth time, making Tendou coo at you. As the familiar buildup feeing started taking over you , your vision started to get blurry, gasping for air.

Tendou stopped for a second, making you shudder. He looked up at you, his check resting on your thigh.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. You smiled weakly at him, your legs shaking. There was a small pause, your heavy breathing being the only thing the both of you could hear.

Tendou got up, sighing. He put his hand behind your back, making you sit up. Tendou sat behind you, you between his legs.

“What are you doing?” You asked him. Tendou only gave you a kiss, rubbing your arm.

“Gonna make you feel good darling.” You could feel his hard dick behind your back, and as much as you just wanted to turn around and suck his life out, you know you wouldn’t have gotten away with it.

Tendou started manhandling you. His hands touched you in every possible place. He squeezed your tits, making you whine.

“So sensitive.” He giggled, giving them one last hard squish.

“Please fuck me.” You cried, too stupid to be ashamed.

“Oh ho ho, needy aren’t you?” Tendou whispered, his hand slowly making its way to your pussy.

“N-nooo. Please, want your dick.” You whined, tears starting to form in your eyes from desperation. He didn’t listen, he started to rub your clit in circles as slowly as he possibly could, making you buck your hips.

“Please Tendou.” You cried, trying to get away from him. As you did this, Tendou wrapped his arm around your waist, pushing you against him.

“Wanna cum, please.” You moved your head back to look at him, only to meet him already looking at you.

“No.” He smiled, kissing your forehead.

It hurt, it hurt a lot. Somehow Tendou always knew when you were about to cum, which made him completely stop.

“P-please,” tears started to roll down your cheeks, bottom lip trembling. “Need it so bad Sato- please.” You choked between sobs. Tendou only stared at you, stroking your arm.

“Be quiet baby, good girls take what they get, and you’re a good girl aren’t you?” Tendou asked, inserting two fingers inside of you.

You whined, nodding.

[murdocksdaughter]

missing you, kissing me (jacaerys velaryon x fem!velaryon!reader)

a/n: no this is not canon complainant. also im trying to feed my fellow jace girlies. and i did write this on my 9 hour flight home no joke 💀.

warnings: kissing, technically targaryen incest, aegon slander, helaena and rhaenyra are besties, the reader is a velaryon reader but physical descriptions are neutral minus mention of hair color, luke yelling at jace, happy targaryen family au, also rhaenyra is queen (whoo hoo no war)

summary: leading up their wedding y/n and jacaerys has had any alone time together

word count: 1.3k

“let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain”

She loved everything about him. From his smile to his war hardened face. Y/n was so utterly in love with Jacaerys. They were to be wed in a few weeks and time couldn’t move any slower. With Jacaerys being in line for the throne, the wedding was to be a week long event to be followed with a giant ceremony.

Y/n hadn’t gotten to spend alone time with Jacaerys. It was only either in meetings to plan the wedding or at family meal. Along with Jacaerys’ High Valyrian lessons and training with Aemond. The spare time they had together was nonexistent.

And since the betrothal sneaking out to see each other at night wasn’t an option. With the watchful eyes of the Queensguard, it was impossible to have moment to themselves.

Y/n dreaded it.

Looking out the window as she half heartedly worked on her embroidery of the day, Y/n was bored. Even the pleasant company of Helaena couldn’t hold her attention.

Y/n’s face held a longing look as she continued to watch the clouds roll over King's Landing.

“You miss him.”

The voice of Helaena broke Y/n’s trance- (More like startled her). Y/n jumped slightly before looking at the Targaryen princess with her face and her neck feeling hot.

Helaena only smiled at Y/n, “I would miss him too, he treats you well.” she continued before she went back to her embroidery of caterpillars.

Y/n always valued the words of Helaena; they were always truthful albeit sometimes cryptic. Y/n smiled at Heleana and nodded.

“I do, we haven’t had much time to ourselves since our betrothal. I just wished to be married already.”

Helaena giggled at Y/n’s eagerness.

“What’s so funny?” as the Queen Rhaenyra walked in.

“Y/n’s eagerness to marry.” Helaena confessed. Rhaenyra cackled, sitting next to her future daughter-in-law. “So eager to be a bride yet I doubt my son knows how to undo a bodice,” she commented.

Y/n blushed at Rhaenyra’s comment.

“Ageon still can figure out a bodice, we’ve been married for years. Marriage is a very…complicated thing,” Helaena said with a small frown forming. Rhaenyra reached out for her sister’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

Y/n’s lip tightened in a thin line. She knew how Aegon treated his wife. That was typical for marriages for women like them; loveless and only to strengthen alliances, the men are sleeping around sire-ing bastards. Women always stuck drinking their woes away and becoming bitter of any younger woman in their presence.

“Jacaerys adores you Y/n. Your marriage will be an amazing union.” Rhaenyra tried to lighten the mood.

“He’s a truly good man, better than most I’d say.” Helaena continued. Y/n smiled and looked down at her lap. “That is true, he’s more like a prince from the books we read as children than what we usually get.” Y/n jokes.

“Leagues better than the drunken excuses we get,” Helaena slyly commented, taking a jab at her husband.

Rhaenyra laughed loudly, grabbing Helaena’s hand. Y/n’s face scrunched as a silent laugh shook her body. Helaena smiled to herself proud of her joke.

Rhaenyra took deep breaths as she continued to giggle to herself. “Oh by the gods Heleana that might be the funniest thing you’ve said.”

As the three women calmed down to a comfortable silence, a member of the Queensguard came in.

“The Prince Jacaerys requests the presence of Lady Y/n Velaryon,” He announces. A grin grew on Y/n’s face. She stood up, smoothing her dress out as she quickly made her way to the entrance of the room.

Y/n followed the Queensguard out of the room when she noticed it was pouring. Her eyebrows furrowed. Training must had been cancelled due to the weather.

Then a bigger smile than she had before grew on her face. Training was cancelled.

As Y/n followed the Queensguard she could feel her heart squeeze in excitement and her body set aflame.

She was so excited to see Jacaerys. Y/n felt like a little girl at a jousting tournament and watching all the handsome knights come out on their horses. Her whole body was shaking as it inched closer to her betrothed.

Once she arrived there Jacaerys stood leaning against the arch way of the court yard.

“The Lady Y/n Velaryon my prince.” The Queensguard announced their presence. Jacaerys turned around to see Y/n standing there with a grin on her face.

Such a simple thing brought her joy. Just seeing Jacaerys. No one but him.

“My love.” He stretched out his arms. Y/n swiftly moved to his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Jace…” she whispered.

His warmth surrounding her completely. His arms caging her waist pulling her closer to his chest. Jacaerys hummed im content. “I missed you,” He mumbled into her white curls.

“I hate being engaged, I never want to go through this again,” Y/n whined into Jacaerys chest.

Jacaerys pulled away slightly, “Are you planning to marry someone else?” he jokingly asked, raising an eyebrow. Y/n rolled her eyes at him. “Oh and you roll your eyes at me?? The heir to the Iron Throne.” Jacaerys put a hand on his chest in disbelief.

Y/n shook her head. “You’re ridiculous Jace,” she muttered, pressing her lips on his jaw. Jacaerys laughed, pulling Y/n back to his chest. He squeezed her tightly.

Y/n felt content with the only sounds of rain and her betrothed breathing filling her ears. It was a moment of peace. Jacaerys planted a kiss on her cheek and muttered “I love you.” Y/n could feel her heart swell.

“I can never get tired of hearing that from you.” She looked up at Jacaerys.

He just smiled at her, “I never get tired of saying it,” he whispered leaning down his lips ghost past hers.

Just as Y/n started to lean forward to meet her lips with Jacaerys a voice called the prince’s name.

Both groaned as they pulled apart and looked to find the source of the call. Y/n found the dark hair of Jacaerys’ younger brother Lucerys. Giving Jacaerys a sympathetic look. The prince just rolled his eyes.

“I suppose our time ends. I’ll see you at dinner, Mother wants me to sit in on her small council meeting today,” Jacaerys half heartedly mutters. Y/n just nodded, running her hand through his hair.

“Of course my love,” She said with a half smile. Jacaerys slipped put of her grasp running across the court yard trying his to escape the rain as fast as possible.

Before he made it across Y/n called his name. Jacaerys stop to and to find her running to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. Jacaerys wrapped his arms around her waists pulling her deep into the kiss. Y/n’s hand traveled from the back of his neck to his cheeks, cupping them both feeling how wet they were from the pouring rain.

Jacaerys gripped Y/n’s waist squeezing it lightly. The kiss seemed to last forever as they stood in the rain, drenched. Lucerys called his brother’s name again this time far louder and with an annoyed tone.

This time they pulled slowly from each other, smilies dawn both their faces. “I’ll see you at dinner?” Y/n asked despite knowing the answer.

Jacaerys nodded frantically. “Yes. I’ll see you then-”

“JACAERYS!! DON’T MAKE ME DRAG YOU FROM HER MYSELF!!” Lucerys voice engulfed the courtyard.

Jacaerys laughed throwing his head back. “Goodbye my love,” he said before running off to his brother who was leaning against an arch with an disgusted look on his face.

Y/n was left standing the pouring rain with the biggest grin on her face. Her hand gripping her soaked dress.

By the gods she really did love Jacaerys Velaryon.