#like his belief in it at all still kind of tells me he still has growth to do. and its telling that the game he feels most mature in is 06

[fantaatix]

a stolitz post? in the year of our lord??

warning this is genuinely a long ass post

okay so sometime last month i was watching 3bskyen’s JLMW reaction (really tells you how long i’ve actually been cooking this post), and he was talking about color theory or something but what caught my attention was that he was paused on THIS frame:

he said something about the red/blue contrast throughout the music video; red being symbolic of blitz (the moon) and blue being symbolic of stolas (the ocean (?)) and it got me thinking, i wonder what the gold might symbolize? because this definitely isn’t the first time we’ve seen the color gold in reference to stolitz. first think back to truth seekers, there’s gold in quite a few places

golden rails, golden feathers, golden shackles; this is why i say gold and not yellow. at first i thought it might be symbolic of the power imbalance, but that’d be too easy.

quite the selection of objects, isn’t it? rails imply safety but can also be restricting, the feathers seem harmless but then turn into shackles…possibly reminiscent of the nature the book deal and the role it actually played in blitz’s mind about his relationship with stolas.

but there’s one more thing i left out; the golden dust

...okay...don't laugh...

first time i saw this scene in truth seekers i was immediately reminded of shrek ever after

AND I’M NOT COMPARING BLITZ TO RUMPELSTILTSKIN, i’m not trying to imply they stole from shrek ever after, THAT'D be a stretch. if anything blitz is better compared to shrek himself, but i'm not gonna write about that because i Don't Want To

but if i’m remembering correctly, that movie revolved around the theme of taking good things for granted, like your partner and your friends, which aligns pretty well with how blitz’s bad trip ends:

“i believe your subconscious is trying to tell you that you simply cannot fathom proper intimacy, but also craves it as well. it’s rather unfortunate, sir, considering it’s often how you treat those who stand by you, such as myself. are you worried i may have enough of it one day, as well?”

"you cannot fathom proper intimacy."

blitz doesn’t know how to be close to other people–i don’t think he understands the relationship he has with any of the people in his life.

we still don’t truly know blitz’s full belief on love and we can only deduce it from his actions; he says monogamy is boring but then goes on to stalk his monogamous employees, on their anniversary no less, bringing along his own singular date...

he focuses on the sex in his relationships because that’s what he’s good at; he finds sex less complicated than romance... and then struggles to get his asmodean crystal to open a portal because he can’t get it off.

he has this recurring pattern where the title of “best friend” eventually turns into something else, often unrequited...

“...my first ever friend!”

he didn't expect stolas' intimate attraction to him. stolas made the connection and it succeeded in making blitz feel guilty about stealing the book; that was why he stayed the night. blitz isn't used to not being rejected, even though he has a record of relationships that stopped once the Evil Four Letter Word came up. when he goes into a relationship, blitz has learned to not expect it to evolve past sex. love has negative connotations to him.

the worst part is we don’t know for certain WHY any of this is, or if it can even be chalked down to a singular thing

yeah, his mom died in a fire blitz caused, his best friend/crush lost his limbs in a fire blitz caused, he’s been treated as property since a young age; you can makes all kinds of correlations between these events and how they might have affected him later in life but as it stands now, we have no concrete answers other than the conclusion that blitz hates himself and has commitment issues.

but back onto that “taking things for granted” tidbit–subconsciously, he knows relationships can be good, but he feels he has to give up a lot of freedom in order to maintain one of his own.

also note how blitz is desperately crawling up the staircase, feathers kind of just hitting him haphazardly as he does so, as opposed to trip!moxxie who takes a few steps up after picking up a feather of his own volition. he knows moxxie’s relationship is more stable than any relationship he’s ever had, and yet:

“stop fucking talking, all of you!”

cue the gold dust.

now, i'm not saying the book deal was a good thing. in fact, it kind of reinforced the power imbalance between blitz and stolas. i'm saying that from blitz's perspective, it was a safeguard. any feelings he might have had for stolas before could be dismissed, and he does exactly that one episode prior;

"it's a transactional fucking, you see..."

what i think he does take for granted is the advice “moxxie” gives to him, his attempts to reach out in a meaningful manner, kind of like stolas’ attempts to reach out. he ignores them both; he’s too deep into his own denial.

also, STAIRCASES IN THIS FUCKING SHOW.

why do these fruity little men think so low of themselves and so highly of others??

i guess that's a bit of a rhetorical question, we all know the answer, but. wait. hold on a sec

ohhhh.

OOOHHHH, that's what this post was gonna be about!

i fucking GOT all of you, you thought i could go a post without talking about him you're WRONG and should feel SILLY.

so this was the OTHER thing i realised when watching 3bskyen's JLMW reaction: it follows the same theme as moxxie's bad trip!

JLMW vs. moxxie's bad trip

in helluva boss, we're used to seeing staircases being symbolic of a difference in power or importance, or a staircase to heaven, or a highly anticipated event going wrong *cough cough ozzie's cough full moon cough cough*

however, i think in the context of moxxie’s bad trip and JLMW, it can also be attributed to emotional distance. like stolas, moxxie's also looking for an emotional intimacy/understanding between him and blitz (he spends his whole trip actively trying to get on the same level as him for crying out loud).

this could also fit into blitz's bad trip; he's trying to get on the same level as stolas, but feels like even if he ever did, he'd still be inherently worthless. a "play thing".

he doesn’t know why anyone would want him for anything else, but he’s clearly not all about the hierarchy.

they need to get on the same level as each other emotionally; they need to break the power dynamic, and thats why the book deal had to go.

the difference in the symbolism is that while blitz has a straight and narrow path to trip!stolas, moxxie’s path to trip!blitz is this winding, unguarded staircase. he almost falls off.

now, compared to both of those, stolas’ path is a fucking stroll. albeit an emotionally damaging stroll, but it takes less physical strength.

conclusion; stairs are symbolic of a difference in power, but gold is symbolic of something else.

and there is a power dynamic between moxxie and blitz. it's not like stolas and blitz's dynamic, it's an artificial imbalance; blitz is the boss, moxxie is the employee. and moxxie has his own inferiority complex, which i think plays a role in it too.

the imbalance between stolas and blitz is kind of, unfortunately, inherited. but it's not impossible to manage. of course, stolas doesn't care about where blitz is on the hierarchy, he doesn't care about the hierarchy period. but it's still there. blitz cares because it affects him.

"you will be technically under his jurisdiction, but..."

this was problem one. stolas unintentionally demonstrating his power over blitz. "surprise, i technically made you someone else's property! please love me!" i'm exaggerating but this is definitely not the kind of thing you spring on your partner; they needed to talk about this beforehand, but according to stolas:

"no need for an arrangement, it can just be him and me!"

sigh. the many different ways this night could've gone

this is enough to trigger blitz's fight or flight. he wants to be with stolas, but he doesn't want the freedom to choose to be with him, which is problem two:

because blitz's belief of love is so inherently fucked up,

what are the chances that the very thing stolas gave to blitz to reaffirm his free will was just interpreted as another shackle?

blitz doesn't do commitment; stolas doesn't say "i love you", he doesn't need to. if you love something, you let it go, and if it comes back then it's yours--which happens in the very next episode.

blitz is the first person to mention love.

but if they want to love each other, they have to be equals, which was why the book deal had to go. they can't hold each other to these super high standards because that'd just set themselves up for disappointment. they have to be on the same level.

tldr: they're two sides of the same coin. literally!

color theory for dummies, a brief intermission

fun fact: i actually didn’t learn color theory in an art class, but in a textiles class. we love american education. but anyways, i’m gonna ask you to draw your attention specifically to the complementary colors.

we start the chorus of JLMW in a purpley sort of place, which then shifts into gold, and then into the red/blue contrast.

except red and blue aren’t complete opposites, they’re both primary colors.

if they wanted complete opposites, they could’ve used red and green, or blue and orange, which are admittedly uglier combinations but the point is that stolitz aren’t complete opposites.

however, purple and yellow, or gold, ARE complete opposites; they’re complementary colors. if purple is implied to be symbolic of stolitz together, then could gold imply stolitz apart?

well…no. i think that’s the wrong angle. if they wanted that contrast, they could have left the gold out entirely, because red and blue separate is stolitz apart.

so how are we supposed to deduce what the gold is actually symbolic of? because no, i don’t actually think it’s an extended shrek 4 reference. that kind of exclusively pertains to blitz’s trip.

listening to the lyrics in the gold part;

This unspoken contract

A deed we forged for mutual gain

If that's all this was when you're not here

What is this rooted pain?

I don't care that you're of lower station

Or primed to sate my dark temptations

Why can't you understand? Let me explain

And I'm terrified as I cry

To make these feelings true

What's left for me and my broken heart

If I cannot have you?

a direct mention of the book deal…and another mention of the power imbalance…so i realize am starting to sound insane, but please hear me out.

i think the main theme of helluva boss IS learning to love in spite of damages and traumas and insecurities–not ignoring either of those, but learning to work around them or possibly heal those parts of yourself so you can love someone else effectively. learning from mistakes.

so what if the gold is symbolic of the simple desire of a mutual understanding? or a meaningful connection with someone else?

tying it all back together somehow

both moxxie and stolas want to connect with blitz (in different ways), but for stolas, that means severing possibly the only thing connecting them thus far (the book). for moxxie, that means climbing the staircase and possibly being pushed even further away.

moxxie also has this high opinion of blitz despite all his obvious (and not so obvious) flaws. i think it's partially because of his own inferiority complex, but to him, blitz is the phantom--his scar becomes the mask he hides behind. he knows blitz puts on this loud, crude personality to hide his cracks and keep others away, and has a scarily accurate portrayal of him in his mind.

moxxie wants to be on the same level as blitz, and he knows it's possible to get there, because he's a damaged character himself and he gets it. he's just yet to take the actual first step.

stolas, even in his own imagination, doesn't think it's possible to be emotionally intimate until the deal is broken. he could reach for blitz, but blitz wouldn't reach back. he's not looking. not to mention the literal celestial view he has of blitz in his head.

while stolas can see blitz's damage, he can't fully comprehend it yet, partially because blitz won't give him the chance and partially because stolas isn't damaged in the same way he is. they both had deadbeat dads, but they adapted in different ways.

that's just the way trauma works, you adapt to deal with it, and then have to unadapt those unhealthy coping mechanisms once you're finally safe. it just takes a while for people to realize they're actually safe, and these fruitcakes are no exception.

conclusion? uhh, i don't know, i guess i don't really have one. just. enough with the discourse about these bitches i guess??? just give them each some time, change takes more than two seasons.

i guess i could compare the way the songs are set up but this was supposed to be out like two days ago and it's already 11:45 so. maybe some other time, maybe in a post about moxxie's Interesting taste in musicals

was unfortunately unable to finish the mox vs. fizz masterpost this month but we'll see sometime in the coming months, maybe sometime after the next helluva short comes out. been a bit too busy with school and other social things to have time writing these long asf posts about my skrimblos

okay goodnight o/

[heliianth]

i care! indulge in the urge

okay, i'm going to try being as brief as possible

the... disappointing "fast friends forever" bio got me thinking about shadows messy but effective character arc leading up to 06 and how the nature of it is like a recipe to get people bothered about the whole "shadow's motivations have to do with maria's wish and nothing else" thing. and i do have commentary on that and how it plays into how no one agrees on fucking anything except segas characterization being bad. but i guess i want to commentate more on Why everyone agrees on his arc being important to the point of being mad that it gets ignored, despite like a majority of it happening in shth05 which is extremely unpopular among shadow fans for supposedly being like the first omen of impending character degradation, i guess

i see a lot of sentiments by people, especially in context with how shadow is written nowadays, asserting that there's more nuance to shadow's arrogant attitude than it seems, usually with the conclusion that it's born out of some insecurity and that he's trying to compensate for something, which i suppose is a natural conclusion when it comes to why someone would act the way he does

i've personally gone on record saying that this character trait is the fundamental flaw making communicating and connecting with others on any meaningful level extremely difficult for him, because he others himself as wholly unique and unable to be understood: if he's above, then he's alone (i'm using present tense here because it's the appropriate way to talk about this sort of thing, but ill get to that later). i do think this is a character trait he has or had at some point but no one ever seems to identify what this insecurity is with any sort of confidence beyond headcanons, and thats what i want to talk about real quick

yeah yeah, i said i was gonna be brief but theres a readmore. whatever.

shadow is a character who is intimately concerned with his place in the world and how he affects it. it's appropriate for a character who was artificially created in a test tube to worry about his purpose of creation, and that artificiality lent to a sense of non-autonomy. in sa2, shadow is constantly relying on others to tell him what his identity, and thus purpose, is. it's a huge nuance that i don't see brought up enough that he remains totally dedicated to blowing up earth despite it being implied that he begins developing doubts both through the lyrics of rhythm & balance (white jungle):

(it's a popular interpretation that the person talking to shadow here is supposed to be maria, considering he hallucinates her voice multiple times during sa2. i personally think it also ties into his newfound and unwanted care for rouge—that he is dismissing maria who is reminding him of her wish for revenge because it's making him feel too conflicted with the mission of white jungle. which is to save rouge from the bomb)

and because he reflects on an encounter with maria during which he questions his purpose and creation directly afterwards, telling her that he wonders if going down to earth will yield answers. which lets the audience know pretty directly that he's starting to ask these questions again. but it doesnt do anything because shadow doesn't have an identity outside of what others want from him yet.

(i suppose i should mention that this aspect of his character is also conveyed through his japanese dialogue specifically using boku 僕 but i feel like that's been covered to death and i don't know enough about japanese)

obviously, when he finds out that his memories were fucked with and maria's wish was different, he immediately switches sides without a second thought. his "last words" are even a reference to what she wanted from him, and the trailer to the final story mentions wishes as well ("are wishes eternal?" iirc), so it's clearly a huge part of shadow and the themes of sa2 as a whole.

i think this can be extrapolated a little bit into the idea that shadow is someone who is deeply terrified of annihilation. appropriate for an immortal who was artificially created to serve a greater purpose. this is, at least imo, central to his character and the reason why he's so adverse to autonomy—it leaves room to be annihilated. if he's a tool for another person, then he will always exist as an extension of someone else.

this character trait persists in later games after they resurrect him from the dead, often coming up in the form of him trying to recover his memories. it's kind of a no-brainer for an amnesiac character to seek answers about their past but it continually reoccurs with shadow to the point of making him come across as obsessive. though this could be read as both heroes and shth05 retreading the same ground (and that is probably the case LOL) i think it's understandable considering a) he got genuinely no closure in heroes b) apparently he eventually remembers maria's death and it effects him enough to dwell on it, indicating that its still a source of trauma, c) it's pretty expected for a dude who doesn't know how to form his own identity

the reason i mentioned shth05 and its reputation among shadow fans is because its the game where this trait is actually addressed in a way i feel is meaningful and it's where lots of people get the idea that shadow has grown away from relying on maria's wish to make decisions. the game features multiple different factions essentially ordering shadow what to do, all resulting in him making some definitive conclusion about his purpose, creation, and identity. he doesn't really make a single decision for himself beyond trying to recover the past (which is just as much a search for external direction as doing whatever someone says) in this game and it's completely in character because he's never really... done that. before. even his inclusion in team dark was rouge's decision. he talks big shit in this game about nobody telling him what to do but, like, actions speak louder than words do, man. someone should tell him that.

obviously we know the conclusion and its notable that the canonical ending of the game is vague in what route shadow took and any single choice always conflicts with dialogue, indicating that he didn't follow any route and that his decision to move on from his past was made after actually spending time not being a vessel for someone else's desires

i want to note that its really cool that the shadow android and the black arms hivemind stuff can be read as kind of a representation of annihilation—that shadow isn't unique, hes just another face in an identical crowd, not notable in any significant way. it's also worth pointing out that both of these situations land him under direct control of another person (eggman and black doom respectively) and that despite his lack of autonomy he takes issue with the androids and the black arms probably because he feels like he wouldn't be able to differentiate himself among a whole army. i have a suspicion that if he was approached individually and treated like he was special for being chosen to do a task, he would be much more compliant. which actually is kind of what happens in the dark routes when black doom retraumatizes him with images of the ark.

so uh. conclusion? shadow has learned how to be a person and sometimes acts like an arrogant cunt because he still hasn't unlearned his fear of annihilation, which requires making himself unique and unignorable. and we all know how much shadow bulldozes right over shit when he thinks its necessary.

i admit i dont know how to end this succinctly. its just interesting that shth05 is regarded as one of shadow's worst outings when its, like, the only game that really addresses what i would consider The Root Fundamental Flaw™ that is the source of all his other flaws in any meaningful way. it wouldve benefitted pretty heavily from a more cohesive story, yeah, and to say the execution left something to be desired would be an understatement. but it's centrality to shadow and who he is by the end of his arc (06) and how he should be written now is kind of unignorable and thats manifested in all of the (rightful) outrage over sega not allowing him to separate motivation from maria anymore. Despite the flack shth05 gets for mischaracterization

didnt quite intend for this to come across as defending shth05 as vehemently as it does, but. well. its just something i noticed! and i had lots to say!

[princessbrunette]

so i know i always say that rafe is strictly a girl dad. well, he is. but sometimes i like to humour myself with the universe where he’s the father to the sweetest little boy ever.

the universe would be ironic like that. rafe foolishly knocked you up when he was 22 — the boy still having alot to learn. he was still walking around with that pistol tucked into his waistband, fighting pogues, mouthing off and going on coke rants. you had been terrified, wondering what kind of a father rafe was going to be — even when he promised time and time again, “i’m — i’m getting my shit together alright? i can, hey — we can do this? okay?” with sweat gathered at his hairline and tears in his eyes. thus, when the universe decided to play the hilarious prank which was having the doctor tell you ‘its a boy!’, your first thought was ‘shit.’

because he was bound to be just like rafe, right?

you had seemingly prophetic visions, a spoiled little brat — just like his father was, thundering around in a brightly coloured ralph lauren polo from the baby range, demanding the teet when he saw fit. a girl would have been fine — you’d seen wheezie grow up around rafe and turn out totally fine (aside from the likely trauma.) but a boy? what did rafe cameron know about raising a boy? was your son next up to become a drug slinging, pogue hating, maniac? (with no offence to rafe of course, you were unfortunately very much in love with him but contrary to popular belief that did not disrupt your common sense.)

rafe was over the moon about you being pregnant with a boy too, which did little to comfort you.

the anxiety subsided the second that baby was out of you, his sticky, slimy little body placed onto your chest with rafe crowding your space — his bravado dropped for a second to reveal a childlike awe. his own baby. you could tell it was only now that things became very real for rafe. his eyes well up, covering his shaky grin with an even shakier hand, saying stuff like “shit, oh uh nah i probably shouldn’t cuss infront of the baby anymore right? yeah… my god, you did it baby. brought me my boy. should be so god damn proud.” he croons as his hands dig affectionately into your sore shoulders, smearing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “ahh, aha — what the hell kinda man am i cryin’ at this huh? shit.” he sniffles as he wipes his eyes but you’re not listening. you’re staring at your perfect boy.

he grows into something perfectly reminiscent of both you and rafe’s features, all whilst smushed into the cutest baby you’ve ever seen. you were aware every parent said that about their child, but no — you were certain. he was pampers commercial level cute. ‘top ten cutest babies’ buzzfeed article level cute. sarah would often hold him to her chest and something would be healed as she’d whisper “i can’t believe you came from my brother.” into his wispy hair. he was a true blessing.

with big doe eyes that took up half his face and an appearance that somehow replicated a baby lamb that had been turned into a human on the basis of a magical spell — you had long forgotten about your worries regarding having a boy.

a few years down the line and not much has changed. your baby boy is three years old, chubby fists clutching his empty plastic lightening mcqueen plate as he toddles out onto the porch where rafe sits spread out opposite barry, sipping on a can of beer in the early evening. your son is distracted by a decorative plant, and the two men pay him no mind as they continue talk.

“but — but that’s the thing, right, barry? i dont do that shit anymore and… and i sure as hell am not looking to start again.”

“man i get that rafe you a father now, all serious and shit but think about the money. you thinkin’ with your husband head and not with your cameron head. your daddy was a piece of shit but he had that business mindset that you gotta adopt, bro.”

rafe’s expression flattens, finishing his can before leaning forward onto his elbows. “well uh, newsflash — i don’t wanna be anything like my dad. now if we’re done here…” rafes attention is caught by the mini him waddling into view, holding his plate infront of him.

“more please?” comes the sweetest voice in the world, blinking up at the man he viewed as his entire universe, much like you at times.

“finished your icecream already huh? where’s your mom?” he cranes round, but doesn’t bother searching much further when he hears the padding of your footsteps.

“aye buddy, you know we was just talkin’ about you.” barry leans forward with a smarmy grin and your son gets shy, lifting his shoulders practically to his ears and looking down, glueing himself to rafes leg.

“conversations done, actually.” rafe reminds him, lifting the boy to sit on his hip as he hoists himself to stand. as he does so, you appear in the doorway to the patio— sundress clad belly swollen with another baby.

“rafe could you bring him in? it’s too hot out there for him without his hat.” you furrow your eyebrows, deciding to ignore barry’s presence all together, which of course doesn’t stop him from conversing.

“shit, i ain’t seen you in a while mama. he got you again? you two stay busy, huh?” rafes oldest ‘friend’ chuckles, gold tooth glinting in the sun light, and like your only child — you shy away, sending rafe a parting glance that said ‘just hurry up and rid of him.’

rafe adjusts the baby boy on his hip, now staring down at barry.

“talk to my girl again n’i’ll bring out the old me alright, you don’t want that. go do somethin’ barry, i don’t care what it is just get off my goddamn property yeah?” rafe drawls tiredly, crushing the can in his hand and dropping it carelessly into the wastebin beside barry before heading inside, your son turning to stare sweetly at the dark haired man over his dads shoulder, offering a sticky, wide fingered salute in parting.

atleast rafe was still his usual charming self, son or not.

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[luveline]

hi! i just remembered a scene from friends where chandler says to monica it's ok she's high maintenance cause he likes maintaining her and i think this is soooo spencer and bombshell!reader coded. you're ok with writing this as a request? love u jadey

ty (ily)!! fem!reader

Spencer’s feet ache dully with each step he takes, but you have your hand in his, and you’re pulling him along with a smile. Your smile could cure anything, he thinks stupidly. It’s completely outside of his beliefs, goes against every book on medicine he’s ever read. 

“Why are you frowning?” you ask, swinging his hand as you turn the corner together. 

“I’m not.” 

You step closer, arm stuck to his arm, nearly one body walking together against the summer breeze. “You’re frowning, Spence. You have a very obvious pout. It is so so cute.” You lean in to kiss him quickly, his heart turning to a pitter-patter under his ribs. 

“I’m tired,” he explains, not wanting you to think his bad mood has anything to do with you. 

“You’ve had a long day, that’s why. When we get back to your place I’ll give you an incredible foot massage and everything will be okay again.” 

“I don’t want a foot massage. My feet don’t even hurt,” he lies.

“Don’t bother.” You untangle your fingers from his and wave him away. “I know all your tells, baby boy,” —he laughs through a wrinkled nose— “nothing gets past me.” 

“Why’d you choose a dry cleaners so far from your apartment?” he asks. You could’ve picked the one beside work, which has a yellow pages worth of fantastic reviews. The one second closest to his place is new but raved about at length. This dry cleaners is nearly twenty-five blocks away.

“They do things exactly how I like it, I guess. I never have to worry about it when I give them my best clothes, and it’s kind of expensive if they were to accidentally ruin something, right?” You have expensive taste; you like things sturdy, fitted, and fashionable. 

“Do you think I should get someone to do my laundry?” he asks. 

“You can afford it. But maybe not. There’s nothing wrong with your own washing machine and a steamer.” You side eye him carefully. “Maybe I’m over the top.” 

“You’re high maintenance,” he agrees. “Is it expensive, getting your clothes dry cleaned all the time? I could pay for that.” 

“What? Why would you pay for it?” 

“‘Cos we’re together?” He’s more worried than dry about it. “I’d like to pay for your manicures and your hair, too, but I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“And I won’t… s’kind of nice you want to though. Really nice, um.” You’re blinking funny. “I think that’s more of a husband thing. You really want to pay for me to get manicures?” 

Spencer pays for lots of your stuff because he loves you. Good food mostly, but treats, clothes, anything he might think you’re interested in, actually. He likes to spoil you. You tend to spoil him back, if not with money then affection. “I like maintaining you.” 

You curl your arm through his. “That’s a funny way to say it.” 

He laughs at your obvious delight. “I like taking care of you,” he admits. “You like being high maintenance, it makes you happy, and I like making you happy.” 

“Thank you very much,” you say, softer now as your hand works up his neck and you turn his face to you, the sidewalk and the streetlines melting away under your warm touch. “You make me happier than you know.” 

His cheeks turn pink. He doesn’t need to see himself to confirm. It’s a high statistical probability. 

“Kiss?” you ask, voice still soft. 

Spencer walks you back nearer to the side of a building and out of the way, his hands at your neck and waist as he leans down just a touch to close your gap. He acts selfishly, perhaps, taking your hand from his face in order to hold yours in both of his without anything in the way of it. He kisses, he breathes you in, his head tilting more heavily to the side as the kiss lengthens, lingers. You’re like a flower in his hand, blooming slowly under the effects of a little heat. 

“What if you pay for my dry cleaning,” you begin, a smile evident in your voice though Spencer keeps his eyes closed. Tracing the hill of your cheek with his fingers just a moment longer. “And I pay for yours?” 

Spencer thumbs along your jaw. “I don’t want anything from you, just you.” 

“Well, what if I treat us to some Indian takeout tonight?” you ask. “Would you eat that? Or am I enough to sustain you, my love?” 

He could enjoy being taken care of in turn, he thinks. 

[zillychu]

Trigun fucking destroys me, okay.

It's about persisting through the most horrific obstacles imaginable, and never losing hope for yourself and others. It's about the fruit your efforts bear, but it doesn't ignore the ugliness of the suffering you endure. It doesn't sweep it under the rug to give you a happy ending.

As a jaded millennial, I get a bit tired of stories where everything turns out fine because the heroes tried hard. Most stories gloss over the repercussions of failure. They tell us it's all simply a means to an end, and that end is what matters. Overcoming your obstacle matters. Winning matters.

Trigun doesn't do this.

Vash gets hurt (gross understatement). He's ostracized, bullied, threatened, haunted, forced to see the darkest underbelly of humanity. He's subjected to the worst parts of life that are grotesquely ruthless, unforgiving, hopeless. He's forced to reconcile a lot of his goals (like never killing anyone), but not the core of his beliefs.

Not once does he falter in his trust that people are capable of good, that we all deserve that chance to be. He never has a revelation that shakes his faith in humanity, despite constantly being given every reason to. He's the irritatingly optimistic anime protagonist who looks at impossible odds and says "everything will be alright", the way no one can in real life because it never works out that way for us.

And it doesn't for him, either.

Vash does his best, believes in himself, and fails. over and over and over again. He loses everything--loved ones, memories, autonomy. He loses constantly. He's your unrealistically positive hero, being dealt realistically unfavorable hands.

And still, he persists. He never truly wins. Because we never truly win. Life has no happy ending like a story does.

He never truly wins, and yet, he can still find happiness. He meets friends, enjoys good food, watches people love fiercely in both blessing and hardship. He hits unbelievable lows that don't keep him from finding highs. Because he never stops trying to be the best of what he sees in humanity. Because every little bit counts. He never stops believing in humans--believing in you.

Trigun grabs you by the face and stares directly at you. It says "I see you, I see your pain, how much you struggle. I see how sometimes no matter how hard you try, things don't work out. Life isn't a fairy tale. I see how your kindness can come back to hurt you, hurt others. I see you, and I'm proud of you. Life is worth living with love in your heart not because we win, but because we try. We all try. Never stop trying to be kind."

Trigun shows you the cruel reality of life, and leaves you feeling good about it.

I don't know a single piece of media that's able to do that.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Soldier/General x Fem!Reader

'His little bride.'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, power dynamics, mentions of sa, p-in-v sex, mentions of war and military, implied violence, threats, possible dub-con as reader does not know the full story behind our yan's goals, female and male genitalia, female reader, pet names.

(AN: Not me coming back from the grave to drop a horny fic and this disappear again. Gonna go eat some pumpkin roll.)

Part 2 here

The sound of papers shuffling and a heavy sigh pierces the usual quiet of General Fritz's office, which is only occasionally broken by you dusting or rearranging one of the many books on the various shelves that lined the room. It's been 3 weeks since the invasion of your small town of Cyril, and the few civilian homes not destroyed in the invasion have been turned into functioning barracks and homesteads for the troops that now occupy your town. While not ideal, the army Fritz serves aligns with the beliefs of your villages people much more than the opposition, and while they are still invaders, many believe them to be the lesser of two evils. You remain as quiet as you can as Fritz attends to his work with a furrowed brow.

General Fritz, while known for his excellence in military strategics and his translation skills, seems to be struggling with the morning's crossword puzzle. A man of 42, he has served in his countries army since he was just 15, leaving his family's small farm and quickly rising through the ranks. He's a scarred man, with many gashes, stubble, and hair that when not in public is rather unkempt. Despite the things he's seen, a kindness remains in his bespectacled eyes. He gives up on the crossword puzzle, allowing the paper to fall to his desk with a 'plop!'. You glance over at him, and approach.

"Sir, is there anything you need, you seem a bit, well, stressed." You say, trying not to impose but express concern. When the troops arrived, many men were recruited, and many girls had to seek jobs. Some had to turn to unsavory means to get by, but you were lucky, you supposed. You were scouted out to serve as a guide and servant for the general, to both give information and serve his needs. While the thought of serving a strange man, one much older than you at that had frightened you, he was nothing like the other soldiers you had seen. He was polite, careful not to scare you off, provided you with good quarters, and never laid hands on you. All in all, the situation would have been perfect, had you not missed your family's bakery from which you were taken. For reasons you didn't fully understand, he never wanted you to travel far beyond his estate and into town.

He sighs. "I am fine, my dear girl. Just dealing with some disputes at the border of the county. Nothing you should concern yourself with." He says. He looks up at you, his glasses reflecting the light of his desk lamp. "Would you mind drawing me a bath, my dear? It has been... quite the day, and I think I need some time to relax." You quickly nod, and scurry off to the master bedroom, entering the attached bathroom and beginning to fill the tub with hot water. After some time, Fritz enters, looking as though he is fighting the urge to ask a question. "I... I hate to ask this of you, and say no if at any point in my asking you are uncomfortable or find me uncouth, but-" He hesitates. "I am very tired, and am currently dealing with some rather serious pain in my legs. Past wounds, you know. Would you be offended if I asked for your assistance in bathing?" You blush a little, but a part of you knows he won't try anything. You have noticed he seems to be limping a little more than usual, his mobility decreasing. Plus, you can tell he's only asking because he must, as the look of utter shame on his face suggests this is the last thing he wished to ask of you. "Of course, sir." His breath hitches, but he nods. As he begins to remove his more civilian garb, as he did not wear his uniform on this day, you try to avert your gaze. Still, you catch a glimpse of his pronounced muscles, littered with the occasional scar or blemish. You swallow heavily.

He slides down into the tub, his tensed muscles visibly relaxing as he lets out a groan. "Hmm..." He glances at you. "It's okay to look now, my dear. Sorry to have upset you." You shake your head, as if to assure him that you aren't bothered. He looks at you softly as you go to grab a sponge, a small part of him disappointed that you won't be using your bare hands to lather soap onto him. He shakes this thought off quickly. 'Shame on you!' He scolds himself 'Thinking such thoughts about your sweet servant girl. God, I'm acting like a recruit visiting his first whorehouse'. He is disappointed in himself, but tries to rationalize it by being innocent. Perhaps he just wanted to feel your hands on him, for comfort, for something different. One of the things he likes most about you is your hands. He noticed them when you first were sent to his mansion, much more timid then. You shook his hand, and his large, calloused and veiny hands, rough from years of labor and fighting, practically trembled at the feeling of your soft ones. As he grew to know you better, he would watch as you worked, your delicate hands dusting a vase or folding a sheet. He quickly decided any hard labor around his home be delegated to cadets and privates, when they would make the occasional visit, and sometimes as a disciplinary action. He wanted to keep your hands like you, soft and warm.

"Sir?" Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "Uh- Yes?" He stammers, readjusting his glasses (which oddly enough he always kept on for bath time.). "I was wondering... if I may take a bath sometime soon?" You ask timidly, causing him to frown. "Have you not been able to take one?" He asks. He doesn't remember ever giving such a command, and he would never deny your basic needs. "Well, one of the privates told me that the recruits shower schedule is twice a week, and that I should probably adhere to that at your house." You explain. Fritz grimaces. Of course some recruit would find it funny to torment the General's beloved servant. The soldiers where allowed two showers a week, but you were no soldier. You were a servant. His Servant. His.

"No, my dear, you may bathe whenever you see fit, that rule only applies to my soldiers of low rank. I imagine that young recruit may have been trying to have a laugh at your expense." He huffs. "Please, if you ever see him at the estate again, alert me to him, alright?" You nod, a little put off. You've never seen Fritz truly mad at one of his soldiers, he doesn't even get grumpy often, but now... he's scowling, as if that cadet had come right up to him, spit on his boots, and insulted his mother.

His eyes suddenly flash with a different emotion, as a thought crosses his mind. He bites his lips, trying to keep away the thought, but it's too tempting. "Perhaps..." His hand grips the porcelain edge of the tub. "Perhaps it would be easier for you to bathe me properly, if you were closer." He mumbles, avoiding eye contact. You tilt your head. "What do you mean, sir?" You ask naively. "Well, I just think, you could get a better position to clean me if you were to join me, i-in this bath, I mean." You blush wildly, and he begins to stammer, coming up with reasons it's a good idea. "For one, it would help you to apply the pain balm to my leg, and-" He's out of breath. "And taking a bath now, together, would ensure you are free later if I should need you." He risks a glance up at your face, feeling his turn red to match your own. You swallow. "I... I suppose that would be okay, sir." You mumble. You can't imagine he would hurt you, or try to take advantage of you. If that were the case, you imagine he would have had his way with you already. Besides, you can't deny how you failed to avoid looking at him when his disrobed before his bath. "Just, look away while I undress, please." You say, beginning to undo the corset of your servants attire. "Of course, anything to protect a ladies modesty." He says, quickly using his free hand to shield his eyes.

You slip into the bath water, and he looks up as he hears the water splash upon your entrance. You both remain silent, and you bathe him gently. He holds back sighs of pleasure, as you have forgone the sponge, and now use your bare hands as he had dreamed of moments ago. "Sir?" you break the silence. He lets out a "Hmm?" In response, eyes still closed in satisfaction. "May I ask, why do you never let me go into town? I wish to see my family, and the bakery." You ask. He seems to tense a little, the veins in his arm more prominent. "Because I simply don't have the time to venture there with you right now." He explains. "Yes, but I grew up there! I'm fine to go by my own." You say, a little annoyed he seems to think you're some helpless maid. He lets out a long exhale, before sitting up a little. Even like this in the bath, he towers over you. "It's not you I'm worried about, little one. I'm sure in town, before me and my men arrived, you could hold your own. But you couldn't against my soldiers, and-" He hesitates to tell you this, a part of him not wanting to scare you. "I don't trust half of them around a sweet thing like you." He sighs. You furrow your brows, your face upset. "You mean, like?" You can't bring yourself to say it. He nods. "I prevent it in every way I can, for all women. I do not allow it, but I cannot be everywhere, and the leaders above me do not permit me to dismiss a single man for a transgression like that. We need all the men you can get for the war." He makes a bold move, to cup your cheek. "But, rest assured, I won't let a single one of them lay hands on you. I just fear something could happen outside of my estate, that I could not control." You gulp at the notion, and nod. He sees the sorrow on your face, and strokes your cheek once more. "I will try to take a small holiday, a day or two perhaps, and I will take you to see them, alright?" He feels his heart speed up when he sees the light return to your eyes.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" You look as if you could cry. He smiles and nods. "I, I must confess, I hope to go sooner rather than alter, I had wished to speak to your father." He says. "About what?" You feel a little fear knaw at you, and you gasp. "Wait, sir, no! He's much to old to fight, and-" Fritz cuts you off with both hands on your shoulder. "No, my dear, no. I'm not going to draft your poor father, do not worry. I would not want to do anything that would worry you so much." He coos, then avoids eye contact again. "I had wished to speak to him. The last time we spoke, we made a deal that you were to work for me as a servant girl, but..." You nod for him to continue. "I have found that house chores and labor do not suit you." You frown at his words. Had you not been doing a good enough job. "I'm sorry, sir, if I've not been performing well, please don't fire me. My family needs the money." He seems shocked once again, and laughs awkwardly. "God, I do seem to be bad at saying what I mean, don't I?" He shakes his head. "I mean that I think such things are below you. I... I should like to take you as my bride, if you and he should permit it." Your eyes widen. You hadn't expected that. What would he have you do as his bride? He senses your nervousness, and continues. "I assure you, it can have as much or as little intimacy as you wish. You needn't even act as a proper wife to me, I just-" He seems to be struggling to explain. "I just want you to be safe, and comfortable, a-as you have made me feel since you began to serve me." You feel your heart flutter at his words. "Since you arrived, you've been so sweet. Doting on me, caring for me, helping me with the daily crosswords." You laugh a little, and he smiles. "I want nothing more than to ensure that I get to enjoy that everday, and more importantly," a slightly darker tone ebbs its way into his voice. "I want to ensure that no other man does." You're a bit put off by the shift, but only nod.

"I should like to, sir." His head snaps up, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I'll admit, I always wanted to live in a fancy house like this, and the company isn't half bad either." You admit, shyly looking up at him. He is elated, his form almost trembling. "Do you mean it? Truly? You wish to accept my proposal?" He gasps. You nod. He lunges forward to hug you, causing the water to surge forward, but stops just short of you, remembering your nude form rests below the soapy water, as does his. "Ah, um." He coughs awkwardly. "I must ask, if we are to marry, and you do enjoy my company, would you be okay with the typically romantic things? I know people usually court first, but seeing as we've spent all this time together already." He says. You think. "Like kissing, and holding each other?" You ask. "Yes, like that sort of thing." He affirms. You nod. "I'm fine with trying it, but I need to tell you something." He nods for you to go on.

"I'm sure you know, we are a little reserved and conservative in our town. As a traveling man, and a general, I'm sure you have had your share of, um, intimate encounters. I was always told to wait, however, and I may not be what you are used to." You look at the water, trying to fight the insecurity gnawing at your heart. He only shakes his head quickly. "No, no, my darling girl! How could you ever be anything but perfect to me?" He asks, caressing your shoulder blade with his thumb. "I would be honored, if you would have me, to teach you about the more, intimate affairs of marriage and courting." He says. "I must admit, I'm afraid that I wouldn't be enough to satisfy you as a man, or a husband." He confesses. You gasp, and cup his face. "Why, sir?" You implore him to confide in you. "My dear, you are a mere twenty-three years of age, and I am forty-two. I'm practically twice your age. Besides being an old man, you had to help me with this blasted leg into the tub. I'm practically a cripple..." His insecurities begin to flow out as he confesses. You gently tuck your head against his shoulder. "No, sir. You are enough for me. You are a general, and a kind man. You have always treated me with respect. If I didn't think you were enough, I wouldn't have said yes to marrying you, would I?" He nods reluctantly. "No, you wouldn't have. You've always been a smart girl." He admits. "I'm willing to learn, as long as you show me, sir." You whisper.

He blushes, but takes this as a sign. "Well, seeing as we are due to wed, I don't see the harm in teaching you a few things now..." He says, pushing forward a little so your smaller frame is up against the slanted back wall of the tub. "Are you alright with this, you may tell me at any time if you want to stop." He says. You nod. "Words, my dear, please. I want to hear that you understand." He pushes. "I understand, sir." You say. He shakes his head as he plans a kiss on your forehead. "Call me Fritz, my little bride." He coos. "And since you are to be my bride, I hope you won't mind showing me what's been hiding under that uniform I gave you?" He asks. You blush, but slide a little further up the tub, parting your thighs just a touch, so he can see the bush of hair between them. "I haven't shaved, sorry." You say, a little embarrassed. He only chuckles, and shakes his head. "My dear, I've gone months without a shower, and shared a restroom and barrack with 27 other men. A little hair won't scare me off." He looks longingly. "Besides, it's what's under it I'm interested in." His hand suddenly comes to your inner thigh, the sensitive touch making you gasp. You've never been touched up there, much less by a man so strong. One of his large, calloused fingers comes to part your lips, exposing to your future husband your dripping, virgin holes. He lets out a wanton sigh at the sight.

"So beautiful, and untouched?" He asks. You gulp, and nod. "It is my honor to be the first and last man to pleasure your sweet little sex." He says. He traces that finger up and down you're folds, making sure you are properly teased, and getting a feel for you. "So wet, and not just from the bathwater, it seems." He whispers. "Is this how you planned to lose your purity? To a man twice your age, and an invading military officer, no less?" You blush in shame. "I didn't think of the specifics, just... just wanted you to have it, sir..." You whine. His grins grows, and he lets out a groan as he latches his lips to your neck. He licks and kisses up and down your neck, until he finds a spot that makes you let out a beautiful whine, causing him to nip at it. "Do you think your father would be less likely to accept my proposal if he noticed you covered in marks of love from me?" Fritz asks, and you only giggle a little. He finger wanders up to touch the pearl of your sex, making you gasp. "Oh, Fritz... what are you doing?" You ask. "Just finding your pearl, my dear. I want you to cum at least once before I take your virginity. I want to please you, my darling girl." He kisses your cheek, before he presses another finger against your pearl. He rubs in soft, slow circles, trying a few different angles before he finds one that pleases you, which he discerns from the moans you let out. "Fritz, mm-" You moan. You can feel a slow heat spreading, as something in you builds. "Please, a little faster?" You ask. He tuts, and looks at you. "Can't you be patient?" He teases. "No, wanna finish..." You mumble. "Want you in me, I-I wanna be your little wife." He almost chokes at your pleas, the words going straight to his cock. He didn't think you could arouse him even further, but you always did exceed his expectations. He quickens the pace, and you can feel your orgasm approaching. "Yes, Fritz, Yes. Please, make me cum." You beg. "You want to cum, cum so I'll put my manhood into you? Want me to make you a proper little wife for me?" He edges you, and as you nod and agree profusely, you feel that wave wash over you. Your pussy convulses around nothing, as you let out a whine that sounds like music to him. This beats his visits to the royal opera a hundred times over.

As you pant, coming down from your high, Fritz holds you in your place, rising a little out of the water himself. You blush, as his erect manhood becomes visible. He's well groomed, and while the tip isn't pronounced, there's a curve to it that makes your mouth water. "Well, do I seem up to your standards, my love?" He asks. "More than that, Fritz. You're so pretty..." While it seems like nothing to you, these words strike him hard. He's never been called pretty before, and hearing it from your soft lips wipes the lewd grin off his face, replacing it with momentary shock. He pulls himself to you, his chapped lips colliding with your soft ones. You squeak, but melt into it. He tastes like earl grey tea and the occasional cigars he would smoke, but only when stressed. You both gasp as he pulls away, needing air. He places many small kisses on your face, making you smile as you look up at him. "My sweet, sweet girl. Always so kind to this old man..." He murmurs. As he does, he rolls his hips forward a little, allowing the underside of his manhood to rub against the length of your sex. "I'm going to be gentle, alright? It might hurt a little, especially with me being quite a bit larger than you. But I promise to take it at your pace, alright?" He asks, his hands resting gently on your waist. You nod, and feel his hard tip prod a few times at your aroused pearl, before moving down to line up with your entrance. He warns you a little, before gently pushing the tip in. You wince, and he continues to soothingly rub your waist with his thumbs. He moves himself out, then rolls his hips back in, a little deeper with each thrust. It hurts, but the relaxing warm water helps, and it's not as bad as you thought it would be. "Feels okay, darling?" He asks. "Yes..." You respond, focusing on the feeling of him inside you. As he continues, the pain subsides, and he begins to quicken the pace when he tells you this.

"God, Fritz. You're big, s-so big..." You moan, his hips causing your ass to bounce back and forth off the wall of the tub. "I' feel 'mazing." He huffs. "So tight, and warm. My girl, letting me take you like this, getting you ready for our wedding night." He feels himself harden even further at the thought. "Y'know, I think it'd be a shame not to share how sweet you are, how caring." He says, his hips now pounding at your cervix. "W-what?" You ask. He had made it clear earlier he didn't want to share, so despite the pleasure you are confused. "Saying you'll make a good wife, but I think you'd make a better mother." He moans. You gasp at the thought. "All swollen with my baby, my child. Letting me care for you for once, instead of helping me walk cause of my leg, I'd get to help you around..." He thrusts grow more erratic at the idea, and you feel yourself about to climax once more. "Let me, my love, please. Let me fill you with my seed, my children. Let your fiance make you a mommy..." He begs. Just as you shout an agreement, you feel yourself convulse around him, causing his breath to hitch. He groans. "God, gonna finish to now, going to give you my babies..." He shouts. You feel a warmth flood you, as he sprays hot, white ropes of cum into your womb. You both pant, taking quite some time to recover.

Being the strong man he is, he bounces back quite quickly, while you are so tired you can barely move. "I'm sorry, my love." He coos. "Perhaps I was a bit rough for your first time..." You shake your head. "Mmm, no. I-I felt good, just, I'm just tired." You yawn. He chuckles. He cleans himself, and you, before draining the tub. He grabs both of your clothes as he carries you past your servants quarters, and into his room. Helping you to redress in your undergarments, he lays you down. You sigh as your body melts into the luxury sheets. He sits beside you, gently stroking your face. "Get some rest, my little bride." He whispers, before departing back to his office. He heads to the front door, and picks up a letter dropped off from the courier. Inside the envelope is your father's response, from a proposal sent several days ago by Fritz. Once again, though this was his third and final time asking, your father once again denied your hand in marriage to Fritz, saying he would never marry his precious girl to an invader. Fritz grimaces, as he had not wanted it to come to this. Sighing, he writes two more letters in response. One to your father, stating his intent to take your hand either way, and another to his second-in-command, ordering a man to be jailed for treason and defying military orders. The first letter reads as follows.

Dear sir,

As you are well aware, this is the third time you have rejected to allow me to take your daughters hand in marriage. While i understand your hesitation, I do what I do only to provide her a safe, comfortable life, which I do not believe you could have provided her, in your town which my men overtook in merely three hours. I could not imagine if a man worse than I had set his sights on her instead. Rest assured, that in light of your soon-to-be imprisonment, I will care for her. She has developed a reciprocation of my feelings, and despite your refusal to wed her to me, as I write this she lays in my bed, beginning to bear my child. I wish that you had been understanding, and done what was best for your daughter. Now, she will marry happily, but have no father, and the blame lies only on you.

-Fritz, General of the Northern King's forces.

[tofixtheshadows]

Hot take: Laios wouldn't actually mind an arranged marriage. Obviously "reluctant royal being pressured into marriage" is very fun for shipping purposes. But I have harlequin blood, so bear with me. Join me on this journey of character theorizing/shipping nonsense that makes it abundantly clear I have a Scrivener document I'm neglecting.

Laios was promised to someone from a young age. He and Falin both were; it's probably how their parents ended up together. They both broke it off by leaving their village, but it didn't seem to be a factor in Laios's own decision. And when Marcille, presumably, asks about his hypothetical love life (bicorn chapter), he not only brings it up readily, but actually seems kind of flattered? lmao

I love when smug Laios comes out. Underrated factor of Laios's personality for me is how much he enjoys being seen as cool. I think you'd expect Laios to be embarrassed or uneasy over this line of questioning, and the fact that he isn't is fun to me.

So when Yaad and his other old advisors bring up his need for a wife, Laios is ready to go along with it. Not necessarily thrilled by the prospect, but he was raised to think of marriage as a business arrangement you do because it's beneficial for your household/bloodline (as was often the case historically). He's already made the big step to claim a throne, and the idea of becoming village chief after his father seemed to have been vaguely in the back of his head all his life. Besides, if he has to do it anyway, I think he'd take comfort that there was a formalized process for an otherwise socially messy undertaking.

This dovetails neatly with my personal headcanon that Laios is gay but unaware of it. He comes from kind of a repressed culture- or at least I can imagine he does based on context clues- and has spent most of his life being ostracized in one way or another, feeling like he's on the outside of humanity. So he doesn't realize that his lack of attraction to women is unusual- he assumes that nobody really enjoys romance that much. It's not like his own parents married for love. It's just something people play up for stories, right?

It's all tangled up with his fraught desire for human connection and platonic companionship anyway. Meanwhile he's blithely unaware that the things he says about Toshiro are not normal bro things. Oh you'd totally marry Toshiro, Laios? Tell me more.

I see this in Marcille too. Firstly due to her unstable development, which has only recently allowed her to reach maturity (I headcanon her as somewhere between 20-22) and secondly due to her being a half-elf (infertile+a too-long lifespan), I think she has the expectation that she's simply not destined for love. The half-elf character she relates to in her favorite books says as much. So she, too, confuses a genuine lack of heterosexual attraction with the belief that this is just because of her half-elf status distancing her from it. Plus, she spent over a decade as a student/researcher in a nice little sheltered academic bubble, at an all-girls academy populated by adolescents. She's the most sheltered of all the characters: she's only spent the past year in the "real world", and she still focuses all her romantic attention on living vicariously through her favorite characters or her friends (except for Falin, conveniently!).

And Marcille would absolutely want to live vicariously through Laios and his future wife. She would not want him to go through a dispassionate formalized process: she wants her bestie to have a fairytale romance! What is the point of being a heroic king in a mythic castle if you can't even get a love story for the ages out of it?

This would result in a lot of Laios meeting with eligible bachelorettes at Marcille's urging, looking to Kabru for help the entire time and being grilled by Marcille afterwards about what he liked best about each girl. "She had nice, um, teeth?" They're both so close to getting it.

Kabru, meanwhile, is agitating for Yaad and the other advisors not lock the country into a hereditary monarchy, they have the chance to do something radical here, to break away from the systems that the elves and dwarves uphold. At the very least, let Laios marry for love, or formally adopt an heir and name them his successor if he wants, he's already sacrificed enough for the sake of Melini. Don't make him jump through these circus hoops for the chance of some trade agreements, we can get those without a royal marriage. And even if Laios was willing to go along with it, he does look at Kabru like he's his hero for sticking up for him.

The vague unhappiness Kabru feels at the idea of Laios being married off is easy for him to ignore. Kabru didn't actually get better at honoring or even recognizing his own wants just because he's moved past the dungeon. And Laios hasn't gotten the hint about his crush on Toshiro and is still 50/50 on saying casually shocking things, so when he remarks that he doesn't need a wife anyway when he has Kabru, he has no idea why that gets him the looks it does. After all, where he's from, men marry women to run their households, but Laios has castle staff for that, and Kabru is handling the rest?

That comment alone ticks one month off their collective gay awakening countdown.

Anyway. How many repressed gays in their twenties does it take to run a country?

Answer: Yaad can tell you.

[mcuamerica]

Loving Flames | Part Three

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: Eris finds out where you've been the past two weeks Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence ish, alludes to SA, Rhys is an asshole still, PTSD, (kind of proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two

Eris was worried beyond belief. For the past two weeks, he wasn’t able to feel the bond from your side at all. Wasn’t able to hear the excited squeals you unintentionally sent down the bond. Or the slight moments in the night when you would wake up from a nightmare, a scream or yelp chilling him to the core.

He wasn’t able to feel you at all. He was hoping it was because of some wards you put up to keep people away from your vacation. But when the two weeks were up, and he still didn’t hear anything from you, he was really worried. He tried writing to you but he didn’t get a response. And when he wrote to Lucien asking if you were back yet, he said he hasn’t seen you either. Though, he thought you just extended your vacation.

And then Eris wrote to Tarquin. And Tarquin said you never arrived. So, instead of writing any other High Lords, he showed up at the River House. He might get exiled for it, but he needed to know where his mate was. At the very least, he needed to know you were safe

Feyre opened the door when Eris knocked, his hair tousled and unkempt. “Eris? What are you doing here?” She asked.

“Is (Y/N) here?” He asked, more like pleaded.

“No.. Rhys said she extended her stay in Summer. Something about working out her-“

“Where is Rhysand?” He growled, getting a growing feeling that something was very wrong. And if the High Lord of Night was the only one who knew about where you were, he would burn everything down to find it out.

“In his study.” Feyre said, but stopped Eris before he could go towards it. “Why do you need to see him?” She asked.

“Tarquin said (Y/N) never arrived in Summer. Why would Rhys say she extended her stay when she never even went?” Eris asked, looking down at the High Lady.

Feyre didn’t show her shock, instead turning to go to Rhys’s office.

“Rhys, where’s (Y/N)?” Feyre asked, Eris standing just on the other side of the door.

“I told you, Feyre darling, she’s in summer.” He said.

“Tarquin said she never arrived.” Feyre tested, arms crossed on her chest. “Where is she?”

Rhys froze his writing, setting the pencil down. “She’s in her room. And she’s not going to come out.” He admitted.

“Why?” Feyre asked, narrowing her eyes. Rhys never lied to her about anything. Or kept something from her. Not since after the war.

“Because I’m now allowing her to. She wants to go see Eris because she has it in her head that he’s her mate.” Rhys said and stood up.

“You aren’t allowing her? What does that mean?” Feyre asked. “Rhys… don’t tell me you locked her in her room.” Feyre said quietly.

When Rhys didn’t answer, Eris walked through the door, bypassing any wards that Rhysand had up around him. Eris grabbed him by the shirt, forcing him against the wall as his hands started to heat up. “What. Did. You. Do?” Eris growled out, fire practically burning in his eyes.

“You will not be seeing my sister. If you try, it’ll be an act of war.” Rhys said.

“Not if I challenge you to a gods damned Blood Duel because you’re keeping my mate from me.” He growled. “Take down the wards. Right. Now.” He said, pushing Rhys against the wall harder.

The High Lord of Night could smell his shirt burning underneath Eris’s hands.

“I will not let you hurt her anymore.” Rhys said.

“Rhysand.” Feyre said, walking over to him. She was seething. Even though she had complete control over her powers, darkness was reeling at her feet. "Take down the wards. Now. Or I will go get Helion myself to break them." She gritted out.

"Feyre-"

"Now, Rhys." She said.

Rhys looked at Eris, who now had burnt the tips of his shirt. The new High Lord powers riled within Eris, barking to be let out and torture this male who harmed his mate.

Rhys shut his eyes for a moment and when they opened, they looked to Feyre. "It's done." He said.

Eris let go of Rhys, bolting up to your room where he could now scent you... and feel the terror that eddied down the bond. He burst through the door and his heart broke at the sight of you.

You were curled up on your bed, shaking. There was a tray of food that hadn't been touched on your nightstand, along with a glass of water. Your back was to him and he was afraid of what you would look like when you turned around.

Eris heard Rhys and Feyre stop behind him as he walked over the threshold of the room. "(Y/N)?"

You jumped at his voice, and in relief and realization, you sat up. You were still shaking, your eyes were bloodshot and there were bags under them.

"Eris?" You rasped, your voice shot from sobbing and screaming.

"(Y/N), my love... I'm so sorry." He whispered, walking over to you slowly. "We're going to get you out of here." He said, sitting at the edge of the bed as he held out a hand.

Instead of taking it, you flung your arms around his neck. "I-I can't leave. Rhys- Rhysand locked me in here Eris. I can't-" You started to sob and Eris held onto you tighter. His blood boiled at the thought of your own brother locking you in a room after what you had been through. The brother he thought wouldn't harm you. That he left you with. But instead of burning his entire house town, he only comforted you.

"Shh, princess, it's okay." He whispered. "The wards are down. You can leave." He said. "Do you want to see?" He asked, slightly pulling back to cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

You searched his eyes for any lie, any doubt. When you found none, you nodded. But when you stood up and found Rhys, who's eyes were on you with nothing but sorrow shown in them, you paused. You could've cowered into Eris's chest or yelled at your brother for what he did to you.

Instead, you forced yourself to hold your head high, took Eris's hand, and walked right out of the room. You stared your brother down as you said, "I'm never going to forgive you for this." And then, you turned towards your mate, looked into his concerned yet proud gaze, and smiled. "Let's go home."

When you arrived at the Forest House and were standing on the balcony of Eris's (and now your) room, you finally allowed yourself to collapse into his arms.

You told him how terrifying it was to be trapped in that room, but even more so it was terrifying to be away from him. Your mind plagued you with images of his court turning on him, finding out he was the one who killed Beron, and committing mutiny to punish him.

When you finally calmed down, and Eris got you to eat something, you agreed to go back inside. But only if the doors and windows stayed over to allow the Autumn breeze to blow in.

"I'm surprised you didn't burn the River House down." You said to Eris, legs crossed on the bed as you sat across from him, drinking tea to warm the chill in your bones.

"I wanted to... but I wanted to see you were safe first." He said, eyes searching yours. "Will you truly never forgive him?" He asked. Eris knew he would never trust you to be alone with Rhys again, no matter if he was your blood. Hell, he wouldn't trust you alone with his own brothers, save Lucien. But a male who locked you up in a room? Never. That being said, he knew you were close with your brother. And wasn't sure your words were 100% true.

You took a sip of your tea, briefly recalling the words you uttered to your brother before leaving. "I will... eventually." You said. "If he promises to never lock me up or deny the mating bond between us again." You said. "Having a rocky relationship with the Night Court doesn't help you as High Lord... and if I am to be your mate.. I can't exactly hate the High Lord of Night." You said. "Besides, Feyre and the rest of my family will beat him to the Cauldron and back, so I have faith he'll get what he deserves." You said. While you were still pissed at Rhys, and you would be for a while, you didn't want to give up your relationship. He did think he was protecting you, in a terrible way, but he doesn't know Eris. Only knows him to be the cunning, cruel male that Eris lets shows. If you were going to rebuild your relationship with Rhys, you would need an open mind. Plus, you really wanted to see your nephew again, and if you never forgave Rhys, you doubt that would be easy.

"I don't want you to just be my mate." Eris said.

You, however, missed the just part of the sentence and shot your eyes to his. "What?" You asked, more emotion bubbling up in your throat.

"I want you to be my High Lady, if you'd like it." He said.

You blinked a few times, taking a moment to adjust to what he said. "You- you want me to be High Lady of Autumn?" You asked.

"If you want to... I know it's a lot to ask.. and we aren't even officially mated yet.. but-"

Once you set your cup of tea down, you flung your arms around Eris's neck. "Yes." You whispered into his neck. "Of course I will be.. I will rule by your side." You said and pulled back, cupping his cheeks. It was at that moment you realized you had never kissed him before. Your mate.

In sensing the same thought, Eris's eyes flickered down to your lips. "I'm so glad you said yes." He whispered.

With that, your lips were on his, softly moaning at the feeling. Your fingers tangled in his longer hair, tugging roughly as Eris bit down on your bottom lip gently.

You stayed like that for minutes, hours maybe, you weren't sure. But when you finally pulled away, lips plump and red and eyes staring lovingly at Eris, you knew that you would love him until you left this life. And any life after.

Part Four

A/N: There will be a part four, just not sure when or what it will entail (possibly a mating ceremony? make up session with Rhys? High Lady inauguration?) ....

Join the taglist here (I will not be adding people from the comments)

[aeliuss]

kiss me or hate me (kiss me)

when god made you, he built you all wrong. sown your heart on three times too large and your lungs three times too small, and you knew it was so because although you knew he was bad news, you couldn’t quite catch your breath around him. he is something holy, you swear he is. when he carves his hips into yours, when his lips linger on the soft flesh of your throat—he could tear you open.

you would let him. let him love you the way a vulture loves a carcass, neck dipped low in worship as it feasts.

your parents hate the way you’ve stopped going to church to be with him. hate that your even with him, but what do they know of love? you try to explain it to them, but the words get tangled in your throat, coming out wrong. they see only rebellion where you see revelation, only sin where you see sanctity.

you spend your nights wrapped in his arms, your days lost in thoughts of him. the world narrows to the beat of his heart against your ear, the whisper of his breath against your skin. his presence is a prayer you never learned, a hymn that rises unbidden in your throat. you abandon the familiar pews and hymns for the unknown verses of his touch, and every kiss is a communion, every whispered word a confession.

you start to think that maybe love is its own kind of faith. you wonder if god made him just for you, a test of your devotion, a challenge to your beliefs. you wonder if redemption could be found in the curve of his smile, if salvation could be written in the lines of his hands.

“I don’t love you,” he is sitting up on the bed, back to you, hips still tangled in the white sheets as he smokes a vape. “you know that, right?”

you know. you tell him so from where you lay on the bed, a foot away from him. naked, if not for the duvet. you swear you can make out a halo from the curls of smoke around his head.

he exhales sharply, shoulders shaking with laughter, twisting to face you. “god, you’re fun.” he murmurs against your lips. “did you know that? how fun you are?”

you don’t answer. don’t get the chance to, because he is pressing against you, and your blur into him once more. you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

“do you believe in redemption?” you ask him one day, your voice barely a whisper.

he snorts, a short, sharp sound that cuts through the silence. “redemption is for people who think they need to be saved,” he says, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “do you think you need to be saved?”

“do you?”

“do I look like I need to be saved?” his touch is not unlike a feather against your hip. it makes it difficult to focus. “I don’t know,” you murmur, cupping his jaw. “sometimes, you look very sad.”

you’ve never caught him off guard before. but that night you swore you saw the glitter of tears in his eyes, though you don’t feel them when he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“maybe we can save each other,” he mumbles after a while.

you hum softly, considering his words, the weight of them sinking into the silence between you. maybe it's true, maybe you can save each other. the idea flickers like a candle in the dark. fragile.

but as the days pass, you realize that love alone cannot mend all wounds, cannot erase all sins. he is still the same flawed, broken boy you fell for, and you are still the same church girl with a heart too big and a faith too fragile. you cannot save him, no matter how desperately you try.

yet you try. because god has sown your heart on three times too big and his three times too small and when you are together, you are clashes of teeth and elbows, of long limbs and wandering fingers, of sanctity and sin.

because he is your religion and you, a dutiful worshipper. because it was always meant to end this way. his teeth on your throat. a vulture feeding on a corpse.

[adonis-koo]

wicked • 19

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 13k

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tags: vaginal fingering, tiddy sucking (jk is definitely a boobs man), semi public sex??, oral (f), so many petnames, dom!kook, brief masturbation (m), multiple orgasms, size kink, multiple positions, cowgirl, creampies, slight somnophilia? (they keep having sex when they're both extremely exhausted), spooning turned to doggy, some very filthy talk, corruption kink, semi degradation kink, the word seed is used once and I actually hate it, some sweet, sweet aftercare, pillow talk, grinding, cumplay, brief handjob (m), edging, cockwarming, they're so in love your honor

Note: people will be shocked at how fast this update has come out and honestly ?? so am I, but tbf half of it is smut so...iykyk ALSO if you haven't checked out the playlist for wicked, you totally should!!

After the first snowfall, winter had come rolling in with no sign of stopping and just as Jungkook had once said, Penumbra was now buried in snow. 

There was something so captivating about the snow, its crisp frosty delicate nature, how despite the sun being covered in clouds, the snow reflected off the light and made everything so much brighter. 

The land was so desolate and yet so full at the same time, it left a deep yearning in you for the warmth, but in an oddly fulfilling way, it let you rest deeper at night, taking in the great vastness of the land and its minimalism. 

The morning had been busy just as each morning before had been so, Yule was only a week away and the court had many aristocrats staying at the castle making merry. It was such a celebratory time and yet you still felt like a ghost better left in the past.

Your days were not all horrible, but the constant numbness never fully went away, at one time you had wanted to go to Yule in Kimhae to reunite with your parents, but the idea of leaving somehow filled you with as much anxiety as staying.

“Well? What’s on your mind?” Jungkook finally spoke, not looking up from his work book, making sure the last of his bill signs, contracts carefully written out and correspondence dealt with so he wouldn’t be behind on his work when you both made your return.

You had been admittedly antsy, tidying up your bedroom, packing what few trinkets you thought you might want during the nights of your journey, fiddling with your own work and where to put what.

You simply couldn’t sit still.

You didn’t reply for a long moment causing Jungkook to look up from his desk, blue eyes appearing from those dark thick locks of hair.

Sighing you shifted as you set your book against the bed, “…You’ll be mad at me.”

“Well you don’t know until you tell me.” Jungkook didn’t seem worried.

You glanced away once more as Jungkook stood up, rounding his desk to walk over to you, “…What if I was having second thoughts…About going to Kimhae?”

Jungkook curved a brow, “The morning we depart for our trip?”

“Don’t say it like that!” You pouted with an usher.

“Is it really the trip? Or is it something else?” Jungkook replied, brushing off your pout.

Your pout however only furthered because you didn’t have an answer, “I don’t know…I just…this is the first time we’ll be making a public appearance outside of Penumbra since our wedding.”

“And what about it?” Jungkook shifted, crossing his arms, still not understanding what your problem was and truth be told you wish you had a better answer for him. 

“Does that not make you anxious? It makes me incredibly anxious.” You frowned, wringing your hands together, you were anxious about everything truthfully, but the idea of making your first appearance in nearly a year, well…You didn’t know what to expect. 

But then again, Penumbra had prepared you for pretty much everything at this point, there weren't too many boxes left to check off on life events at this point. 

“Why would I be?” Jungkook cocked his head to the side, “I’ve nothing to hide nor prove to anyone…If you’re anxious simply because, then it’s understandable,” Jungkook reached out to you, brushing his palm over your cheek before it crept down to your neck, “A lot has happened, I think it’s only natural. But I also know you’ve been looking forward to seeing your parents for the majority of your stay here, it would be imprudent of me to let you cancel our trip at the last minute.” 

Your lips quivered a little, “Even if I’m terrified? What if something happens?” 

Jungkook’s lips curled into a little smile, his fingers curling around your neck, not squeezing, but in a loving hold you had grown so acquainted too, “Then I will be there to stop it from happening,” Jungkook’s forehead pressed down against yours, “I know you’ll regret not going more then if you do.” 

Your eyes fluttered shut before you leaned over to bury your face into the crook of his neck, Jungkook’s arms wrapping around you tight as you murmured, “I hope you’re right.” curling your arms around his waist as you let yourself become engulfed in his warmth and letting it swallow all of your consuming thoughts. 

It stayed like this for a long minute before Jungkook slowly pulled away, looking down at you as he spoke, “I have something I wanted to give you.”

You pulled away from him more to get a better look at him, tilting your head in curiosity, “A gift…?” 

Jungkook snorted, “Something like that. I wasn’t sure if it would be finished in time, but Jimin managed to get it to me last night.” He let go of you before walking over to the bed, leaning down as he pulled down out from underneath. 

You tilted your head at the thick cloth cover as Jungkook stood up, holding it out to you. It was long and thin but held a considerable weight to it, not too heavy, but just enough to let you know it was of incredible quality. 

He nodded at you as a gesture to pull whatever was inside out, opening the draw strings. The first thing you saw was the bright silver crest of a pommel, pulling it out further was a soft leather hand and pulling it all the way out revealed a shortsword around twenty three inches. 

You couldn’t help but let your lips part at just how beautiful it was though, the metal was reflective and the detailing along the fuller, the blade was double edged and as your eyes traveled back to the handle you noticed a sort of…language? Written down the grip.

“It’s the first of its kind,” Jungkook finally spoke, “Noxtria melted with Quicksilver for a lightweight balanced sword but sharp enough to cut through thick metal. Godslayer is it’s name.”

“Godslayer?” You looked up at him. 

“The idea behind this blade was that it would be lighter than air, but have the strength to kill a god. I couldn’t think of a better person to hold the first blade of its kind than my own wife. We’ve been working on your swordsmanship for a long time now and I think it’s time you carry your own sword.” Jungkook nodded, a sort of pride in his eyes as he watched you weigh it, giving it a whirl in your hand. 

The training you had done had definitely made you physically stronger, as while the blade had weight, it wasn’t taxing to hold, “I want you to never feel defenseless by my side, we’re partners and equals and while I hope it never again comes to you needing to use this, I want you to have it if the occasion were to ever arise.” 

You were speechless as you stared at the blade, a reflection of yourself in its metal staring back at you, lowering it you whispered, “Thank you, Jungkook.” 

A small smile pulled on his lips, “Anything for my little sun.” His fingers traced down your cheek, “The case for it is still in the cover, here I’ll help you with putting on the harness.” 

Jungkook took the cloth covering off it to reveal the heavy black sheath and the harness that it attached too, Jungkook had carefully pulled it around your hip, adjusting it until it was snug against your skin, it felt weird having such a thing attached to your body now. 

But there was something oddly…safe about it, as Jungkook said, this was a safety measure and it made you feel as such, you could only hope you would never have to take another soul but….Your fingers unconsciously lifted, rubbing over the spot on your chest, now scarred from where Di Jin had attempted to kill you. 

Jungkook as if knowing what you were thinking tenderly grabbed your hand pulling it away, “It’s difficult to see it now but…” He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts, “I think…if I could go back and change things I would, in a heartbeat. But I do think it happened for a reason.” 

Your lips trembled softly, “How could killing someone happen for a reason?” 

“It made a spectacle for one,” Jungkook replied, a certain soft note in his voice was his hand found its way back to your neck, “Those who doubted your ability to hold your own in the court will never question it again. Your words have always had bite, but now you have proof behind them.”

You shook your head, “I don’t see eye to eye with you on this Jungkook.”

“I know you don’t,” Jungkook replied, his thumb soothingly rubbing into your skin, “And I wouldn’t expect anything less, but your respect in the court is much more now than it ever was before. Not only this but…”

Jungkook paused for a long moment gathering his thoughts, “Knowing you have the capability to defend yourself…there will be times when we will have no choice but to be apart,” He sighed, “I will eventually have to lead projects that take me away from Penumbra, knowing you have the means to take care of yourself puts me at ease.” 

“I don’t want you to be apart from me.” You mumbled, anxiety at the thought immediately quelling.

Jungkook let out an amused breath, “That’s not something to worry about now, one thing at a time. If you have the rest of your things settled, we should head down, the sooner we get on the road the sooner we’ll arrive, and the sooner you’ll feel better.” 

“...I suppose.” You mumbled, but Jungkook was not feeding into your pouty expression, no matter how much it was his weakness, he grabbed your thick cloak which had laid abandoned on the bed, wrapping it over your shoulders as he buckled it up, grabbing his own to carry as he held out his arm for you. 

Letting him guide you down you ignored the stares of a group of court ladies staring you down, perhaps in wariness, perhaps because the court had easily taken notice of how close you and Jungkook had become in the last few weeks. 

The consummation of your marriage hadn’t actually changed anything, but Jungkook’s confession of love had really done a number on you both, and every time those sweet words left his lips you had the intention of saying it back. 

And yet every time it felt like the word got stuck in your throat unable to escape, perhaps it was because you were still scared, still in disbelief that Jungkook loved you, but all of his actions, his words, even the way he looked at you, it all screamed love.

Being met with snow on the ground, crunching beneath your feet you let out a breath that you could visibly see, a sensation you still weren’t quite used to, it was freezing cold and the journey would be very long. 

Jungkook had spared no expense to keep you wrapped in very thick layers in hopes that it would keep you warm, but it seemed no matter the amount, you were always cold. 

“Wheein is doing her last rounds of gathering items, she should be out shortly,” Taehyun called out, finishing fixing up your horse’s saddle, Jungkook walked up with you before helping you on and making sure you were situated before saddling his own horse. 

“Snow isn’t too deep yet, we should make a timely arrival,” Yoongi called out, trotting on his own horse up the path ahead before stopping next to Jungkook, “If we make it with not much snowfall, it should only take four days.” 

Your lip curled a little at the estimate, you knew Kimhae was further away then Eunoia, but you had been used to only a day’s travel when you were in Eunoia, they lived further West then Eunoia and a little further south. 

The climate in the West however made it incredibly dry, the further you traveled the less snow there would be, hopefully at least. 

Once Wheein had finished her last round of gathering any last minute packing she had come out with a few guards help and finished loading the pack horses and then mounted her own. It wasn't too big of an entourage of servants, but you had two of Yoongi’s men, himself and of course your two personal servants to attend you both. 

You were nervous for many reasons, showing your face to the outside world, you weren’t sure what reaction you would gain, knowing how the truth of Penumbra had been twisted beyond recognition, you could distinctly remember all the dread you had for two years of being engaged to Jungkook. 

Words that he had abused women in many ways, that he starved all of his servants and that he’d beat them if they disobeyed, rumors swirling that he already had multiple wives and you would be another trophy in his collection, some rumors even going as far as to say he had his dead enemies taken to the castle so he could bath in their blood. 

The list went on and on and every single one was just a rumor, nothing more than foolish lies spread to cause more fear, Jungkook was not a single thing he had ever been stated as, wicked least of all. 

But you were now nervous because you had seen both sides, the truth and lies both, and you couldn’t help but wonder what rumors had escaped Penumbra about you? Dread filled you once more, what twisted way could the world turn your murder of Di Jin even worse? 

That you feasted on his corpse? 

You could briefly taste the raw iron in your mouth that had you holding back a gag, Jungkook’s sharp gaze that had been looking ahead immediately on you, “What’s wrong?” 

You held your hand on your mouth trying desperately hard to not let the memory suck you back into the past, flashes of blood in your mind, cartilage mixed with skin, the raw smell of blood, “Water, can I have some water.” You forced the words out. 

Jungkook wordlessly pulled the water satchel from the side of his saddle, handing it to you, “You’re thinking.” 

You took a large swallow and slowly the faint taste faded back into the nothingness it came from, you shook your head handing it back to him, “I’m trying not too.” 

“You’re not doing a good job of it,” Jungkook replied, making you give him a look, he laughed a little though you spot the concern in his eyes, “Would talking about it make you feel better?” 

You sighed as you shook your head, “I think i’d rather talk about something else,” Lingering on your thoughts would only serve to possibly bring memories even more vivid back, “You’ve been to Kimhae right Jungkook?” 

Jungkook guided his horse a little closer to yours so you’d be able to converse better, “It’s been a long time. We visited when they hosted the War Council. I was…maybe seventeen? This was just in the beginning of negotiating,” Jungkook hummed as he thought about it, “Kimhae was dull in my opinion, they lacked conviction and were very obvious in the fact that they didn’t respect Penumbra or the Jeon name.” 

You listened to him before you let out a laugh gaining his attention, “I remember this quite well, I was visiting Seokjin at the time. I remember spotting you and your father arriving out my window but you were too far for me to get a good look. I remember him complaining though. Telling me you had this haughty look about you, acting as if you were better than him.”

Jungkook scoffed, “I was better than him. I am still better than him. If you were present at the time though…Why had I not seen you?” He looked a bit confused, as obviously women weren’t allowed in the War Room but that didn’t mean they were prohibited anywhere else, he had stayed a full fortnite at Kimhae that trip and not once had he seen you. 

“I made myself unknown on purpose,” You replied, a small frown tugging on your lips, “It was at Seokjin’s insistence of course, he didn’t want you near me with the potential to ‘corrupt me’, as he said.” 

“Corrupt you?” Jungkook scoffed, almost offended, “If we had met properly before our engagement, I feel we could’ve been cordial. Come to think of it I do remember talk of the Eunoian Princess, being in court,” Jungkook’s gaze became pensive as his brows pinched together, “I remember Seokjin gloating about how the fairest princess warmed his bed at night and that he loved nothing more then his name screamed in pleasure.”

You blinked multiple times before your gaze shot to Jungkook, “This was in reference to me?” 

You had known Jungkook long enough now to tell he was absolutely wrought with anger at just the idea, his knuckles tight on the reigns of his horse as he stared ahead, “Mhm. I once told you that we saw him differently, that’s one of the many reasons why. He loved to peacock around gloating about sleeping with you.” 

“Sleeping with me!?” Your mouth parted in somewhat disbelief, “We…” You couldn’t help but let out a scoffed laugh, he had been pressuring you for some time, but you never realized just how desperate he was to go out of his way to lie to other men that you both had slept with one another in such a way. 

And then the embarrassment began to flood in, was this why so many men in his court assumed you were loose, or that you were an easy woman? 

“Well I can promise you he was nothing more than a liar,” You let out another laugh as you shook your head, “Screaming his name in pleasure…The only name that was ushered was my own and even then that was on a lucky day.”

“Your name!?” Jungkook sucked in a harsh breath of air. 

You paused, suddenly realizing what you had just said, and then looking around, there was a good distance between Yoongi up ahead with his fellow guards and Wheein and Taehyun were conversing further behind, Fenrir having walked alongside you awhile now. 

“So Seokjin has gotten to experience that sort of intimacy from you.” Jungkook pressed his tongue into his cheek as if this was the worst news he could ever receive. 

“It’s not…” You sighed, trying to find the right words, you had never really planned on mentioning what little intimacy you shared with Seokjin, as it wasn’t relevant to your current relationship and truthfully, there wasn’t much to talk about, “I’ve…When we first started to explore an intimate relationship together, you remember me being frightened by it, yes?” 

Jungkook tilted his head, a little confused as to where this was going but nodded regardless. 

“The same could be said for back then- especially back then,” You explained as you lowered your voice a little, “I was nervous to lose my virginity, Seokjin already didn’t like my traditional Eunoian attire, but even moreso it had him acting out, trying to pressure me into giving myself to him. But I could never commit to it. The idea of him leaving me after I gave it too him made me too anxious…And..”

You sighed as you glanced down at the snowy earth, “I hated feeling like nothing more than a sexual fantasy for him. Looking back, it feels as if that was all I ever provided, some sort of exotic fantasy that he could escape to in Eunoia, never truly a person, a soul, just something to make him aroused and fulfilled. And so to keep him satiated but also withhold my own boundary, I offered to pleasure him,” You pressed your lips together, your nose wrinkling, “It wasn’t very often, nor was it very pleasant but well…It kept things from escalating beyond my control.”

Jungkook’s jaw only clenched, “How different things would’ve been if we had met that week. Perhaps you could have been saved from all that trouble.” 

“Things happened the way they did though,” You offered a weak smile, “It’s not something I ever think about anymore, after all, it feels so long ago despite being so recent. And I’m very content now.” 

You reached out to grab his hand as your smile brightened, “I’m happy I saved myself for the right person. I couldn’t imagine it with anyone else.” 

This seemed to soothe Jungkook in the right way, “Well when you say it like that it makes me think you’ll want extra help to keep warm tonight.” 

“Jungkook!” You smacked his shoulder, “What an indecent thing to suggest, in a tent? In the middle of a journey?” 

Jungkook chuckled as he gripped his reins in contentment, “No better time than the present princess.” 

You only shook your head, the hours seemed to go quick as you and Jungkook had talked about this and that, and then a content silence took over as the sky darkened and Yoongi had begun to look for a suitable spot to make camp.

They had managed to find a spot off road closer to the woods where the cold wind was blocked and snow wasn’t as deep, clearing off the snow before getting fresh cut wood to get a fire going, setting up tents didn’t take very long. 

Soon dinner was cooking over the fire, granted you had already eaten an abundant mix of packed cabbage and vegetables tossed together and despite being tired and hungry Jungkook was still easily fending you off as metal clashed together. 

“You’ll need to try harder than that princess,” Jungkook whirled the sword in his hand as you huffed a breath, stretching your aching arms, “If you were to fight an opponent far more skilled than you in battle what would your tactic be?” 

“Run?” You raised your brows, Jungkook seemed to enjoy asking hypothetical questions that you were certain would never happen. 

“Okay but in this scenario you do, what would you do?” He pressed, giving you a moment to regather yourself. 

“Well it depends, if they’re aggressive, which I assume they would be, it’s not difficult to size my lack of experience up in comparison to someone like you, I’d have no choice but to defend until they burn down their energy and then once they tire out I’d make a chance to strike.” You sighed as you lifted your sword back up. 

“Yes that would be the logical way to go about it,” Jungkook hummed, “Contextually speaking. But there are other ways, you can use your environment to assist you, you could also have another ally help or use your size to your advantage. Being smaller means being quicker. Again.” 

You both tapped swords before sparring once more, Jungkook easily more aggressive this time causing you to back step until you back stepped right into the deeper snow causing you to yelp, whining out at the freezing damp sensation seeping through your dress into your skin. 

“That’s not what I meant when I said use the environment.” Jungkook sighed as he rested the flat of the blade on his shoulder. 

You managed to step out back onto the shallow end as you whined out, “I am perfectly aware of what you meant! I’m trying! I just can’t seem to get it…” You let out a defeated sigh as a tremor jolted through your body at catching the cold nip of breeze. 

Jungkook only shook his head somewhat amused, “How about we rest for the evening and get you close to the fire once more.” His hand curling around your waist as you both walked back to camp, “You shouldn’t have such high expectations of yourself, I’ve been training since I was a child, you’ve come a long way for only training the last six months.”

“Sparring is also different then a real duel or battle,” Yoongi spoke, as he had been watching you both the last hour in amusement, “If you’re already doing this good in a spar, you’ll be able to hold your own perfectly fine in either.” 

“This is also true,” Jungkook yawned as he sat down on the large mat, offering a hand to you to help you down, “The adrenaline is different, when it comes to life or death, you fight with more than your all, more than you could ever muster for a spar, even a duel.” 

“I just hope it never comes to that.” You sighed with a shiver, scooting closer to the warmth of the fire. 

“What matters is that you’ll be ready m’lady.” Wheein offered a kind smile as she continued, “And I agree with his Highness, you’ve improved significantly compared to when you first started, it’s something to take pride in, you’ll only improve with time.” 

“The chances are slim but it never hurts to be prepared,” Yoongi chimed in once more, “Dinner is ready.”

The rest of the evening had passed with laughter and fellowship that you found yourself truly enjoying, and at some point you had tried to remember when the last time you had felt this at ease, this…at home? 

Even in Eunoia, tragedy had always surrounded you during your youth, uncertainty of the war and the future as a growing lady and plunged into icy fear as a young woman, you wanted to say you had other moments of relaxation. 

But you couldn’t think of a single time, except for this moment, you found yourself curling up against Jungkook, yawning as your eyes began to droop and your head resting on his shoulder.

When your eyes opened once more, you were uncertain of how much time had passed other than the indication that everyone else had departed to their tents. 

Jungkook had been leaning on one hand, the other wrapped around you as he had stared thoughtfully in the fire before realizing you had awoke, “Are you ready to depart for bed?” 

It was a quiet usher that made you nod with another yawn, letting him help you up as you walked over to your shared tent.

Due to the few people in your party, a circle of tents was formed, yours however just a little closer to the fire upon your request and how could you be blamed on a frigid night such as this? Even Fenrir was curled up right next to the fire, paying you both no mind as he continued to rest. 

The tent wasn’t extremely spacious, but it gave you enough room to get what you needed done without being on top of one another, “Let’s get you out of this.” 

“And into what?” You were more awake now than before, “Did Wheein leave me something?” 

Jungkook looked down at you, a sort of boyish look on his face making you pinch him, “Don’t look at me like that,” He chuckled softly grabbing your hand away from his bicep, “We have plenty of furs, and i’ll let you sleep on the fireside, it’s making me hot being that close anyways.” 

“It’s too cold!” You whined out quietly. 

“You really want to sleep like that?” Jungkook was already stripping himself, “I’m burning up personally.” 

Your lips parted multiple times at the sight of his chiseled muscles, biceps flexing as he pulled down his pants revealing the taunt thick muscles of his thighs, even more notably his undergarments.

“Come,” Jungkook had a small smirk on his face as if knowing your eyes roamed his body despite how hard you were trying to be discreet, “Let me undress you.” 

You let out a discontented noise but it was difficult to say no when he looked like this and he was looking at you like that, shuffling over you sat on your knees in front of him, Jungkook leaned forward peeling off each layer with a sort of lethargy, as if in no big hurry. 

Despite the chilled air you could still feel the lick of fire through the thick cloth tent, dropping the last layer down your shoulders you shuddered, a sort of shyness creeping over you as you felt your nipples immediately hardening at being exposed.

Jungkook helped you shuffled out of the last layer, in nothing more than your panties now, “It’s freezing,” You whispered, trying hard to not let yourself feel self conscious at being close to naked in the tinted firelight that your husband could easily see, “If you’re content let’s go to bed.” 

“Ah,” Jungkook immediately stopped you, eyes staying on your soft perked tits, “The cold will help keep you healthy.” He had a stupid boyish look on his face again as he leaned in, warm breath fanning along your cheek before he leaned down unable to resist parting his lips to take your left tit into his mouth. 

You let out a breath louder than you intended, but the you couldn’t help it, the sharp contrast between the cold air and his warm wet tongue had your body flush with arousal, and clearly you weren’t the only one as your eyes dropped down, a solid print formed showing your husband was also feeling the same. 

“Jungkook, it's too cold for this…!” You whined out quietly despite your legs immediately parting for him to sit between as he moaned against your breast, other hand squeezing your left tit as he pinched your hardened bud between his thumb and finger while suckling on the other.

You forced the moan back into your throat.

Jungkook finally released your bud from his lips, looking up at you with dark eyes full of arousal, “Well then we’ll just have to warm you up then won’t we, my goddess?” His hand slithering down your waist as he parted his lips once more your left tit, sucking harshly making you jolt. 

His fingers pushing beneath your panties as his fingers dragging against your puffy slit as you let out a breathy noise legs parting further for him as you leaned back on your hands, hips shifting to give him more access to your cunt. 

Jungkook was delighted by the invitation you could tell by the way he harshly sucked your bud, middle finger suddenly pushing inside you, sliding in with a slight pinch of discomfort that didn’t last long as he pushed all the way until his knuckle met with your body. 

“We can’t be too loud now,” Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk, “So you’ll need to be a good girl for me and be quiet.” 

You bit down on your lip as he pushed his index finger inside you the pinched discomfort returning the sensation of his fingers pushing in and out of your little hole had you relaxing into his touch with a soft moan, walls squeezing around his fingers with each thrust. 

“Mmm that’s a good girl,” Jungkook grinned, pupils dilated in lust as he buried his fingers back inside your cunt, feeling your little walls clench around him once more before he brushed his thumb over your clit a higher pitch whine escaping you, “Ah, ah, remember,” Jungkook looked amused, “You need to be quiet if you want to cum all over my fingers princess.” 

“Kook,” You whispered, eyes closed tight at the feeling of his thumb teasingly brushing over your clit, fingers buried deep inside you as your walls tightened around his digits, “Please…!” 

The cold air was wrapping around your body, but the sharp contracts of his warm tongue and fingers burying inside you.

Jungkook laid you back against the fur before pulling your panties off, “You’ll get your pleasure, but you need to be a good girl and wait,” His voice was deep and soft taking off his own underwear to reveal his heavy, thick cock fully hardened, he parted your legs as you tensed cold air invading your cunt as he pushed his fingers back inside you, your clit extra sensitive from the cold with each little brush of his thumb, every little tease sent a sharp jolt of pleasure in your body.

Wet sticky arousal dripping from you little hole as you squeezed around his fingers, wiggling your hips a little with a whine, “Kook, need more..” You whispered out, not liking this slow teasing game. 

“Patience,” Jungkook replied, fingers pulling out of you only a little just to thrust them back in, he did this once more, even rougher, his pace was just right, hitting that sweet little spot inside your body that your walls clenching each time as your legs twitched. 

Jungkook’s free hand rubbed through your puffy wet slit before he gripped the base of his cock, a hissed grunt escaping him as he slowly pumped his base, watching the lewd act immediately made a soft moan escape you, just the idea of his fat cock inside you had you clenching hard around him as he began arithmetically thrusting his fingers into that sweet little spot.

“Fuuck you like watching me stroke my fat cock for you my love?” Jungkook let out a wicked look, his hand running all the way up his cock, thumb messily smearing his precum over his fat bulbous head before running it back down meanwhile his other hand began forcefully shoving inside your little hole greedily.

His thumb circling your clit as pleasure began shooting through your body, your eyes never leaving his cock that he squeezed tightly in his hand pumping it eagerly as his eyes flickered between your cunt sucking in his fingers needily and your face, entranced by his movements.

It made his shaft throb so bad in pleasure it hurt, he threw his head back with a low moan hips lifting as he thrusted his cock into his fist, feeling your little hole squeeze so tight around him it was difficult to move his fingers.

Jungkook locked eyes with you, that wicked look on his face, “What do you think that little ex lover of yours would say if he could see you right now?” 

“Mmm! Right there…!” You whimpered out, struggling to keep your voice quiet as your legs turned limp at how rough he was thrusting his fingers into that sweet little spongy spot inside you, “Kook, right there…!” 

Jungkook lifted his hips once more, fucking his fist at the way your legs lifted up, bringing them to your chest to obediently spread your cunt further for him, “Would he say I’m corrupting you right now?” 

You had to bite down on your hand to fight back the whines and moans trying to escape you, “Please…! Please.” You kept muttering it, body twisting and building so fast your mind was completely blank aside from the filth Jungkook was whispering to you.

“That I’m tainting his pretty little Eunoian princess, filling her cunt up until she’s completely fucked out cumming all over my fingers?” Jungkook harshly squeezed the base of his cock, keeping his knuckles buried in your cunt as he rapidly hit into your g-spot. 

Jungkook wanted to laugh at the strangled high pitched moan escaping you as you desperately tried to keep it quiet, feeling your warm little walls wrap tight around his fingers as you came, arms wrapping around your face to try and keep your cries of pleasure to yourself.

Jungkook eased you through your orgasm before pulling his fingers out of you, low breathes escaping you as your chest lifted and dropped before letting your arms drop from your face to the crude sight of Jungkook’s fingers in his mouth, eyes closed with soft moan as he licked your cum off them.

“This is the best way I could have ever relaxed.” Jungkook pulled his fingers from his mouth with a content look as he laid down next to you, your eyes however still on his hardened cock. 

“But you…” You frowned. 

Jungkook raised his brows before his eyes dropped to his cock before shrugging, “I don’t cum easily, a good and bad thing I guess. C’mere love.” 

“How do you want me?” Jungkook’s eyes snapped back open as they met yours, as if trying to figure out if he heard you correct, “I want you to feel good too, how do you want me?” 

Jungkook moaned softly closing his eyes once more, unable to look at those cute, eager little eyes of yours, basically asking to be filled up by him. 

“Ride my cock.” Jungkook replied, admittedly getting difficult to keep his eyes open, but he’d rather kill himself then miss the opportunity to cum inside your pretty, puffy little cunt. 

You knew what he meant, you had gathered as much the last time but you just… you awkwardly straddled him, his hands on your hips to help guide you, this wouldn’t be as difficult as last time right?

Grabbing his cock in your hand you heard a gritted hiss through his teeth, rubbing his bulbous head through your wet folds before lining him against your entrance, unlike last time you sank onto it.

Biting your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut, rather than a pinch the discomfort was still moderate, but not nearly as much as the first time. 

“Mmm fuck,” Jungkook moaned softly, still unable to process that he was getting to feel your warm little walls wrapping around his thick head, “Does it still hurt?” 

His hands soothingly rubbed up to your waist before back to your hips, “A little,” You whispered, settling your hands on his chest, “I still don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Jungkook opened his lidded eyes, trying his damn hardest to not fall asleep right now, “It’s not difficult, just a matter of practice. Sink a little lower…” Jungkook bit his lower lip a little at watching his cock sink further inside your warm cunt, “Now lift your hips like this.” 

You let his hands guide your movements as you let out a soft whine, the pain subsiding as his cock began to slide inside you with ease, stuffing you so full it was difficult to believe you had something this big inside you. 

Just the feeling of his heavy cock burying inside your cunt made your walls wrap tighter around him, slowly bouncing on his cock as Jungkook’s hands settled on your hips, “Fuck yeah love, just like that, riding my fuckin’ cock like you were made for it.” 

His words of pleasure made you bounce a little faster, taking him a little deeper each time before his hands tightened on your hips, suddenly grabbing you and pulling you all the way down, you let out a tiny whine at being so full of cock with no warning, walls rapidly clenching around him as you moaned.

Jungkook’s eyes were closed as he let out a breathy deep moan, “Could fall asleep like this every night, use my pretty little wife as my personal cock warmer, mmm keep squeezing around me like that.” He had a sleepy smirk on his face as his hands wrapped around your ass, urging you to start riding him once more. 

You quickly found you loved being full of cock though, cunt split open by something so thick and heavy, excitement trilled through your body making your walls wrap tight around him as you began bouncing on his cock.

Letting out quiet moans at the feeling of his shaft hitting all the right places inside you, “Mmm yeah, oh…fuck…” You whined out softly, sitting up right as you bounced all the down his cock as you grinded against his pubic bone.

Jungkook forced his tired eyes open to the amazing sight of you, his pretty wife completely naked bouncing on his cock, tits bouncing and face fucked out, clearly pleasuring yourself now, “Make me cum,” He moaned out softly, “Let me fill that pretty little cunt up.” 

You kept trying to bite back your whines as your hips became more messy in bouncing, uneven and unsteady as pleasure quickly built inside you, sinking back on his cock as your walls tightened, moaning just a hair louder as you creamed all over his cock. 

Jungkook was tired, sleep near taking him the same way you took his cum, letting it shoot deep inside you as you swiveled your hips, taking every lost drop he’d give as quiet breathes filled the tent, your own eyes closed with that same unmistakable tiredness. 

Jungkook let out a tired smile, “What a good girl.” He pulled you onto his chest, shifting you both to be buried beneath the blankets and furs, being skin to skin made you realize just how cold you had been. 

Jungkook’s skin was like fire, hot to the touch and your own personal little fire, curling up against him, your eyes immediately fell heavy, sleep had never felt so peaceful as being skin to skin with your husband.

The journey to Kimhae had been rather uneventful and what few encounters you had with wolves and even a bear, Fenrir had easily warded them off, your baby having grown so much in the last months now standing just a little taller than your horse.

Jungkook had been up ahead chatting with Yoongi for awhile now, something regarding plans on resuming the Eastern movement when you returned from Yule.

Wheein had been riding by you for awhile now in a comfortable silence aside from a few comments to Fenrir who had been running ahead in the snow and finding random branches to be thrown, the only problem being they were too heavy for you to toss. 

“Something on your mind Wheein?” You finally asked, having noticed a faraway look in her eyes for a good while now. 

Her eyes met yours before she gave a small, weak smile, “Nothing incredibly important I just…” She faltered a little, “I know the past cannot be changed but, I can’t help but feel like so many events could have been avoided if it weren’t for me.” 

You straightened up, frowning immediately at her words, “What would make you say that?”

Wheein hesitated to speak, “...What happened, with my execution, you…” It looked as if it was physically difficult to attempt to finish her sentence, “I know how important keeping your culture intact is for you. You’ve done nothing but try to become a Penumbrian Princess, and for you to be put in a position where you had to compromise your own personal oath and belief…” Wheein let out a shaky breath, visibly puffing in the cold air as her eyes looked watery, “I feel as though I haven’t given you a proper apology M’lady.” 

Your heart felt like it was twisted, “You have nothing to apologize over Wheein. I am still mourning many things but I…I don’t regret what I did. I said it once and I will say it again, I was willing to do anything to get you back. Di Jin was the assassin who attempted to kill me, which started this entire mess…I don’t know how much you’ve heard about the Estate…”

Wheein’s lips stayed in a frown, cheeks flush and rosy from the cold wind as she adjusted her shawl, shaking her head, “Only whispers of rumors to what happened, and my own assumptions when you intervened on my execution.” 

You let out a shaky sigh, trying your best to detach yourself from the memory as you recalled the events that lead up to that fateful night, “They had lured Yoongi away and I foolishly sent him in good faith that nothing would happen but…Di Jin revealed himself that night revealing that he had come to finish what he started. He almost did,” Your hand trembled as you pressed it against your chest, “Then he got closer to me, trying to kiss my neck and…I don’t know.”

And that was the funniest part, you still had vivid clips of what happened in your head, but it was all so fast, so gorey, your mind had blotted out a lot of it, “One minute he was on top of me, and the next minute I was covered in blood.” 

There it was, that distinct iron on your tongue, it made you sick to your stomach, “And I didn’t stop after he was dead,” Your lips trembled as you whispered, “That’s the part that scares me the most. He was dead and I kept going, I...it was like I was possessed, unable to stop. I felt…” It felt like bile was beginning to rise in your throat as you swallowed it back, “Good. Powerful, invincible in that moment, feeling his flesh in my mouth, the taste of his blood on my tongue-” 

Your hand suddenly grabbed your lips, trying to swallow back the bile which risen much faster, immediately grabbing the water satchel that hung off the saddle of your horse, taking a long drink from it to try and wash what you had just admitted away. 

It had been plaguing the back of your mind every moment it was quiet, the fact that something inside you liked it, even enjoyed the depraved act, showing someone who had disrespected you and your heritage, making a mockery of it for so long, a little devil inside you secretly wishing you had finished what you had started, to devoured him the way your ancestors would. 

Even now a little voice in the back of your head was thrilled by it, it never ceased to make you sick, Weak in the stomach with shame every time it crossed your mind, it felt so heretical to think let alone voice aloud, the extent of how much a secret part of you enjoyed it. 

“I am so sorry Princess,” Wheein whispered, clearly hurting for you as she held back her tears, inhaling sharply, “I still can’t believe what’s happened. I’m sure being away from Penumbra will be a good break for all of us.” 

“If I had just…” You had to stop yourself from saying what you wanted, you had the ability to heal Wheein’s mother, maybe if you had listened to Baba Enàir more carefully, had been more dedicated to your studies as a child…perhaps this whole thing could have been prevented if you had been the one to heal Wheein’s mother, disputing any claims, “I’ll never send you away so often like that without company, I never want to put you in such a compromising position Wheein and for that I am sorry.”

“We all have our grievances about what happened.” Wheein smiled sadly, “But what counts is that we are both alive and well, but…Something else does plague me.” 

You tilted your head, patiently waiting for her to continue as she gathered her thoughts, the wind blowing her black locks of hair back as she squinted her eyes, “We still never caught who sent the assassin. What if this happens once more?” 

You frowned, you had thought this as well, “Something tells me, whoever did this will try a different tactic next. We must remain vigilant, perhaps moreso in Penumbra then even in Kimhae.” You nodded in thought, “I do agree though, this will be good for all of us.” 

This had become routine at night it seemed, waiting for everyone else to depart to bed before being guided back yourself, undressed by your husband’s large, warm hands, and then taken whatever way he wanted, with his hands, his tongue, his cock, you weren’t picky. 

You however were starting to become used to the sensation of his cock spliting you open, his cum dripping down your thighs, an unfamiliar soreness between your legs that had a sweet ache that made you crave more. 

You had never understood the idea of physical intimacy in the past, it always made your skin crawl at the idea, but then again, you never had a partner you felt you could trust like this.

More than anything, you loved being close to him like this, loved that you could be so intimate with the person you trusted more than anyone, his arms wrapped around you, laying slightly on top of your back, keeping you warm just as he promised every night. 

It was odd, the comfort it brought feeling his warm cum dribbling from your little hole as you yawned, eyes closing as you dozed off in his arms. 

It was still late into the night when you awoke to his lips pressing on your neck, moaning softly as his hips rutted into you, cock hardened once more much to your sleepy surprise, “Mm, need you my love.” His voice was much deeper, telling you he was also half asleep, “Dreamt of your pretty little cunt, letting me fill it up.”

“Mmm Kook.” You mumbled out, eyes closing as you felt your leg being propped further up to give him better access to your little entrance, his arms tightened around your waist as he managed to line his cock up before pushing it in. 

A soft sleepy moan escaped you, an entirely new position you were acquainted with but something about it made you feel so full, his cock pushing all the way inside you until his hips were flush with yours. 

Each lazy thrust of his hips had soft noises escaping you, your eyes shutting in tired bliss at his cock pushing past your little walls, filling you to the brim each time, throbbing as the head of his cock kept hitting that spongy little spot. 

Jungkook moaned as he buried his cock inside you once more, his movements having paused forcing your eyes back open, was he asleep? Your walls suddenly squeezed around his cock at being so split open by him.

This elicited a moan from his lips that sounded like pure sex, “Your cunt is heaven,” He mumbled in your skin, “Could keep my cock buried inside you forever.”

Not moving was stirring you further, making you more awake as you whined, “Jungkook, move…!” You wiggled your hips a little earning a small thrust from him.

“Think I’ll asleep like this,” He moaned once more into your skin, “Like the way your cunt wraps around me like this when I’m splitting your cunt open.” 

Jungkook moaned at feeling your cunt squeeze around him once more at his words, just like he had hoped, “Just go back to sleep my love,” He mumbled in your ear, hand pulling around to cup your tit in his hand as he massaged it making you whine in frustration as your hips began to pull and lift, sliding his cock in and out of your cunt just a little. 

“Mmm fuuck, sweetheart go to sleep.” Jungkook’s voice was a pitch higher than before, his free hand almost guiding your hips though as you fucked back against him, and your eyes were closed but sleep was not on your mind. 

Your lips parted with a soft whine at the new sensation this position gave you with him behind, his cock slide inside you just the right way brushing that sweet little spot with each bounce of your hips, it had you rapidly clenching around his cock. 

Muffling your moans into your blankets as you pushed all the way back against him wiggling your hips as pleasure throbbed throughout your cunt, feeling arousal dripping from your hole as his cock slid back inside you with ease as you let out a pathetic whine, walls wrapping harsh around him but it just wasn’t quite enough to get yourself to orgasm. 

Jungkook let out a sleepy chuckle, “Working yourself up are you?” 

It wasn’t fair…! He woke you up and you were somehow the one falling apart on his cock desperate to cum, “Koo, please.” You whimpered out quietly, shifting yourself a little to be better able to lift your hips up to his, giving his cock better access to slid in and out of your little hole with ease. 

“Mmm shit, your acting like a bitch in heat,” He moaned softly, eyes dropping to your cunt that kept backing into his cock, “You want to be fucked?” He whispered deviously in your ear. 

And Jungkook knew you did, could feel the way your walls wrapped so tight around his throbbing cock, wanting so desperately to reach your climax. 

“Jungkook…” You whispered urgently. 

“Say it.”

You let out a frustrated noise, pausing your movement but Jungkook wasn’t having it, his hand wrapping around your neck as he gave it a harsh squeeze, letting out a small gag as his voice deepened in your ear, “Beg for it little princess, beg for me. Beg for my cock.” 

Jungkook suddenly thrusted inside you, harshly making your body jolt as you whined out, shaking your head, this only made him thrust rougher causing you to squeeze around him in excitement, “Mmm like this, feels…! Good.” You whimpered out quietly, your body twitching as pleasure blossomed in your cunt, you were so close…!

Jungkook buried back inside you, stopping once more causing a louder fussy whine to escape you, his hand squeezing around your neck once more, “If you like this then you’ll love what’s next. But you need to tell me, c’mon,” His hips lazily swiveled before giving short thrusts, edging your body as your hands curled into fists, “Tell me you want my cock, that you want your pretty little cunt destroyed by me, that you want to be filled with my cum.”

You could feel saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth, his cock teasing your body with such short movements it had you whimpering, “Koo’, fuck me, please…! Need you’, need your cock, anything…!” 

Jungkook moaned as your quiet frantic plea’s as he suddenly pulled out of you, a sharp whine escaping you as he swatted your ass to be quiet, manhandling you onto you stomach as he kneeled between your legs you felt confused before your hips were lewdly lifted, presenting your cunt to him. 

You didn’t have any time to adjust or even think before his cock pushed back inside you, a moan much louder than you meant for it to escape your lips at an entirely new, better sensation, every movement of his cock had you cunt squeezing in pleasure. 

“Mmm yeah, you like being made to take it from behind?” Jungkook moaned, keeping your hips up as he thrusted inside your little entrance, watching it split open for his cock before greedily sucking it in, “Maybe this is how your little dryad kin had children? Fucking like animals?” He whispered out, hearing a gurgled whine from you only made his thrusts that much more forceful, the sound of his balls smacking into your skin music to his ears, “Being made into nothing more than a bitch desperate for cock.” 

The side of your face was planted into the ground, eyes shut in pleasure at just how good it felt, his cock hitting every little sensitive spot inside you, his demeaning words that would’ve sent flames of angry through your body once upon a time only filled you with excitement, enjoying how he manhandled you how rough he was starting to thrust, no regard for whether your cunt could take it or not. 

Your mind was filled with all sorts of unholy things, not realizing how much you were beginning to moan, enjoying the way he had a hand pressed into your back forcing you down on the ground, his balls smacking your skin and his cock pushing past your tight walls. 

“Koo’...! ‘m gonna..! Mmm!” Your moans were gurgled, desperate, cunt rapidly squeezing around his cock, a feeling he had quickly grown to love as you crumbled beneath him, at his mercy as he roughly thrusted, burying his cock deep inside you as he quickly leaned over you, chest flush with your back as his hips became faster.

Just as you let out the whinest, loudest cry his hand covered your mouth to muffle it, tears began to build in your eyes at how powerful the pleasure was building in your body, your legs uselessly twitching and your body convulsing.

But it was all useless as his cock kept sliding in and out of your small hole, “Go on sweetheart, mm know how bad you wanna cum. I see those pathetic little tears. Cum sweetheart, cream all over my fat cock, make it nice and messy for me.” 

Your body was being jolted with every thrust of his hips, your clit aching to be touched as your cunt was full of his thick shaft, his dirty words whispered in your ear making you throw a whiny pathetic fit as your walls squeezed even tighter around him, so desperate to be obedient. 

“C’mon princess,” Jungkook moaned tantalizingly in your ear, his hips pounding into you with nice lengthy thrusts, wet lewd sounds coming from how soaked you were, “Can feel it, feel how bad that pretty little cunt wants to cum, squeezing around me so tight, fuuck, that’s it, c’mon.” Jungkook wasn’t intentionally edging you but god did it feel good, you were moaning and crying into his hand, tears slowly beginning to trickle down your face at how good you felt. 

Not a single thought in your head other than his cock stuffing you full, purposely dragging into the little spongy spot each time just edging you a little closer each time to your release.

“Does your little pussy feel good?” He teased you, a wicked grin on his face as his hips pushed fully inside you, giving short thrusts to keep you as full of cock as possible, “You like presenting this little hole to me? Letting me fuck my seed deep inside, my pretty wife who swore she’d never let me cuff her in bed? How does it feel knowing I’m going to fill your pretty little cunt up?”

Jungkook let out a low moan, feeling your muffled voice cry out against the skin of his palm as your cunt rapidly clenched around him cumming so hard it felt like your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. 

And Jungkook wasn’t stopping, his hips slammed into you, wet lewd sounds filling the tent and his balls smacking into your skin as he kept his hand on your mouth to keep your moans and cries of pleasure quiet, unable to subdue them yourself anymore, as the pleasure kept going, his hips jostling you around before you felt it.

“Fuck!” Jungkook growled out, burying his cock inside you as he came, roughly pumping his cock inside you as he let out a shaky moan, letting your greedy cunt suck every drop from him as he moaned, perhaps louder then even he intended. 

After a few more seconds he collapsed on top of you, making you whine, sniffling as you wiped your face as you felt his hand drag to your waist, stroking it tenderly as he pressed a kiss against your neck, “You’re so perfect.” He whispered, pressing another kiss against your skin, “Made for me. Only me.” His hand squeezed your waist, before he laid flat on his back shifting you around to lay against him, your body curling up as you set your head against his chest.

Your thighs were aching and your hand trembled if you looked close enough as you dragged it over his chest.

And for the first time, with the fire illuminating the inside of the tent, you took the time to drag it over the rough skin of his chest and upon closer inspection noticed all sorts of marks, curiously you shifted once more. 

“Was twice not enough for my little sun?” Jungkook chuckled as you straddled his waist, his hands wrapping around your hips, “We’ll need to start retiring earlier if you want me to have more stamina.” 

“I’m not…!” You felt your body flush, trying to remind yourself that you were in fact naked right now, “I’m just looking.”

“Mmm, so am I.” Jungkook’s eyes trailing down your exposed body to your cunt, watching the white substance dripping out onto his skin, “If I weren’t already exhausted I’d already have you bent over again.” 

“Jungkook!” You whispered out, starting to feel embarrassed now, “Stop…please.” 

He let out a tired, boyish smile and staring down at him you couldn’t help but mirror it, he looked much younger like this, more like his age, eyes lidded from tiredness as his hands wrapped further, fingers digging into your ass, “Is it a crime to admire my wife? You’re only sitting on top of me naked.” 

“I’ve seen you shirtless many times now,” You decided to no longer entertain his dirty thoughts, slowly lowering yourself down his chest making his fingers squeeze tighter around your ass, “But i’ve never truly paid attention.”

“To my godly physique?”

This made you both quietly laugh as you shook your head, unable to not be endeared by this new playful side of him you had never seen, “How did you know?” You whispered back, a light tease in your voice as your hand traced over his sternum, “I meant the scars…How many battles did you fight in?” 

Jungkook palmed your ass in his hands, massaging the flesh as he yawned, eyes closing as he hummed potentially trying to recall, “Too many to count honestly, I was drafted before the Five Year War started as to be properly prepared.” 

Your fingers traced over each scar, some long and thin, others short and deeper, few discolored still having never properly healed, others faded and hardly visibly, “How’d you get this one?” Your finger’s stopped on his left right, a circular scar it was small, as if he had been pierced.

Jungkook’s eyes slowly lidded once more, following where your fingers pressed, “When we first rode to Rolon for war, an archer shot me right off my horse, my only saving grace from death was the wind otherwise it would’ve pierced my heart, y'know it’s said the Rolon Archer’s were trained since children, they could shoot a coin from over a hundred yards away.”

“You were injured before the battle had even begun?” You whispered out, perhaps a little amused at his story. 

Jungkook’s hand trailed down the back of your thigh, pulling them apart just a little making your hips brush over his skin, the feeling of wet stickiness rubbing over his skin, “It was my first endeavor by myself, my men were counting on me to lead them, you can imagine it was a pretty pathetic sight.”

“So how did you manage to siege them if you could not get close?” You tilted your head, resting your elbows down his chest, your hips appeasing him as you softly grinded down on his pubic bone. 

“We had all camped outside their outer districts, preparing ourselves,” Jungkook let out a pleasured hum, eyes closed once more and fingers trailing back to your ass before settling at your steady, soft movement, “We could not get close to their borders without them shooting us down by the tens if not hundreds. And so we would have to make ourselves unknown, invisible.”

A quiet moan escaped him at the feeling of your hips pulling just a little further down just above where his cock was beginning to stir despite his own lethargy. 

“Invisible?” Tiredness was beginning to pull at your lids but you enjoyed this too much, the conversation, the feeling of your puffy, cum covered slit grinding against him, making him break focus, “Surely that wouldn’t be possible?” 

“Invisible to the faraway eye that is,” Jungkook’s brows pinched, fingers gripping your ass a little tighter as your hips dragged just along the base of his hardening cock, weepy and sensitive from having already came inside you twice this night, “Mmm, I didn’t think you’d be such a little lust driven succubus once we consummated.”

It made you grind him just a little harder, the feeling of his cock bobbing before it smacked against your cunt, fully hardened and precum smearing against your asscheek. 

“I’m trying to have a conversation,” You teased, hands traveling over the expanse of his chest before your fingers found his dark nipples, curiously you pinched them a little, “You’re the one that’s making it sexual.” 

A restrained moan escaped him as his eyes cracked open, you couldn’t help your curiosity, fascinated at his different reactions to different things, after all, you were learning his body just as much as he was learning of yours. 

“Sex is dripping off of you,” Jungkook sighed, feeling your hips tease his cock once more, puffy slit rubbing down it’s base before back to his pubic bone, “I can’t help the way my body reacts to it, climbing on top of me naked isn’t a productive way to have a conversation.” 

You couldn’t help but close your eyes briefly, relishing in the feeling of his heady, heavy cock dragging through your puffy slit, coating it in a mixture of your wetness and cum. 

Feeling his shaft rubbing into your sensitive clit was you let out a soft moan, “You didn’t continue your story. How were you invisible.” Your hips dragged back to his pubic bone, pausing your movement to try and refocus your conversation. 

Jungkook let out a displeased sound, fingers digging against your ass once more, “If you want to hear my stories, keep entertaining me.” 

“Can you stay focused?” You gave him a mischievous smile, slowly pulling back up to your elbows, his eyes immediately on your tits. 

“As long as you don’t make me cum,” Jungkook retorted right back, a cocky grin on his face, “Well?” You tried not to shy away from his expression as your hips slowly began rubbing on him once more, teasing the base of his cock as he let out a soft pleasured moan, eyes slowly closing once more to enjoy the feeling as he recalled, “I proposed to my men that we would camouflage ourselves with the terrain, we covered ourselves in mud and moss, whatever greenery we could and crawled on the earth to evade their eyes.” 

His fingers dragged down to the back of your thighs once more as your hips dragged a little lower down his shaft as your clit throbbed making a soft moan escape you, “That’s how you managed to siege their capitol Montclair?”

His fingers pulled your thighs apart, opening your slit a little more as it rubbed along is shaft back to his base, “Mmhm, like that,” He whispered out at feeling your hips pause at the base of his cock, wiggling a little to push it further between the lips of your cunt. 

Silence had suddenly taken over as your eyes shut, enjoying being able to pleasure your husband as your hips slowly rode the base of his cock, letting it slip against your lips and rub along your clit.

This type of pleasure was slow, tantalizing, making his hips rut a little, gliding with ease against your soaked cunt, “What about this one.” Your fingers briefly brushed along his left breast, a long wicked line crossing it as you slowed your hips back down. 

“Training accident when I was younger,” Jungkook murmured out, sounding half asleep, “I had assumed Hoseok was going for a lower strike but he tricked me, he got too close and accidentally sliced me right across the chest, it was a larger wound when it had first happened.” 

Jungkook had a faint smile on his lips as his hands dragged to your waist, keeping a firm grip to encourage your hips, his eyes pulled open only a little, “He wouldn’t stop crying while profusely apologizing to me, saying he’d do anything to keep the wrath from my father at bay.” 

“Did he hear about it?” Your moan was mixed with your soft laugh, grinding down as your clit dragged against his skin.

Jungkook’s breath hitched, “No, it only went as far as my aunt. She merely laughed it off, saying it was good practice for the real deal.”

You paused your movement, hands tracing down his particularly slim waist, just at the bottom of his ribcage, “And this?”

You lifted yourself up as Jungkook opened his eyes, “No looking.” You whispered out. 

This made him confused before he let out a quiet laugh, closing his eyes once more, “I’ve seen it already princess, you can’t hide anything from me at this point.”

“I’m…testing…it’s lewd.” You tried not to be embarrassed as you sat down on his taunt, thick muscular thighs, legs still parted as you situated your cunt against his base once more, “How did you get that scar?” You prompted him once more. 

Jungkook seemed to be having an increasingly harder time focusing as he felt it, your cunt making contact with the sensitive underside of his cock, your hips lifting to drag against his shaft, “It was when we attempted war with Kyoto, I was in the frontlines with the other underlings and an assassin of Kyoto had made his way into the trenches.”

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched as he felt your hand wrap around the head of his cock, giving short as he let out a breathy moan, hand running through his hair, “He was a full grown man and we were nothing more than boys pretending to be men. His sword longer than us all,” He bit down on his lip at your hand squeezing his cock, your cunt sliding against his base, “He cut two of the other underlings in half with just one swing, I was almost the third, I had barely managed to jump back in time but the tip of his blade still cut through me, blood was everywhere.”

“How did you live?” You whispered out, sadness somewhere deep inside you filled your heart through the haze of lust. 

“Jimin had managed to jump on his back,” Jungkook let out another breath moan at feeling your hand drag down his cock, “Stabbed him in the neck, he choked on his own blood as they all rushed to get first aid for me. I almost bled out that night but by some miracle they had managed to stop the bleeding and get me stitches.” 

Jungkook groaned as his hands curled into fists, pleasure becoming much stronger than it was supposed to, “Enough please.” 

The movements ceased, “Does it not feel good?” 

“It feels too good, I told you to not make me cum.” Jungkook sighed softly in relief as he felt you change positions back to your original, the weight of your body situated once more fully on top of him, “Mmm warm my cock.”

“I don’t understand how that works.” You whispered out, a bit embarrassed, you were a fast learner but you still didn’t know all the ends and outs of how all of this worked. 

This made Jungkook laugh softly, endeared at your words as he forced his tired eyes back open, “It’s simple honestly, sit on my cock, let it stay warm inside you. I’ll be able to focus and recall events more better that way.”

“Really?” You replied skeptically.

“Mhm, what else do you want to know?” Jungkook let a crooked smirk tug on his lips as you grabbed the base of his cock, obediently doing as he told you, the fat head pushing inside you, a noise escaping you both. 

Slowly you slid down his cock until your hips were flush with his, “Mmm, what now?” It was hard to focus now having him stuffing you so full. 

Jungkook let out a long content sigh, “Nothing, this is it. Ask away.”

His hands lovingly stroked your hips as you suddenly struggled to speak, feeling his fat large cock throbbing inside you, walls clenching around him as your arousal dripped.

Jungkook let out an amused breath, “Cat got your tongue?”

You shook your head, slowly leaning back down to rest yourself on his chest, but somehow laying made your body feel even more full, “This one?” Your words were soft, trembled with a quiet whine, fingers brushing over his right bicep, a thin long line curving around it. 

Jungkook’s hands stroked your waist before trailing over your back, “It happened during our siege of Prokiev, the battle happened overnight and it was dark out, fire my only source for my fight with their royal guard captain, our adrenaline was running out and we were both ragged, he threw a sloppy blow aiming for my chest but I moved away and back, the edge of his blade managed to pierce right through my chainmail. It wasn’t a serious injury.”

Jungkook let out a soft pleasured sigh at your little walls clenching around him, seemingly unable to relax with him buried this deep and unmoving in your cunt, “It serves as a reminder though.”

“To what?” You whispered out, setting your head down on his chest, biting down on your lip once more, trying so, so hard to focus on his words and not his cock, it felt like he was completely stretching you out, hitting all the way up into your stomach though surely that wasn’t possible. 

Even if it felt like it was. 

“That many want me dead, sharpening their blades that even a shallow cut could one day maim me or better yet kill me. Sometimes I wonder how I survived,” Jungkook murmured, eyes closing as he fought the sleep off, “Each of these scars is proof that I’m still here, that somehow despite all of the odds, whether it was pure luck, or pure skill, I lived another day. Learned, grew from my mistakes.”

Your eyes had fallen shut, tiredness pulling you into a lull as you felt a blanket being pulled over you, engulfing you in warmth once more. 

You let out a ghost of a whine at feeling the slightest rut of his hips, cock making sure it was buried as far inside you as possible, Jungkook pressed a kiss against your head, “Something above let me live, let me marry you, the love of my life.” 

Your eyes had become heavier with each passing gentle press of his lips, you had soon fallen asleep to the sweet sensation of his lips feathering your skin, hands stroking your side, cock keeping you full and ushers of love on his lips. 

While the journey had been safe and overall good travel, to say you were relieved to be in Kimhae was an understatement, the air was cold, but it didn’t have that wet sharp feeling it did in Penumbra, and only a bit of frost covered the ground now.

Your thickest layers were shedded during travel as it got warmer much to your relief, more than anything you were ready to see your family, and even more so ready to sleep in a proper bed and rest.

You couldn’t voice it aloud to anyone but your thighs were sore from not only riding your horse but also from other nefarious activities late into the night, you were absolutely ready to stand on your own two feet for the next week. 

Upon entering the gates of Kimhae the sight was familiar enough to you, elegant towering buildings, busy towns people who all seemed to pause from their business at the sight of not just you but your husband, whispers broke out and if your life in Penumbra had helped you with one thing, it was being able to ignore the stares.

Riding next to your husband as you made your way through the capitol until you arrived at the large gates of the palace, the courtyard open and lush, what you hadn’t expected was the sight of someone so familiar and yet…now had become a total stranger to you. 

Kim Seokjin, the man you had once thought was the love of your life, only to realize that this was a feeble, childish type of love, the type of love you think is love until you truly fall in love. 

He stood tall and proud as his eyes locked onto your figure, standing in white double buttoned vest and long sleeve, royal blue cape cascading behind him dramatically. 

He looked like something out of a fairytale and you couldn’t deny Seokjin was just as handsome as you remembered, clean cut and warm skin. 

Coming to a stop, your vision of him was somewhat blocked by your husband, and for the first time seeing them almost side by side made you realize just how different they were, Jungkook dawned in all black, hair array from travel and longer then when you had first met, well overdue for a trim. 

His look, all too familiar, neutral but often coming across as dark and brooding to a person who wasn’t well acquainted with him.

And you supposed you must have seemed different from your old self as well, you no longer wore flowery apparel light apparel, now often dawned in black and maroons, today no different though you had gone without the fuss and feathers to make travel easier, a plain black gown with an under layer of red peeping out, sleeves dramatically long but slits having formed to make movement easier, another white long sleeve layer beneath to keep you warm as well as curl up to your neck.

Jungkook had already dismounted his horse, holding his hands out to you as you stood up in your saddle, pulling your leg over before you felt the security of his hands wrap around your waist, lifting you down safely. 

You offer him a tiny smile of thanks as you turn to face Seokjin, the hand staying curled around your waist however did not go unnoticed by you as you both walked to greet your ex-lover. 

“Seokjin, I cannot thank you enough for your invitation,” You gave him a soft smile, perhaps a sort of soft spot for him still lingered in your chest, after all, while your love might not have been deep, it was something, and you’d take it for what it was, “It’s been a long time.” 

“Yes, I’m relieved to see you alive and well, it’s been too long.” Seokjin’s eyes were locked onto you and only you, and briefly you felt a sort of severed connection. 

His eyes drilling into you with a sort of passion that you only blinked at with a friendly polite smile, him taking your hand into his own as he lifted it to his lips, “Truthfully I don’t think enough time has passed.” 

Your hand was suddenly snatched away by a much larger one, Jungkook’s expression had quickly gone from neutral to one hundred percent leering and unfriendly, that typical icy Jeon glare as he spoke coldly, “Kim Seokjin.”

Seokjin’s eyes burned into the sight, Jungkook’s hand holding onto your own in a sort of protective manner, as if he assumed the man’s kiss to your hand would maim you.

“Jeon Jungkook.” Seokjin’s eyes twisted into a glare, but it simply didn’t have the same bite as Jungkook’s, “I can’t say I remember inviting the Jeon’s.”

“Interesting you say that,” Jungkook replied, a haughty cold look on his face, “Given one found its way to my wife,” He glanced down at you, a squeeze of his hand on your waist and his hand releasing your own only for his fingers to trace your jawbone, “Only the most beautiful Jeon.”

Jungkook’s thumb tugged at your lower lip and you couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze, somewhat flustered at such an open display of affection, “What my husband means to say is we’ve come here to represent Penumbra together, I hope this will be the first of many Yule’s we can all come together and celebrate the Rite of Peace.” 

You could tell by Seokjin’s gritted smile that whatever he had anticipated this was not it, it softened however as his eyes landed on you, “For you, I’d do anything Y/n.” His gaze became more sharp as they locked back onto Jungkook, “...And I suppose that goes for you as well. I hope your stay in Kimhae treats you well.”

“As do I.” Jungkook retorted, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to rest after our journey.”

You briefly glanced up at Jungkook, brow furrowing in a little bit of annoyance, you understood that Jungkook absolutely did not like Seokjin in the least, but couldn’t he be a little more discreet about it? 

This being your first public appearance as a couple meant you’d have to be careful how you presented yourselves, if he wanted to quarrel with the man you did not care as long as he did it in private where prying eyes and ears couldn’t witness it.

“Of course,” Seokjin almost sneered at him, making you shuffle a bit uncomfortable at seeing the men nearly bearing teeth at one another, “My head maid will show you to your room.” 

Seokjin gave you one last look, and you couldn’t quite describe it, it was one of yearning and longing, and yet it wasn’t reciprocated as you allowed Jungkook to lead you both into the palace following behind the maid. 

“What was all of that about?” You whispered reprimanding to Jungkook. 

Jungkook only looked ahead, “He touched you.” 

“...He was being polite.” You reasoned, you had never seen such displays from Jungkook before- well aside from the time Claudin had taken your hand. 

Come to think of it, you supposed this was less rash then when he pressed a knife into Claudin’s neck for so much as grabbing your hand to kiss, truthfully you should be thankful it didn’t escalate so quickly to that. 

Stepping into your guest room you paused, realizing this was the room you used to stay in when you were a maiden...Seokjin probably still has the route memorized…had he thought you’d come to Kimhae alone?

You shook the ridiculous notion away as you took your cloak off, Jungkook shut the door to your shared room, “He touched you.” He emphasized it. 

You turned around, raising your eyebrows, not understanding what he was getting at, Jungkook huffed, “Men who touch women like that aren’t being friendly.” 

“It was my hand!” You pouted, “You’ve touched my hands plenty of times.”

“And look where it led.” Jungkook countered as he took his own outer apparel off, “That’s just the way it goes. And perhaps because I also know you’ve sucked his cock-”

“Jungkook!” You cried out, embarrassment flooding through you, “Don’t say it so loud!” 

This made Jungkook chuckle as he sat on the foot of the bed, “Hmm, you’ve never sucked my cock before come to think of it.” He laughed even louder at suddenly being hit with the cloak you launched at him.

“I am tired and taking a nap, you can either join me or sleep on the floor if you keep being crude.” You kicked your riding shoes off as you pulled the covers curling up in bed, his body immediately beside you, arms wrapping around your waist. 

“I can’t help it,” Jungkook replied, snickering into your shoulder, “You’re easy to tease.” 

[wellofdean]

Here's what sticks in my craw: why ON EARTH does fanon imagine that Cas has 'self-esteem issues' and experiences his love for Dean as a wet, miserable kind of yearning? What is it about any part of anything that happens on Supernatural makes anyone think that Cas, a cosmic, Eldritch being, a warrior of god, who literally hung the stars and has existed for a bazillion years, is reduced to teenage angst by Dean's pussy?

Like, when Cas says "the one thing I want I know I can't have" why do y'all think it's a piece of Dean's ass? Why does ANYONE think Cas doesn't know Dean loves him? Dean has shown Cas he loves him with literally everything he has again and again and again. Even the way Dean feels like Cas can absorb his anger is Dean showing Cas love and trust. Cas and Dean have chosen each other, forgiven each other, and been the only reliable thing in each others' lives over, and over and over again. Cas fucking knows that Dean loves him. Cas can literally hear Dean's thoughts, and feel his yearning. Cas was only saying the quiet part out loud when he said he loved Dean, because it was already obvious! If there was anyone feeling wet and lovesick, it would be DEAN, if he ever had a break in the battle to fucking feel things, which he did not.

Like, hear me out: what if the one thing Cas knows he can't have is the one thing he knows he signed over to the empty? His happiness, and by extension, Dean's, because he knows Dean loves him? What if Cas is saying: I know I can't have this thing I want for myself: to be the one to MAKE YOU HAPPY, but I can save you, and maybe Cas's belief in Dean is such that he still hopes and believes Dean will find a way to make himself happy if he lives.

After Cas's death, Dean is trying to live for him. Trying to be what Cas believed he was. It's what CANONICALLY gives Dean the strength to defeat Chuck by not killing him! And, after Dean's death, he CANONICALLY goes in search of happy endings. Like... THAT IS EXPLICITLY STATED.

I AM HAVING AN ALL CAPS MOMENT, SO SUE ME.

Guys, Cas is not a wet, yearning baby who needs Dean to say or do ANYTHING to validate his love. HE KNOWS. He is a being of unimaginable age and power. He is not beleaguered by self-esteem issues, or the need to tongue-wrestle Dean. Like, he might WANT TO, but he CANONICALLY does not need to in order to experience a happiness so complete that it puts paid to his deal. His happiness is THAT NOW DEAN ALSO KNOWS, and he can tell Dean why, and show him who he is in the mirror of that love.

Also, he is not dead, he is just on another plane of existence, and neither is Dean. Cas is a profoundly unselfish badass. He is not fucking PINING. He made a play, the best one he had. He is a strategist, and he knows Dean BY HEART.

[yannaryartside]

CARMY NEVER WANTED TO CREATE A MENU WITH SYD.

AND WHY THAT IS THE CORE THEME OF THE SHOW

PART 1: THE LIE THAT CARMY BELIEVES

So, one of the bases of creating an efficient character arc is to give the character something they want, and something they need. In the pursuit of getting what they want, the theme of the show and obstacles will show them what they need. Most of the time, they need healing from an emotional wound that prevents them from growing into the ultimate version of themselves, capable of winning the challenges of the story. I will try to explore Carmy's wound and, more importantly, the lie that created that wound.

In 'The negative trait thesaurus" by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi, it reads:

"Wounds are often kept secret from others because embedded within them is the lie-an untruth that the character believes about himself."

When I started therapy (disclaimer: this is not professional advice; I am just talking from how I interpreted all of this), I was introduced to the concept of "limiting beliefs:" lies we have told ourselves about our own nature or the nature of the world. The most difficult beliefs to leave behind are those established in our early childhoods, and we told ourselves those lies to make sense of the world, to make peace with realities we were not equipped to comprehend yet. 

Some examples of lies people belive:

"I am too stupid to learn anything; my teacher said so" "It was my fault that I was molested." "I am a bad person for wanting a different life."

When people believe these lies, they will act accordingly, maybe attracting situations that hurt them but keeping the lie active in their lives. They may self-sabotage or create bonds with people who also believe the lie, even if it doesn't seem this way. 

In some cases, people may develop complete personalities or behaviors to prove the lie wrong, but deep down, they still believe in the lie. Carmy falls into this last category. This is where we find the most contradictory parts of his personality, how he can act shy and insecure in some instances and appear confident and even aggressive in others. 

Long post underneath.

THE RESENT OF A MOTHER:

We can only assume here because I think Storer is gonna let us know more about this soon, but I think I got an idea of this wound when I saw the only moment Carmy was alone with Donna on "Fishes."

I have a lot of things to say about Donna herself, but let's begin with the obvious: the conversation in this scene had little to do with the dinner itself. This was a woman stating that she felt alone and not valued, probably due to being abandoned by her husband and having to overwork herself at the beef to support her 3 kids, all while being a single mother. We don't know if this feeling of abandonment is something she has carried since childhood, but in the state of current womanhood, it wouldn't be uncommon. The work of women (especially mothers), particularly the emotional labor, is rather invisible and not valued at all.

But again, this is something she has used as fuel to resent her kids, who, at the end of the day, didn't ask to be here. Her anger has to go somewhere since she cannot direct it toward the people that ctually caused it. To get to the point:

THE BEARZATTO SYBLING DYNAMIC

Carmy said, "You are not alone; I am here with you." (This kind of comes back to telling Syd she was not alone at the end of the season.) This scene is about a kid trying to communicate to his mother that he loves her and trying desperately to connect with her, to get her to express her affection for him as well.

It tells me that growing up, he felt like he had to "earn" her affection. Donna likes to make her kids feel guilty about her unhappiness, so the kids feel that they are constantly walking on shells because they think their mother hates them, or at least that she resents them and that it is their responsibility to fix it.

In the scene, Carmy asked,

"What is so hard, Mom?"

I think what he was actually asking is, "What is so hard about being with us, to love us? What did we do to you that made you resent us this way?" He is asking because he wants to know, to finally understand. Why do you drink, Mom? Why do you yell? Why do you say such hurtful things?

When she answers, "Nobody makes things beautiful for me," you can see in his face the disconnection. He knows he can't do anything about that.

Then, a crucial part in the scene occurs when Donna calls him "Michael, " which indicates that the only one of her children who could make her feel happy was Michael, or at least that is how the other two kids felt. You can see the hurt in Carmy's eyes in the scene because this answer dismisses his effort to connect to his mother in his own right. She asks him to just leave. He offers to wait to connect with her. Then, it comes to the most chilling moment on the scene, the "we have a problem" using his full name, with resentment in every word. She hugs him while crying, kisses him, and then slaps him.

This is rejection. There is a book called "The Five Wounds of the Soul": wich are Rejection, Abandonment, Humiliation, Betrayal, and Injustice. I think Carmy's wound is rejection, for never earning his mother's love, particularly comparing himself to Michael.

Michael took responsibility for the Beef, finally giving their mom a break. It was Michael's job to make sure everyone was having a good time, to compensate for the discomfort that caused being in Donna's presence, to make sure all of them stayed as a family, which was Donna's intention, so Michael thought he had to make that happen for her. Therefore, Michael is the only one of her kids who succeeds and makes her happy. We know Donna rejects Natalie and Carmy. About Natalie, we can write another whole essay.

THE LIE THAT CARMY BELIVES

According to this scene, I think Carmy thinks that her mother didn't love him because he is not Michael; in fact, he is the most "not like Michael" someone could be. He was shy and stuttered and didn't have friends or girlfriends, comparable to Michael's ability to control every room he was in. Carmy was sensible and no macho alfa as Michael presented himself to be. Carmy left home and the family business, and both Michael and Donna expressed that they feel like he thinks he is better than them. Michael admitted later to admiring Carmy's work in Copenhagen, but Donna never did. carmy grew up having to live with the crumbles of Donna's attention that Michael left behind, wondering every day what was so wrong with him that made her reject him, and wondering what he could do to change that.

The lie that Carmy belives, could be sumarize this way:

I need to earn people's love. I need to always go the extra mile, doing the most possible at all times to earn people's love.

This all goes back to his trauma with Michael. It goes back to his career as a chef and how he became the best. He didn't need to succeed on a larger scale in the culinary industry to earn Michael's respect and love; he needed to be the best in the world, so he did that. He judges his own social abilities, comparing them to Miachae's. He left that promising career only because of Michae's death. He got the girlfriend Michael wanted for him (not saying it was the only reason, but it was there).

PART 2: WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS HAD TO DO WITH SYDNEY?

Well, what does a person who feels they always need to do the most? They do the most. I want to bring you back to the moments Carmy had to develop menu ideas with Syd on s1 and s2.

When Syd suggested items for the menu in s1, he gave her an inconclusive, not enthusiastic "maybe."

When she had to actually cook the thing for him to approve, he tried to make her feel small about it. He felt the need to remind her that she was "impatient and green," according to her previous bosses. He commented about her possibly ruining the flow by using time to cook her recipe. Yikes all around, but the core here is that he was treating her like an enemy, like competition, while she was trying to save the restaurant with what they had on hand to use the most efficient solution.

Then, when Carmy tries the dish and feels stunned by it, he has to make an ambiguous excuse on the fly and just finishes every chance of them using the recipe by saying, "is not ready yet"

And what does he do next? He goes to show the crew a recipe that is extremely complicated for the level they are operating at currently—they said so themselves. I think the recipe is a variation of Donna's butter chicken recipe. To put a nail on that coffin of his intentions to earn her love and approval at the end of it all.

But why does he do all this? Because he needs to be the hero, subconsciously, he is still that small kid begging for acceptance and love; he must go the extra mile. He cannot accept Sydney's help and partnership, because that will take away from him earning what he wants on his own merit.

In S2, he seems unenthusiastic about starting the menu in the first place. Then Claire comes along, and he tries to make it work with Syd and the menu, but I think he subconsciously thanks the universe for not having to go to his core wound. That is what self-sabotage is. That is why he bailed on the food tour with Syd, using such a stupid excuse as helping somebody else move out and never mentioning it again. He never asked her what she liked or what ideas she thought of. For most of the creative process, Syd is alone, working on her own creative crisis. The menu ends up being like two recipes they made in collaboration and then all of his family's traditional recipes. It is two of Syd's recipes and the rest of Carmy's. Then, desserts Marcus did on his own. The collaboration was superficial at best.

All of this creates the core theme of the show. The Bear was once a chaotic place (like their childhood home) that needs to evolve into an efficient, peaceful place built on love, support, and mutual collaboration like a functional family should be. Sydney is the member of this found family that forces Carmy to confront his core wound and learn he can actually be good enough while still accepting help. Therapy probably will play an important part in this theme, alongside with Carmy learning there was nothing wrong with him in the first place, that earning your parent's love is not something a kid can do.

Thankyou for reading. Gif and images are not mine.

[munsster]

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The Yandere Student Council 

You just needed to get your schedule officialized. Having gained special permissions to take a desired course you needed the student council’s collective stamps of approval to proceed. Normally all you would need to do was slip in the necessary documents. But something seems to keep happening to yours and it just works better for you to do it in person. Thus begins you’re journey of getting the obsessed student council’s approval.

The first one you go to is the one with the easiest access –the Secretary. Gill Hunter has an absolute poker face when his boyfriend isn’t around. So you’re pleasantly surprised when he’s actually willing to hear you out. Keeping his amber eyes on you he listens to your plea for his stamp, seemingly not reacting at all he promises to help you—for a price. You have to step in for him and his boyfriend from time to time. He says it's just a week as he demands you shadow him for the day. Calling to you in his monotone voice to join him in the student council lounge. Don’t bother bringing up you’re friends or your desire to eat your lunch alone. Even as the week comes to an end and you get your stamp he has you working closely with both him and his boyfriend very closely as an honorary assistant.

“Most if not all schedules go through me, you don’t want your schedule being messed up again. Do you?”

The next one is Gill’s beloved–the Historian. June Frimroar is a different kind of person you need to get a stamp from. Where Gill strings you along with his stone-cold face and hardly hidden intentions, June will do the exact opposite. With a smile that flirts with scheming and altruism, he’ll ask for the most innocent kind of help. Only to somehow become something far more intimate and demanding of you in the first place. How else would simply taking notes during student council meetings lead to you smushed in a locker with the historian and his boyfriend? Or how you’ll be forced to help undress June whose hands inexplicably might be sprained? He’s an enigma to loosely associate with trouble, easily put off by how kind he is to you and your friends as you start spending more time with him and the rest of the student council. Certainly, those rumors of him crippling classmates for fun are far from true, right?

“Don’t you trust me, (Y/n)? Just listen to me and I’m sure everything will work out…even if that blackmail situation with your friend is completely separate.”

Like clockwork, you fall into being the student council’s lackey suddenly trusted with helping the seemingly overwhelmed Treasurer. Min Su is an odd fellow who’s been dignified a living legend with his accounting possibilities; rumored to casually be hired by the government a couple of times. So it's odd that he suddenly must have you spending your club hours documenting receipts. He’s so apologetic and jumpy that you don’t feel right questioning him. So it's normal that he has a fierce blush on his face as you take the records from his hand. Or the little noises of excitement pleasure he seems to have when you lean over him to admire his speed as he’s calculating the books. He’s likely to forget that you needed to get his stamp until you off-handedly mention how you’re going to miss him when you get that stamp.

“Oh, you wanted that? I-I’m happy to give it to you, n-no problem! But you’ll still visit me right?”

At this point, your presence is much more normalized in the student council quarters, and naturally, the Sergeant of Arms or more well known as the student council’s hype man is happy to welcome you. Popular beyond belief Roman Ferris arguably has the largest fan and friend base in the entire council. Knowing everything about everyone he already knows what you’re asking for and he’s cheekily telling you he’s already prepared how you’re going to get it. If you thought Gill was forward then you’d be mistaken Roman straight-up demands every weekend that you come with him on a date. Movies, restaurants, ice cream, trips to the park, he’s doing it all with you. Demanding you dress up for these ‘definitely not dates’, hold his hand while you walk, and smile at him only him when you pose for the camera. It's odd how he knows your every like and dislike, always ordering for you and smiling ominously when you ask. But he’s definitely not giving you this stamp if you suddenly stop coming to his dates hangouts, even if he promised he would. It’d be bad if the whole student body considered you a harlot for playing with the golden boy’s feelings. So just smile while you eat your favorites and keep your mouth sealed about your suspicions.

“Don’t worry about it babe, I already know just how you like it! Don’t worry how I know~ You’re so cute when you're well-fed!”

Practically cemented to your unwritten obligation the Vice President is well aware of what you’re after. Spencer Lyle will wait until the end of the day mindlessly stamping your document as he scrambles through his hefty pile of paperwork. Bags under his eyes and his lids dropping dangerously you figure you’ll help him, already familiar with the kind of work he was doing anyway. He thanks you when you eventually wake him up and from then on something sinister a friendship is born. Suddenly he’s coming up to you in your classes, during lunches keeping you talking casually as he leads you to the student council room. You were going there anyway, right? He’s just the perfect friend for you. Great at warding off bullying fans or teachers that get a little too snippy, he becomes your go-to friend. Not too popular but well-respected feared by the student body; totally perfect for relying on him to be relatable. Completely complacent with letting him into your life and it feels so normal now that he rings your dorm bell for an early morning. You know him so well so it's natural he does the same.

“Hey, you ready to go cupcake? Bags under my eyes? Yeah, I was up all night protecting you doing council stuff, you know how I work.”

Last but certainly not least the Student Council President: Lucoa Grander the college’s prodigy cryptid. Known to be a living genius and prominent underground business personality it seems only natural that he gets such a powerful, prestigious position. He is such a celebrity you go to Spencer to deliver your schedule confirmation only to receive a disappointing answer. Apparently, the president’s only willing to stamp yours personally, and thus your witchhunt for the illusive president begins. Searching high and low, stringing on his fan base’s own timeline and the other council members’ accounts you try to find him. But after a while, you give up fully prepared to abandon your desired course to have the blue-haired pierced-up president mysteriously showing up. He greets you so casually, sitting next to you as he asks mundane questions. When you finally ask for his stamp he gives it to you…on a major condition. 

“We’ve been looking to widen our ranks and I’ve we’ve been keeping a close eye on you. And we’re thinking of making you an honorary member–it's a new position to diversify our team. You’ll get your stamp this way and we get you our beloved a new member that’s fair enough isn’t it?”

[trust-goes-both-ways]

I rewrote Descendants: The Rise of Red. Tell me what you think

Songs are in bold, names are not correct

Open on Uma informing us she’ll be reaching out to other lands for their children

They still have the Carlos bit but now it'll pay off

Introduce us to Red in Wonderland being absolute chaos

RED song

Establish Maddox as the son of Mad Hatter and he’s the cool older brother/tutor. He shows her the timepiece but not as a gift more as a plan to understand history.

Also give Jack of Diamonds something else to do, PLEASE

They receive the invitation and the QoH surprises everyone by letting her go

When packing Red reveals she stole the time piece, the voice over about the dangers of changing the past plays but she still pockets it

Chloe’s character- still cute and naive with a belief that love is the most important thing because love and being a good person changed her mom’s life. Shethinks love conquers all and is very by the book because Cinderella always did as she was told and believes it was her good attitude and perseverance that helped

Love Aint It is the same but without the stupid assembled voices

Altered LOVE AINT IT

Queen still takes over, Red and Chloe still accidentally travel back in time

They still have a fight song but a better one

Better fight song

They still meet Merlin, still pretend to be transfer students. 

They go to class and meet Bridget and Ella. 

Bridget is so kind and sweet and accepting

Ella is still hard working but cautious towards all royals, because her stepsisters are friends with the royals

At Merlin Academy, there’s a tradition of playing pranks that leads into social acceptance

Prank is played on Aladdin (who transferred in the year before, pretending to be a Prince when he wasn’t but he and Jasmine fell in love anyway) symbolizing his acceptance into MA social scene

CRUELLA  is now the main villain kid. Dara Renee can still play her. 

Life is Sweeter song plays, goth kids are introduced, and establishes Cruella as the mean girl because she feels like she has a lot to prove since she doesn’t have powers or a thing, just a desire to rule the fashion world. 

LIFE IS SWEETER, mostly the same but with different characters and dancing

She adheres to a strict code of modern, sleek fashion and she hates Bridget for her Wonderland style and Ella for her shabby-chic look

Gets embarrassed (maybe her outfit is ruined) and vows revenge

Red and Chloes visit Ella and that part goes mostly the same

Chloe breaking the vase gets Ella grounded from Crowncoming

They still travel to the goth kids hangout and discover Cruella has enlisted Morgie and Maleficent to come up with a way to humiliate Bridget

VILLAIN SONG

They still go to Bridget's room

Shuffle of love bc why not

Red looks in the looking glass and still sees the dark princess future

Chloe doesn't see anything bc she's accidentally erased herself so now they have two missions

Red pockets the Looking glass so they can keep checking in on the future

The two still fight about what to do next, with Chloe insisting her parents would want her to be a rule-following person and Red telling her goodness without action is nothing

Chloes goes back to Ellas and they have essentially the same talk where Chloe realizes her goodness isn’t all-inclusive

GET YOUR HANDS DIRTY

They still have a break in, Red using her epic heisting skills

They confront the goth kids and stop them in much the same way 

After they steal the book, they still have to get Ella to Crowncoming

Red, Chloe, and Bridget convince Fay she needs to help them get Ella to Crowncoming, all 5 of them get gorgeous dresses

Ella and Charming still dance because he does something to prove he's a good guy

SO THIS IS LOVE REMIX

Crowncoming happens, all goes well then BOOM, Bridget still gets pranked/turned into monster as her ‘acceptance into the cool kids club’ prank but she’s too humiliated to care

Red goes after Bridget to convince her its okay. She tells her the anger she's feeling will fester and grow and she’ll become something she hates

Chloe has to go get Ella to go help her friend. She realizes her parents will have to earn their love like everyone else bc true love doesn't just come easy, and if it’s meant to be one dance shouldnt change anything

Red forces Bridget to look in the looking glass, showing her both of their futures. Bridget is confused and horrified

The four of them end up using the watch to go back to the (unchanged) future

Bridget has to confront the QoH and reminds her why she used to be kind and that it didn't make them popular but it got them Ella

Ella confronts Cinderella about how could you let your friend go even for love

Uma talks about her friend Carlos, and how he believed it was never too late to change, and even though his mom spent her life pursuing fame and style above everything, he still believed with patience and understanding she could be good. After he died Cruella realized no amount of fame mattered as much as him and asked Uma to expand the VK program in his honor

Red and QoH make up AS THEMSELVES. QoH tells Red she loves her and everything she’s done has been out of fear of her being hurt like she was.

Sends Ella and Bridget back and we have a BIG transformation

End with a real song and dance number about new beginnings

A REAL SHOWSTOPPING END SONG