#i wonder if any of my muses left something behind

[itstheghostofmypast]

13.00

Non-Idol Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: So maybe 'colour with numbers' was a serious activity after all.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6 k

Est.Read Time: 15 min

Rating: SFW

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

@san-network

"Um...in my defense um...at least she can colour well! Look, it's inside the lines." Scratching his eyebrow he smiled nervously at the paper in hand, who knew his daughter's teacher would call him in from work for this, the poor taekwon-do sabom had to leave his students in the hand of his newest trainee- let's just say he didn't trust the kids with Wooyoung, especially since they spent the last time he had left them alone, playing Uno for two hours straight.

"Mr.Choi, I understand you're a busy man, and running a dojang is difficult, however, I specifically remember telling you that your daughter still needs to work on her 'colour with numbers' skills." She sighed, rubbing her temples, this was an ongoing issue and she was yet to understand why the father of this cute little girl would not understand the gravity of learning colours and numbers.

"I- I know, Miss, but I- I tried, I even took Saturdays off from work to teach her, but she just doesn't listen, and she's very convincing when she has a certain point of view, I think she gets it from her mother." He chuckled, trying to use all tactics he'd learned in damage control, it is not like he didn't try, he did, but when he tried to explain to his little girl how the world works - the world of colouring with numbers- she had simply refused. She had looked up at her father with a similar pout, one that he knew resembled him, as mentioned by his wife ever since she was born, her hair tied up in a ponytail with a purple ribbon, little heart-shaped clips decorating the rest of her hair, matching her clip on heart earrings- her mother really did treat her like a doll sometimes- as she pointed at the flower and let out an "Appa, I like this colour more." And that's exactly how and why he let her colour the flower blue, the leaves yellow, the sky purple and the sun green. His little princess liked it that way and who was he to say no?

"Really now." The woman crossed her arms, leaning back against her chair as she eyed the bigger man, from the way his eyes turned into feline-like slits when he gave her that dimpled smile, his uniform jacket making him look bigger or perhaps he had grown bigger, and that- "What happened to your thumb?"

"Oh...I scratched it," he mused, eying the clock on the wall, 12.56 PM, thank god this was over, he probably couldn't take any more of this interrogation, honestly who was he to tell a child what to do and what no- when it came to colouring that is, otherwise Choi San wasn't the most lenient father, even with his daughter, he was soft, there was no doubt about that, but there was a set routine she was to follow, a balanced life is a healthy life. He wasn't swayed the slightest when she'd ask for dessert after bedtime, or when she'd ask to stay up late- his little girl deserved the best, so she'd get that cookie she asked for in the morning, but there was no comprise on her sleep schedule and he was glad his wife agreed with him most of the time, unlike when it came to colouring.

"Mr.Choi," she called out, snapping him back to reality as he cleared his throat, nodding at her, though his eyes averted from the table to her face, admiring the serious look she had adorned, one that the children loved, there was something about her that radiated 'authoritative figure' energy, no wonder it was difficult for her to daughter to not call her umma in class sometimes, but then again most of the children did, which is why she let it slide. Though her authority came with a sense of femininity, of maternity and empathy, where she'd know when to use the carrot and when to use the stick- his eyes flickered back to the clock, 12.58 PM before back at her eyes when she continued, "You need to understand, she'll fall behind in class and saying 'I like blue flowers and a purple sky' isn't an excuse, Hana is smart, mature too but she can't win her way out of it just because she gives her point of view."

His shoulders slumped in defeat, perhaps to her teacher, Hana was just another student, one that had the potential to excel and she would do her best to mould and shape that raw potential into the star her parents wanted her to be.

"I understand, Miss." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat and stared at the papers on the table again, "I'll... talk to her about it, she can read though and can count to two hundred, my wife and I make sure to use interactive learning tactics with her, the whole relate and remember strategies." At this point he looked more guilty than a cat caught in the rain, head dipped in shame- did he forget he's the parent and not the student who is being talked about?

Shaking her head in disbelief she leaned forward to collect the papers, neatly stacking them together and placing them beside her purse, "I understand Mr.Choi, and not once do I doubt your efforts. Choi Hana is the brightest in the class, so I'd prefer if we keep it this way, I'm sure your wife would agree, even if it means telling your little girl she can't always have her way." She smiled at him gesturing towards the door, "Thank you for dropping by on such short notice today, knowing a parent is concerned about their child's progress, especially when both parents work, brings me great joy. I'm sure your wife is proud of you, especially since you came to the Parent Teacher Meeting, even if a bit late, it's nice to see a man supporting his career-oriented wife."

As soon as her monologue ended he stood up straight he gave her a respectable, grateful 90-degree bow, mumbling a thank you as he quickly made his way out of the classroom, closing the door as he leaned against the door, letting out a sigh. God, that woman was horrifying, it was like he was back in school again, no wonder he was horrified of going to school as a child, it's not like the woman was bad or evil, but why the hell did he feel like he was being punished, truly a nightmare.

He'd have to talk to Hana about this, he thought to himself, moving away and rolling his shoulders, trying to ease the pain, was this...old age- no, no, San it isn't, it was just the words of this teacher that made you realise the burden you carry, a responsibility you love, the responsibility of your wife and child. Taking his phone out of his pocket he glanced at the time, 13.00, finally, it was over, to think a parent-teacher conference could be this long and excruciating.

"Ready to go home?"

He turned to glance at the woman coming out from the class, closing the door behind her as she gave him a gentle smile, one that deceived his poor heart all those years ago, making him think he had fallen for an angel, who knew he was falling for -

"How was the PTM?" She asked again, wrapping her arms around his arm, shaking him slightly to bring him back to her, looking up at him with an all too familiar look, Hana, she'd look up at him like that when she knew she was winning.

"Great, babe." Smiling down at her he began walking towards the exit, "The teacher though was horrifying, she gets all worked up when she wears that blue cardigan, it was like I was her student and she was scolding me." He exasperated, opening the glass door for her, walking out to stop at the platform when she pulled away, hands on her hips as she frowned up at him- oh boy.

"Choi San, I specified what her weak areas were, she'll become stubborn if you keep this up- did you just call me horrifying!? And what's wrong with my cardigan!? Yah. Stop walking away." She called out, running down the stairs to catch up to him, watching him walk down the stairs, "Choi San!" Finally grabbing his hand when he reached the bottom of the stairs to wait for her, raising his eyebrows when she huffed out a breath, "Man, this used to be easier-"

"Old age, love?" He teased only to be smacked on the shoulder, whining in response, though he got a scoff in return, "Oh please, if that hurt you, then you should shut down the dojang."

"Nope, I can never win in this house," he mumbled shaking his head in defeat, though he tenderly laced his fingers with hers as the two continued to walk towards the gate of the primary school.

"Why were you so late?"

"I had a feeling the teacher would scold me, so I wanted to make sure no one else was there." He glanced down at her, smiling when she chuckled, "You deserved it."

"I know, I know, Saturdays are my tutoring days- I won't let my wife and my daughter down." He huffed puffing his chest with pride as he smiled at the sight of his little girl standing next to Wooyoung, waving at him- he probably let the kids go home early, that would've upset San, but seeing his two favourite girls could fix any ruined day in a matter of seconds.

Smiling up at him she squeezed his hand lovingly, taking in the way he gazed at their daughter with all the love and admiration in the world one could muster, "Like I said, I'm proud of you, both of you, and always will be."

"Yeah, that's why you're our favourite teacher, Mrs Choi."

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @jaehunnyy @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky

[oldestking]

Sometimes I ponder the idea of going back to a single blog, like,, not in the sense of leaving my currently active multi behind, or Gil behind, but like, that craving of having a new muse, that has their own space,, it feel like I haven't have that in some time already (and to those who know me, it's nothing unusual to find 844738382 blogs following u which are all mine OTJRPRJTRK)

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[dreamescapeswriting]

My Little Muse ~ HHJ [M]

WORD COUNT: 4.9K (you broke my 2k streak hehe thank you)

GENRE: mafia!AU, continution of THIS piece, hyunjin simping for reader,building of relationship, fast paced, insta love, SMUT MINORS DNI (You WILL be blocked) cunnilingus (female recieving) protected sex

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

  "Do you even know who that was?" The lady behind the counter of your pain shop questioned, her eyes scanning over your body as she looked at your appearance trying to see what it was that Hyunjin liked about you so much. You weren't even that special - to her at least. It was obvious by her tone of voice that she was annoyed by you because of a random man asking you out on a date, but it wasn't as though you asked him to pay you any attention. 

"N-No." You stuttered a little, your eyes never straying from the man as he straightened out the black suit he was wearing and climbed into the back of a black SUV. Part of you was intrigued by him, he seemed so charming and confident when he'd told you to go on a date with him.

"That's Hwang Hyunjin." She stated as if it was meant to mean something to you, but you were new to the City and you had no idea who anybody was. You weren't much of a gossip so you didn't read town magazines, you mostly kept to yourself spending time at work or painting at home.

"Is he a celebrity?" You frowned, turning to look at the lady who was biting back a smirk. You could tell she wanted to say but she didn't, she just smiled and shrugged her shoulders at you.

"Good luck, he's relentless when he sees something he wants." Before you could ask what she meant she was going toward the back of the store while you looked around nervously wondering if everyone working inside of the store knew of the man.

It had been weeks of non-stop gifts coming to your apartment and your workplace and it was safe to say it was getting a little out of hand. It had started small at first, the occasional box of chocolates - which you never ate in case they'd been tampered with - then there were some notes that were left at your desk - all cute and sweet notes from HHJ but then when he realised you weren't responding the gifts got bigger. 

One morning you'd walked into work to find a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers on your desk with a note attached, "I asked your boss what kind you liked, go out with me tonight? HHJ" Rumours were spreading quickly around the office that you were dating him which wasn't true. He'd given you his number a few weeks ago - along with one of the notes - and you'd saved it into your phone but never called him. You weren't sure you were comfortable going out with someone as the likes of him.

You weren't stupid, the moment you'd left the paint shop and headed home - empty-handed by the way, you weren't going to take such expensive gifts from a stranger - you'd researched him and found out everything there was to know about Hyunjin.

A ruthless leader, the tabloids painted him as a "kind-hearted" man who helped a lot of businesses grow and kept them protected from others who threatened to cause harm to the business or who stole. But if you dove deep enough there were articles that painted a not-so-pretty picture of him, a killer who took what he wanted whenever he wanted it and you didn't know which side to see.

Everyone you'd asked at work about Hyunjin had said nothing but kind things, everyone seemed to like him but you were never sure because of his title. "Mafia leader" didn't really scream "green flag" mostly, red flags all over with a hint of green if you squinted really hard enough.

"Yn, you've worked enough tonight. Head home," Your boss grumbled as he looked at you and over at the clock on the wall. It was almost nine pm and you'd already been there since 7 am, it was safe to say you were overworking yourself but you didn't care. You'd been hoping to wait out the black SUV you could see from your office window but it was still there and had been since 5 pm. 

"But-"

"He's still going to wait there no matter how long you hold out," Brady told you, shaking his head.

"Give him what he wants. If he gets his date maybe he'll leave you alone." You sighed a little as you packed up your laptop and slid it into your bag, maybe Brady was right but you weren't sure you liked your boss telling you to go on a date with someone.

"I'll think about it," You mumbled, making your way toward the stairwell, counting down the steps until you'd be outside and in front of the black SUV that was waiting for you.

As soon as you stepped onto the pavement Hyunjin - along with two huge men - were waiting for you, 

"You won't give up, will you?" You quizzed, wrapping a scarf around your neck as you tried to beat the cold air that was whipping around.

"Not while I'm alive," Hyunjin said with a cocky smile plastered across his cheek. He was standing there in a simple suit and yet it was like the freezing temperature didn't bother him one bit. You sighed a little looking at him and then at the two men who appeared to look cold. 

"Fine. ONE date. That's it!" You told yourself that you were agreeing to this so that the two men beside Hyunjin could finally go and get warm again.

"Okay, one date." He nodded stepping to the side and offering you to get into the car. It was either a car ride home with him or the subway so you began to walk toward the car,

"You're not going to fight for more than one?" Not that you were complaining but you had expected a little fight from him after all the effort he'd done to get you to accept. As you stepped into the car Hyunjin pulled you back so that your back was against his chest and he whispered in your ear,

"Trust me, I know you'll be begging for more." His breath caught against your skin and that's what you blamed the butterflies that were fluttering inside of your stomach on. There was no way you were attracted to him, not when he was a walking red flag, so you brushed the feeling away and sat in the back of the car.

"I'll pick you up on Saturday. Wear something fancy," Hyunjin told you with a smile, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing your skin softly. He wasn't going to drive home with you tonight, he trusted his driver to take good care of you which was why he'd been sending him every morning before work as well as after. He couldn't stand the thought of you riding the subway every day, not when there were dangerous people about.

Not to mention, now that you'd been associated with him you were a walking target already and he wasn't going to let anything happen to you.

"I don't have anything fancy." You contended but he smirked at you, he'd already taken care of something he'd wanted you to wear for him.

"I'm sure you'll find something." With that he shut the door and tapped the side of it, watching as the car drove off into the night.

Hyunjin hadn't lied when he told you that you'd find something, when you'd walked into your apartment the other night there had been a box waiting for you with your name on it.

Inside was one of the most stunning dresses you'd ever laid your eyes on and you dreaded to think how much money it would have cost him. But there were more pressing questions you had. How did he get into your apartment? and How did he know your dress size? All things you were planning on asking him as you waited for him inside the lobby of your apartment building. It was far too cold to be waiting outside in your gown - which was what it was, a ball gown. Something you'd never thought you'd wear.

A long silky green ball gown that slit up your left leg and stopped just below the top of your thigh, revealing your leg in a sexy - yet classy way. You had no idea what Hyunjin had in store for you but you were a little worried,

"Miss Yln, Mr Hwang is here," You nodded at your doorman - Ted - said as you slowly got up from the chair and let out a deep breath. You were nervous about all of this, but you were more nervous about meeting up with Hyunjin, what if he didn't like the dress on you? What if he changed his mind and left without saying anything?

You had no time to question anymore as a hand slowly took yours and a kiss was placed upon your skin, you hadn't even noticed you were outside until you felt him touch you.

"You look beautiful, as always," He whispered to you, looking at you and taking in your appearance. His personal shopper had been right the dress was perfect for you, he had half the mind to stay in all night instead of taking you out with him.

"T-Thanks, you look good too." "Good" was an understatement, you don't think you'd ever seen a man look so hot in your entire life. He was once again in a suit but this one was different, he was in a tailored suit with a bow tie and looked just as fancy as you did tonight.

"We should get going, don't want to be late." He nodded over to the limo and your eyes bulged out of your head, 

"Where are we going?" You quizzed as he took your hand in his and helped you into the back of the black Limo. It was dark inside except for some LED lights that lined the underside of the seats and some fake stars on the ceiling.

"An event I was invited to," Hyunjin answered, not giving you the answers you clearly wanted from him but he was enjoying getting to toy with you a little.

You'd come into his life so unexpectedly and he loved it, he found himself thinking about you when he knew he should have been working or when he was painting. Sitting in his art studio at home were countless paintings of you, all in different scenarios but you'd become his muse.

"What event?" He chuckled a little as he shut the door to the limo, glancing at you with a smirk on his face. He already loved that you asked him so many questions, you had a backbone and it was nice to have someone around him like that. Everyone else was so quick to bend to him and he hated how dull and boring that was. With you, he had to fight for what he wanted and you fought back just as hard.

"Do you always ask this many questions?" He arched a brow, holding out a glass of champagne for you to take and you studied it for a second wondering if you could take it or not.

"Yes, and you won't get out of them by avoiding them. I have many, starting with how you knew my dress size and how you got into my apartment?" You took the glass from him, watching as he took a drink from his own and you downed the glass that you were holding. 

"I trust you did research on me?" He wasn't stupid, he knew someone would have told you his full name and you would have googled him sooner or later. Besides, he wanted you to know some things before going forward with a date with him,

"Well...Y-Yeah but that doesn't answer-"

"I'm a very powerful man, Miss Yln, I can get into any place I want and once I was in your place I found your dress size." He said it as if it was the most casual thing in the world for someone to do and you didn't know if it scared you or excited you.

"Do I need to sweep for hidden cameras?" Something you hadn't thought of before, what if he had it set up so he could see you changing?

"Spying isn't my style."

"No, but stalking seems to be." You grumbled at him, making him laugh with you, but you weren't joking. 

"I wouldn't call it stalking. I was giving you gifts."

"And sending a car all of the time, finding out where I lived." You reminded him and he rolled his eyes playfully at you. It wasn't as though he'd paid for someone to give him your address, it was public information if you looked hard enough.

"Where you live is employer information, wasn't my fault you worked for me." Hyunjin shrugged you but frowned at him, you didn't work for him as far as you knew.

"I work for Brady."

"Who works for me. It's a big world out there, my little muse." The nickname sent a tingle up and down your spine and you hated yourself for it. You were supposed to be turned off by him but the more time you spent around him the more drawn to him you were.

"Muse?" You raised your eyebrow and he smirked at you a little,

"A source of inspiration."

"No, I know what a muse is, why are you calling me it?"

"It's a cute nickname," He shrugged not letting you know just yet that you were the one thing keeping his art alive and he would do anything to make sure he didn't lose his inspiration now he'd found it. 

"This place is huge." You whispered to Hyunjin as you walked around the huge art gallery he'd bought you along to. All of the walls were painted a brilliant white colour so that the canvases and other art pieces stood out among the masses.

"It's lovely to see you Mr Hwang, and with a date? It's already rare to see you out but even more rare with someone with you." You stared at the journalist who seemed to be buzzing with excitement as Hyunjin dropped his arm to be around your waist, and your stomach flipped.

Those damn butterflies inside of you needed to stop, you wanted to crush each and every one of them for feeling for Hyunjin,

"I trust you'll keep everything off the books that you see here tonight. I wouldn't want Yn scared off."

"Of course, it's lovely to meet you Yn." The man bowed to you before leaving you both alone and you were a little speechless.

"Does everyone bend to your every command?"

"Everyone except you." He stated as he took two glasses from a passing waiter, handing one of them to you before drinking all of the contents from his own. He was nervous and he hadn't been this nervous for something in his whole life, at least not for a long time but being here, with you, made him nervous. 

"You hate that, don't you?" You giggled drinking slowly from the glass and watching your date as he turned to look at you and smiled,

"No, I actually kind of love it."

"Why?" You didn't understand how a man who could get everything he could ever want by the snap of his fingers would ever want you. He could have anybody else and yet he wanted you,

"You don't make life boring. You're excited," He told you while looking into your eyes,

"So, you like me fighting you back?"

"My little muse, I love everything you do." Before you had time to process anything else he began to walk with you toward some paintings that were hanging up.

"Tonight's function is about raising money for schools." You frowned as he told you this.

"Art schools, if we raise enough money we can add more scholarship programmes for kids who can't afford to come to schools we provide." If your heart wasn't already singing for him before it was practically making an album devoted to him by now. If you were listening to him right he was building art schools for people,

"We?" You stuttered a little, there was no way it was true. Everything you'd been reading about him and it had never once mentioned this.

"Hmm, me and a board of chairmen. My name isn't on anything, I don't want people to know about it and use it against me. Or destroy it," He stared down at you, your eyes hadn't moved from his face the whole time it was like you were seeing him in a whole new light right now,

"What made you decide that was what you wanted to do with your time and money?" Hyunjin opened his mouth to speak but his eyes glanced behind you and he smiled warmly,

"Geum Ji Eun," He greeted, you spun around to see a teenage boy who bowed to you both and you did the same.

"It's beautiful, no?" Someone with a thick British accent asked causing you to turn your head to see someone standing beside you. You'd spotted him around as you'd been walking but you smiled a little at him, trying to be as polite as possible,

"Ah, now I see the real reason for your stare, you're the woman in the painting," You'd been staring at the painting for almost ten minutes now trying to figure out why Hyunjin would have painted you and displayed you here. The piece was labelled "Little Muse" and it wasn't the only painting that displayed you as the main focus but it was the one you were most drawn to.

It depicted you inside of an art studio in a white button-up shirt and shorts while painting on your own canvas, it was clearly something Hyunjin had created on a whim since you'd never done anything like that but it was beautiful.

"I don't think I am, I think it's just a coincidence," You laughed nervously looking around for Hyunjin but you could no longer see him from where you were standing.

"I don't think so, I think Hyunjin painted you for a reason." The man stepped closer to you and all of the hairs stood up on the back of your neck letting you know that something wasn't right.

"That reason being?" You backed off a little but he continued to step forward until you hit something hard behind you, panicking you looked up to see a bald man who could have been 6''5 looking down at you with an angry scowl on his face.

"He wants people to know you're his," The first man growled out, stepping toward you so that he was almost touching you,

"I suggest you move away from my future wife or I'll make sure you die a slow and torturous death," You said nothing about the future wife comment but watched as the two men scattered away from you clearly terrified of Hyunjin.

"Future wife?" You questioned him as he stepped closer to you, looking down at you and scanning your features trying to see if you were hurt or scared in any way but you didn't appear to be.

"How is it, that two men can scare you and you completely forget about them and ask me about something I said?" He laughed a little and shook his head at you, you were braver than he thought.

"I knew you'd never let them hurt me." You spoke without thinking about it first causing you and Hyunjin to freeze in place. He didn't think earning your trust would be as easy as it was.

"You trust me that much?"

"I-" You did and you didn't even know why, but you did and you weren't going to lie about it to him.

"I'm not sure why, but I do." A giant smile took over Hyunjin's face and he took you by your arm and began to walk around the gallery with you once again.

Throughout the rest of the evening whenever you were introduced to someone Hyunjin made sure to introduce you as his "future wife" which would have been something that put you off but for some reason it didn't. It only made you giggle and shake your head at him.

"Thank you for an amazing night," Hyunjin said as he slowly leaned forward a kissed your cheek, sparks flew from the contact and your stomach felt as though it was going to explode.

"Do you want to come up for a hot drink?" You found yourself asking, you didn't want the night to end and you needed more of him.

"Are you sure?" You nodded at him and Hyunjin paid his driver to wait for him but you smirked a little.

"Spend the night," As soon as the words left your lips Hyunjin's cheeks blushed bright red and you turned to walk into the building, swaying your hips a little as you knew he'd be watching you walk away from him.

"You're so hot," He groaned as you got into the elevator of your apartment, your body was pushed up against the mirror as you looked back at him a giggled.

"Do you know how hard it's been keeping my hands and lips to myself all night?"

"No one told you to," You whined out at him before he kissed your neck softly.

"You enjoy challenging me, don't you? Fuck, it turns me on so much whenever you fight back at me." He groaned a little before kissing up to your lips and kissing you deeply, grabbing your neck and pushing you into him.

He wanted to take his time with you and be gentle but he couldn't, not when he was craving you as much as he did right now. His lips moved to your neck and he began sucking on your skin, smirking as he heard a moan escape your lips that was almost as beautiful as you. 

"I need to taste you," He groaned sinking to his knees in front of you making your eyes fly open,

"Hyunjin, we're in public,"

"I want to taste you, so I'm going to," Besides it was almost two in the morning it wasn't as though someone was going to get into the elevator with you. 

He pushed the dress up and found you naked below the silk,

"No underwear?" He smirked before he gently began rubbing your clit making you gasp out, you were soaking wet for him and he wasn't going to waste a single second waiting to get to your apartment. His tongue dragged against your slit and you whined at him,

"Please...Hyunjin," You begged no longer caring that you were in an elevator with him right now.

"Spread your legs, I want full access to what's mine." He ordered and this time you didn't fight him, you moved your legs further apart and he placed one of them over his shoulder. He was ravenous for the taste of you, he wanted nothing more than to make you cum for him as he sucked on your clit slowly pushed two fingers into you and stole your moans away from you,

"That's it, little muse, let it go." He moaned out as you began to work your hips on him, grinding yourself into his face as he thrust his tongue into you. Your hands slowly moved to his hair and you gripped onto him tightly as you rode his face, moaning his name louder each time you rocked your hips.

"F-Fuck," You swore out, your eyes screwed shut as your orgasm hit you knocking you over the edge as you screamed his name out.

Hyunjin slowly raised and smirked as the elevator arrived at your floor and you stormed out dragging him but his blazer as you tried your best to hurriedly open your apartment door.

As soon as the two of you were in your apartment you threw your arms around the back of his neck and kissed him desperately, kicking off your shoes and biting down on his lip.

"I need you," You moaned out, the orgasm you'd gotten in the elevator wasn't enough, you needed more of him, all of him and you weren't going to stop until you had him.

"You sure? I don't want you to regret it," You knew he was teasing you and you hated him for it as you unbuckled his belt and pulled him free from the confines of his pants.

"Does it seem like I will?" You moaned out, pumping his cock in your hand slowly as he let out a low groan,

"I want you," You begged, pushing the head of his cock to your clit and rubbing yourself against him, the friction simply wasn't enough for you,

"Don't I deserve it?" You put on a pleading voice and Hyunjin growled, if he wasn't careful he was going to lose control of you and he wanted to savour every second he had.

"Tell me you want this," He ground out, looking down at you as you giggled a little.

"I want you to fuck me Hwang Hyunjin." Without a second to lose he followed you to your bed and smirked as you stripped out of your dress hurriedly making him strip too.

"You sure?" He smirked as he watched you glare at him,

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me," You mumbled as he laid you down on the bed, his head dipping down as he licked your breast biting down on your nipple and tugging it with his teeth, you whimpered out and your legs spread further apart. You pointed to the nightstand and Hyunjin ragged it open, finding a condom and rolling it onto himself with not a second to spare.

It was slow at first as he thrust into you, looking down at you as he gave you some time to adjust, his lips kissing you hungrily as you tightened around him. God, he was bigger than you thought he was and your eyes squeezed tightly as you tried to ignore the slight pain you were feeling, you knew it would pass soon.

“You’re so tight, little muse.” He groaned, slowly pulling out of you and thrusting into you once more, your walls stretching around him each time as you whimpered his name out.

"You're just too big," You hissed, pulling his hair a little as he groaned,

"But you can take me, can't you, little muse?" He teased pushing into you deeper and you could have sworn you could feel him in your gut,

“H-Hyunjin,” You moaned out, looking at him as he smirked a little.

“Faster…Please,” You begged before he nodded at you, thrusting in and out of you a little faster this time, your whole body shaking as you moaned his name out so loud you were sure your neighbours were going to complain but you didn’t care.

Sex with Hyunjin felt like nothing could ever harm you again, like nothing else in the world mattered as long as he was fucking you.

“I want you like this every night,” He groaned out, thrusting harder as he looked down at you with lust in his eyes.

“I want you everywhere, over my desk, in my office, fuck,” He grunted out as his cocked pumped in you again, the sound of your skin colliding growing louder inside of the quiet room.

“I need you all the damn time.” He grunted as he kissed you deeply, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer. God, you felt so good he never wanted this to end but he could feel his orgasm rushing closer each time you clenched around him and you weren’t far off either. He could tell by the way your mouth formed an O and your moans turned into quieter whimpers.

“Hyunjin,” You warned out as you squeezed around his cock, his hips moving at a faster speed as he grunted your name out. The new pace of his cock made your orgasm hit you like a truck and you cried out, squeezing him as you cried his name out loudly. Watching you lose it for him sent him over the edge as you milked his cock of everything he’d been holding back,

“You’re mine, little muse. My future wife, mine.” You slumped against the bed as you nodded at him, whimpering as he pulled free from you and discarded the used condom into the bin inside of your room.

“Yours.” You mumbled to him as he let out a breathy chuckle and made his way to your bathroom, running you a hot bath for you to relax inside of before he took you for a second time that night.

Throughout the years your relationship with Hyunjin only grew stronger the longer that you were together and you were always his “little muse” no matter who came into his life, including your daughter whom he called “mini muse”. The two of you were the light of his life and he was so thankful to run into you all those years ago in the paint store - which he bought and renamed “little muse” after you got married. It was safe to say Hyunjin was more than obsessed with you.

[flowercrowngods]

based on this post, because at this point i think it's safe to say @unclewaynemunson is actually my muse or something (hi anna i hope this is okay even though it’s, like, way angsty and way too long huh)

🤍 also on ao3

Two days after Starcourt, concussed and beaten, Steve has a seizure.

His ears are still ringing when the doctor gives him a stern glance over the rim of his glasses and pronounces him unfit to drive. No, in fact, he claims Steve poses a real danger to himself and others if he sat behind a wheel again.

Immediately, Dustin and Robin jump to promising that they won't let him do that, and in another life Steve is sure he would be grateful, or at least reasonable about it, but in this one he has a horrible second where the floor falls out from under him and he wishes, for just one second, that his head had been shaken a bit more, just enough to–

It makes him nauseous even thinking that. Everything does, lately. He closes his eyes against the offensive brightness of the hospital room and lets the sound of Dustin's and Robin's voices wash over him as he takes a moment to really take in what the doctor's orders entail.

He can't drive anymore. No more late night drives to watch the street lights pass and lull him into a safer state of mind than his bedroom walls could. No more driving the kids to their DnD sessions, no more taking Robin anywhere at the drop of a hat, no more bickering, no more reign over the music, no more stern glances through the rearview mirror, no more "Shut up, Wheeler, or you're leaving the car."

No more "Thanks, Steve!", no more "I'll bring some of mom's cookies if you drive us to the arcade", no more "You're the best" or "You're a lifesaver" or "I owe you one".

No more place for him in the group, no more use for him, no more...

No more. Nothing. Now he's just Steve, would-be lifesaver, 'has-been babysitter', 'could-have-been somebody until he lost his license to drive because he wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough'. Just Steve.

He doesn't know how to be that. Who is Steve Harrington without his car, without the one thing he was good for anymore?

The pit in his chest is deep enough, dark enough to pull him in, and for a moment the very thing he is good for is misery.

He waits until a nurse makes everyone leave for the night, and then he cries. It makes his head hurt, pressure building behind his eyes, but he's used to being in more pain than any teenager should be in, so he curls in on himself and hides underneath the blanket.

Here's to hoping the others won't notice just how useless he is now. Not too soon, anyway. He wants another month. A painless month filled with laughter and hugs, and then they're free to leave, to pull back slowly. Calls unanswered, radio channels changed so he won't reach them, sheepish apologies and rain checks, because now Nancy will drive them. Or Jonathan. Hell, maybe Max will take the risk just to avoid him.

---

He gets a week of daily visits in the hospital, the doctors and nurses insisting on keeping him here, a watchful eye on his vitals, scanning his head three times during his stay, insisting he has head trauma of a severely worrying degree.

Nancy picks him up from the hospital and it's awkward, tense, too much left unsaid between them but there's no one else to do it. Steve's hands are shaking, gripping the seatbelt the whole way home – and then his heart falls when he sees his Beemer in the driveway. The glorious, trusty, wonderful, best fucking car anyone could wish for. His baby. His.

He throw up into the brushes when he realises that he won't get to take it on one last ride. Maybe he shouldn't be so attached to a car. Maybe he's being pathetic about it. At least he can explain away the fat tears in his eyes now, and Nancy doesn't press.

The first thing he does when Nancy is gone is calling Robin, and she's excited when she says, "I'll come right over!" and Steve wants to ask, how, but he keeps his mouth shut, biting his lip. It's stupid, but the thought of someone else driving Robin over makes his skin crawl.

"Alright," he says instead, his voice raspy, and he hangs up before she can detect something in his voice.

After that, he goes outside again and runs his hand along his Beemer. It's shining in the sun; he had it cleaned the other week, the full program, every step in the book to celebrate four years since he got her.

"Four years, huh," Steve says, his nail catching on a minor scratch that isn't even visible but might be more familiar to him than even his home. "Damn good four years."

He's talking to his car. God, it's so stupid, it's so stupid, it's so stupid–

Steve's knees give out and he gives in to the desire that's burning under his skin sometimes, the desire to just sit down and ignore the world. Because everything is less real when you're sitting down somewhere you're not meant to be, and the ground is warm, and Steve just wants the world to go. His head is leaning back against the warm metal of the driver's door, and he closes his eyes for a while, his head still spinning, his ears still ringing, everything still awful.

After a while, there’s a shadow followed by a weight settling down between him, a head landing on his shoulder, a hand taking his.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Robin says. The lack of dingus makes it more real, somehow. More tragic. More pathetic.

"I'll live." And it feels a bit like a lie.

---

He gets his month. A month filled with barbecues in his backyard, the kids coming by after school to check on him, and Robin has practically moved in. Joyce picks him up on Friday nights for dinner at their house for a change of scenery.

It’s a good month, though Steve feels trapped. Caged. A bird without his wings, a boy without his car. Steve without his one purpose, the one thing he was good for. He has to be picked up because they don’t trust him walking, or they have to come to his place. And soon the worried glances that are thrown his way are too much, caging him further, reminding him of what this is. A pity party — quite literally. No one trusts him anymore, there’s always someone jumping to help him, not caring or listening to his protests.

And he can’t leave, because “What if you have a seizure in your room?”

It makes him want to scream.

Maybe it shows, or maybe everyone’s just fed up with him now that he can’t provide his taxi services anymore, but after summer the Byers dinners stop and the kids pull away.

“Told you that’s all I’m good for,” Steve says with a mean, pained huff as he hangs up the phone. Claudia said Dustin isn’t home, but he could hear the kids in the background. It hurts more than it should.

“What is?” Robin asks from her place on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Nothing.”

She frowns. “Come on, dingus, you can’t start and then—“

“No, I mean it. Nothing. That’s what I’m good for now that I can’t drive them anymore.”

“Bullshit!” she says, and it comes out so harsh that it makes Steve flinch. He swallows. Right. Robin isn’t hear to listen to him whine about how he feels like he has no place in this town, in this group, in this life anymore now that his head is so fucked up he can’t even be trusted to live alone.

That’s why Robin is here, right?

The babysitter becomes the babysitted… or something.

She doesn’t care, not really. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t ask.

“Steve, they’re kids.”

“Yeah, well. So am I.”

He turns away from her and ignores the tears threatening to fall. The door to his room falls shut and he would love to lock it just to make a point to the world at large, a point that it can’t shut him out if he shuts himself in, but he knows it’s too risky. If he has a seizure, Robin needs to get in.

He can’t even stay in his room alone without supervision anymore. What kind of a fuck-up is he becoming, where does it end? He’s already managed to chase away the kids, even Dustin only checks on him sporadically anymore, and it hurts. He wants to know why, wants to know what he did, how to take it back, how to get them back.

But then he remembers how it all started. Dustin needed a ride and someone to take a beating. Both of which he can’t do anymore without risking life and death of himself and others. He’s a safety hazard. He’s useless. He’s Steve fucking Harrington, which doesn’t mean anything anymore.

---

And then it’s spring, and Chrissy Cunningham is found dead in Eddie Munson’s trailer. The group is back together again, the Party assembled once more. And Steve, for a just one second, hopes that he can get it right this time, that he can do this again. One last time. Because Vecna slash Henry slash One surely is it.

But then they turn on him — even Eddie looks confused, which is a rather adorable look on him — the moment Steve tries to get a word in.

“You’re not coming with us, Steve.” That’s Dustin, and Steve just rolls his eyes, but then Robin joins in.

“Yeah, no, I’m with the gremlin on this, dingus.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut it, Henderson.” She turns to him, her eyes softer but no less burning another hole inside Steve. “We can’t risk it, Steve.”

“Risk what?” It’s a challenge. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched, he’s challenging her, and it’s cruel.

She holds his eyes, her expression icy, like he’s stupid. “We can’t risk you dying. We can’t risk you getting a seizure mid-fight or just by being in the Upside Down.”

“Hey, woah,” Eddie tries to get a word in, but Steve won’t hear him as the desperation, the loneliness, the feeling of being caged like a bird and still the only human left on a desolate planet, all that breaks free.

“We all know that dying in a fight is the only thing I’m good for anyway.”

The silence among their war council, as Max dubbed it, is deafening.

“What?” Lucas sounds small when he asks that, and Steve closes his eyes. He hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Any of them, actually. They weren’t supposed to know.

“Steve, that’s not true.” Dustin’s words are filled with disbelief and worry, and Steve hates the worry, it makes his skin crawl, it makes his heart race, it makes his fists clenched and it makes him want to scream again.

“What else then, huh?” he asks weakly. “What else is there? None of you even talk to me anymore since Starcourt. Since summer.”

“Because you were pulling away,” Nancy explains, though her words are weak and her mouth clicks shut when Steve looks at her.

“Because we’re scared.” Max this time, and Steve doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to tell a child that she’s not allowed to be scared for him— not more than he is, anyway. It doesn’t make sense for him to be hurt. They don’t want him to die. That’s a good thing, right? They didn’t want to see him hurt, so they looked away. It makes sense.

But it also hurts.

Steve shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose before all but running from the trailer. He doesn’t make it far (“Stay close so we won’t have to worry”), just needs some fresh air and to sit down somewhere the world will become a bit less real again.

The stairs it is. He tries to breathe through the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his hands to get rid of the anger and the hurt and all that excess energy.

He doesn’t want to die, is the thing. The very thought makes him nauseous and panicky. He wants his life back. His car. The freedom to just jump in there and get away. He doesn’t want the cage or the worry or the hovering or the loneliness when he isolates himself from all that.

Face buried in his hands, Steve almost misses it when someone comes to sit beside him. The thick smell of leather and cigarettes tells him who it is without looking up.

Eddie doesn’t speak for a while, just sits with him as Steve calms down.

And then, after a while, he lights a cigarette and asks, “You get seizures, Harrington?”

Steve nods. “Sometimes.”

Eddie hums. “That sucks.”

He nods again, and then that’s that. But even though it was a rhetorical question and Eddie didn’t even need an answer, it feels pathetically good to be asked about something. About himself. It only makes the pit inside his chest deeper, cutting into his soul with a sharp edge, this tiny little moment of normalcy. He wants to cling to it. He wants to talk to Eddie. God, he hasn’t really talked to anyone in so long.

“Before Starcourt — remember, the mall? The fire? Yeah that was, uhm. More monster shit. And Russians who thought I was a spy and then… yeah. Anyway. Uh. We used to be friends, I think. The kids and I. They used to care — or I like to think that they did. And then I got one too many head injuries, and the seizures started, and then they… It became too much. For them, for me. And the caring stopped. And, like, it’s fine or whatever, but I still care, and I can’t let them do all that alone. I know that all I was good for was taking them somewhere with my car, but I can’t drive anymore, so now I’m just… I’m just Steve. No titles attached, no use or function or point.”

Eddie just stares at him, puzzled and intrigued and even a little sad, and Steve wants to laugh it off when the silence stretches.

“Sorry, that’s kind of a sob story, you—“

“Wait here,” Eddie says, stubbing out his cigarette before disappearing back into the trailer. Steve watches him with a confused frown but stays put. A minute later, the door flies open and a scandalised looking Max appears, followed by the rest of the crew.

“You what?!”

“Uh,” Steve blinks. “I what?”

“Eddie told us you think you’re useless and that we don’t like you and that all you were ever good for is driving us from A to B with, like, no personal value whatsoever,” Dustin fills in, sounding no less bewildered. “Is that true, Steve?”

And God, the kid is so good at making all his questions sound like dares that Steve instinctively wants to swallow and negate it, tell them that Eddie misheard, that he’s fine, that everything fine.

But then Robin’s whispered little, “Steve” stops him from doing that. In fact, the sadness and confusion on their faces makes the dams break once more, confronted with months of spiralling and no one to drag him out, no one to listen.

Tears spring to his eyes and he gets up from the stairs to properly face them. He shrugs. It’s as much of a confirmation as anything.

And then Dustin sprints forward and tackle-hugs him, burying his face in Steve’s chest with no intention to let go anytime soon.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt and Steve runs a hand through his hair immediately.

“It’s okay, Dustin.”

“No! It’s fucking not okay, Steve, stop saying that. You’re my big brother, you’re my best friend, you’re my hero! You’re the coolest guy I know and nothing’s gonna change that, okay?”

“Then why’d you leave?” His voice is so small, but Dustin only hugs him tighter.

“Because you were hurting and I was… I feel like all of that is my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault, Dustin?”

He shrugs, and it breaks Steve’s heart. Dustin thinks everything is his fault just like Steve thinks it’s his.

“It’s me who got you into the thing with the Russians. I insisted. And you were tortured for it, Steve! You… You told us to go, and we did, and then we came back and you were— you-“

“Hey,” Steve whispers, curling himself around and over Dustin. “Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. None of that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I pulled away, Steve,” Dustin sniffles and looks up at him. “I swear it’s not because I think you’re useless. It’s just… I’m so scared.”

And it makes sense, somehow. The anger leaves Steve when he whispers, “Me too. And I don’t like it when you’re all scared and worried. I hate it.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Shut up.”

And then they’re both laughing with tears in their eyes. Lucas and Max join them with their own promises that Steve isn’t worthless to them.

“Did you read my letter? You know, the one if…”

“No,” Steve says. “You told me not to.”

“Right. Anyway, read it. Whatever happens, I want you to read it. Because you’re my brother and you mean too much for me to, like, never let you know. But, uh. Billy died. And I hated him, but it fucked me up. And then you almost died, and then you almost died again; and then you just… collapsed. And I thought, I cant do this again, not with someone I actually like. Not with you. And I didn’t wanna watch. I watched Billy. I… I can’t watch you die, Steve.”

She’s crying by the end of it, and Steve pulls her against his chest. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make anyone cry like that.

“It’s okay, Max, I get it.”

“Not okay,” she shakes her head again. “I know it’s not. But—“

“I know.” He’s stroking through her hair. “I know.”

“Uh, guys? I hate to break up the heartfelt confession time,” Eddie chimes in. “But I think our window is closing.”

Right. The end of the world.

With one last squeeze to Max’s shoulders, he lets her go and they gather their things. Discussions about Steve’s joining their mission have been put on hold while their window is still open. They can continue this later.

Nancy drives while Max holds Steve’s hand in the back. They don’t talk and she has her headphones on, letting Kate Bush work her magic, but it’s fine. It feels a bit like healing.

He catches Eddie’s eyes on the other side and holds them for a while. Eddie smiles before looking away, and Steve does the same.

---

In the end, Steve doesn't climb the rope with them. He stays behind in Eddie's trailer even though every fibre of his being screams at him to join. But Nancy has a point when she explains to him that she and Robin got this. It's the first time he stays behind, and he hopes it will be the last.

They hug him before leaving, all of them. Promises are made to talk about this later, after, and he nods.

"Go save the world for me," he tells Robin, holding her tight, unwilling to let go.

"Only for you," she promises, and kisses his cheek before pulling away. "You better be right here when we come back."

He shrugs and gives her an encouraging smile. "I've got nowhere else to be, Buckley. Now go." The last words are whispered and it feels like goodbye. Steve should join them, he should be there! But his head is pulsing and he knows that one wrong move could leave him half blind with a migraine, and they don't need one more handicap.

The one thing he can do, though, is helping them climb the rope, and it makes him feel ridiculously proud, seeing them land safely on the other side, smiling up (or down?) at him. Robin and Nancy wave one last time before heading off.

That leaves him alone with Eddie and Dustin. The latter is already climbing the rope, itching to finally do something, preparing the trailer for their plan.

Only Eddie is left, and Steve looks over at him.

"Will you be okay, Steve?"

"Sure."

Eddie sighs and looks up at the gate, disbelief and resignation and even a hint of fascination in his eyes.

"It should be you," he says, and Steve frowns, confused. "You're the hero here."

"No," Steve huffs, smiling at the metalhead. "No, I'm no hero. The real heroes are already up there, and in California. The real hero died after Starcourt. I'm just the driver who lost his license, the boy with the bat. The protector who needs to be protected."

Eddie looks at him again, that kind of intense stare, the one that shows Steve that Eddie sees something in him. He wonders what it is, but isn't sure he wants to know.

"I think you're wrong, Steve." He says it with such gentle conviction that it takes Steve's breath away for a second, and something passes between them as they hold each other's eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then–

"Eddie!" Dustin is calling for him from the other side, and the boys snap out of their daze.

Steve steps into Eddie's personal space and pulls him to his chest. "Make him pay," he says. "But stay safe. Come back, okay? First sign of danger, you abort mission. Come back, Eddie. I'll be right here."

"Yeah," Eddie rasps, and he squeezes Steve once more. "Catch me when I fall through that gate in two hours?"

Steve laughs, a sad little thing, and he pushes Eddie away from him, hands steady on his shoulders. "Sure, big boy."

"Hey, that's my part."

"Say it when you come back, then."

This thing passes between them again, and then Eddie goes to climb the rope. Steve's hands find their way to his hips, steadying him, but Eddie is strong enough to pull himself up without problem. Huh.

"In the meantime, wrap your head around the fact that you're the one I'm coming back for, pretty boy."

And then Eddie is gone. Steve watches as he falls through the gate, landing on the mattress with more elegance this time, and then he, too, grins down (or up?) at Steve.

He gives a little wave, and then he is alone.

Plenty of room to think when your friends have gone on a suicide mission and you're the one who has to stay behind. The one who will have to do the explaining when things go south. The one who will have to watch and listen, helpless.

It makes him regret the past few months, the self isolation, all the times he pulled back, all the times he didn't push for an explanation or a conversation, all the times he hadn't asked the kids if they're alright because he was too caught up in all the ways that he wasn't.

God, he wants them to be okay. He wants to talk about this, wants them to tell him he's more than the driver without a license, more than the protector who needs protecting. He wants Eddie to come back and explain what he meant, say what he wanted to say. He wants...

He wants his old life back. But more than that, he wants them in his new life just as much. He wants to be brave enough for this new life and find a new purpose. Create one if he can't find it.

But he can't do it alone. He refuses to do it alone even one day more.

"Come back to me," he whispers, looking up at the gate from where he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall. "Come on guys, you've got this. Please work. Please, make the plan work."

And then, miraculously, it does. Eddie falls into his arms with an undignified squeal and the rest of the Party soon follow. They're unscathed, miraculously, and Steve cries as he holds them, all of them, in a group hug that makes the trailer smell like relief and grief and a new life ahead of them. Slowly, with an unnatural sound, the gate above them closes, and then silence reigns.

They cling to him now. Refuse to let go. Good thing he has nowhere to go as Lucas gasps and sobs into his chest, explaining what happened, that Jason almost destroyed the walkman, that Max could have died. And Steve runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling in Max, too, so the three of them can just hold each other for a second.

Dustin and Eddie are hugging beside them, and Nancy and Robin hold hands, a different kind of horror in their eyes, but they smile wetly at Steve as their eyes meet.

It's over. It's done.

They did it. They really did it.

Steve closes his eyes and holds Lucas and Max tighter. They don't complain.

---

Three days later, Steve's house is brimming with life again like it hasn't in months. Turns out, Hopper survived, and he hugged Steve for a whole five minutes, telling him he did good, he did great, he's a hero. Again with that shit that Steve doesn't believe, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Hop, so he just buries deeper into their embrace.

"It's good you're alive," he tells him, and the Chief sobs out a laugh.

"You too, kid. This town would be lost without you."

"Yeah, right," Steve laughs back, and then that is that.

Except, it isn't, because when he returns to the living room with Hop, Joyce and El in tow, everyone's standing, looking at him with timid expressions. Robin and Eddie are holding hands this time, and so are all the kids. They all look like they have something to say, and the only thing missing is a large banner that says INTERVENTION.

"Uh, what's going on?"

Dustin is the first to clear his throat, but only after Erica kicks him. "We wanted to apologise. For leaving you when you needed us the most."

Oh. Steve's shaking his head, placating words already on the tip of his tongue, ready to explain to them how that's not their fault, how that was all him, he could have said something, he could have asked, he could have–

"Steve," Nancy says, effectively cutting off any protest he could have voiced. "Just listen, okay? Don't say anything."

He looks at Joyce, who nods, and Hopper who looks about as lost as he feels.

Dustin continues then. "You deserved better, Steve, you really, really did. We all did, I think, but you... You put yourself in harm's way from the get-go."

"Yeah, you came to protect me when you didn't even like me." Jonathan this time. "No thoughts, just protection. I owe my life to you. Every single one in this room does, y'know."

"And what you got for it is severe head trauma and... us abandoning you." Nancy.

"You're not just the driver, Steve. You never were just a driver to us." Hell, even Mike is in on this? "You're annoying, you suck, and you don't even try not to act like you're everyone's big brother."

"You're family, Steve." Oh, baby Byers. That's what gets his eyes stinging and his lip trembling, so he bites down on it so they won't have to see. It's futile with the way they're smiling.

"Yeah. You're so much more than our babysitter," Lucas explains. "You're the best basketball coach."

"You actually listen to my music and read comics with me," Max continues with a smile. "You suck just a little less than everyone else in this town."

"Hey!"

"No, she has a point."

Steve's not keeping up with the who's who anymore, he's trying too hard to keep it together.

"You teach me new words," El says, smiling. "You give me your clothes, you take me shopping, you teach me how to deal with meanies."

And the list goes on. Everyone has something to say to him, something beyond the ways he can be useful. Something that he is to them, something meaningful, something that sounds a lot like purpose and family.

"And we were so scared, because you were hurt. Because of us. You were protecting us, and look where it got you. You're a hero, Steve. As real as they get, you are one."

"More than Wonder Woman," Max agrees. "More than Superman. You're Steve! And that's... He’s our hero."

"He’s our brother," Dustin says.

"He’s my son," Joyce adds, taking his hand.

"He’s our friend," Erica, Mike and El say in unison.

“He’s the one we stay for.” Robin’s eyes shine as she smiles.

“And the one we come back for.” Eddie’s smile is gentle, confident, and captivating. Steve can’t look away, even through his own tears.

---

In the following months, Robin gets her license and Eddie develops a sixth sense for whenever Steve needs to just sit in a car and ride around town, watching the street lamps pass and letting them lull him to sleep. There’s an upside to being a passenger, he finds, because he falls asleep like this a few times, always waking when Eddie kills the engine. He drives for hours sometimes, admitting with a blush high on his cheeks that he didn’t want to wake Steve.

Somewhere on the highway to Indianapolis, between three and four in the morning, Steve looks at Eddie in the soft glow of the night, and finds that he’s fallen in love.

And in the weeks and months and years that follow, he realises that that’s something new he’s good at.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: you’re not you when you’re hungry

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: G

genre: Fluff, could be read as romantic or platonic

pairing: Alastor x Reader

summary: Alastor looks about ready to end Vaggie, and you piece together it’s because he hasn’t eaten. So, you make him some food!

You watched closely as Alastor’s eye twitched while Vaggie went through her list of to-do’s. You knew that angels didn’t have to eat, which made so much more sense after finding out that Vaggie was an angel. That was the difference for demons though. Demons, sinners, and any hell born had to eat.

You briefly wondered if Alastor had eaten today. You’d never say anything but you saw he forgot to eat as often as you did. It could have been something else than forgetting, but you chalked it up to forgetting.

‘That would be why he was cranky,’ you mused to yourself. You hopped off your stool and made your way to the kitchen. Quickly you pulled together your own famous Spiced Alfredo and used some of the venison you knew Alastor kept in the refrigerator. He was always stocked up… even though he constantly forgot to eat, which was humorous. You finished off the sauce and pasta, hearing loud yelling and the static that accompanied an upset Alastor.

You quickly finished the plate, placed it at the bar on the island in the kitchen and dashed out, the dashing helping your cause as you looked so disheveled as you just about crashed into the lobby. You panted and leaned against your arm, anchoring it on the wall.

“Al-Alastor.” You called, still out of breath. Whatever Alastor was about to respond to Vaggie, who looked enraged, was stopped as he turned to you. He glared at you, his eyes narrowing.

“What is it?” His voice tight with annoyance.

“I need your help. Seriously. I think only you can fix this.” He sighs, his teeth grinding in his smile.

“We’ll finish this when I come back.” He remarked to Vaggie and she glared at him as he left the lobby. You stood staring at him when he stood in front of you. His head tilted.

“Where to?” He asked, gesturing to the hall behind you.

“Oh! Yes!” You walked to the kitchen and heard a stomach growl as you got closer and the scent of the pasta got stronger. You hid your smile as you turned the corner and pointed to the seat. “Sit.” Alastor looked at you and did so.

“I’m not sure how this is helping anything-“ He cut off his sentence as you placed the large plate of food in front of him.

“Eat. You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You chuckle at the joke Alastor would not get, as you turn and toast some bread, finishing up the meal you were making. You heard him set his staff down and the clink of him picking up his fork. You look behind and see him moving the pasta around and sniffing the food suspiciously. “I didn’t poison it.” You say in disgust, rolling your eyes as you walk toward him spreading butter on the toast and placing three slices on his plate.

“Can’t ever be too sure.” He deadpans. “Is this?” He trails off looking at you.

“Venison, yes.” You say chuckling as you finish up a cup of coffee as well. “My famous Spiced Alfredo? Also, yes.” You set the coffee down in front of him, black, but brewed with a bit of salt to take out the bitterness. “Black coffee? Of course it is. You only drink coffee.” You roll your eyes and take off your apron, seeing Alastor take his first bite, his eyes widening. You turn to him and raise your eye brows, sipping your own coffee, but with sugar and cream.

“You like it?” You ask as Alastor takes another bite, just nodding. “Good. Eat and then you can do whatever you were doing. Otherwise you were going to kill someone because you were hangry.” You laugh and go to leave, to give Alastor some peace, when his hand lands on your arm, stopping you so gently. You look at him questioningly, and then he pulls out the seat next to you, a wordless invitation. “I’m not eating anything though.” You warn.

“That’s fine.” He says, taking another bite. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“Well, in my time, we had TV and there was a channel called Food Network. All these great chefs would have different TV shows and you could learn how to cook. I never had formal training but I learned how to cook by watching them.” You laugh.

“Fascinating. Tell me more.” Alastor prompted as he continued to eat, listening to you talk about your favorite show and even some of the gossip that was supposedly fact. Alastor never expected kindness like this and the last time someone did something like this for him, his mother was still alive. He was going to cherish this as long as he could.

[lilisettean]

Tempest in a Bathtub | Rafayel/Reader

About: Rafayel painting while he was bathing wasn't an uncommon sight. But you joining him was.

Pairing: Rafayel/Reader

Notes: Not gonna lie... For me, Rafayel is the hardest of all the 3 current love interests to write... I tried to keep his dialogue in character though! Please tell me if it's off the mark!

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Hinted no protection. 18+ only please! Enjoy :)

“Weren’t you supposed to paint?” 

“How am I supposed to focus with you in front of me?”

Rafayel wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you towards him, your back flush against his bare chest. He felt hot, burning almost, behind you, contrasting against the cool water that you two were half submerged in. 

Moments ago, you stumbled upon him painting while in the bathtub again. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do so, as he explained that sometimes inspiration would come to him like a sudden gust of wind, here now and gone the next moment. But it was still a sight to see him paint like this, with supplies strewn all over the place.

He blithely said that you could join him if you wanted, seemingly uncaring at the thought you would have to strip down to do so. That quickly changed however, when he heard the faint rustling of fabric. 

The blush and stammering protests that left his lips soon appeared as you dip your toes into the cool water, his eyes on anywhere and anything but on you.

“Hey.” Rafayel’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Are you really spacing out while being here with me?”

“No. I was wondering why you are so shy to see me naked. It’s not like you haven’t seen a naked woman before.”

“That’s because they’re nude models posing for my work. But you are…” His voice trailed off, as if pondering what to say next. “You’re you.”

“Have you heard myths of the inspirational goddesses of old? They are the source of all knowledge pertaining to the arts. Muses are what they are called.” He explained as he toyed with a strand of your damp hair. “And you, my dear fishie, are my personal muse.”

“Should I start posing nude for you instead now? So you would have more inspiration?” You joked, expecting him to agree or laugh at your suggestion. But that was not the case.

“Oh. No. Please don’t do that.” He immediately objected, to your surprise. “I wouldn’t be able to focus at all.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be obtuse. I know you saw it.” Rafayel retorted with a huff. He wasn’t wrong however. 

You could feel his stiff cock pulsing against you, and honestly you already noticed it growing when you sat across him, his gaze fixed onto your breasts before turning away with a cough.

Despite the cool water surrounding the both of you, his cock felt hot against your skin, as though begging you to touch it. And who were you to deny him?

Your heat clenched at nothing, yearning for something to fill its emptiness when he groaned at you wiggling your hips against him. But before you could do anything more, he steadied you with a hand on your hips, stopping you.

“Instead of painting… I would be thinking about other things.” He breathed out a moment later, after attempting to calm the raging storm that was brewing inside of him. He then lowered his head, nipping your earlobe before continuing.

“Do you wanna know what?”

“...What?”

“You know… I love that face you make when you’re moaning my name. I wanna know how I can engrave that into my mind and store it for eternity.” His hands roamed your body as he confessed. One hand cupped your breast, his fingers grazing and tweaking your pert nipple; while the other trailed down your torso, slipping between your thighs and parting them without any effort.

He hummed in approval when he found your entrance hot to the touch, slick not with water, but your own juices. He prodded you, parting your folds and dipped two fingertips inside, making you squirm in anticipation. Before he slipped further however, he nipped your earlobe once more, and whispered.

“Would you mind showing it to me again?”

Instead of giving him the go, you shifted your hips forward, pushing yourself down his fingers.

“So eager.” He commented, breathless. No matter how many times he fingered you, he would never tire of the sight of you coming undone before him. This proper, strong bodyguard of his turning into a whimpering mess because of him.

His long slender fingers prodded your soft walls, reaching places that you could never reach on your own. And before long, your hips started to move on its own, fucking yourself on his fingers. 

“Rafayel–” 

“Mhm?” He may sound calm but his actions were nowhere near but. You were not only riding his fingers, you were also grinding your hips against him while doing so, rubbing the side of his stiff cock. And just like you, his hips moved on its own as well, rutting and sliding the underside of his cock against you.

Water sloshed out of the bathtub you both were in, splashing onto the wooden floor. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when his fingers grazed past your clit with every move. He tilted your head back and captured your lips, parting them with his tongue and groaning into the kiss.

Something clicked within him the moment you moaned his name once more. With one smooth motion, he pulled his fingers out of you and lifted you up into his arms, carrying you as he exited the bathtub.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he propped you onto the counter, your breasts pressing against the cool marble surface.

He gave you no chance to speak. Because as soon as you were on the counter, lying and your heat exposed to him, you felt a familiar pressure against your entrance.

“Sorry… I don’t like waiting.” He apologized, but didn’t sound sorry at all. If anything, he was enjoying your whimpering as he pushed his throbbing cock inside of you, and sighed when you moaned at his short thrusts to get his entirety enveloped with your tight walls.

Planting a kiss onto the back of your neck, Rafayel gently lifted your chin up, and made you come face to face to your debauched state. 

“Show me my sweet mermaid… Show me all the expressions you like to make.”

[anadiasmount]

just friends? or more? - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: interviews and late night talks. but it’s always hard to see your best friend leave for his away games. no matter the distance or duration.

wc: 3k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa🗣️: happy new year everyone, hope everyone is doing okay! 🤍 mixed a request with my own imagination. this was supposed to be a small blurb but I ended up writing more. best friends to lover trope 🫂 🧟‍♀️ hope you enjoy! 🤍

“it must be an excitement to see him play at this level and talent?” the journalist asked you, to which you nodded and smiled. “it’s quite a pleasure honestly. it’s what he’s always wanted and we couldn’t be more proud,” you replied calmly not knowing where exactly to look at. 

your eyes glanced from her, to the camera and then jude who was walking back from the tunnels. “recalling all his goals from this current season, which one has been your favorite? could there be a sort of muse to inspire and motivate him to this level?” she asked curiously, leaving you thinking. 

“my favorite probably, okay wait actually i don’t know if i wanna say because i don’t want to get dragged, but it was special to see him win his debut here in the bernabeu, even if it was a tap in,” you laugh, “his goal against napoli and barcelona are one for the books as well.” you kept glancing behind her to see jude standing there cockily, arms crossed with a smirk plastered on his face. 

“as for a muse, i’d say himself and the people around him whether it’s friends or family even the fans. with the constant support and wins, seeing how the team reflects, how he can do more. overall i think it’s just him and the healthy mentality he has,” you say shyly, nodding your head as you spoke, jude then decided to intervene. 

“erm excuse me? this is my interview,” you say in a teasing manner, stepping on your tiptoes to reach his hug. “i apologize. just wanted to come over and say hi,” jude says playfully making everyone smile. “we were just asking y/n about if there could be a certain muse to make you perform at this level. is there anything you would like to say about that?” the journalist asks. 

jude scratches his brow and looks down smiling, “well to be honest there is someone…but for privacy reasons or maybe to not jinx it, i’ll keep it hidden… they’re truly wonderful and inspire me to do my best every time,” he says with a huge grin looking down to you where you stand. your eyes connected and for a second maybe he was dedicating this to you? you thought. 

as the journalist wrapped up her interview the two of you teased and joked around, answering her questions politely and respectfully, making sure to wish her the best of luck and a small be careful. the thoughts of him having a ‘muse’ still didn’t go away from your head.  if he was referring to you or if there was someone he had yet to tell you about. 

jude was always private with his life, but around you he couldn’t stop yapping, always with a smile in his face when he spoke about him. but this had you questioning just a bit, if there was more to your close friendship. to his longer and more intense stares towards you, his touch on your waist when out together, always asking to stay longer and cuddle. 

it wasn’t just you who had noticed it, his teammates as well, often teasing both of you especially jude as you would hear it when he called you after training. don't even get started on the media, replays, and many comments on the two of you when together, always asking if you were dating, or saying they lived for your friendship.

there was something different and you couldn’t avoid it any longer, being left confused with your feelings. it began to feel like love. you can’t love your best friend, you couldn’t take a risk like that.  

“you’re awfully quiet? something in your mind? i know something’s up so don’t say it’s anything,” jude remarked, squinting his eyes. you let a soft chuckle out and turned to face him, “i’m just tired… also i was reading some of the comments from our interview,” you lied offering a quick smile and showing him your open instagram page. he raised his brow and got out the car. 

you trailed behind him to where you were greeted to a quiet home. jude quickly slipped on some slides and dropped his bag in the mud room. you took of your shoes and walked into the kitchen to prepare some dinner for the two of you. as you glanced around you felt jude hug you from behind, his face leveled next to yours making you jump. “fridge is full?” he asked.

“oh yeah. i went grocery shopping and brought the necessities! refilled the fridge, got toothpaste, and i also got you those scooby doo cookies you love so much,” your hand interlocked with his that was around your waist as you pointed to the cabinet above you. just then you realized how close the two of you were. 

it felt like you had moved in, and shared a house together. you never ever had shared a bed, but for the past month you had, waking up with jude on top of you or your back next to his chest. having breakfast daily together and him waiting for you to come back from uni or work. hanging out more than usual, cuddling more than usual. the his and hers titles applying to the two of you, when brushing your teeth, your mugs, sharing clothes, having your shoes aligned by the door. 

jude felt you tense asking what was wrong but you shook your head, “after dinner, i might go home,” you tell him watching the smile disappear from his face. “what? why? do you want me to go with you? you should just stay it's already late, i want to you to stay” jude insisted, making up different reasons as to why you should stay the night. 

it’s not that you didn't want to be with jude tonight, you did, to feel him hold you and kiss your head at night. but the thought of acting like a couple, with no label, with your best friend made you freakout, because what if how you felt wasn't how he did? what if you read the cards wrong and it was only you who fell over heels for your best friend? what if he didn't love you like you did? 

“i’ll think about it, i said i might go, still debating, i haven't seen the roomies in a while and we want to have a girls night,” you said trying to calm the panic that overtook his body. “i don’t mind joining, you guys just do spa night, drink wine, and talk, i’ll be like one of the girls…” jude shrugged jokingly, making your eyes roll playfully. 

“okay decide what you want to eat so we can start cooking,” you recalled, grabbing a pan and heating up some oil. jude played his old songs playlist, singing along to the songs you remembered, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he led you to dance in the middle of the kitchen, his soft brown eyes never leaving yours as he sang happily. would this be what it felt like to be a couple? 

the tv show played softly on the background, jude fast asleep on your chest letting out small snores. he refused to let you leave as the time you had finished eating and talking was super late, leaving with no choice but to stay once again. it felt like home, jude felt like your home, they way you fit perfectly in each other's arms. you turn the tv off, squinting your eyes in confusion as you saw his phone ping. 

jocelyn:

thanks for the other day! hope we can see each other again, had so much fun! 

your heart sank looking back at jude who was still sound asleep on your chest, feeling your eyes burn with tears and your stomach sink further down. you controlled your breathing, feeling stupid and naive for actually believing and falling for him. it wasn't his fault, it was you for letting yourself believe there could be something. you would never be his, there was already someone else in his life to fill your spot. 

you were able to manage to sneak off the next morning without a word or budge from jude, feeling trapped and claustrophobic around him when he hugged you from behind. you couldn't stop thinking about his words from yesterday's interview and his ‘muse’, the way his touch still burned on your skin, the way he hid a girl from you. it felt like you were the other woman even though you had no clue who she was. 

you fiddled with your keys, opening the door to a silent home once again, darting straight to your room where you fell onto your beg with small whimpers and sobs, crying over a boy. you weren't able to sleep last night, so you didn't even feel when you fell asleep, forgetting about reality for the day. 

jude was left confused and curious as to why you weren't there, next to him. he called and called, texting you over and over again, becoming worried when there was no response from you. he was unable to focus during recovery and training session, thinking of how you suddenly left, and how distant and tense you were yesterday. he wondered if you had school, or if you something came up with your roommates. 

jude wanted to hang out before he had to travel away for the weekend. spend as much time with you. his head should be focused on winning and on the team to advance in the ‘copa del rey’ but he couldn't when he hadn't heard from you. 

jude was deep in. as every day went by his love for you grew more and more, knowing it could be risk for your friendship. he had the urge to just yell out how much he loved you, how badly he wanted to call you his, to finally stop playing around and put a label. it was hard to read you and that killed him more. feeling hopeless and desperate, he called again quickly listening to your voicemail. 

you had jude’s head spinning, heart skipping beats at the thought of you, and he was left with no choice but to show up the day before he left at your doorstep. your eyes frantically roamed jude who stood with a serious look on his face, almost shutting the door at him out of nervousness. jude let himself in, turning to you quickly brows drawn in. “is there a reason why you are not answering your phone?” he asked seriously, no taint of playing around. 

“i needed to catch up on some uni work. i have so much to do still, and i wanted to focus on getting the hard part out first,” you say unsure, as his brows draw in with bewilderment. 

“but yet couldn't answer one phone call from me?”

“jude-”

“i’ve been left worried, thinking if you were okay after you randomly left without saying anything? i don't like you shutting me out y/n, i understand you were busy but a text even would’ve taken me out of my misery,” jude huffed letting out a sign of disappointment, walking to the couch and staring at your study layout. books and books, open pages of your notes, and your laptop that sounded louder than usual. 

“i just wanted to give you space and time for yourself. i don't wanna seem clingy or attached because all we've done for the past month is be together at house. i just thought you might’ve wanted to do something else with your teammates or other people,” you say embarrassed, daring to spill the girls name from the other night. 

“well you thought wrong, the only person i want to be with is you. i wanted to see you before i left tomorrow,” jude said with a small frown, hands digging into his hands. ‘the only person i want to be with is you’ should have not stung like it did, the ache in your chest as you heard him say that, bitting your lip to hold back the tears that wanted to build up. though you were stronger than that. 

“what about jocelyn?” you asked carefully being met with a quiet jude, giving you a questioning look. “what about her?” maybe it was the way he had said it or the fact he was upset but you now regretted bringing her up knowing it had triggered something. “didn’t she mention-” you were cut off by jude.

“jocelyn is my stylist when i’m here in madrid. she invited me to have brunch with her and her girlfriend when you were taking a midterm this week. I didnt mention it because it was a fast meal, just food and talking,” jude said. you felt utterly stupid and left more embarrassed than before, wanting to punch yourself for quickly making up assumptions instead of asking for clarification. 

“oh.”

“wait.. how do you know about jocelyn? did you think something else?” jude asked, lifting his head from his hands. you rubbed your shoulder anxiously not knowing how exactly to respond, “you mentioned her the other day, i just assumed,” you lied quickly, “also i saw her message the other night i stayed over.” jude had caught you, and now he wasn't going to let the opportunity to go to waste. “

“so that's what this is about?” 

“i don't know what you're talking about…” you shrugged quickly, dismissing his tone. 

jude ushered you to come over, and like a puppet you quickly followed his request. you stood in the middle on his legs that were spread, shifting your weight from one foot to another, contemplating what to say or where to look. “you thought jocelyn meant something else to me didn't you…” jude asked to which you nodded slowly. 

“would have it bothered you if it did? if she did mean something to me?” he asked softly, watching as your eyes looked around and landed on his, you let out a small “yes” in a quiet tone, jude smirking. 

“well, it’s a good thing you don't have to worry about that. jocelyn doesn't mean anything, and the only person who does to me is you,” jude spoke softly, you shuddered a breath as you felt his fingertips trace from your calves all the way up behind your thighs, making you lose balance and grip his shoulder to regain it. “jude-” you warn again, but quickly gulp as he repeated his actions. 

“the way you smile, the way you hold my hand, the way your eyes glimmer when you let me rant about anything. i love it all. the only person who makes me feel like that is you… all i want is you, y/n. to have and to hold, to love and cherish, to protect and kept by my side forever,” jude gripped your thighs and pulled you onto his lap where you gasped. 

“can’t you see that? hmm? can't you see how much i love you? how badly i want to make you mine and call you my girlfriend officially? they say it's forbidden to fall for your best friend, but who cares about those rules when what we have is real. a genuine love.” 

your lips pursed open, letting out a shaky breath before speaking again. he had that effect, leaving you breathless even if it was a small action. “this whole time i thought i had it wrong, and that it was just me who saw the sudden shift in our friendship. who felt the feelings. i know it was wrong from me to have assumed that when i have no right, but i thought there was someone else,” you reply. 

jude’s hands roamed your thighs, making you relax to his touch, “it drove me crazy two nights ago as i rethought our whole friendship. it felt not weird but it felt like we were living a life with no label placed, acting like a couple because we just felt the need to or we had just gotten that close. not only did it confuse me but also scared me, and it made me distant,” you continued. 

“what you feel here,” you pointed and touched his heart, “is what i feel here,” you then pointed to your heart, which was beating like crazy not only at revealed feelings but also the proximity you two were. “i want you to know that i can't stop thinking about you no matter where i am or if i’m this close to you,” you reassured him and yourself. that this was reality.  

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited to hear you say that… to say that you love me. everyone could see it, everyone teased us for it, but we were scared. but i’m not scared to take this risk, because it means i get to have you here and forever. to love you,” jude said making your eyes go glossy. 

“is this actually happening?” you laughed and sniffled, “because if it's not and i’m dreaming i’m going to be mad,” you say. “it's all real, i could pinch you if you want, to make you believe it? or i could kiss you to seal our relationship?” jude offered with a huge grin, making you raise your eyebrow. “you haven't even asked me to be your girlfriend yet,” you remark. 

“my beautiful y/n… do you want to be my girlfriend?” instead of replying, you sealed your answer with a kiss. a kiss that sealed also promises and your love forever. jude’s lips molded into yours, tugging him closer by his broad shoulders as his hands delicately rubbed along your thighs. he tasted like honey, not having enough by how gentle and passionate he was being with you. “my jude. my jude forever,” you say still kissing his lips as he smiled into it.

“i love you princess.”

[squidwen]

🐙After Hours with Azul

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Synopsis: You spend a lot of time at the Mostro Lounge, and Azul’s starting to wonder why. You’re not some creepy stalker girlfriend, are you? You two might be “official,” but you’re at the Lounge all the time!

However, Azul reckons there’s a reason behind it that’s deeper. More serious. After taking you to his room, the pair of you snuggle up, arms, legs, and tentacles, and Azul’s hearts simply can’t take the real reason behind your frequent visits.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You preferred the Mostro Lounge after-hours. It seemed more like an actual Lounge, with nothing but the cool lights and the final tunes of the piano player on the stage. No one bothered you either. None of the waiters told you to leave. No one even offered to clear your drink and plate away. The staff cleaned their tables, hung up their aprons, and that was that.

Except for Azul.

He got up from the piano and crossed the Lounge over to your booth. Your breath hitched at his cool hand on your shoulder. You always preferred him without gloves. His hands were beautiful; long, slender fingers with a callous on his right middle one from years and years of endless writing.

‘Another evening claimed by my establishment,’ mused Azul.

At last, you moved. His words thawed you enough to stand.

Azul welcomed you into his arms. His other hand sparked against your ribcage as he rubbed circles into your back. Somehow his chilly touch melted you. You became almost gelatinous in his embrace, as if you were the octopus rather than the warm, sweet little human.

‘You’re coming here more often, angelfish,’ Azul said.

‘Naturally. The foods good and the music’s even better.’

‘I’m sure the music is not better.’

You pulled away.

Azul held onto you. ‘Sorry-’

‘You’re still doing it.’

‘It’s a bad habit.’

‘You need to stop thinking you’re not good enough.’

Your kiss on the shell of his ear silenced any protests. Azul shivered with bliss.

Everyone else had already left; there was no point in keeping up airs. Who would you be trying to impress? Azul was stronger than he looked. Although he masqueraded as a human, he still retained most of his cecaelian strength, and he lifted you out of the booth. You felt as though you were floating. You were as weightless as the exotic fish in the giant Lounge fish tank.

Azul tucked you into his chest, one arm under your legs and another under your back. You smelled his cologne; lavender and something that reminded you of the sea. The tips of his bangs tickled your forehead. Together, you slipped out of the Lounge and through the halls of Octavinelle, hiding around corners for the coast to be clear before ploughing on towards Azul’s bedroom.

A snap of the fingers and the door swung open.

A lilac bed, freshly made, beckoned you forward. Azul laid you gently down. The duvet and mattress moulded to your figure, gasping and depressing as you wriggled your shoes off. ‘I can’t believe you had the energy for that!’ you laughed. ‘After playing all night.’

Azul laid down beside you. His hands, warmed by your back and thighs, searched for yours and brought them to his lips. ‘It’s the nature of octopuses to be dextrous, my dear. Three hours of piano playing was nothing but a warmup.’

‘How modest.’

Azul reddened.

You kissed his nose. ‘Tell me more. If you can brag to anyone it would be me. Not that I need to be told about how amazing you are. You just carried me up to the top of Octavinelle as if it was nothing. I bet Jack couldn’t even do that.’

Azul, however, did not bring up anything. It still didn’t feel right to. Not with you. Not yet. He was still so new to this. He had never loved anyone before, and the pair of you had only made your relationship official a few weeks ago. Azul was trying to strike a balance between impressing you, and boasting. He wanted to seem cool, not conceited. You already accepted him for what he looked like… for some reason, but surely there was only so much you could take. You could tolerate ugliness, but vanity?

‘A good businessman never puts all his cards on the table,’ said Azul.

You rolled your eyes. ‘Business talk? Here?’

Shoot, Azul thought. Play it cool. ‘You are in the bedroom of the dorm leader of Octavinelle and the manager of the Mostro Lounge.’

‘I thought I was in my boyfriend’s bedroom.’ You started to pull away again. Azul gripped you tightly. His strong fingers were like suction cups. ‘Come on, Azul,’ you sighed. ‘If you’re a businessman, does that make me a customer? Or some associate? I know this is new to you. It’s new to me too. But just… let yourself be… well, mine. Even if it can only be in this room. I need that.’

You shifted closer to him and snaked your arm under his head. His ear rested in the crook of your elbow, letting your fingers fiddle with his hair. The fedora fell away. His locks were stringy from hours under a hat, but you didn’t mind. It was like his head was a giant snowdrop; the petals stuck together as it tried to bloom after a long winter.

Azul drew closer. The bed creaked.

‘My angelfish,’ he breathed.

You hummed.

‘Why do you stay at the Lounge for so long?’

Your stroking stopped.

Azul tensed. ‘If you don’t want to say then-’

‘No, no. It’s fine. It must seem creepy, like I’m some crazy stalker girlfriend who watches your every move now that we’re together. But it’s not. Seven, it’s not. I just… it’s just a soothing place. Some people like the library. Others like the park. But the Mostro Lounge is perfect for me. I’ve been going there all year just to unwind. You might not have noticed. You’re always so busy.’

‘No other reason?’

It was your turn to tense.

Azul detected it immediately.

Sitting up, his cerulean eyes pierced into you like icicles. He was the businessman again. All the tenderness had been leached out of him. Something was wrong. He knew it. Something he was determined to get to the bottom of. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you being at the Lounge. He loved it. Your presence always made him play better, and he was happy to smuggle you on-the-house desserts whenever he could. But you had been showing up too often, as if you were hiding, or escaping, something.

‘Let’s not have secrets from each other,’ he said.

‘Secrets?’

‘Please, angelfish.’ Azul blinked and his eyes became gentle again. The eyes of a lover; lidded and pleading. To prove that he was being open – and to give you permission to do the same – he lay down beside you again and transformed back into a cecaelia. His skin speckled with lilac until it was completely purple; his legs unravelling into eight black and purple tentacles.

Azul couldn’t meet your eyes as he transformed. It embarrassed him. He felt so grotesque. So hideous. But then, you came to him again, and wrapped your arms around his torso. The feeling faded. Azul took you into his arms.

The tentacles wound around your legs like ribbons around maypoles. Cool and slick; the suction cups kissing your exposed skin, making it prickle with gooseflesh. You stayed still to invite them higher. Azul delighted in the feel of you. You were more detailed when he held you this way. He sensed every inch of you. You were beautiful, and more tentacles came up to bind you.

Around your waist. Around your hips. Around your stomach. With ease, they pulled you in close to Azul. The cecaelia buried your face in his chest. You could hear his three heartbeats. They were fast. You couldn’t help but smile into Azul’s shirt.

‘Are you comfortable, my darling?’ Azul asked.

You nodded, too relaxed for words. Azul’s touch was velvety soft. All your dark bindings were gentle and plush, like a caterpillar wrapped in a chrysalis.

A final tentacle cupped the back of your head. You shivered as the suction cups kissed your scalp. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant, but it brought you out of your comfort just enough to feel like talking again. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m at my best when you’re with me,’ Azul said.

You melted a little more. ‘Same here. And I confess, that’s the reason why.’

‘Why what?’

‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve come on too strong and I’ve spooked you.’

‘No, not at all.’

‘I just…I… you know you’re my best friend.’

Azul’s heartbeats got even faster. ‘A-And you’re mine,’ he breathed. ‘The Leech twins… they’re not the same as you.’

‘The others aren’t the same as you either. Don’t get me wrong, Ace and Deuce are great, but they’re like twins, and Jack and Epel are dedicated to sports, and Sebek’s obsessed with Malleus. I sort of feel like I just touch-base with them, but I spend time with you. And even if it’s not “with” you, just to see you, hear you play, admire who my partner is, even just sit in your Lounge, is enough.’ You mustered the strength to crane your head back and kiss his jaw. ‘I’m millions of miles from home, but I somehow feel there when I’m with you.’

Azul had never heard anything like it. You were so sweet. So kind. No one ever complimented him without wanting his attention, or recognition; without wanting something in return. Octavinelle was full of sychophants, none bigger than the Leech twins, but you… you were as pure as driven snow. You loved every inch of him, inside and out; something Azul had thought was impossible for him to find. To deserve.

His tentacles bundled you up even more, pressing you in close until it was almost uncomfortable. His suction cups kissed you. Thousands of kisses. Small pecks, until the tentacle cupping the back of your head lifted you to Azul’s lips.

Velvet. Smooth. Soft.

When you broke away, you were both breathless, and exhaustion descended upon you. The night had been long; the conversation hard. Azul loosened his grip on you but kept his tentacles in place. He could think of nothing sweeter than to fall asleep to the feeling of you, and you didn’t mind. You had never been so comfortable; so warm and welcome.

With a final kiss, you snuggled into your cecaelia and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic thump of Azul’s heartbeats.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Author note: Well hey! It’s been a while!

I hope you enjoyed the fic! I had to write an Azul one after being away for so long! He’s by far my fav character, and it was his birthday recently so I think we’re all in Azul-mode atm.

If you liked it, please like, comment, and share.

- Squidwen

[phantomrose96]

Savit-e

My host mother is a woman with long twirling hair and more floral-patterned sundresses than I’ve seen in my entire life. She throws open the closet each morning to flick each dress along its hanging rail, sharp squeaks. “What can I even wear?” The dresses sway like summer willows. I sneak in behind her and grab a t-shirt and jeans from my tiny pile at the bottom.

She loves earrings that swing and she loves stain-glass windchimes which clink and muse while she pours me the bitterest cup of tea I’ve ever had in my life. I fill it with sugar and she chides me. I remind her of all the spicy dishes I make that she cannot eat, and she says, “Okay, I’ll let it go this one time.” She sips her tea black. The birds titter at her joke. We’ll have the same conversation tomorrow.

My host mother is Jira and I wonder how closely we might be related every time I catch that glimmer in her eyes like my mothers’. Jira is too tall to be my mother and her hair is not quite dark enough, but I like to believe I see it. I like to believe Jira’s country and mine are related, that maybe her great-great-grandparents and mine were friends before the records were scorched and the lines were redrawn. Or maybe our countries bore no relation to each other. Maybe they were friends anyway. Maybe they were enemies. I’ve heard every opinion.

Jira has a worry-face like my mother, but she uses it for different things, like plum prices at the market and rain clouds blundering through like clumsy creatures. It used to surprise me, since my mother reserved her worry-face for only the dourest things in her mind. I saw more and more of it from my mother before I left. “Baby maybe you should spend the summer home. Maybe you can get your money back.” She said she’d been reading things in the news. I told her not to worry. I would be safe in my travels. I feel stares pressing into my back while Jira leans over the plums. I notice Jira receives the stares too.

She hums a tune and busies herself in the kitchen in a dress I’ve never seen. She’s been in a great mood since her daughter came home this morning. I didn’t get a good look at her daughter at first because Jira swallowed her right up in her arms. But I got to see her better when I helped bring her bags in. Savine is lithe, baby-faced and a head shorter than Jira, and her eyes carry the same arch and slope as Jira’s. She has the same dimples and she moves in the same way, tilted forward, as if to let gravity do the work of carrying her momentum.

Savine is napping from her trip, and Jira seems to have forgotten all the slow and patient syllables she usually saves for me. She speaks in her rapid pace and I jog to keep up. Too many words slip through my grasp. One in particular I hear too many times. Savit-e.  

“Savit-e?” I ask.

Jira puckers her lips as if to think. Her eyes rove. Footsteps tap gently closer behind me, and Jira’s eyes light up as she looks past me.

“Savit-e!” she says, motioning forward as Savine rounds the counter and pulls her mom into another hug. Savine is only 10. She’s been away almost 6 months for school, according to Jira.

A nickname, I note. Savine wears earrings like windchimes as well.

…

Jira has offered to charge me no rent if I babysit Savine for the summer and cook dinner in the evenings. Savine’s summer classes are early and short, as are mine, so I pick Savine up every day at noon. “This is Reb. She’s my mom’s friend this summer,” Savine tells her school friends. I gather that Jira does something similar every year, taking in an au pair while she works the summer.

There is a park Savine likes in particular, with the tall slides and the cold water fountains and all her friends. It takes me a few days to realize her friends are new to even her. Any child at the park becomes her friend by nature of needing two to play the teeter-totter. I meet parents and I practice my clumsy language with them. They don’t stare strangely at me like the man in the plum aisle.

Three times over the summer, I hear a parent at the park ask me. “Who is Savit-e?” I point to Savine every time. I don’t think too much about it, because they always like the answer, nodding along. Savine’s friends do not use the nickname, but I experiment with it here and there. Savine lights up when I do. “Savit-e,” I call to her from the school lawn, and she squeals and bounds forward to wrap me in the kind of hug she gives her mother.

I pick up a copy of the newspaper from the corner store every day on my way to pick up Savine, and I read what I can of it at the park. The newspaper is not a person, and it does not stilt its vocabulary to be simple and clear the way people do when they notice me struggling with the tongue, so oftentimes I gather just the concepts from articles. It is my fourth week of doing this when one article stops me. I see the spelling of what Jira says out loud so often.

Savit-e.

The article is hard, but I recognize the word for murder, and the words for three men. Three men murdered, and Savit-e. I would ask Savine, but I’m afraid the article may be something upsetting.

I ask Jira that night, after Savine has gone to bed.

“A man killed three others,” Jira says, brow slightly scrunched as she skims the paper and distills its contents to simpler words I know. Her eye creases are deep by the evening lamplight. “He is not charged with a crime, because he was protecting his Savit-e.”

This sinks in slowly, and a red flush of embarrassment makes itself known on my cheeks.

“Savit-e… as in ‘daughter’?”

I use my own word for it, since I don’t know Jira’s word for daughter. Or at least, I did not know, until now.

Jira’s brow scrunch tightens, which she does whenever I’ve used one of my words she doesn’t know.

“Like Savine is to you. Savine is your daughter.”

At this, Jira nods slowly, then more quickly as she lets the meaning sink in. “Yes… Savine is my Savit-e… my daughter.”

I thank Jira for the explanation. I lie awake that night thinking too much about the parents at the park who think Savine is my Savit-e.

…

I start to dislike the newspaper. I’m not sure if it’s the summer heat sewing aggravation, or some deeper unrest, or maybe my own growing vocabulary, but more and more I notice articles that leave me unsettled. I read about the arrest of a man who looks like the man in the plum aisle. Maybe there’s no resemblance at all. Maybe any man with those piercing eyes in a mug shot feels like the man in the plum aisle. There are still many words I don’t know, but country and nation come up often. And Savit-e. More articles of someone acting in protection of their Savit-e.

My mother isn’t here to protect me. I walk more cautiously when I’m alone at night, as a woman, as a Savit-e with no parents here to protect me.

I’m in the kitchen with a knife shunking through the angled cuts of scallion. The pot for the noodles is boiling and I’ve halved the spices as I do every night for Jira and Savine. I don’t even hear the front door kick open.

I do hear Savine scream.

My heart is in my throat and my blood is cold, and I move, because in the moment I have forgotten I am a Savit-e far away from home. All that matters is Savine’s scream.

And my sockless feet are light as I snake through the dining room and round the corner to the living room, entering from the same door as the two men who now stand there, backs to me, both eagerly teasing the handles of a gun. One has Savine in a chokehold, and the men stare at Jira, pressed flat against the wall. I realize Jira does have a worry-face she reserves for the truly awful things.

And the men with their backs to me are plum-men, in ways I understand without knowing what fast and clipped words they’re shouting at Jira. The one holding Savine presses the barrel of his gun against her ear, and the windchime titter of her earrings is drowned under her scream of fear. The plum man barks a demand at Jira, and she watches with moon-plate eyes.

He barks it again.

Jira raises a trembling hand. And her digits curl, and her palm pulls inward, and her earrings clink with the slow stuttering shake of her head. She points her index finger firmly against her own heart, and she declares ‘Savit-e’.

Jira runs out through the second living room door.

“Mooooom! Savit-e!!” Savine screams, and her words choke, and she wriggles under the hold of the man. And suddenly sense returns to my body at the sound of Savine’s screams.

I am still holding the scallion knife.

I don’t remember what I do next, but the knife does.

…

There is a drawl of radio static that seems to dominate my ears. The sirens and flashing lights are background noise to me now. They’ve taken Savine away with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. They’ve assured me I’ll be able to see her, but later, once she’s been looked at, once she’s calmed down, once I’ve been spoken to.

“You are not in trouble,” the detective tells me in my own tongue with a slight accent rounding her words. She’s the only one who speaks my language. They called her in when it became clear I didn’t know enough of theirs to give a report. “You were protecting your Savit-e.”

I flinch, a little bit, somehow still capable of embarrassment with a mind that’s gone completely numb. “Savine isn’t my Savit-e.”

The woman detective frowns. I remember we’re in my own tongue.

“I mean, she’s not my daughter. She’s Jira’s daughter. She’s Jira’s Savit-e.”

The woman’s frown lessens some. “Your daughter, no. Your Savit-e, yes.”

I hold my hands near my face. They still smell of garlic and scallions. “The pot’s gonna boil over. I have to go turn off the stove,” I say, urgently, and unhelpfully, as the thought suddenly strikes and I push myself standing.

The woman’s hand is on my shoulder, and she presses me down. “The pot is not boil. The stove is off. It is okay. Who is Savit-e?”

And the question sits weird. I realize she asks it like those parents at the park.

I don’t answer. The detective chews her lip, and I see her eyes searching for a word she can’t find. “Who is your… The Most? Who is your The Above? Who is your The Most of All?”

“My most what?”

“Who is your Protect Over Everything?”

And from her face I can tell she is frustrated with her own words. There is more she is saying that I cannot know in my own language.

Protect Over Everything. I think about the scream that pulled me from the kitchen.

“I think… Savine… is my Protect Over Everything.”

And this satisfies the woman. And she nods the way the parents at the park do. “You are not in trouble. You always protect Savit-e. You must always. There is no trouble for what you did. Good job, that you protect your Savit-e. You will have her back soon.”

I go stiff.

“Jira needs her back, not me. I go home in a few weeks. I only started—” I falter. “Savine is Jira’s Savit-e.”

The detective shakes her head. “Jira is Jira’s Savit-e. Jira does not come back.”

…

I postpone my flight home. I tell my mother it’s because my studies are going long. I’ll tell her more, later, when I’m ready.

I pick up Savine every day from school as always. She doesn’t smile, and she pulls me into a hug that is too tight and lasts too long. She doesn’t want to go to the park. She comes grocery shopping with me, because it’s better than being left home alone. I look over my shoulder whenever I grab the plums.

I cook dinner and I eat with Savine, and we do this at the counter because when I sit us at the kitchen table, Savine looks too long at Jira’s empty place. I tried calling Jira once, after Savine went to bed. Her phone rang from the next room. I watched it ring until it cut to voicemail.

There’s an article about me in the paper. I can’t read most of it. Or maybe I just don’t try to. I see Jira’s name. I see the plum man words. I see Savit-e written 14 times.

I don’t know what happens to Savine if I leave. I’ve tried asking and I get too many words I do not know, and no one who can explain them better to me. But their expressions stay with me. Like the looks of plum-men and worry-faces and now this new look, which is rooted in something deeper about a country which I know too little about. It’s a sad look. It’s something I can maybe understand without the words attached. I tell my mom I might like to extend my study through the fall.

Savine has started calling me “Savit-e.”

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 6

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Y'all I love Eris so much I hate making him a villian here. Someone comment some Eris fic ideas so I can write something good about him.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, heavier SA in this one, Smut

Word Count: 7,094

I woke up the next morning to warm, strapping arms wrapped around my bare skin. The velvet stone of Cassian’s bare chest pressed against my back. The sheets were so disheveled from last night's escapades that they barely covered our bare bodies. I felt a soft kiss being pressed to my cheek and I turned to find Cassian beaming down at me. 

After admitting our feelings for one another, we spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other's arms just enjoying each other's warmth. I didn’t mind the comfortable silence. I had been waiting to fall asleep on the general's broad chest. I intended to savor every moment.

 I still couldn’t believe the events of last night. How his hands felt roaming my body. The fire his lips left on my skin. The feeling of him inside of me. Everything about him was addicting, and I found myself wondering when it would be appropriate to ask for him to touch me again. 

“Good morning beautiful,” Cassian smiled down at me pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

“Good morning general,” I smiled back brushing a lock of dark hair out of his face. 

The second Cassian and I finished last night he looked at me differently. Like I was his whole world. Not that he hadn’t always looked at me that way, but this time it was different. As if finally having me made him a changed person. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his eyes raking my body looking for any sign of injury. 

“A little sore,” I admitted shifting my legs between the thin sheet. “But nothing I can’t handle.” 

“It won’t be like that next time,” he assures me, pressing another kiss to my forehead like he can’t help it. 

“Oh, there will be a  next time?” I smirk and Cassian rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll have you for as long as you let me princess,” he beams. “I wasn’t lying last night. I really do love you with all that I am. I never want to be parted from you.” His eyes shone with such love as he reiterated every word. 

While I didn’t doubt his love, it was comforting to hear again in the light of day when the effects of too much wine had worn off too. 

“I love you too Cassian,” I smile pecking his lips as I feel his arms hold me closer. My stomach gurgles, telling me it’s time for sustenance. 

“I think your stomach likes me too,” Cassian laughs, pressing a hand to my abdomen.  

“Well you were touching it last night,” I mused, pressing a kiss to his lips earning a growl from him. He pressed me further into the mattress and the feeling of his bare body on mine was enough to make the blood flowing through me heat up. “Cass, wait I have to pee,” I giggle, pushing him away.  

“And you have to eat,” he laughs, rolling off me. “Go ahead, the bathrooms over there. We can get breakfast when you’re done.” 

I stand and become acutely aware of how naked I am. I search the floor for something, anything to cover me up, and find Cassian's shirt lying on the floor. I quickly throw it over my head, aware of how his burning gaze watches my every move.  

“Fuckkkk,” I hear Cassian groan behind me. 

I turn to find him face down on his pillow, wings splayed. 

“What?” I laugh making my way towards the bathroom. 

“You’re wearing my shirt and it’s turning me on. That’s what.” he groans into the pillow. 

“Well then maybe you can help me take it off when I get out,” I smile before closing the door. 

Cassian’s bathroom was surprisingly neat. For a male who was always on the go, it surprised me. My eyes looked at the enormous bath, one clearly made to accommodate his wings. On the edge lay a bar of soap, clearly what that cedar smell was coming from. His scent was strongest in here. I did my business and washed my hands in the intricate sink that was much like mine. 

I surveyed myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess and my lips looked like they had been kissed thoroughly, which they had. I thought about the night, from how it ended going back to how it started. 

Eris.

The ring. 

My blood ran cold as the once joyous look in my eyes faded. I was an engaged woman who had just had sex with another man. Cauldron save me. But Cassian wasn’t “a man” he was everything. I loved him with everything I was. I had loved him for so long now. 

As I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror I couldn’t help but think of my people. The children in the street I saw the day Rhys told me Eris wanted to marry me. The sour taste of guilt filled my mouth. I had chosen Cassian over saving my people, over saving my brother. Oh gods what have I done? 

The guilt came first, but the reasoning came second. I had to find a way I could have it all. Autumn Court armies to save my people and Cassian to save me. There had to be a way. I just wasn’t sure of how. I only knew what had to be done now. 

I exited the bathroom no doubt looking more somber than I did when I entered it. My eyes were fixated on a certain black dress at the edge of his large bed. I felt Cassian’s eyes follow me all the way to the dress as I picked it up and fished the gaudy ring out of the pocket. 

“What is that?” he asked, scooching up the bed curiously. 

“It’s my engagement ring,” I deadpanned, slipping the ring on my finger once more. My eyes turned to Cassian who had thankfully put on pants while I was in the other room, not that his muscled chest wasn’t distraction enough. 

“Are you going to give it back?” he asked and I could hear the layers of uncertainty in his tone, It nearly broke my heart in two. 

“Not yet.” I sigh, inspecting the ring on my finger. “For now we will have to go on acting like nothing is happening. I can’t tell Eris yet. I need to find a way to get more armies for our court.” 

Cassian stands and I can feel his tension radiating throughout the room, the presence of a general making itself known.

“You know that Eris won’t just give us armies without something in return,” he says, his tone trying not to waver. 

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change the contract,” I say turning to him. “All he seems to want is a son. Maybe if I can give him one he will let me go and we can-” 

“No, absolutely not,” Cassian’s rough voice cuts me off. “I won’t let you pay for armies with your body. Not when the troops I’ve trained are ten times better fighters than the Autumn Court armies,” he argues, coming to stand in front of me.

He takes his hands in mine, thumbs brushing across the band on my left hand. He’s practically begging me to look at him but I can’t face the embarrassment I feel. Not when he’s so honorable. 

“I don’t doubt your abilities Cass, but it’s about numbers right now. Hybern has more bodies than we do. We need more soldiers.” I say quietly. 

I know that I’m right, but pushing Cassian away feels like the most wrong thing I could ever do, and I can’t decide which feeling should prevail. 

“I would rather die than watch you carry Eris’ son,” he says shortly like the words themselves are cutting his mouth. 

My eyes finally meet his, and in that deep hazel lies a worry by the likes of which I’ve never seen. “Do you love me, Cass?” I ask, trying not to tear up. 

“You know that I do,” he assures me, moving a hair out of my face. 

“Then I need you to trust me. I need you to understand that the safety of my court matters to me. I love you Cassian and I want to be with you always. I’ve denied myself of you for so long that I know I can’t stay away from you now. But just like it’s Rhys’ job to be High Lord it’s my job to be a Princess.” I start watching his eyes soften already. “Give me time to figure this out. I’m going to find a way that I can have you and have my court safe. I just need you to give me time and I need you to believe in me.” 

Cassian’s eyes soften and his hands move from my own to my back, pulling me into a hug. I can’t help but wrap my arms around him as well, remembering a time when it was all I wanted. 

“I understand, and I trust you y/n,” he says into my hair and I feel my body relax. “I only have one condition.” 

“Anything Cass,” I say into his chest. 

“That we continue this courtship in secret,” he states. “I know it’s a lot to ask but I don’t think I can stay away from you y/n.” 

I can’t help but smile at his words. “Of course Cass. I had no intention of being without you,” I say now staring up at him. “Besides, it might be fun to have a secret relationship,” I smirk, leaning in for a kiss. 

Our kiss was halted by commotion erupting from down the hall.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Azriel’s voice boomed from the living area down the hall. 

I pulled away from the kiss and Cassian and I’s eyes met with a confused glance, both our brows furrowed. My mind races through the night's events trying to figure out what could’ve made Azriel so upset. Then it dawned on me.

“The puppy!” Cassian and I both exclaimed in unison. 

I pushed myself off Cassian making a beeline for the door. My bare feet padded down the carpeted hall toward where I left the little pup. Curse Cassian and his glorious body and his delightful cock for making me forget about the little furball I left sleeping by the fire. 

I turn the corner to find Azriel holding the pup in one arm as he inspects the whiskey glass I broke when Cassian had me on the counter. Azriel’s jaw drops and I look down to realize that I’m still in Cassian’s shirt. As if in queue the general himself rounds the corner half-naked. My eyes flitted to Azriel’s other hand which had a chewed-up boot grasped in it. 

“Oh, Az I’m so sorry,” I say, padding over to pluck the pup from his arm. She greeted me happily, licking my face as she had done a thousand times before. 

Azriel inhaled sharply and twisted his face, “I love y/n, but you reek of Cassian.” he cringed. 

“Hey!” Cassian protested from the other side of the room. 

“We are the worst secret keepers in the world,” I laugh, turning to Cass with the puppy in my arms. 

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Azriel laughs. “But I need to know why there’s a puppy here.” 

“Cassian got drunk and stole it from Eris for me,” I laughed, placing a kiss on the puppy's head. 

“Well if you need to find her a home I know someone,” Azriel said, stepping closer to brush a large hand over the pup's face. 

“Really?” I asked Cassian who was watching his brother expectantly. 

“Yeah, I just came from Windhaven. There’s a little girl there who just lost her mother. I think she might need a new friend,” Azriel smiled at me, petting the pup again.  

I looked at Cassian, my eyes already pricking with tears at the thought of giving a little girl some hope. He just gazed at me like I put the stars in the sky, or wrote one of those damned war books he loved so much. I’m not sure what changed last night for him, but I would never protest the way he looked at me now. 

“You want to go to Windhaven little girl?” I asked the puppy, and all I got in response was another big lick.

Cassian's pov:

“I can’t believe you finally did it man!” Azriel cheered enthusiastically, clapping me on the back.  

We had just given the little girl her new friend and were now inspecting the camp. I wished I had Rhys’ ability to show people things mind to mind, Y/n would’ve loved the sight of that little girl seeing the puppy for the first time. Her eyes lit up and I could tell that she hadn’t felt true happiness for quite some time. She said she was going to name the puppy Mira and then proceeded to talk Az and I’s ear off about how they were going to everything on earth together. Y/n would’ve loved to see the puppy find a happy ending, but I didn’t want her anywhere near this camp. 

“Yeah I guess I did,” I shrugged. 

I knew that I should be more enthusiastic about finally being able to be with y/n, hell I should be in a temple on my hands and knees thanking the cauldron that she's my mate. But there was a lingering fear and sadness that I would still lose her to Eris despite it all. 

“Why don’t you sound excited about this? This is the girl you’ve been pining over for years and now she’s your girlfriend,” Az pushed my shoulder trying to snap me out of my funk. 

“She’s not just my girlfriend Az,” I admitted, kicking a stray rock out of my path. 

“Wait what,” Az said, footsteps coming to a halt on the gravel path. “She’s your-” 

“Mate,” I cut him off. “Y/n is my mate,” I say and I can’t help but smile at finally getting to say the words out loud. 

In an instant Azriel’s arms were thrown around me nearly tackling me to the ground, “Cass I’m so fucking happy for you. You both must be so happy,” he cheers and I feel the sadness creeping in again. 

“She doesn’t know yet,” I tell him, stepping away from his embrace.

“What do you mean she doesn’t know?” Azriel says furrowing his eyebrows. 

“The bond snapped for me and not her,” I say sitting down on a log. “I was going to tell her, but she is still dead set on getting us those armies from Eris and she was so passionate about saving her people I couldn’t bring myself to complicate things for her. She’s going to try to negotiate with Eris so we can be together and still have the Autumn Court’s alliance. But, she needs time to think of a plan, that’s why we can’t tell a soul about us, not even Rhys. I’m worried I’m going to lose her Az.” 

Azriel sits down on the log next to me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Trust her Cass, she’s a princess she knows what she’s doing,” he assures me. 

“I just don’t understand why she won’t just call off the engagement!” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. 

“She bears a burden we will never fully understand. So does Rhys. All we can do is be here for both of them and show them support,” Az says, turning his gaze to the valley below us. 

My head hears his words and understands them. I know why this matters to y/n and I know that no matter what I say we really do need more soldiers. However, it doesn’t stop my heart from lurching just thinking about how Eris will treat her while she figures out her plan. Gods this is so wrong…

Wrong 

Wrong 

Wrong 

Wrong 

y/n's pov:

I had never worn red in my life. 

Night court black was always my color of choice and at times I would branch out to blues or darker shades of violet but never red. Yet here I found myself, clad in a burgundy dress. 

Apparently becoming Eris' fiance came with certain aesthetic changes that were out of my control. Yesterday a whole trove of dresses in varying reds and oranges and even a few gold ones were sent to the house. Some were labeled for certain events, like the upcoming engagement party that was occurring at the end of the week. Others weren’t labeled for anything, like the one I wore now. Nevertheless, I hated every single one of them. 

“Any particular reason why you’re wearing red today?” Cassian smirked from where he stood in the foyer, his chest puffing up with male pride as his siphons seemed to glow. 

I realized that he thought I had chosen red to match his siphons. My cheeks flushed at the comment as I peered down at the gossamer fabric. Red wasn’t just the Autumn Court’s color, it was Cassian’s color, and suddenly I didn’t mind the change so much. 

“Unfortunately no,” I sigh, taking his hands in mine. “Eris sent a bunch of these over, it seems I’m already expected to assimilate into the Autumn Court culture.”

Cassian smiles at me putting his hands on my waist, “Well you look lovely in my color darling,” he says nuzzling my neck and I’m immediately put at ease. 

I tilt my head up to place a loving kiss on his lips, relishing the feeling of him moving against me, his hands gripping my waist tighter. It was likely the last kiss we would have today. I pulled away to admire that beautiful face. 

“Now remember we have to act like nothing is going on between us,” I remind him. “That means if Eris touches me in a less than polite way you can’t intervene or you’ll blow the whole operation.”

“May I imagine all the ways I wish I could intervene if he does?” Cassian smirks, pressing a kiss to my forehead and holding me close. 

“Only if you tell me about them when we get home,” I laughed into his chest. 

“Done deal princess,” he chuckles, letting me go. 

I check to see that my engagement ring is on and the glamour to hide my scent from Eris is up before Cassian scoops me up and launches us into the sky.

As we fly over the mountains and valleys I can’t help but let my mind drift to my current running plan. I figured the best course of action would be to make Eris realize how poorly matched we are. He might want to be the “first” to bed me, but after that, he’s still married to me and he certainly wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his life with me. Not when I hated him. If I could scare him with the permanence of marriage maybe he would back out altogether. Then we could try and renegotiate for some of his armies.

We land firmly on Autumn Court soil and like always Eris is there to greet me within moments. I let my hand rest on Cassian's shoulder for as long as I possibly can and the second I have to reach for Eris I already find myself missing the warmth of him.

“You’re a vision in Autumn Court red my pet,” Eris muses, pressing a kiss to my lips.

“I was surprised you sent me so many,” I say, looping my arm in his and letting him lead me through the castle. 

“Well now that you’re officially mine it was time to start decorating you,” he smirked, glancing down to the ring on my left hand. 

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes at the comment. “Well they certainly are beautiful,” I say shortly trying to not let my disdain show. 

“You’ll have many more after we are married of course,” he replies. 

My stomach lurches at the thought of the wedding taking place in just a couple weeks. Dear gods, I hoped this ramshackle plan of mine worked. I wanted to bring up the idea of marriage now but my thoughts were cut off as we rounded the corner to find a large banquet hall full of large three-tier cakes. Four or five servants rushed about fixing each cake and setting up the plates and forks. As we approached the table I ran my hand along the thick tablecloth admiring the details on each white frosted cake. 

“You sure are hungry,” I joked with Eris glancing behind me to see Cassian standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. 

Eris let out a chuckle, “I can assure you it’s not the cakes I’m hungry for my pet,” he says low into my ear, his proximity suddenly way too close for comfort. 

“We have a grand selection of cakes for you to choose from,” interjected one of the servants who was helping set it up. I had never been so thankful for an interruption. “The one before you is red velvet with a white chocolate buttercream.”

If I had to deal with Eris today at least I would get to do it with cake. I grabbed the pre-sliced cake before me and went to take a bite. I hated to admit it, but it was incredible. The sugary, spongy cake melted in my mouth and the sweet frosting made for the perfect companion. 

“What do you think little flame?” Eris asked, finishing a bite of his own.

“It’s incredible,” I nearly moaned, trying not to talk as I savored my second bite. 

“If you like that one you might like the chocolate raspberry with the same frosting,” she said, handing us each a plate of another cake.

Once again the dessert melted in my mouth, somehow even better than the one before it. The servant left us to bring out more flavors while we spent the next few minutes comparing cakes. Eris was being uncharacteristically normal and I started to wonder if he had regretted his behavior at the ball. If he had he didn’t acknowledge it. 

We approached the last cake on the long banquet table and I couldn’t help but notice the intricate designs piped onto each tier. Large white leaves cascaded down each level like fresh ivy. If I didn’t know it was frosting, I would’ve thought it was hand-carved marble. 

Suddenly Eris’ presence behind me was more than stifling as I felt the heat radiate from his body. He reached an arm around me to wipe a finger through the intricate design of the pastry. He stood next to me and almost as if on instinct my eyes fixated on his. His once amber eyes were a darker color than usual and I knew it wasn’t because of the lighting. 

“Open,” he instructed, holding his finger close to my lips.  

My mind told me to fight, scream, kick, and run into Cassian’s arms. I could sense the general's burning stare to my far right. But as if I was puppeteered, opened my mouth and closed it around Eris’ finger. The flavor of sour lemon coated my tongue, how fitting. He pulled the finger out with a pop, his eyes darkening at the sight of the leftover frosting on my lips.

“Good pet,” he smirked before taking my hand and wiping one of my fingers through the frosting so he could do the same to me. His mouth wrapping around my digit had me ripping my hand from his grasp in panic.

“Eris I want to talk about the wedding,” I said foolishly, acting on pure emotion. 

“What about it little flame?” He asked, resting his hands on my waist.

I took a second to ground myself, taking a deep breath to keep myself from lashing out and acting like a fool. If I wanted this to work I had to be dignified and collected. I had to make sense. 

“I just want us to really think about it,” I start as he nuzzles my neck. “I mean marriage is forever.”

“It better be,” Eris says, pressing a kiss to my temple, his hands wandering up and down my waist possessively. 

“Forever's a long time, I’m just not sure-” 

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” Eris cuts me off stepping back to look at my face. 

I scan his face, trying to decide if I should tell him the truth. This conversation was not going the way I wanted. 

“You know that I don’t,” I say calmly hoping he’ll see reason.  

Eris’ eyes darken again the silence so heavy between us the only thing that can be heard is the clattering of plates and forks that the servants are cleaning up. I look for a hint of anger within those auburn eyes but all I find is a simmering calm. One that doesn’t ease my nerves. 

“Leave us, all of you,” Eris orders the waitstaff. The sound of hurried steps echoes about the room as Eris keeps his eyes on me. “That means you too filth,” he turns his head to Cassian. 

I turn to meet his eyes as he scans me for any sign of panic. But I just nod at him to follow Eris’ orders. I don’t know what comes next, but I do know that if Eris finds out even the smallest information about us Cassian’s life will be forfeit. 

Cassian nods back before stepping outside the double oak doors and shutting them. 

The air in the room thickens and I swear the candles lighting the chandelier above us start to dim like all the life had been sucked out of the room. Eris stepped closer to me and I felt my backside hit the edge of the table as he loomed over me. 

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, pet,” he grated. “The second I slipped that ring on your finger you became mine. My property. Mine to own. If you don’t love me now I will make you love me if only to have that much more control over you.” he said, slipping a finger under my chin to force my gaze upon him. 

“I could never-” 

His hands slipped under me, placing me on the banquet table, “I would be careful what you say little flame,” he growled, hiking my skirts up so he could run a hand over my thigh. 

“Eris you can’t fuck me we aren’t married yet,” I gritted as he started leaving open mouth kisses on my neck. 

“Who said anything about fucking you?” he sneered in my ear hand moving up the inside of my thigh to cup my sex. “I just want to play with my new toy.” 

I was petrified. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even think as his hand slid into my panties and up my folds. A low groan rumbled from his chest. This time I didn’t stop the tears as they fell silently down my face. 

Cassian's pov:

I had been in battle before. I had seen friends and fellow soldiers die right next to me and whenever it happened I was filled with an insatiable rage that had me killing everything within a 10-foot radius. 

Nothing compared to the fury I felt now. 

He’s touching your mate.

He’s touching your mate.

He’s touching your mate.

It was like my biological makeup was forcing me to tear the doors from their limbs and rip Eris to shreds. I could feel everything. Her ice-cold fear mixed with moments of pleasure that I knew were beyond her control. 

The sound of shattered glass on the marble floor reverberated from the other side of the door…

I swear my blood started boiling beneath my skin as I felt every emotion she was going through. The only thing keeping me in check was the knowledge that if I betrayed her trust, I would never regain it. That thought made me equally sick so I chanted the only thing I could think of in my mind. 

Hold on baby

Hold on baby

Hold on baby

y/n's pov:

The bathwater was scalding hot. Just like I had instructed the house to make it.

When it was time to go Cassian had asked me if I wanted to talk about it but I just couldn’t face it. I couldn’t admit to him what had happened. I just felt so dirty, and if I was even going to speak to him I had to feel clean again. This is how I found myself flying home with him in silence before making a beeline to the bathroom to jump in a boiling hot bath. 

Well, his bathroom to be exact. For some reason being in an abnormally large tub felt more comforting at the moment. As I at in the middle of the pool-sized tub I started to feel Eris’ hands being washed off me. 

The experience was horrible. 

While he fingered me he allowed his hands and his mouth to run over every square inch of my body. My neck, my legs, my waist, the swell of my breasts. The only saving grace I had was that he didn’t take my dress off, but what comfort was that really? 

The worst part of it all was that I came for him. Something I wanted to reserve for Cassian and Cassian alone. The look on my face when I came undone, the sounds I made, all of those belonged to Cass. Yet, Eris had now borne witness to it, and I wondered if my general would still want me. 

A light knock sounded at the door. One I declined to answer. 

The door creaked open and from the side of my eye, I could see a tall figure in the doorway. His hair was swept up in a bundle at the base of his neck, red siphons glowing. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Cassian asked quietly, like if he spoke too loud I might shatter into a million pieces. 

“Not really,” I deadpanned, still unable to meet his gaze.

 I felt him kneel down beside the edge of the bath and in that moment I knew that he was aware of what transpired behind those closed doors and it took everything in me to not spill my guts. 

“Why my bath?” he asked, sensing I didn’t want to talk about it.

The subject change had me turn my eyes to him. Swirling around in that shade of hazel that made my stomach flip was all the sadness in the world and I cursed myself for being the reason that was so. Gods, I was a fucking monster no matter what I did. If I left Eris to be with Cassian I would bear the blood of thousands and if I stayed with Eris then I would watch the love of my life and the most honorable man I know be torn to shreds. 

“It’s bigger,” I shrug lifting my hand from the water to place it on his forearm that rests on the edge of the tub.  

He glances down to where our skin meets and I see his eyes go wide at the angry red color of my arm. 

“Y/n the water is too hot you’re burning yourself,” he fussed, placing a cool hand over the irritated skin. His eyes were glassy with worry and it drove a stake through my heart.  

“I don’t care,” I uttered. “I need the feeling of his hands all over me washed off.”  

“Then let me help you,” he says softly, grabbing a washcloth beside him and the bar of soap. “This is all I have,” he holds up the cedar-scented soap. “Do you want me to go to your room to get you something better?” 

“No, that’s fine,” I nod to him.

He lathers the soap in his hands and rubs down my shoulders, his strong fingers rubbing the tension from my muscles. The familiar smell of cedar surrounds me and I take a deep breath to bring the familiar smell deeper into my lungs. 

Cassian takes his time washing every inch of me, all the while his eyes looking for marks that Eris might’ve left of me. Like if he saw even the faintest bruise he would fly back and put his head on a pike. Cassian touches me like I’m made of glass and could shatter at every moment. Even while washing the most intimate parts of me he never made it feel sensual, it was just care, and love. 

He used the small bowl at the side of the tub to rinse the soap out of my hair, finally cleansing me of Eris at last.

“Better?” he asked, his voice less timid than last time. My body had loosened up, signaling I was coming back to myself. 

“Much better,” I smiled at him. “But I would be astronomically better if you were in here with me.”

“Can’t say no to that,” he smirked, rising from his knees to tug his clothes off. 

I couldn’t help but stare as he meticulously de-robed himself. Every gracefully carved muscle, every scar, the way that he moved. It was all so captivating. I had seen him bare before, but that was in a heat of lust. Seeing him like this? He was a work of art and I desperately wished I was an artist so I could paint him. 

He slipped into the tub behind me, arms instinctively wrapping around me to cradle me to his chest. On instinct, I flinched. Not because I thought Cassian would ever hurt me, but because I felt like I still carried the weight of what Eris had done to me. 

“You don’t have to feel guilty about what happened, you know?” Cassian said as if sensing my feelings. “You were a victim y/n. If I had been given permission I would’ve torn him limb from limb for touching you like that.” 

My body relaxed against his words but it didn’t stop the thought that plagued my mind, “he made me cum Cass.” I whispered. 

“That was your body’s natural reaction. You can’t control that,” he assures me, holding me even tighter. 

A beat of silence passes and I can’t help but remember the feeling of coming undone for Eris. 

Wrong. 

Wrong. 

Wrong. 

It felt so wrong when it happened. I had never been more ashamed in my life. I had promised that all of me belonged to Cassian and yet my own body betrayed me. I knew Cassian was right, it was just my body reacting, but it still happened and it raised one question…Did Cass still love me knowing that I had been defiled by another man?

I knew it was pathetic to ask. I felt like an idiot even bringing it up. But I wouldn’t know peace until I heard his answer.

“Do you still love me?” I said quietly, like if I said the words too loud they would turn around and bite at me. 

“Gods y/n of course I still love you. Sometimes I love you so much I can’t breathe, it’s like the words get caught in my throat and they suffocate me,” he says burying his head into the crook of my neck. 

I turn in his grasp to face him, water splashing around and spilling onto the tile floor. He looks so vulnerable like this, and it only makes me love him more. The fact that my mighty general would be this vulnerable for me, and only for me.

“Eris might take, and take, and take from me until I can figure this out,” I say, my wet hand caressing his cheek. “But all the while, I want you to know that every square inch of me belongs to you, Cassian. When my body leaves this world, my soul will stay with you, for to separate the two would be sacrilege.”

“Y/n,” he breathes softly before pressing his lips to mine. 

The feeling of his skin against mine is enough to cloud my head. The love is so strong, so real, the realest thing I’ve ever known. The kind of love that inspires books and sonnets. The kind of love that weaves its way into mythology forever recited by drunken men in taverns. 

I feel his arousal grow beneath me and my body goes weak at the knowledge that it happened just kissing me. 

“Fuck,” he hissed pulling away to peer down. “I’m so sorry y/n, I know you don’t want to given all that you went through-” 

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his, earning a low groan from deep in his chest. Maybe he’s right and I shouldn’t want this right now. But I do. I want him, I want all of him and I wonder if I’ll ever be truly sated. 

My hand ghosts over his chest, past his abs, and towards his cock. I pull my mouth from him to watch his face as I hardness beneath my fingers. In one swift motion, I line myself up and sink down onto him. 

“Oh fuck,” he moans, his eyes blown wide as he grips my hips sliding me up and down his length.

“Cassian,” I whisper long and low feeling every solid inch of him fucking into me.

His hands roamed my water-slick skin, making it easy for him to touch every inch of me. I would never get tired of this, of feeling so full. Of feeling completely and utterly one with him. I slammed my hips down on his, not caring about the massive amounts of water splashing over the edges. My hands roamed all over his body, loving the feel of every muscle beneath my fingers. 

“It’s like you were fucking made for me,” Cassian groans moving a wet hair from my face so he can press his forehead to mine.   

I place my hands on his abs to help move myself up and down his cock. My fingers secretly commit every single muscle to memory and I swear one day I’ll get myself off on his abs alone. My eyes open just enough to watch his face contorted in pleasure. His eyebrows furrow as if he’s trying to keep himself from losing control. 

I slow my movements, unable to keep the pace I set. His hands fly back to my hips holding them in place and suddenly he’s fucking himself into me at a rate that has my body going limp. The only thing keeping me up? My hands braced on his pecs.

“Oh gods Cassian!” I cry, my voice broken up as he hits me so deeply I never thought possible. 

“Cum for me y/n,” he grits out and it’s enough to have me seeing stars. 

“Ahhhh Cass!” I cry, cumming all over his cock eyes brimming with tears from the sheer pleasure.

He struggles to thrust back into me from the way my orgasm constricts around him. But I feel his thrusts start to falter as his head falls back on the edge of the tub. He cums in me with a groan so deep and primal I swear I could fuck him again if my legs weren’t so tired. 

I let my upper body fall onto his chest, and the sound of bathwater spilling reverberates around the room. I try to catch my breath as I think of how badly I already need him again. Even in a way that’s not sexual. I just need him near me, need his skin on mine, and for the life of me I can’t explain why. Was sex always like this? Is this why my parents kept me so sheltered? Because if I knew it would be like this I would never be able to stop? 

“Is it always like this?” I panted trying to regain my strength as I slumped onto his chest. “Was it like this with your other partners?” 

“Gods no, you’re my-” he pauses as if he’s thinking of the right thing to say. “You’re the love of my life. It’s not like this with anyone else.” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop needing you Cass,” I say, pressing my lips to his chest already craving the feel of him. 

“I feel the same y/n, I feel the same,” he says, kissing my brow. 

“Take me to bed?” I ask quietly.

“Of course baby,” he chuckles, standing out of the tub and taking me with him. 

I had been sleeping with Cassian for the past three nights after the ball. At first, I tried to sleep in my own bed, ignoring how badly I wanted him to hold me. I didn’t last long, as an hour in I found myself tiptoeing to his bedroom down the hall to crawl under his sheets. Before I could even lift a hand to knock he ripped the door open. Apparently, we both had the same idea. So he swooped me into his arms and tucked us both into bed. 

After that, neither of us even tried to pretend we didn’t want to fall asleep next to one another. 

Cassian dried me off with a fluffy towel, still careful as ever with every touch. After drying himself off he carried me to his bed where we snuggled down beneath the sheets just like we had that first night. 

I took a deep breath, running my fingertips up and down his arms as he spooned me from behind, his breath hot on my neck. As if in response he took a deep breath in, as if to savor me. 

“I can’t tell if I love how you smell like me or if I miss how you always smell like jasmine and amber.” he smiled into the crook of my neck. 

“I like smelling like you,” I laughed snuggling into him more.

Cassian pressed a kiss to my cheek and pulled me impossibly closer to him. As sleep settled deep into my bones I felt him curl a wing around me, like a second layer of protection. At that moment I slept soundly, for no sadistic prince or wicked dream could find me here. 

In that embrace, amidst the warmth and love, I found solace, knowing that in Cassian's arms, no darkness could ever touch me.

Part 7

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study, @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams ,  @sh4nn ,

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, 

[devilmayfamily]

Can I request a shy S/O who has a crush on Vergil/Dante/V and they draw the boys secretly in their sketchbook with little notes like "saw him in those dark blue jeans again he's so beautiful" or "how do I tell him I love him?" etc. The boys stumble upon this and they're so flattered they blush to their chest.

Why is this literally me lol. Hope you enjoy!

Dante

Your sketchbook was filled with sketches of him mostly during training since it was the only time his focus couldn't ver towards you at any given moment

You've indirectly gotten better at drawing action poses and the male torso because of this and the fact that this man goes full Grey Fullbuster and takes off his shirt to train

The other time you're able to draw him is when he's asleep, a magazine covering his face

One particular position you found him laying in had you write a note of "Idk how he's sleeping like this" next to the sketch of it.

Dante has noticed you with this sketchbook and hadn't thought anything of it until he realized he never sees you drawing him in it

His curiosity got the better of him one day and decides to take a look while you left it unattended.

The first few pages were as he expected, sketches of Shadow when she was around, the girls of the team, and even some of the orphanage kids playing from when you would visit Nero and Kyrie

Towards the middle of the book, he found all the sketches of him you'd been hiding

He looks over every single one and reads all the little notes you've left behind

He finds the whole idea of you sketching him cute and endearing

Seeing a particular sketch of him asleep, face facing you, with the note "He looks like he gives nice cuddles" has his face a flame, red tracing all the way down his neck

You drew this scared up man so soft, it was like he was looking at someone else

Vergil

You find going unnoticed by Vergil to be easy

He's always either reading or beating up Dante when not on missions

Vergil finds your sketchbook when he mistakes it for his collection of poems on a particularly sleepy morning

Opening it, he's taken back by all the drawings

It's obvious you have some skill

As he turns the page, he finds an entire spread dedicated to him reading

At the very bottom of the page it reads "he's always reading this thing, i wonder what secrets it holds"

Vergil softly smiles, a faint heat resting across his cheeks wondering if he could share a piece of himself with someone again

He was ready, wasn't he?

Flipping the page he finds a spread dedicated to him cooking, fighting, even simply being dressed up in a suit

"I'll admit, he's sexy in a suit"

Vergil's face sets a flame, the man shutting the sketchbook and replacing it finally with his poems

You become curious by the new sets of suits in the coming days but never complain

V

Griffon stole the sketchbook when you left it unattended

He scolds the bird for digging in your private processions but with a little coaxing from Griffon he looks inside

He's not surprised to see sketches of Shadow and Griffon, the bird boasting about how good he looked

As he turns the page, Griffon teases him for the bright pink blush that spreads across his face upon seeing sketches of himself

"My beautiful muse" is written in a beautiful cursive next to a sketch of V smiling

He flips the page expecting to find something different but it's more drawings of him

"May he ever know how he sets my heart a burning"

V can't help but adore you right then

He smiles, closing the sketchbook as you approach

He looks up to you, his smile causing one to spread across your own face

Griffon makes some comment about leaving you two to it before disappearing

[javarium]

all the good things | geto suguru.

someway, somehow, amidst all of the thoughts of chaos and spiraling ideals of a new “better” world, a light shines through to guide him to a path of true balance. that just so happens to be the second-year transfer from Kyoto, who’s more than happy to put him back on the right path..

warning(s): like 98% canon lmao, female reader, mentions of pregnant! reader towards the end, honestly just wrote and didn’t bother checking if this was coherent but here’s y’all a snack haha, also using new line dividers atm and they’re all all pretty, credits to the maker in the guidelines of my blog

note(s): as much as I wanted to wait I just can’t stand it so here’s this piece published earlier than I want lol. also I didn’t know who to tag for geto so I just went with these lovelies ☺️

You like the Tokyo school much better than the one in Kyoto.

By leaps and bounds actually, you muse.

Everything from the people down to the energy they give off was so much more different — more freeing.

Kyoto was just too much, too old school and too traditional, especially for you. The students there seemed to be more rigid, and the teachers seemed to sneer at you. More often than not for just being a female. That old way of thinking was most likely why they lost the Exchange Event almost every year.

Especially with sorcerers like Geto Suguru on their side.

You transferred to Tokyo during the last half of your first year, which wasn’t something commonplace. That time wasn’t exactly a pleasant time to transfer into. Geto and Gojo, your upperclassmen, had failed a mission protecting the Plasma Star Vessel, Riko Amanai. Yes, Gojo managed to take out the Sorcerer Killer, Fushiguro Toji (who was actually a Zen’in like Naoya) on the mission, but that was only after he had completed his mission — after they had failed to protect Riko.

Now you’re a second-year at Tokyo High, watching the third-year Geto Suguru fall into a spiral of chaos and warped ideals while his friends go their own personal paths and leave him to his own devices, completely unaware in their own worlds that they’ve left a storm brewing behind them, alone and lonely and more than ready to bring down its wrath upon anyone in its way.

You secretly wondered how much Gojo cared for the person who was supposed to be his best friend.

So why you decided to approach said storm to get a (very much well-needed) drink out at the machines while he was preoccupied with his own thoughts, you have no idea. Were you stupid? Yes. Did that matter right now? … Probably.

Your feet carried you to the vending machine, standing beside Geto. You weren’t bothering to look at him out of your peripheral vision, knowing that if you did, the universe would shit on you and he would look up and make eye contact.

Sounds like one of those romance animes or something, you think, nose crunching in distaste. Ew…

“It’s such a shame that you decided to withdraw from Kyoto, [Name]-chan.”

An even bigger problematic ‘ew’ came from behind you. You scowled and turned halfway on your heel, back facing your black-haired upperclassmen to stare at the smirking face of one of the two reasons you’d originally left Kyoto’s school.

You scoff, shaking your head to see Geto’s form standing tall, but still facing the vending machine to get something. That’s all right; you could handle your own battles anyway.

“You really have the audacity to come and talk to me like this? After what you put me through for the last two years? Ah, wait a second. It’s you. So I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Naoya shrugged. “All I asked for was—”

“For you to leave her alone, Zen’in.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the sound of Geto’s voice cutting through the air, but it’s only Naoya that scowls and turns his head to face his Tokyo upperclassmen.

And to your absolute surprise, despite Naoya’s scowl deepening to a point where you thought he couldn’t get any uglier, the male pivoted on the ball of his foot and sauntered off.

“Are you alright?” came the instant inquiry.

Geto moving to get a closer look at you made you sweat even more. Just for a different reason.

“I’m fine, Senpai.”

The tall male looks between you and Naoya’s fading figure, eyes narrowing slightly in distaste up until he sees the Zen’in male finally disappear from sight. Even he knows that the Zen’in’s are trash; Naoya just really takes the cake.

“That’s good,” he says.

And when he looks at you with gentle eyes, you’re surprised (and desperately trying to hide it). How instantly his expression and mood changed from mere moments before Naoya showed up to at this moment caught you off guard.

“Did you need something from here? I can get it for you.”

His offer is so sincere, so polite. Such a stark contrast from earlier. Especially with the way the bright smile on his face that reaches his ears and makes the corners of his eyes begin to crinkle.

Instead of the same uncertainty from before your approach filling your stomach, this time feels different. This time, it’s an excited, happy feeling; as if butterflies are rapidly fluttering away in your belly in eager anticipation of something wonderful to come.

“Um, yes,” you squeak, looking to the machines, “I was going to get—”

>>>>

How long does it take for one to fall from grace?

From one who’s fingers touched the pure white clouds of heaven to becoming one who’s knees were stuck deep within the obsidian tar pits of hell, it seemed Geto Suguru was destined to struggle with himself — with his morals and ideals of the world of jujutsu sorcerers and the world of people that lived outside of it — for eternity.

Someone that was so bright, so revered, to fall into a pit of hopelessness?

It must be a lie, others would think.

Watching him sink into the pits of chaos and despair while his best friend rose to a place where he became untouchable to all sorcerers… made something terrible, something spiteful, stir within the depths of your stomach. How much did the white-haired teenager care about the one he called his equal?

But as Gojo became more and more powerful and left his friend behind, Geto too, grew in power in his own right.

And a lot of it was with you.

Weeks of meeting at the vending machines for snacks during training turned into months of sitting on benches and eating lunch together. Even that progressed farther, to him taking you to everything from restaurants to the book store (as much as he’d laugh at you buying manga, he was just as much of a hypocrite with Inuyasha under his arm) to even pretty lakes across Japan, soaring atop one of his flying curses.

Doing things that friends do. That people more than friends also do.

But at the same time, during those times after missions or simply while spending time together in either his or your room, you’d see that malicious darkness fester up. You’d see the way his brows would furrow when you mentioned saving someone or his lips pull down when there’d be a mention of the higher-ups about a mission you’d taken recently that went sour.

In times like these, you wondered if Gojo Satoru really did once know Geto Suguru the same way you knew him now.

“I can see the sweat on your forehead,” the black-haired male jokes. “You shouldn’t think so hard.”

Suguru doesn’t chuckle, but the joking smile of amusement is still there. It’s just a faint one. He’s become less and less of a jokester lately, swimming deeper into the darkness. But for you, you think he tries a little harder to keep the mood and air between you two as light and positive as possible.

(For you.)

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” you quip back, “for the next time I see sweat on your brow for thinking so much. Hypocrite.”

For the first time all day, he finally chuckles.

“Hypocrite?” He muses, placing his cheek on his fist. “Really?”

“Yes!” You toss your hands up in mock frustration. “You heard me, Mr. I-Wanna-Brood-At-Weird-Times-of-the-Day.”

“That’s an awfully long name.”

“It sure does fit though, yeah?”

“So you say.”

The air had been tense and thick since morning, but the two of you were striving to get past it. Well, you slightly more, but the more you tried, the more Geto — ah, Suguru. He already told you to call him that, didn’t he? — seemed to try and help you push for a happier tone.

But the mission Suguru was to be sent on soon had him shut down mentally, closed off from you for the last few days. And today was the day you’d tried to pick him back up out of his crappy mood.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” you ask.

Suguru sighs, then nods his head. “It’s nothing. I’ll be back by the day after, if not sooner.”

You shrug, semi-happy with his response and accepting it. But the other half of you knows something — sees something — behind his pretty eyes that you wished you would have left alone.

But your heart loved to meddle when it wanted to meddle.

And in the future, you hoped Suguru would thank you for that meddling nature.

****

113 bodies were to be found five days after Geto arrived at the village he was assigned to.

But he hadn’t been alone the day he arrived.

Suguru just didn’t know that.

You’d stuck to him like glue. Well, as far back as glue could stretch in that regard. You’d silenced your cursed energy so much that you almost swore you didn’t even have any. And not once did the male turn around to bother to look around or check his surroundings, like he knew he was ever being followed.

Now, all you could do was watch as Suguru stepped into the house that the villagers brought him to. Supposedly, the house contained the reason why the villagers had been dying.

But that gnawing anxiousness in the pit of your stomach told you otherwise. It told you that something was about to go very, very wrong.

Very few people had been able to manage to near-fully suppress their cursed energy aura. It was a talent that could only be managed by a select few, one of which was probably Gojo Satoru himself. But when one successfully did it, all the stories told of how nauseous they felt; how overwhelming the sense of others cursed energy could be.

And it was all true.

Bile and your lunch nearly coated your shoes. Knees too had you let Suguru’s immense, Special Grade cursed energy make you sink to the ground.

It isn’t the same. It isn’t the same. It isn’t the same!

Eyes blown wide as saucers, you realized that something had indeed went very, very wrong inside that house. Because no longer was Suguru’s cursed energy driven by regular means like a regular jujutsu sorcerer.

No. All you could see from his cursed energy was pure malice and raw, unadulterated rage and anger.

Whatever these people said or have done to send him into such fury like this, you couldn’t move, only think. This is the day they die.

Out of the house comes two— No, three. Suguru being one of them. A man and a woman, both with ugly faces and ugly auras you didn’t like.

No wonder Suguru doesn’t like them.

A curse manifests from your friend’s fingertips, and you quickly realize what’s about to happen — the only thing that could happen.

But he can’t just kill them…

You step out of your hiding spot and shout his name. Shock enters Suguru’s eyes. Of course; he hadn’t expected you to be here. But then they glaze over with a mixture of emotions. Disappointment seems to be the most obvious.

Curse you, Yuki Tsukumo, for tipping him over the edge.

“Don’t even try it, Suguru.”

“You shouldn’t have come, [Name].” It sounded like a warning.

You scoff slightly. “And let you do something like this? I don’t think so.”

His eyes narrow. It’s an expression you don’t like.

“You need to leave.”

“So do you, apparently.”

“Don’t be like this, [Name]. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t anyway. Why let one awful circumstance, one awful event, define the rest of your life?”

“Do you know what they’ve done?” he asks, and you clearly hear the intent of violence behind his tone. You see his jaw clench up and a dangerous fire ignite behind his eyes. “Do you know they have two girls locked up in there, ready to kill?”

“Of course not,” you say, “but you were about to do something that was going to impact your life… Forever.”

“I think I’m ready for that.”

“You’re ready to lose everything?”

“If I must.”

You almost bite your tongue. But you don’t, and speak anyway.

“Even me?”

The thick, black smokiness of one his curses dancing on his fingertips turns to wisps, almost vanishing. You see what the question does to him, so you press farther. Deeper into the unspoken part of you two’s relationship you’d both been afraid to touch on.

Then, he admits something, dipping first into waters that haven’t been treaded into.

“I’d like to think you’d come with me, be by my side.”

Your heart thumps faster. It’s a declaration of many things: loyalty, friendship, trust.

But all your ears hear is a declaration of love.

Because you don’t miss the way his eyes shine as he looks you up and down like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. Like he wants you to actually follow him like he expected, to come with him and step in place next to him like an equal.

If not more than just an equal.

“I can’t do that,” you reply. “You know I can’t, Suguru. And neither can you.”

It’s written all over his face that he doesn’t like your answer.

“And why can’t I?”

“Because you’re better than this.”

…

…

Was he? What did that mean anyway: being better? After Riko, after his “talk” with Yuki, everything just seemed to collapse around him; everything he knew ripping apart at the seams faster than he could repair them.

Why? Why was he supposed to be better? How could he be better? Did he deserve to even become better?

“Don’t take the easy way,” you tell him. “There’ll never be a right answer, not right now at least.”

“Killing all non-sorcerers seems like a pretty good start,” he replies darkly.

“And how would you even manage that?” you retort. “If that’s the only thing you can stand on, that’s shallow.”

“Then what is the answer, [Name]? Do tell me, please,” he urges sarcastically, rolling his dark eyes. “Is killing every non-sorcerer not worth us jujutsu sorcerers having a chance to live?”

You answer as earnestly as he expects, “I have no idea, but at the moment, it sounds pretty stupid.”

Unfortunately, it takes him much longer than you want for him to put the monster at his fingertips away, for his cursed energy to dip down and go back to the way it was before it spiked in a rage you’d never anticipated to see from him.

The village is scathed with fire and terror: burned buildings with its inhabitants shaken to the core over the consequences of their actions — and what would happen if they tried to put more children in the cage Suguru found them in. It’s not ethical, and surely you’d hear about it from the higher-ups in jujutsu society.

But for the girls wrapped up in yours and Suguru’s arms, you heart and soul knew it was worth it.

Megumi doesn’t get along with Nanako too well. But you’re sure you know why, with his red cheeks and all.

“You think he’ll ever say anything?” you ask your husband.

“Doubtful,” Suguru chuckles, “considering he was raised by Satoru.”

It’s been a rough ten years raising the twins. There’s been a long list of issues, struggles over the last several years that have really put your relationship with your now-husband to the test. From the elders to Suguru’s own conflicting ideals; from his own coping mechanisms to making sure you and his girls are well taken care of, and those are just a few to list. But fixing Satoru and Suguru’s friendship was by far the most difficult thing.

Riko’s death really did change them in the most awful ways.

“Satoru has only gotten crazier over the years,” you hum, agreeing. “I still can’t believe Satoru brought Sukuna’s vessel here.”

“I think you mean stupid, darling,” Suguru chuckles. “And did you know he gave Itadori a second finger?”

“Disgusting! All in true Satoru taste, too.”

“Hey! I can hear you two, you know!” the white-haired male complains.

“Good!” you shout back.

And cue Satoru’s crocodile tears. “Suguru really did marry a witch!”

You feel the veins in your head twitch with irritation. You’d always hated that damn nickname.

You moved to stand up to go and whack the shit out of the manchild, but your husband’s hand settled on your knee. You looked at him curiously, sitting back down.

“Sit,” he says. “Getting worked up like that isn’t good for you right now. Shoko said to keep it minimal for now, remember?”

You snort. “You’ve drilled it into me, Sugu.”

“Good. I’ll be back in a moment.”

His hand rests on your belly for moment, presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then stands up to go and beat the shit out of his best friend to defend his wife’s honor.

And maybe to have some fun, too.

taglist: @vagabond-umlaut • @itzmeme • @dellalyra • @torusmochi

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

ONLY HUMAN

Summary: Changes are happening. Rafe can feel it.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Dub-Con/Non-Con, "Blood-Drinking", Character Death, Smut, Horror.

Word Count: 2k words

Author's Note: Wanted to contribute to Kintober but also wanted to experiment with how and what I write. Hope you enjoy and Happy Halloween 😈

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

It was the headaches that first hinted something was wrong.

Not just mild, fleeting headaches, but relentless migraines. They were excruciating, bouts of pain that seemed to originate from deep within his skull, right behind his eyes and radiating outwards in waves.

They were accompanied by disturbing visual auras—shimmering zigzags of light that swirled around his field of vision, making the world seem fractured and broken.  He couldn't help but wonder if something sinister was taking root—something malignant, something deadly.

Over-the-counter pain pills and the heavy prescribed meds from his dad’s bathroom cabinet didn’t help. Being exposed to sunlight only made things worse; once a source of warmth, now felt like molten fire, forcing him to wear his sunglasses indoors. But after a while even that didn't work.

The only respite came when he submerged himself in utter darkness. And so his days became isolated, cocooned within the confines of his bedroom. The thick, heavy curtains drawn creating a sanctuary from the glaring sunlight that now felt like an enemy.

Cloaked in this artificial night, he clung to the few comforts that remained: scrolling through his Instagram feed to stay connected with friends. But even their mundane accomplishments made him feel worse, knowing the world carried on—while his was standing still.

Topper boasted about his championship win and how his dad was lending him the family boat to celebrate. Kelce posted pictures of himself at the golf club, scoring a suspiciously low 90. And then there was you. Sweet you. Pretty you.

“When did you get a puppy?”

He clicked on the video, showing you cradling the little fur ball. Despite the pain, a chuckle escaped Rafe's lips.

Ah, so it wasn’t your pup after all but a friend’s, he mused. He watched as you gently petted and cooed at it, your voice a calming balm soothed even his anxiety while his gaze drank in your contented features slowly, lingering just a tad too long on your eyes and lips.

Clearing his throat Rafe clicked off the vid.

RAFE- Yo can you guys quit posting this shit? You know I'm dying over here. Don't need to feel like killing myself too.

The boys' "lols" and your kiss and hug emojis, along with well-wishes, made him smile, giving him a glimmer of hope. "It'll pass in a few days," Topper responded. "Migraines can't last forever. You'll be up and about soon," you assured. And for a brief moment, Rafe believed it.

But then, the loss of appetite hit him.

Food suddenly didn't have the same appeal anymore, not after the headaches started. Bland, tasteless, gagging on his favorite meal—the texture of food itself seemed off somehow, like it wasn't going down quite right, like it wouldn't clear his throat when he swallowed it. And if the terrible texture wasn't bad enough, it tasted like it wasn't made for human consumption. Every bite seemed artificial, a blend of plastics and chemicals.

Drinking water only seemed to make things worse—every sip led to a lurching of his stomach, a violent uprising of nausea that ended with him hunched over the toilet, retching, even when it seemed there was nothing left.

Enough was enough.

He decided to video call Dr. Morris.

"Were you able to take your temperature recently?" She asked as she scribbled down his list of symptoms.

Rafe touched a hand to his forehead. "Yeah, it’s pretty normal. Checked it this morning; it was 98.6, or maybe just a touch below."

"Alright..." Dr. Morris murmured as she scribbled notes. "And the headaches, did they appear with the eye changes?"

"Eye changes? What changes?"

Dr. Morris gave a short laugh as if he was pulling her leg but stopped immediately when he didn't laugh with her. "There's discolouration around the edge," she said, her finger making a circle near her own pupil. "It's crimson. Haven't you noticed the color change?"

Rafe leaned closer to the screen, trying to see the reflection of his own eyes. They did seem different—possibly a bit darker around the edges? It was hard to tell in the dim light.

"I haven't noticed—no offense, doc, but I've had other things on my mind," he replied tersely. "So, what's wrong with me?"

"These symptoms can indicate many things: the flu, food intolerance, a bacterial infection. We'll need to run tests. But given your age and lifestyle, I suspect it's just a bug. I'll refer you to Claire for a blood test appointment this week, and in the meantime, I'll prescribe something for nausea to help you keep food and fluids down."

"Alright... doc." he nodded with a sigh of relief "That sounds like a plan."

Time bore down upon Rafe, its weight an oppressive force that enveloped each passing moment, shrouded in the inescapable cocoon of artificial darkness. The world outside seemed distant, lost behind the heavy curtains drawn across the windows.

Confined within his dimly lit room, the persistent throb in his head wove a malevolent lullaby, blurring the boundary between reality and hallucination. The antinausea pills only dulled the edges of his suffering, allowing sips of water to stay down, while he managed to eat small morsels of food. But a hunger unlike anything he had ever experienced before clawed at him from deep within, a gnawing emptiness that defied satiation.

Amidst his despair, his Instagram feed served as his bridge to the outside world, a bittersweet reprieve. Travels, festivities, sporting events—brief snapshots of lives that captivated him as long as it took to scroll. Yet, within those fleeting glimpses, you shone distinctly. A light in the darkness. With a magnetic radiance, your digital presence seemed more real than the dim walls surrounding him. He found himself irresistibly drawn to you, toggling between your Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook, silently observing every aspect of your life.

You were his friend and yet, with each photo and video, you unveiled new layers he had never noticed before. Were you always this serene? This happy? Your laugh that infectious? Peace seemed to radiate from you. And he found himself wanting to understand its source. Your digital presence had become a double-edged sword—offering him solace at one moment and then amplifying his torment in the next.

And then one night, the comforting yet painful ritual of immersing himself in your virtual world was interrupted.

Rubbing his eyes, aching from the screen's glare, he decided to splash some water on his face. Entering the dimly lit bathroom, he was startled by his own reflection. Leaning closer to the mirror, his eyes just inches away from the glass, he scrutinized the change.

The crimson around his pupils had grown darker, more pronounced, and now covered most of his pupil.

But what scared him more was the pulsing pattern. Every heartbeat seemed to send ripples through the shade, expanding and contracting with his pulse as if it had a life of its own. As if it were connected to some deeper, more sinister force within him.

"What the fuck?"

Panic set in, and Rafe fumbled to switch on the brighter overhead lights, hoping that maybe the subtle light from the bathroom bulb was playing tricks on him.

But under the stark, unforgiving light, the reality became even clearer. His heart raced, matching the rhythm of the ominous pulsing in his eyes. It was as though something was alive in there. A parasite. A silent watcher buried deep within, looking back at him from the mirror.

And just as that thought gripped his mind, another thought intruded, one that wasn't his own.

SLEEP

A dark siren echoed through his consciousness, promising peace and tranquility if only he gave in.

SLEEP

Its voice dripped with honeyed sweetness, promising it would make it all better.

SLEEP

Rafe felt its presence, an intangible force that clouded his thoughts, pulling him down into an abyss of darkness. He wanted to resist, to fight back against the compulsion that demanded his obedience. But fatigue suddenly weighed heavily on his eyelids, and the false comfort of the voice was impossible to resist.

SLEEP

With trembling hands, Rafe switched off the bathroom light, the shadows immediately lengthening and merging into one great expanse of blackness.

SLEEP

Suddenly, his steps were heavy, as if sinking into quicksand, his mind numb and zombified as he trudged along. Exhaustion made it a struggle to even reach his bed, and when he finally collapsed onto it, heart pounding against his ribcage, he began to sob because he knew he was surrendering to the unknown.

You awaken with a jolt, your heart racing and your eyes darting wildly in the pitch black. The air in your bedroom feels thick, an ominous heaviness that chills you to the bone. Your bed, once a sanctuary of familiarity and safety, now seems alien and cold beneath you.

Something catches your attention—a subtle but undeniable weight at the foot of your bed.

With trepidation, you force yourself to look down, and sheer horror grips you.

There, bathed in the eerie glow of the moonlight, is Rafe—or at least what remains of him. His posture is slumped, defeated, his silhouette a mix of lost and predatory.

Your throat tightens, and a scream gets stuck within it, but before it can escape, Rafe's voice—eerie and unlike him—cuts through the silence. "I had to see you... it commanded me too."

In a supernatural blur, he's suddenly upon you, his weight oppressive and suffocating. His skin is sickly pale, drawn tight over gaunt cheekbones. But it's his eyes, blood-red radiating pure evil, that hold you captive.

His icy fingers glide over your face, every touch searing your skin like a brand, a mixture of tenderness and threat that has you trembling.

"You're scared," he rasps, his voice a deathly whisper. “I’ll make it so you’re not."

The moment your lips meet, everything fades—your perception of past, present, reality; memories; even the chilling dread that had consumed you. Suddenly you're floating in a void, a liminal space between desire and oblivion.

His lips are a potent elixir, and with every passing second they pull you deeper into a spellbound haze. Your body is electrified with the intensity of his embrace. Every inch of skin comes alive beneath his ice cold touch.

Every whisper of breath; moan; gasp emanating from your lips mingles with the steady beat of your pounding heart. Your thoughts evaporate like wisps of smoke as the kiss intensifies to lust that surpasses all understanding.

His fingers leave a trail of fire down your exposed torso, as his hands slip away your clothes and his own. You do not notice. You're too consumed by pleasure and need alone. The need to be taken. The need to be fucked.

Suddenly he's pushing inside you and moving against you with an impatient hunger, claiming you for himself until you become one entity with one pulse, one breath, one desire—to reach ecstasy together.

With an animalistic vigor, he thrusts into you again and again, faster and harder, each stroke more powerful than the last. Pleasure builds inside you until there are no boundaries between pain and pleasure, only bliss. Bliss consumes every fragment of your being, building into an orgasm so profound, so primal, mounting higher and higher until—

Cold fingers seize your chin, jerking your head to reveal the delicate skin of your neck. Your eyes widen as grotesque, razor-sharp fangs extend from Rafe's perfect white teeth.

With agonizing force, they snap onto your throat, synchronizing with the grinding of his hips, and the sudden, overwhelming orgasm that tears you into a million pieces. Your muscles convulse and quiver around his cock, while Rafe's grip on your shoulder tightens, anchoring you in place as he drinks deep.

"What's happening?" you choke, sensing your heartbeat slowing. Tears now cascade down your cheeks, mingling with the blood trickling from your collarbone, staining the once-pristine white bedsheets.

"Rafe... I'm scared," you whisper, your grip on his arm weakening as desperation fills your fading gaze.

A monstrous hunger gleams in Rafe's eyes as he briefly withdraws, crimson trailing from his lips. An unsettling vitality now surrounds him, no longer pale or sickly; he appears healthy and handsome, reminiscent of his former self – a picture of perfect health.

In a cruel mockery of tenderness, he raises your wrist to his mouth, his eyes gleaming with ravenous hunger. With savage grace, he sinks his bloodstained fangs into your vein.

The world seems to bleed into his mouth as your life force drains. Each beat of his heart grows louder, stronger, overpowering the diminishing rhythm of your own, which slows... slows... and finally fades into silence.

GIF by outerbankspov

HAPPY HALLOWEEN MY LOVES 🖤😈😘

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Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like/reblog/drop a comment would love to know what you think. Until next time ❤️

[workingforthewidow]

What is up bitches and hoes. Ya girl is back. And by back I mean my cat brain was able to hyper fixate on something long enough to write for it. Also I’m in my ‘final girl’ ‘slasher fucker’ era. So be prepared for some fucked up shit. I am unhinged and hot for men that wear masks and kill people and people that just kill people in general. So onto the show. This is my first time writing and posting in forever so plz be nice lol

18+

Pairings: Otis Driftwood X Stockholm syndrome!reader (darling is in so deep there’s no coming back). Reader X platonic Firefly family.

She/her pronouns for reader. I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum, did mention pulling readers hair a lot but I mean i pull my husbands hair a lot and he has short hair so yeah.

Warnings: as stated reader is in deep for Otis like so much Stockholm syndrome going on. Slight smut. I think like 1 single use of Daddy in a power play way. Reference to non-con. This is Otis we are talking about so he can be a warning himself. But also OOC Otis. His mood swings will give you whiplash. Blood. Lots of blood. Killing people. Guns used in a sexual way. Knives. If there’s any major i missed please let me know! But yeah- don’t like it don’t read it.

Word count: 4,245

God i am so feral for this man.

Also a big THANK YOU and I LOVE YOU to the person who inspired me to write again go check out their work if you haven’t: @lovely-cryptid

Ugh i am so nervous to post this but imma do it! Link to part 2

She sometimes wondered if her family even knew she was missing or that she had even left. The whole reason she was out on that lonely road was her attempt to leave everything behind, everyone behind. So in a sense she did succeed in that but this was not what she had in mind when she pictured her freedom from her mother and her step-father. She had pictured herself in a big city with a cute little apartment with big windows that looked out over a park or maybe water. She’d have a good job but nothing too fancy. Working in a bookstore maybe or a flower shop. Something where she could be creative. But this wasn’t that magical place. Not even close.

Well you could say that she got to be creative in some sense. If you count being the muse and model for an insane blood thirsty ‘artist’ as creative. Sometimes he did let her pick out some of the smaller details of his work. Like how the hair was styled if it involved a human. But for the most part she was there for him to use when he needed to take out his anger and frustration. “Fucking my pretty little princess always cures the artist block” he would say as he pounded into her without a care for how she felt. All that matter was he got his dick wet. She didn’t mind thought. It kept him happy and she loved him when he was happy. He was kinder.

She could have never imagine this would be her life when she ran out of her mother’s house a year ago. A year, had it really been a year? Was it October already? She couldn’t be too sure. He rarely let her out of his, their, room unless it was to eat at the table as a family. The last time she was able to see a calendar was in August when he took her to the ‘museum’ to give Captain Spaulding the newest exhibit.

She had to beg on her knees for him to let her come along with him. That led to him agreeing with a stipulation of course, “Already on your knees princess might as put that mouth to work. Show me how badly you wanna go.” After giving into his demands she was able to leave the Firefly house and make the trip to see Spaulding. They only stayed a few minutes. Enough time for him to set up his ‘art’ and for her to see that the calendar read “August 17” but looking back what if that was wrong? It didn’t have the year on it, that calendar could have been from 5 years ago for all she knew.

At that point she figured she might as well ask him the date. She had been good the last few weeks. He had even told her that himself. He was being nicer only calling her a slut or a whore when he was fucking her in anger. But now he was calling her sweet things like ‘princess and sweetheart’ he had even called her baby once. But Baby heard him say that and hit the fan mad. Not that Baby didn’t like her. In all fairness her and Baby had become pretty good friends. She would even dare to say best friends. When he was being nice he would let Baby come to the room and talk to her. If he was being really nice and she had been really good for him, he would let her go to Baby’s room. That was the best. Baby would do her hair and makeup and dress her up in pretty outfits. He only let her wear her tiny jean shorts, which she was pretty sure he had cut shorter then when she bought them and a shirt that barely covered her breast. During the winter he had let her wear one of his flannel shirts over her outfit after Mama Firefly got onto him when the poor girl about froze to death. Texas winters could be as brutal as Texas summers if you were in the right place.

“Otis?” She called softly from her place on the bed but then cringed when she realized her mistake. He had been working on a new ‘project’ all morning his back to her and she couldn’t really see what was being created.

“Try again Princess. Get it right or I’ll have to punish you. And you’ve been so good for me for so long.” He didn’t even turn to look at her but she knew he was smirking to himself. He always found pleasure in the little roles he had created for them. But this was no game or play that came to end. This was her life.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Otis was sure if he hadn’t had been listening for the response it would have been too soft for him to hear. He heard the bed squeak signaling she had moved. In the corner of his eye he could see her kneel next to him and soon felt her hand on his thigh. He looked down to see her staring up at him with her big innocent eyes. His innocent little pretty princess. His naive little sweetheart.

“Good girl, what do you want?” He ran his hand through her hair once before grabbing a fist full at the base of her skull forcing her to stay looking up at him.

“Um, I, I, um. Just was wondering, what’s the date?”

“Tuesday.” Was that all she wanted. Interrupted his work for that.

“No, like what is the date? Like what month is it and the day?”

He tightened his fist in her hair making her whine at the pain “Why the fuck does it matter? Have some place to be? A hot date waiting for you?”

With tears pricking at her eyes she tried to follow his hand to relieve the pressure on her head. “No, no. I only want to be here with you. No where else. With no one else.” She made her eyes wide again trying to get back on his good side with her innocent look. He loved that look.

He loosened his grip on her hair and scratched his chin as if he had to think long and hard about the date.

“It’s October 30. Now why the fuck does it matter? It ain’t your birthday seeing as Baby isn’t fucking around insisting on a party for her little best friend. So what’s so important about today huh?” He had bent down his nose brushing against hers lips barely brushing.

“It’s been a year. A year since you brought me home with you.” She smiled. He may be mean when he’s angry but she did fell at home with him. He did care for her. He did love her. At least that’s what she told herself.

“Didn’t think you’d be so much a little romantic princess. What you want some little anniversary dinner? Think I’m gonna buy you little presents? This is your present sweetheart. You ain’t dead.” He growled in her ear and moved away from her face. “Now get back on the bed and shut your fucking mouth. I’m almost done and if you interrupt again I’ll have Tiny take you down to the basement for the night.”

Her eyes went wide in terror. She hated the basement. Tiny wasn’t bad, they had become pretty good friends. But the basement was not fun. It was dark and cold and damp. Otis had made her stay in the basement when he first brought her to the house after picking her up off the side of road where her car had ‘broken down’ aka where RJ had shot her tires out. It took her a few days to calm down and stop the kicking and screaming. It had only taken a few whips with his belt and the threats of deaths for her to finally listen to him. But she realized once she was being good that he did just want what was best for her. She saw how many girls he brought in and killed. But he chose her. He saved her and kept her safe. Kept her warm and well fed. And as long as she was good for him he was good to her.

“Yes, sir.” She responded quickly as it was a toss up if he wanted her response at all or if that itself would get her to the basement. She crawled back up the bed and laid out on her stomach facing him so she could watch him work. He was painting today.

He turned briefly looking to see if she followed his demand. Which she had, as she always did- his perfect little princess. How lucky he was when he found her. He hadn’t planned originally on keeping her but she was different from the others. She screamed sure but there was something about her eyes. He could tell she was naive but also wouldn’t mind some blood. Her eyes screamed innocence but at the same time he could tell she had seen some of the horrors of this world. He would later learn that horror of hers was from her abusive parents. She didn’t tell him outright but her nightmares usually came along with sleep talking and he had pried a lot of her in her unconscious state.

“Good girl, princess.” He praised her before turning back to his work. She did as she was told and stayed silent for the next hour while he worked. Finally by midnight he was done and she had passed out waiting for him on the bed. He grabbed her hair again and pulled her up, her hands flying up to grab his wrist and looked up at him with now wide awake eyes. “All done princess. You want dinner?”

Oh right they didn’t eat dinner. Odd, Baby normally always came to collect them for dinner when Otis was working. She knew that he would get caught up in his work and forget to feed her little best friend.

She nodded as best she could with his grip on her hair. “Yes please.” She didn’t realize how hungry she was until the thought of dinner crossed her mind.

“Come on then hurry up. Put these on.” He ordered throwing her short skirt and shoes at her. Why was he making wear her shoes? The skirt she knew, even if it barely covered her it was enough to keep Hugo off her a bit. But the shoes? She wasn’t supposed to wear shoes in the house that was one of the rules. “Mama didn’t make enough dinner for us. Seems she forgot about us. Figured I’d be nice and take you somewhere. That’s what you wanted right? Some kinda anniversary dinner?”

“If that’s what you want. I just want to make you happy.” She said slipping on her shoes as ordered.

“Of course you do sweetheart. Come on lets go.” Otis grabbed her wrist and pulled her down the stairs and out to his truck. He threw her into the passenger seat before getting in the driver side. Once the truck was started the radio came on playing her favorite Frank Sinatra song.

She gasped and smiled wide. “I love this song.” She said without thinking before clasping her hand over her mouth. Another one of his rules- Don’t speak unless given permission. She looked up at him with her big eyes. “I’m sorry I was just excited and…”

Otis moved his hand to her thigh gripping the skin so hard she knew she’d have a handprint shaped mark in the morning. She stilled and waiting for his next move.

“Don’t have to apologize for that sweetheart. You’ve been a good girl. Maybe it’s time to change the rules a little, yeah?” He smiled at her with his wicked smile that would send shivers down anyone else’s spine and pulled her closer to him running his hand higher up her thigh. “You be a good girl while we’re out and when we get home. Tomorrow I’ll think about changing your rules.”

She took a breath. He was happy with her. So happy he was going to change her rules. Maybe she would be allowed to leave the room without him. Spend more time with Baby and Tiny. Or even Mama. She loved Mama. Mama was everything she wished her mother had been.

Finally Otis pulled the truck off to a 24 hour roadside dinner. There were only a couple cars, probably belonging to the workers, and a few long haul trucks. Otis got out and pulled her along with him. Once her feet hit the ground he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead, “Be good.” It was a simple command and a simple warning. “Be good” meant not only behave in general but also “don’t you dare tell anyone what happens at home.” He had only taken her out in public once, outside of her trips to Captain Spaulding’s, when he took her to buy her new outfits for her to wear for him. And by outfits of course that means bras that barely hold her tits and panties that barely covered anything. Along with a few short skirts and shorts. He didn’t like when Hugo eyed his woman. But oh how Otis loved to see his princess dressed up for him.

She reached up and kissed him on his cheek. She knew he loved it when she showed him affection. “Of course. Always a good girl for you.” She promised him.

They made it to the door and he was even kind enough to hold the door open for her. The waitress at the counter greeted them and told them to find a seat anywhere. He found them a booth far in the corner away from everyone else and pulled her down in his lap grabbing the menu. He let her trail her fingers over it reading each line and finally pointing out what she wanted. Of course, the sweetest thing on the menu. The waitress made her way over and smiled at them.

“Y’all need a minute or are you ready to order?”

Otis tightened his grip on her waist and she knew that meant stay quiet.

“Water, coffee, bacon and scrambled eggs, and the waffles.” He didn’t even look the waitress in the eye. “Chocolate chips on the waffles.”

She must have been really good if he was letting her have sweet treats.

The waitress nodded, writing down the order, before going to the kitchen.

They sat in silence. His hand drifting up and down her leg as they waited. A few minutes go by and the waitress reappears with a tray holding the drinks and food. “Here ya go darlings. Anything else?” Otis waves her off with a huff and she retreats back to the counter where a few truckers are sitting.

He takes a slice of bacon and chews it loudly in her ear before holding a piece to her mouth. “Eat up princess. I’ve been thinking about this whole anniversary non-sense and I think if I’m being so nice getting you this food then when we get home we will play one of our little games.”

She nodded happily, giggling and wiggling in his lap feel him grow harder under her. Playing games meant he was happy and in a good mood. She let him feed her until the plates were cleared. The waitress returned at that point slapping the bill on the table before turning on her heel walking away. She obviously did not enjoy being waved off earlier.

“Did you like it Princess? Wanna come back?” Was the game already starting? He didn’t normally ask her her preferences. “I didn’t like. I don’t think we’ll be back.”

“It was okay. Not as good as Mama’s cooking.” Mama made the best waffles.

Without a word and without looking at the bill Otis stood up and started walking her to the door.

“Sir you need to pay the bill! Excuse me!” The waitress yelled from behind the counter. Otis smirked down at his girl and chuckled darkly. He then whirled around and pull his gun from his waistband.

“I don’t have to do shit bitch.” He then grabbed her hand and threw her back in the truck speeding away towards home.

He was driving far past the speed limit, as fast as a bat out of hell. She looked up at him with her big eyes then down at the gun in-between them in the seat of the truck. He had never brought it out in front of her. He liked to use his knifes, belts, or even his hands on her. She couldn’t even name a time she had a gun this close outside of being on a police officers hip.

“Not gonna fucking bite you. What the little princess never seen a gun before?” He eyes burned on her. She shook her head. “Well then Princess, why don’t we start the game now?” He grabbed the gun and pressed it against against her temple. “Open those legs pretty girl.” She did as she was told and he moved the gun down her body until it was between her legs. “You fucking get off on this and cum without permission I will blow your brains out. Don’t care how much a pretty fuck you are. Understood?”

She let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, “Yes.”

He slid the barrel of the gun against her folds making her shiver against the cold metal. He kept it up at a steady pace for what felt like hours but he made sure to never reach right where she wanted him. She was looking straight ahead trying to find any landmarks showing they were close to home. Right as she was about to work up the nerve to ask him, he finally hit her sweet spot. She moaned and threw her head back.

“There we go princess. Don’t forget the rules.” He moved faster bringing her close to the edge and pulling away. Finally the light of the house came into view. He stopped the truck but continued playing with her for a few minutes before pulling the gun away from her core.

He looked it over before grabbing her chin, “Open wide sweetheart. You made my gun dirty, now you gotta suck it clean. Be a good girl.” Be a good girl. Yes she is a good girl for him. She opened her mouth sticking out her tongue letting him slide the barrel into her mouth. She began licking and sucking her juices off the shiny metal when she heard a click. She gulped and looked at him to see his wicked smile. “Good girls don’t have to worry if the safety is off. And you’re a good girl right?” She nodded and continued until he finally pulled away wiping her spit off on his shirt. He then got out of the truck pulling her along with him as always. “Good girl, now you have 2 minutes to get that pretty ass upstairs and ready in our room. Wear the white.” Oh he really wanted to play today. He only had her wear a white set if he intended to stain it red. “Timer’s already started Princess I’d hurry if I was you.” He slapped her hard on her ass kicking her into gear. She darted into the house trying to be careful not to knock anything over. She reached the threshold of their room when she heard him slam the front door shut meaning she had about 1 minute left. She ripped off her clothes and threw on the first white lace bra and panties she could find. Once she was dressed she dropped to her knees sitting back on her heels, hands in her lap, looking up and waiting.

Otis finally opened the bedroom door and smirked at the sight before him. She was so pretty like that. Ready and waiting to suck his cock. He walked up to her stripping his clothes as he walked holding his belt in his hands. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes? On the bed arms up.”

She followed his orders and laid down arms against the headboard. She knew the drill at this point. He looped the belt around her wrist securing her to the bed. He then tied a blindfold around her eyes. This game was her favorite. She didn’t know why but he always was happier after they played this game.

A drawer opened and she heard the clicks of metal against metal. She then felt an ice cold blade against her throat. “One sound. One single sound and I will gut you like a pig. Got it?” She nodded to the best of her ability. “Good girl now be quiet.” The knife moved across her body slowly. She had yet to feel skin break. He moved up and down her arms and her legs. Around her bellybutton and traced the insides of her thighs. Then the feeling was gone. And she heard the rustling sound of clothes being thrown on and the bedroom door slamming.

This wasn’t part of the game. He was suppose to cut her, carve his name on her and lick the blood. Slice her up with tiny cuts that would bead some bubbles of blood enough for him to paint her in but not enough to kill her or even truly hurt her. But he never left before it was over. He didn’t always stay long afterwards, aftercare is not in his vocabulary but he never left before they were done.

Had he decided he was done with her? Was he going to get RJ and Tiny so they could be ready to take her body when he was done with it? Questions and thoughts started whirling in her head. Fear creeping up on her. She was alone again. She was alone and going to die. Her life with the Firefly’s wasn’t perfect but it was hers and she was enjoying it.

Tears started to slip from her eyes wetting the blindfold that had been tied to her. Maybe he was going to leave her here to starve. Let her have a final meal and then starve her. Her tears soon turned to sobs and before she knew it her breathing was getting shaky. Everything was spinning even though she couldn't see anything. Her brain was spinning it felt like. Her body was shaking violently.

“The fuck is wrong with you girl?” His voice boomed into the room and he removed his belt from her hands pulling her into his lap before taking off the blindfold. He was being oddly kind, like he was worried about her.

She continued to shake and sob for a minute before finally calming down enough to look at him. “You, you, you left. You never leave until the game is finished. Left me alone again.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Someone wondered up the property Princess. Had to make sure the cops weren’t showing up. Don’t need the pigs here when I have a pretty little runaway in my bed.” Then in a rare moment, a very rare moment that had only happened once when he was drunk but she counted it because it was the only time it happened; he kissed her. Like a real kiss from someone you love not a power play. “Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you Princess. I promise.”

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him like he was the center of her whole universe, “You won’t abandon me, right?” It was barely a whisper almost as if she was unsure if she could ask.

Otis brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, “You’re mine forever silly girl. I love you.”

Those three words. The three little words he knew would hook her right in again. He didn’t have to worry about anything as long as he dangled that little carrot in front of her face once every couple weeks. He wasn’t sure if he even meant it. In the beginning he knew he didn’t but now as time had gone on he wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe this pretty little princess from the other side of Texas was changing him.

“I love you too.” She sighed kissing his neck before snuggling into him. There would be no wicked game for a few hours. He would be kind. He would let her sleep next to him. Let her snuggle up on his chest while he played with her hair. Let her have a few hours where they played like they were a normal couple, just a man and his girl sleeping the night away.

But Otis Driftwood was anything but just a man. He was different and he knew it. But she was different too. Maybe she was meant to be here. Meant to be his girl forever. But that was a problem for another day. A day when he was 7 beers deep and didn't have to think too hard.

“Goodnight Princess you can sleep now. I ain't going anywhere. And when you wake up, I’ll let you go to Baby’s room.” He kissed her hair again and moved them down on the bed throwing the blanket over them.

[pepperonidk]

In This Life and the Next || j.ww

MASTERLIST

Pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader Summary: dragons, deities, dreams (oh my!), aren't enough to keep you from your lover. Warnings: none Word Count: 574

a/n: i was thinking about across the spider-verse and fire emblem and i got this... please if u want to talk to me about either of these things just hit me up i am begging

“Babe?” you called, breaking the soft silence that had come to be as your boyfriend read his book behind you. He hummed in response, beginning to trace a new pattern along your arm. “Do you think we dream about our parallel lives?” The question alone was enough to pique his interest, evident in the way his fingers shifted as they traced patterns on your arm, but not enough to distract him from his book.

“Maybe,” he mused. “What happened in your dream?”

You paused thoughtfully, trying to soak back in all the details that had slipped your mind since then. “Well, I remember we were in a castle,” you began. “You were the prince of an isolated kingdom and I was a mercenary?” With a laugh and the sound of his book shutting, Wonwoo shifted your position so that you were instead sitting across from him, your hands in his.

“Interesting,” he replied. “How did we meet then?” Wonwoo smiled as he watched you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, obviously lost in thought. He felt his heart leap ever so slightly at the sight of it and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to steady his heart in your presence.

“The castle was a school for royalty, and I had snuck my way in as a professor,” you explained. “But secretly, I was actually a reincarnated deity. Crazy right?” You beamed as your boyfriend nodded and pulled your hands to his lips.

“And then what happened?” He asked, fully invested in the fantastic story you were telling him and the way your eyes lit up as you did. He wishes he could see the story as vividly as you did, to be able to walk alongside you in your dreams.

“There was a war,” you continued, gauging the way his eyebrow raised. “Against a dragon lady and you had become a king but we had somehow managed to save the whole world. Then we ended up proposing to each other at the same time in the tallest tower of the castle. And you kept calling me ‘my beloved.’” Now it was your turn to raise a teasing eyebrow at him.

He pulled you into him so that you were now sitting on his lap and pulled your left hand up between the two of you, placing a light kiss against the knuckle of your ring finger. “Are you trying to tell me something?” he teased as he felt those all too familiar butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah,” you replied, matching his tone. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m a reincarnation of an ancient deity.”

“Is that so?” Now his kisses were trailing up into your wrist, playful and teasing. “Anything else?”

“And that if you want to propose to me, you’ll have to defeat a dragon first.”

“Duly noted,” he replied with a laugh, pulling away and adjusting the covers to get under them. “Now let’s go to sleep so you can find out what’s happening in one of our other lives.” After setting his glasses down on the nightstand and turning off the light, he snuggled into his pillow and pulled you down against him so that your head was against his chest and your arm draped against his waist. In any life he lived with you, dragon war or not, he knew he’d find peace with you in his arms just as you were now.

“Goodnight, my beloved.”