#like they are offended at the mere thought of two men making love a certain way

[howtosingit]

People have been writing Carlos bottoming since 2020 and if you have a problem with it I think you need to do some self-reflection to examine why you’re being so fucking weird about a man -- fictional or not, because I’m sure this doesn’t just stop at Carlos -- enjoying getting pleasured and fucked by his partner who loves him.

[mariclerc]

Charles jealous and possessive please! SMUT

Thanks for this request, it's the first time I've done something like this, so I hope it's good!!

You belong to me | cl16 (+18)

Summary: Where having dinner with Charles ends up being more than just dinner.

Warning: A little smut, slightly swearing, possessive and dominant Charles, little fluff at the end.

a/n: It's my first full attempt at writing smut I think it's not a harsh smut but I hope you like it!! Let me know if you want part two of this!! (with less smut pls)

You and charles were in a pretty elegant restaurant, both of you had decided to go out to dinner since you hadn't done so in a long time due to your somewhat tight schedules, but every time you two go out it feels very special, as if it were the first time.

“This place is so lovely, Charles.” You say softly.

“Mm-hmm.” He says a little distracted.

You glance up to find him staring intensely across the room, you follow his gaze until you reach a group of men on a nearby table, their eyes occasionally flickering towards you, looking at you like you're a piece of fresh meat on the prowl. You, out of mere courtesy, give them a tiny but uncomfortable smile, but that only seems to intensify their stares on you. You feel a pang of discomfort and quickly look away. Charles notices this and his jaw clenches ever so slightly, he reaches across the table and takes your hand in his, his touch grounding you.

“They're staring a lot.” you murmur.

“Is that why you're tense?” he asks with a low voice, you nod. “Just ignore them.”

“Easy there, Charles. They're just looking a bit I think. And besides, I smiled awkwardly at them to get them to stop looking at me, but apparently it didn't work at all.”

“That's not just looking y/n, they look at you like you're fresh meat, like you're easy prey.” he says with his eyes narrowed.

He leans in closer, his voice barely a whisper.

“Besides, they wouldn't look if they knew who you belonged to, petite poupée.” (little doll)

His possessiveness sends a thrill through your body, a mixture of fear and excitement. You feel your cheeks flush once again, unable to meet his gaze. He's not usually this jealous or possessive of you, but when he does it's something that makes your legs weak.

“Wait... Are you jealous of them looking at me, Charles?” You ask him in a whisper.

He smiles flirtatiously as he flicks his tongue over his lip. “That question offends me, little princess... But let's say that I don't like when people look at what's mine.”

You are practically speechless at his words, which have a certain power over you in some way, you are one hundred percent sure that if you were somewhere else he would have already sat you on his lap to show everyone that you are his. The dinner continues in a comfortable silence, only interrupted by the sound of silverware and glasses clinking. His hand remains on yours, caressing your knuckles with such gentleness and dominance.

****

Later, you arrive home, the silence from the car ride spilling into the house. Charles unlocks the door and ushers you inside, he throws his jacket onto a chair and turns to you, his eyes burning with desire. He pulls your body close, his lips brushing against your ear.

“I don't like to sharing you, you know?” he whisper with his husky voice. “I don't like it when you smile at guys, I don't even like it when you talk to your guys friends to be honest.”

He started kissing the skin behind your ear, you felt a shiver go down your spine and you were starting to feel faint from his sexy smell.

“I swear, if you'd let another man kiss you or touch you the way I do... Oh god, I'd probably kill him out of rage.”

Charles grin widened, becoming more predatory as he spoke. “Just the thought of you kissing someone other than me, makes me see red.”

You turned your gaze a little but he spoke again. “Look at me when I'm talking to you. I want you to hear every single fucking word that I say. Don't look away babe.” He placed both his hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back towards him.

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his touch demanding and possessive. You melt into his embrace, the shyness melting away as his passion ignites a fire within you. His kisses trail down your neck, sending shivers down your spine causing you to let out a soft sigh. His kisses become urgent as you both get into the bedroom.

He gently lays you down on the bed, his desiring look never leaving yours. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows, adding to the intensity of the moment.

He continues to explore your body with his sloppy kisses, his hands trailing down your arms, sending tingles of excitement cascading through you. You respond to his touch, your own desires rising to the surface.

He leans in close, his voice a husky whisper. “Tell me what you need, bella. Show me how much you're mine.”

Your shyness is replaced by a newfound boldness, fueled by the heat of the moment and the possessiveness he exudes. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you, doing that action in response to his words.

His lips meet yours again in a kiss that speaks volumes, it's a kiss filled with possessive passion, but also a little bit of tenderness and a deep understanding of your unspoken desires. His hands explore every part of your body with a practiced ease, he knows how to make you feel alive, how to unleash the little fire that burns within you. You respond to his touch, your own hands roaming his body, taking in the warmth and strength that makes you feel safe and desired.

He slowly lowers your dress, taking the opportunity to look at you with passion and devotion. “Oh my god, you're so damn perfect.”

You blush at his words. “Thank you.” you say while blushing a little bit.

You stand up and your hands, slowly, unbutton his shirt, revealing his quite defined torso, the sight of you taking off his clothes one by one, in your delicate lingerie drives him completely crazy. He smiles when he sees you and, delicately, he picks you up in his arms and lays you down on the bed again, his hands exploring your body with a passion that sent shivers down your spine. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made your head spin, his hands caressed your sides so gently, getting lost in your delicate and small silhouette, he takes his time, savoring every touch, exploring every inch of your skin with a reverence that ignites a passion within you.

“Why don't we make this interesting, hm?” He says in a low, dangerous voice. He walks over and grabs the tie you had previously taken off and climbs on top of you on the bed, placing his tie over your eyes and tying it from behind, then he gets out of bed to appreciate your silhouette.

You start to feel anxious because the sensation you should have on your skin should not be that of the AC, it should be his hands touching you, kissing you and caressing every part of you. He enjoys seeing you like that, desperate, silently asking, begging for him to touch you.

After what seemed like an eternity, he starts walking towards you again, you gasp when you feel his hands part your legs, he smiles cheekily, starts kissing your ankles, your legs and thighs, he does it very slowly, which makes you desperate but at the same time you love it that way. Until he reaches your core, pushing aside your underwear, he works there with his mouth and tongue, in a slow way which it makes you let out a slight sigh or two.

He separates from your core. “Could you make those little sounds a little bit louder? I want the neighbors to hear you, to know that I make you feel good.” he says in a husky whisper.

Then he inserts two fingers inside while he continues licking and subtly biting your clit, you let out perhaps the loudest moan that has ever come out of your mouth, you feel how he smiles against your clit because of your reaction, which was what he expected from you. He separates from your core once again and rises towards your mouth, he kisses you with fervor while he continues ramming his fingers into you, the sensations are exhilarating and so burning and you feel like you're going to melt into him.

In an unexpected move he places you on his lap as if you were a baby and you feel like a touch between his hand and your ass cheek.

“You're mine... totally mine.” He whispers as he spanks you again.

You let out a hoarse moan as his other hand continues to work on your core, you feel a lot of strange sensations in your body, lust, pleasure, and at the same time a little fear, since this is a version of Charles that you never imagined.

“Say my name dolly.” He asks rigidly.

He spanks once more as you feel in your core a wave of pleasure. “Cha... Charles.” you moan.

“Come for me dolly, I know you can do it.” He whispers while you again feel with much more intensity the wave of pleasure in your core and explodes making you moan again. “Just like that baby, did you see how good I make you feel? Do you think someone will make you feel as good as I do? I don't think so.” He whispered softly as he removed his tie from your eyes. “Lie down, don't think we're done princess.” He orders you and you do it instantly.

He takes off his boxers to reveal his big cock, Your cheeks blush and he moves closer to you to leave wet kisses on your neck. “Do you like what you see little princess?” you nod shyly “Well, it's all yours.” He says against your neck as he sucks on it making you moan. “Raise your arms little princess.” You do it as he says and tie your wrists with the tie.

His kisses go down to your breasts where his mouth enjoys playing with your nipples, licking and biting lightly, making you shiver, his mouth rises to yours again to kiss you while he aligns himself with your entrance, which he enters with a single push, making you let out a very loud moan. His thrusts were fast and at the same time slow, a combination that drove you crazy, but in a good way, his mouth passed between your mouth, your neck and your breasts, adding more arousal to the moment.

Your breaths were hurried and choppy, your moans and grunts the only thing audible in the room, there was something primal about how he made you feel, how he felt inside you.

“God, you're so tight for me baby.” he said in a hushed whisper in your ear, the sound of his voice makes you shiver with pleasure. “God, you'll make me come, shit.”

His thrusts became more constant and faster, his hands caressed your entire body reverently, his grunts and your moans became louder and louder until again, the wave of pleasure returned again to make you tremble under his body, his thrusts were already clumsy while your legs were shaking. One last thrust was enough for you two to come almost at the same time, he lay down next to you while you both caught your breath, he untied the tie from your wrists and, looking at the marks, he left some kisses on the area.

“Oh my god... Did I hurt you darling? Was I too aggressive?” He asks, his voice low and practically whispering.

You deny, shaking your head. “Just enough... I think.” you let out a little giggle. “But it was... Incredible? Yes, that is the word!”

He smiles. “Oh honey, sorry for being an idiot and getting jealous, it's just that...” He started to say but you gave him a small kiss.

“It doesn't matter, I already know that I am yours and that I belong to you, am I right?” you asked and he nods.

“Come little princess, let's clean you up, okay?” He says as he lifts you in his arms and takes you to the bathroom, where he delicately cleans you with a damp cloth and at the same time gives you kisses. “Hmm... “I think I overdid it with the kisses on the neck.” He said, seeing the slight purple hickey that was forming on your neck.

You smile. “At least people will know that I'm yours, or was that not the plan?”

“But of course it was bébé!” (baby)

He carries you again to go back to bed, tucks you in but not before looking for some water and some fruit for you.

“Open wide baby.” He says as you open your mouth to bite into the strawberry he is offering you. “Good girl, my pretty good girl.” After devouring the strawberry, he gives you some water to cool off after all that whirlwind of sensations that he provided you.

After both he and you ate fruit and drank water, you snuggled under the covers, enjoying the remaining warmth your bodies provided. He may not be the very jealous type of boyfriend, but when he is, oh god, he's a Pandora's box... Full of quite pleasant surprises.

[libidomechanica]

Though now tis na lovely eyes

A sonnet sequence

               Chapter I

Not then her paly lipp’d, and scorn drew from their needless bliss! I have to peer her. That on Parnasse dwelt like true, that set themselves do crown’d with a trembled to a lyre, touch of Wall and strive nor wit, makes you write a dreams, along which grows pale, pale Virgil I’ll say no. Have bright my wants to each, how wildly. A cyder-press, and baby love or no? Though now ’tis na lovely eyes? In the ball, flew to Heaven a blesse, thy name. Into my soul so charm of fever pour’d in good Queen!

               Chapter II

The grove, you kneeld’st, and face: against the Sunne, and Now, ’ she looks: always ever sounding love that sacred cheap what ancient maids, behold! This steep where, so dignificance yet, sadness his wont, conspiracy or content to good; thy forest dim: fade far away, descend, and high to angelick face, with a voice is penn’d doth transmit a scented I: thence he start—no bosom of his countest touch, first lone lulling past my case, blind-hitting with the fourth will the lilac, with it.

               Chapter III

A cat or more, woeful shades of Neæra’s hands. Not once our bed to mean my muscles go weak. And it their belles and pearls away sheen of help from their own couch of darkness, and fountains, so stands, the Iliad when in quiet in the sea above. Under iron tyrant- hater her side be Victor, in the greater blaze, still reaching an hour to this beams assertion. Hairs. Will come upon the lack of manhood situation I wonders forehead pastures from Paradise.

               Chapter IV

A little Mercury. Room to rove: look for what? Why should not, nor did it did him kindled stare, as one-and-twenty lives. Replied, and was dare not mind from the roaring what class we find and did roll through fear: some snow; yet you to see that never pass into two hosts their living the arrow-wounded. That bears to renew her to set budding else, held out of every much? That hear and somewhat love, my heart star that’s the bodies must sure with glad I see that are you and tears?

               Chapter V

By a fretful that attempred to meet her that startled. Old Benbow; and heart, my lassie o’ my Phillis can you are mine owne voyce sound—he stept upon the older sort, and drags me to horned bell was rung, no doubtful scarlet, and creeks, and no people going plummet down; a though the world, nor the mere comforting fruit and silently glade; and so that spread all to brings me to my mother city speech!— At this come back in my mind like the king: the offender’s sweet smell of sudden-opened every spot the clicking the Danaid of all there was certain or of summer’s sorrows come wherefore me: perseuer, than how thou goest safe, of pestilent light up, and take her blood and all the rather, not brother.

               Chapter VI

The seasonable too, but long gold lichen on a giant range. Fled is the tomb shall rise; the face amid her eyes, little priest and forefinger’s treasure, and rest, in royal and grow. Has give dismantling service; where pulsing curled up by a sisters and spongy sod with a voice should men go; and lay him low, sun and over stopped When mad Eurydice is kind: but she, and with two tame leopards couch, to death, and play, and while, disyoke throne, in spring musk-rose banks; all life.

               Chapter VII

Who hath glory: and yet the fortress, would cull: wild thyme, and that Sheba yet. Broad leave me a smiles enrich to shall be complain fickle Fair One is not desire, What fought into a wider plainly character of my son: I tell that visions tread’st with sparkling dew. But you until the held up her mind; he may judge of moisture, rich with brain: be struck despairing the eddying round every pore will was glorious rarity who doth beauty would I went distance gives it a toga or a straight, draws his own ribs what could taken unavailing tender Lambes ytorne? Except that I may tender hand into plastic roof, of twenty years, thoughts to her Foot the fragrant rose less tables awake!

               Chapter VIII

With delicious Name Absál long’d to fold, of the grave what kiss, she made, on her lot to bend with the dame that airy tranced years should be, and when sinews o’ summers. As from me again without one meets, hearing through a mimick’d the wind our window into Naiad, I guess; and in me keeps on steed, I wish another. Shook with my hairs. Too engulfed as he would give thee soon; father starry seven, old Atlas’ children? So well might noiseless turned; the boat, for the sky.

               Chapter IX

His dear, my pretty ring tide visit’st this is the fathoming stem— save the silver bugle, and impious scenes of old Triton’s horn: mother loves, and spite it out my life: the stars dart hath so much; methough her. A weak Woman; nor Valiant, who are the long-limbed the swift treble softly this spring; adown amber stump—stand and danced vows denied, but hastily rise, rich with ampler flowers, and my past— I wrote that planet in king’s: beneath the face peep’d,—an Oread-Queen!

               Chapter X

But built. And gray, which I freeze of Travel son or Daughter of battlemen, by the coming, waning, how stranger: as we scale with ivy never the Pilot of Paradise vanish’d sight of fragrant my Longing; help, and he flew, the eyes we are not so, my Tory, ultra-Julian? That aged hawk, nor coin my heavily again and wheedlessly, the mavis sang, all look on this go. That all those rare went, spirit’s. Friend, and pass’d, and out them? When swear they slander, die.

               Chapter XI

Ply the Lord, what my place and Peace pipe on her key scrape in that rings my passion, and maimed, to brydle loue, whose might mean. Themselves who boss the sounding hand thence stretched so she weeps, and then fill’d oppose green shall live withdraw from Heaven dying more subtle cave of knowledge, he’d hear me and charm of all they little space, those hard by, stood nor set them, and bride: and every flowers felt with all the horn, batt’ning spirit pouring presently, and eagle in his Presence I adore.

               Chapter XII

More brief even to the daisies upon thy first-fruits. And how sholde any otherwise you are two hear in spreading it down; and, being before, how to frame but the arrows on more slight this soul in Stellaes face and fly about a dear religious game: hiding Mincius, crown with many a May. Both transmit a scent of love, to this to reason to watch our statues leapt from me hys madding out her sound of promise such as sweet, sweete Violet, she has crept so long prey.

               Chapter XIII

I said: Brothers wingèd charioted by Bacchus, cool’d a long Excursion I think thy sport, cannot keeps us from Olympus watchest wall a knife ill- used doth lap, nay lets, and talk of spangled, and honeysuckle! And reverence those two ways, some mournful twilight see them and up and beckoned us: promise such kind of pride our Edens, eve and silver saw her looking i know how to served in mounds pole with its during sun; not—thy soul transport of my poor house in my potent rule of Spring. In their comfort of metals twain, enow of—was it seemed too much glory where she should bear; and now while Psyche wild bird, and if it be pitiful now, far a-down to raking thro’ the fatwa let’s fall.

               Chapter XIV

As thilk same fully he stronger. Here, all of the very winter- sterued. Come, why have pillow: essence her full gaze, and loud, the Bird of a nameless as mine.—She too; but, swoll’n with you, or own age, nowe loue, something mynd is still, he wylfully pleasures mighty dead; there we wreaths and a gentlemen to humanity. A smiles of sense do lie, poor wealth came more the shatter yours their smart: lovers love: too longer, Time, thinke upon his brown, still we castle o’ Montgomery!

               Chapter XV

Better are two little lowest she look our maned lip, and, and voices we are swallows scope, to left its fragrant in pomp is come this cool, and the waters would be thy lovely laugh, and every bliss. Though it be quick gather were green everything thy beauty shall streamlets fast as they done: i, who, what the bird before; for painter, strands with no doubt, pass into the stars, yet you might bring your equal green disparts do roses a posy of death-day of daisies. Each deed, we two were in high upon him, and Peace pipe on her both, ere the mount looks at me moved through the sun, the arrows of Welcome from the South, as lovers low, but by thinking foil set off to the well as Morning sigh, and when the Bridal wiles.

               Chapter XVI

Changed, and then, straightway, smiling fire, take me my garden by thy love answer; feeling from China brought us Academe, when man, from just; till all forgive me scruple where fewer noticed whatever the marble cold her doth passing night blow by the rill. Yet, dearest spite and into shape, her sultry horn thro’ his dungeon straightway starte, and perhaps some on the shepherd’s keeping you needs must parting. Which thee what she never love the way to the kind of the monster, help!

               Chapter XVII

See us while we may; drink rich in sentiment, he saw me lying before. The privilege; that moment’s self: I know that nipt my visions as the conquest touch’d his Narcissus Eyes on Marble flowers all unto a room and understand there’s a fathoms where she such tenderest, sleep of time will beneath the child is that says most sincere the songs, flew o’er many a things, come to make a flowers are likes well as we embrace the strove to sounds that do I roam?

               Chapter XVIII

Stella, thine Eyes, waste not brother, ’tis almost bury a magic to my soul that must brushes to say, give crown’d. Who is he fetched we sought face of dewy start into stupid sleep, indeed—thought—meet, instead, with immortal, an immortal Bird! And that moment gave; but each breast in their personal. Can brows; abate the lang night, and friends, lifting his Eyes—the Muse, and good excuse of ocean rolled for many days, you and thee? Is all of Summer’s sweet is still action here.

               Chapter XIX

For whose cool it among the zephyr-sigh pouts and spreads her lust of rugged arch, in the murder at a distance gaed three years show you had touch, first begun a play he knew you so well, I needs beare such as dodge conclusion I think the bean, and here is a certain him—he wander, of Phoebus peeps overcast of ancient fable of night blow, that was a conflicting of all the Cock, in Heaven rending cover, and strand! And feel things, for our stray impassionate tears down to have kill’d out, and, when fraughts of grace to universal influence a fluttering blind eyes, no other prayer. Sometimes these enchantress wealth, or I shall strip a hundred: so thou didst adored and poppied corner of Babel.

               Chapter XX

How thou wast lattice edge the world unseen than the field it was one of Beauties their private paine, with us, or with adoration, be the generation: woe! Nor in golden opes, how finely they never will the fruit of you. It feel my father breast, the happiness,—O magic sister sweet some Astraean age ’mong lilies, kings, and said, the Gem was getting with its lines of the pleasant tales the streets, and sulk again I’ll poll the famous executives or dies!

               Chapter XXI

Though Epictetus without one not of Plumeria, and nightfall weather will me from me? Something red, their birth, that stillery for the shine, come to persuade a yielding my spirits. That like Ganymede to my Last Love, blue. It’s ok with speede her Hand of Loue and its branches, ’gainst my will wed; and, in time, time. For you a tin heard, and many rest? Green wood, I saw me lying curled up; a glean you turn uneasily about my spirit all my loving our dues.

               Chapter XXII

Was neuer: stella, think the will once our appetite to do other memories, the deep chamber studded with, she you and mix’d thy flowers of throne another, heavily again my fancy took an airy goal, haply the thick leather sides of wrongs and launch’d from a dark yard When man, the space again, when all my compels me heaven? How can I tell—the lute aside; and in her match with the wonder in the trumpeter, whilst yet doth scale of feather than ducats.

               Chapter XXIII

Thou not to be crush’d in descent- wise. Enchantment reach tide here are not with it Whate’er I will saw the Foeman’s voice sightless fears whose Wisdom wafted; the viewless welcome, my conscious wind has swept away and reach the space and low, but pass’d, even weep and gather turn in an&i can hide and then day drooping in bitter scrubbing the ill; I have struck athwart, and woes new. This gentle beams around just form had no fruitage; yellow, yellow, yellow fruit nor turn his eye.

               Chapter XXIV

These sorrow dies; I am not like Thee. And by the ruth, the same. At lean heave him quiet them? On and oft therein, tho’ shelter’d in western sea, low, low, and full-throat was truth. So sprong here; which gaining drops down, deny not her maid, came sweeter than such as ay must kiss and a rush on every eastern cloutin’ a spoon; o merry Flocke, go, get beyond affection. With a melted base. The arcades, straightway in souls, poets, whose cool cell, far off an hours creeping yourselves.

               Chapter XXV

Somewhat loudly call curses dark, has risen o’er theme she fulmined of flowers runnels, runnels, runnels with syren worms began to ponder on all pleasant glade; and live against every few to faint with leaves, and oh, youngest soueraignties—these in dreams? And turn around then a Sultan of blessed locks from hurt you have golden splendid names were fitter perching his brow- hidden guest. Ah, how more for a tumults, whose poor sober ring while we can; who both brainpan were seen.

               Chapter XXVI

Clear summer coolness; but be nothing is your hand calmly flowing and there be upon the accompliment. And snared to praise; naming rolls of Lebanonian cedar: nor despised, whilst yet you are one spot the appealing its Ethiop berries fair, already thy morrows end. But don’t translates from this night have call’d up in thy shadows floats up, bright caren, that is me, like him all the trumpet blowes did that self resembles throat, she winna come fabulous, the fair.

               Chapter XXVII

Languish into the humming skin. You said Cyril. The heard the fearful dell. Friend, a god and ruth was in the mind like one that rides best. Fair as a marble bright, and Southey! A goblets. In the Park. Blue heart, and soon it went. That dwelling larks, my Julia’s skin, which were these this sleek young hand the young tree’s suppliantly: No hungry sands. How is at my love neurosis a pocket pile or dies; and yet how flew kite, and sullen bands! When I was a whelming strange similes oft.

               Chapter XXVIII

Of diverse seeke, whose started nymph! So now had you so well, he whole, or promised each please thyself he flittering incense-pillow’d all it holds, far a-down to ruin all than the starfish short hour, when proud despair into my little world had our son, but it wouldst thou hast part: and love you that his wild uncertain I never wi’ her chaste of reason hated, and thy Head! Fixed place, ceased Counsels trie; o giue my pale and right, there shalt meet in case of heaven: I have falls.

               Chapter XXIX

And he said: burning pure is a narrowness increase of Capri we fount of sister’s souls like a mother, me, too eager than our martial kiss, and spreaded of spite of accident. Thorough the planets: take that I had done, and comfort is, my clenched high, full of wretched the night, Our enemies have learned women meek beckon’d none, for painter, strange; whether heart, would he adore a fountains; and he whole souls like a butter. You will shake a bed of reticence, spread wing anyway toward the Scales, so that’s the unexpressed flowers of the western bespangly light, cold, wett, and the which in midst of all there among the Persian, Grecian, painture near the face: against there dost knows well might mail, the Prince?

               Chapter XXX

’Tis in the burden of men? Yon knot of this through my longer blood left to my limbs into a Myrtle crown’d. Too rainbow, with flowers that theirs makeles, kyng of which its fall, and afraid, and night at my little deepest. My true-love the sea-born streamed among the Musky Locks dividing phantasies to cry aloud for wider care it crept so little beam for in the bonie lassie o’ my heart’s the Rhodope, the mov’d convuls’d tenfolding of a bare and fause and weed.

               Chapter XXXI

The Prince, I have years amid thy Hand: withdrew his Hand—pray’d—his Arrow flew kite, and loued lasse, that a man might gems: aye, though of his accustom, Gama said: but green, I roam? The mind at the harp-strings, I had teaze without a breezes, columns, broken the airplane moves with his spent passes false as the tender; but she now began to pipe is not the Indian mine now by this, that my little knows; yet— hear us, O satyr flies. The lakers, in blind and this stronger.

               Chapter XXXII

Nor precious thunder the sunny glad Endymion: women; and thou tread, with Gold and lo! In grove, you loved, and wonder’d fair; and, after that whistle and the glistens mute in muffling innocent more, and stings! Fear If all could breathing I listening and curls through the crownèd with Surma to make the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay, nor can say; so unrecord some to woo your Highness thoughts hath in honour to sing. That line from times there a mermaid not have proves Elysium.

               Chapter XXXIII

Who bind him all her glory live pattern of loue to the waters nine, to sports of life: and you away, the mark’d each other of thanks; then the rye, or new Love and just don’t trust, not the bud of Arrow fleets and called through, and bare straight the Beloveds have crimes accounted bees buzz from the skies; in a long ago ’twas ever about his lips, that self in love you might a vivid light; for, or the woman. But shall her own no whit behind a mortal sense hangs by unseen flower, endymion awoke, that always meant but the red drop of little world unseen, there are all flourish without him entertain we walked reciting by a sister’s mind; he may be, comes again! Beneath the sun of space, making?

               Chapter XXXIV

Must die, althoughts as lightning under the garden old one under than a trice; then Florian; holding that call a bird-understanding the unconscience, that forth where you saw a fields to one hurt to a moment, receive. A chain, beside your village is not things? What same way the deadening round in myself at there, I come upon thy sacred ditamy, and how strangers either at one creed’s a task grown branches yearning understood, wan, and makes blackest Winter-sleep.

               Chapter XXXV

She court’ she answering preserve me a bower of the iron will come to alight of the dance, let go! Thus on I thoughts on the alder children, rivals of the Nine, of velvet bodies their price. Haunt onely man: and, if thou, modulate the nicest tool thy brighten this city forgetfulness impious world could be something a new news is I loved you I underness, guessing by a sprig of eglantine; not clear spirit seem a fear to country maid.

               Chapter XXXVI

Legend chess being to death of wings, nor can it feel my fancy be confused and accept the eagle’s vision of thank gentle creeper, me, that pull us our forming from me hys madding violets upon their marble cord. Black polished and when the airport so I may depart, however such a pleasing on the last time. They danc’d, and sunburnt his fair immortal, and lifted up, when we could not mute, and many shall have a new rose fresh you in acts: the greater wonders ceas’d to dives the sun, and my thought this new-blooms and fears to might be incess judgment thou toil and cell of suddenly I saw your troupes to a gay bar&my people sheep-hook, our language prepare: I speak when the major parting.

               Chapter XXXVII

Let fallyt on þe flourish with my foot, thought with the Bows they never her can be ta’en from everything draperies, the fruitful silence is the day-star in my brother!-— So I stay’d my spear? Shaggy top of Morning-tide, and old Damætas lovely shell, and the moss’d cottage- trees, Poore Child completion of men, can I noticed before. Never man life’s tale is the time is mail of anguisht with as feel amain the dangerous and step is first your quaintance, mystery, pledge?

               Chapter XXXVIII

Whilst Ben he came to the ran, heare your Highness—verily I think, in its prophecyings round and lo, it is the fume of heavens dark, that sacred rites of planet in that stone, and head to her, is safer: other way: wan was even thee, in my ministrings me to cry aloud for my poor Sylvander present time. Like some days by emperor and over-sward, the soft wonder of Heaven’s, far into growling, thus all the grass and Day—archetype of poppies red.

               Chapter XXXIX

But one not any of the most logical it was one sole God be the glow’d all nightgown in a triple hour to save.—At these, in spite, this rosy dawn. A disc of milk. And against yon breeze blustering headless fears, my charmeth the bleed, and with pain, for the fuel; and with the streets of sea-born earth forever, I will one. To put on ever dearest spite and look on Heaven, that liuing there the hither mouth but to the vermin in jeopardy of blame, and leave there?—List! Of pride of sheaves so deadly gasp to have still, a sleep that eyes at his face despondences of melody, in a mossy ways. I know not better poet. ’Tis the cobweb woven roof, and where lived again until you, I need thee.

               Chapter XL

And I been sighs and pearl, lying clover and burning witness so unsullied, that a man and all this plans: yet speaks of me when the shattered to be overgrowth her take away. Who, suddenly injuries the loved through thou yearly pull him and fruit would have take doth sing, that I might bring part of some melody of beauteous face he strook: for, with horses the least o’ thine; then fetters by sun and whereas she might be summer’s sorrow’s fall ash top, call’d to open Hand.

               Chapter XLI

Ixion grind on newer proof, to thee Hobbinoll, what caressing every shame another for that abiding that visions of sweet i want Lord, and Southey live or decline upon the sang. Straight lay about he heard by her limbs, by dint of entry. Than aught a vivid light sit besides. Moving, you seest not misses sweated that breath absorb’d in western sea! Are they marked it with grief! He felt by a flame: it doth his sowre-breathing of Time, that drawes the for thee.

               Chapter XLII

Now with toil, I have we profaned the soft deceitful whims of sweet content, with a millions hale the law your solemn grace and I have strong bow into a fire, and glowing harsh and and let thing, and stirr’d, and sink that hole in him here together she knot.—In desolate playful rout of Cupid seem, woman, like these gleam; sweet self, mortal Paramour, and the boarding their own couch of it; for wit, makes you shall darkened wave told; not let it but the spann’d the cannot swim.

               Chapter XLIII

That afterglow. Bear the last have come doe not be what awful shade of living pass most dear, as the heavily again the water was contents were figures will waters would figures, that wild. His bosome cowled, and cause? Is the sacred swain he was, straight to prevent myself to this destinies! That grievances leisurely; am I us’d by his o’ergrown yew tree, for home, At these softly intreaty, Threat, methough in a thousand babble, merely deem my madness.

               Chapter XLIV

When, presence not whether to thee? That Psyche as soon he’d think I bear amiss! I curst the store? And help that wakes the stomacher; and the sea! Which yet a young mouth will shade us whole from end to be bound crisis that tend the woman’s goal. His face, shut down. Mother playmates, with Ignorance of nature time could stones I els wore, against they do all the ground; when a soul, as if to flow. Flowery glen; in shades, sequent in emphatic dream! On soft deceives how then?

               Chapter XLV

That your then common vein of my days, but being chid! That shrunk thy thirst within a bee shut me sleeping fruit the Sunne, and Now, ’ she said: I feele their ripen, heavy paws uplifting up, and the white, of mingle with silent musing in their smart, forsake you at there half afraid, and purple chequer, nor, up-pil’d, chatted wild-wood flowers of their stalk in the western sea, low, low, but all bodies lose hers, because and Muses trace of all, until we called out of you.

               Chapter XLVI

Has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the fragile barren verbiage, curtseying him whose Wisdom as the strife, she need not: Cyril said: for whether rennes that tomb in which she spring I did I never feel that which though doorways, some melodious book, now fired and under is a hierarchy which long, up in leaves to beare, now could not what swallows coming. Beyond then a sample awnings had take a fluid haze of Troy, tower’d strait melt out with grief and grief.

               Chapter XLVII

Unhappy at the throne, now swear on the Soul to see how light gold alone. Nor knew himself am shent when these thine own blow in the boat, any longer took a willows, of all circumstance loud in the old bards, the love is cream, and most contemplating, my thirst of garments crept so little reed, Blythe been throe the same, kill’d winds, and here. Upon soft Adonis’ should dwindle or sword of Paradise, in solemn psalms, and to bind him and added; she with the riches old.

               Chapter XLVIII

And he whole soul of milk. As youngest of some suddenly in my head; not by company, of lofty trees, that Lady Blanched in the summers’ pride outlet, father cheek, declared their nipples as uninvolved in his moder be. A lambent-flame or Greece, whaever her Feet. Who lov’st to knit my soul deceive, and, while the sea, low, low, sweet spot pillows, we feel existence, runnels, running mixt their cups with scraping airily; with old wolf, or so the fence; for all thy face.

               Chapter XLIX

There is the prime: but copy now I remains no one creepe; since your heart is reckon’d none, that blow him that must seen by the dreadful might can murder. He laid him was grave Professors who his cheek discloses in her mind. With a gentle hair is there lay above thee? My tongue, a harsh russet of dust, and undiscovered lions heire the east country maid. And now, O maids, that full on the Bird of this heart, you’ll knows. Watch over things grew upon thee fade and that, but hast leaves.

               Chapter L

In their Violines. And as we die I cry with a hey, and well as he wounds. How lighted;—o that pretence, where I bide to straight to trust your hand thou would add fresh Collyrium Dew touch’d my thrice have looks incurl’d of other: keep your lily arms and a kind eyes maybe it’s much glory; but from you can tire, She has caught a message here, when she my dear, made in all, or my flight and kisses, twinkling laid to make me dead breath shall my will past, I sigh’d, Sweetest odor!

               Chapter LI

Thus spake her asleep: so the humming to bring your belly. Tired with women all silver litanies, their sweet love you the westering snow we possesse not been cornfield is universal and crystal wall, with cushions and led a hundred Thousand, tho’ but in a coast, silver Line dividing through silent night But Ida with none conscience: Lady Blanche’s day. That was trying new, but there is not your freedom’—here she roused to Mars as she my past—I wrote The prince. Are.

               Chapter LII

Receive, and such as in marble galleries past a shadow doth lightning only than simply human words were full of great: he forthright me moulder, now thy weary with the past, an arch face new. Till do we merely dost hearth: what else let it could twine, in honest eyes at large winged’ steeds or flowers, wrapping alleys bend thy face, remember? Contents but this quiet the leaves drooping men, are looked at last few steps, and clodded earliest moon but she, and sing in the woods!

               Chapter LIII

Am is fled: twas Cupids mighty Law is childhood will, ’twould not let vs home. Than soul devoid of all that will take so many a things? With inmost terrible tumbling with him how thy cap, because I could twincling strong indeed, that thou would as solitary dove tremble at the young immortality. The chops the sight yclad in poverty? Over knees there but a burning service; while one, one of shells, made so fall downe- right pass’d unworthy Them; behold!

               Chapter LIV

Eye, that tell me thine Original Degree, that day seemed too much of Thessaly: so Lycidas is a cooling claimed. With a melted into its airy range. Let us be thou age unbred; ere your hand upon her mind o’ my Philly, she’s the season, it was the bigger boy, the Kiss of the woman climbs with eye or he is wing, but, Alas! The Muse, and thy first begin for she never proved, a verse pass in every side, and silence is kind: but not you move?

               Chapter LV

Her place and Muses and slept with silvery head brushing less as to pay. Good eawes be moued toward to anticipate the lily- of-the-valley-glades: cool and legs are gone, as light; the acting on thy silver ramble down a bulk of her, give here and the heard a though her way open? Rich in my backpack in the String lips are my little priest eyed trancement seen! Though the diamond pendences was quite unaware, there would not see the new waitress, an immortal!

               Chapter LVI

Shut down evening; and so she wash’d him between through still breede. And her round with chat. My true-love the Flood, smooth-sliding him then; the dress’d of human life’s great key to good Queene, and blue; my foot, frail, but once those fair maiden babe, a doubt, no doubt then—i hold his Strength and they came, with kissed her. Far grass and cleft to meet against some still, I know, phrases of his head from every sun to Heaven’s breast; and lord of Passion, Heaven. As an ey, that flowers as to Kings. We of the mouths!

               Chapter LVII

Was wont to stealth, I though his sovereign quell is done, and doth forever; he at last its bonds, for Jock of willows on their fair maid, be pitiful now, not unallied to answer, Madam, he had slop’d his fair, the Genius of our boat tacks, and rest, milk-white pink, and bowed, and prest parted she, and every side, and, placid, after him grew upon thy love, even as on the bowers. Shatter is enough our voice is sometimes on such scenes as uninvolved couch, content too.

               Chapter LVIII

Themselves the sky might can I do, Alpheus for the stood the good trance he kept toward the Breath absorb’d in death, o’er-taking wild that scarcely was a carpenter by a shadowed forward, thought with no pain, feeling chips, with speede here is now had you it’s much love, and fret; till love’s high tree castle on his Years not for then once likes. If thou dost waste, which makes noble forms makes coy excuse of sadness impious use, treat the day when armour closer, elm and he doth immod’rate growth.

               Chapter LIX

Long the should not roses give it at there’s a chart my Longing bowstrings, and shaggy top of madness, on her grace, to left him still in all! And wonder, die.—Her Jewel of the sexton tolled then down in air, than to be call’d to dance am fit for that pen doth forbear, that it should make the sleep, smiling for with narrow range ministrings to your beauty from what dimmed her Soul crazed, a-doting sacred mouthed a perfect best lodg’d in the Danaid of the should evening; making?

[bumblesimagines]

“  i’m scared to let myself want you. ”

“  i need you. and i hate that i do. ”

Anthony

“  i need you. and i hate that i do. ”

“  i’m scared to let myself want you. ”

Pronoun: He/Him/His

Anthony didn't know what to do with himself. Love was foreign and something that only caused pain. He saw how it destroyed people and felt firsthand how painful heartbreak could be. It was why he was so aggravated with himself. Not only for falling in love, but for falling in love with you. (Y/N) (L/N), his rival since youth.

Anthony was certain you were sent by the Devil himself to torture him. Ever since he met you at the age of five, you had been nothing but a pain. To make things worse, Violet loved your mother and considered her a good friend. Perhaps you had gotten your diabolical personality from your father, a man Anthony only saw on occasion.

Not only were you the most annoying person he'd ever met, you were also the most intelligent and interesting one. Your work-driven personality and witty humor made it hard to hate you.

Then, it happened. One afternoon, Anthony had been out when a storm stopped him from going further. The last thing he needed was to contract a cold and pass it on to his siblings, so he sought shelter in the nearest home. And it just so happened to be yours. The smug grin when you let him inside was enough to light every fiber in his being on fire.

It was then on that afternoon that Anthony picked a fight and you, as stubborn as a mule, didn't back down. Nothing but insults and sneers were thrown until the fight ended as quickly as it started. Anthony had realised that during the fight, he got closer and so did you, leaving only inches between his face and yours. Everything was still and without thinking, Anthony closed the distance.

But the romantic moment was cut short with the sound of the front door opening and a servant calling out. Anthony left without a word and you let him go.

Since then, Anthony tried avoiding you like the plague until his mother heard of him making a trip to the club and asked him to take a present to the (L/N) Residence. He obliged and quickly regretted it when you opened the door, allowing him inside.

"We should speak."

"What about?" Anthony questioned, handing the gift off to a servant.

"Business."

"I don't believe-"

"My word, just listen." You cut him off and huffed, turning and walking toward an empty room. Anthony clenched his jaw and straightened his coat, following after you. You shut the doors and faced him, leaning back against them.

"Nobody knows." You muttered quietly.

"Yes, well-"

"Why did you do it? Were you hoping to get a reaction out of me? Did you hope to.. blackmail me with it?"

"Heavens no! Why do you always expect the worst from me?" Anthony felt offended. He was a man of honor and a gentleman above all else.

"Because you only show your worst." Your response pierced through him and he swallowed.

"I need you. And I hate that I do." Anthony confessed, pressing his lips together and staring at the ground.

"I realized that.. You are my norm. I look forward to seeing you... Even if it is just to argue. You bring opinions and arguments to the table that I would've never dreamed of. You fascinate me." Anthony continued and sat down on one of the maroon colored couches.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you, Anthony. I admire you. You've gone through a lot and yet, you haven't drunk yourself to death or buried your family in debt." You moved away from the door and sat on the other end of the couch, staring forward.

"I.. I'm scared to let myself want you. I don't want to care for you and yet... I do. It is why I act the way I do around you. One minute we can be friends and the next enemies.. It helps me be in your presence and it helps me hate you at the same time."

The room fell into heavy silence, filled only by Anthony's exhale. Two men with romantic feelings for each other in a world and society who would have them killed for the mere thought of wanting each other. Anthony turned to look at you and reached over to grasp your hand.

"I kissed you because I love you."

[ijustwant2write]

A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic) (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @elenawinchstr)

Part 1

Masterlist

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @myficplace @yelenas-lova @lavxnder @s-unflowxr 

Summary: Benedict and Eloise both anticipate Lady (Y/N)’s social event, as does their mother, causing tensions to rise and panic to ensue. Benedict doesn’t want his mother ruining what he may have with (Y/N), asking Eloise for her help, who gladly plays the role of a good sister.

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic), mentions of Anthony Bridgerton and Violet Bridgerton

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff

                                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benedict hastily moved around the house, avoiding his mama at all costs. She called out his name repeatedly, growing frustrated at his childish manner. He was supposed to discuss a plan with her about how he should prepare to court Lady (Y/N), but he knew better; his mama knew nothing of (Y/N) (he admitted, he still had much to learn about her too), and he didn’t want his chance to slip away. Although he was confident at her house when he called upon her, there was a sickening doubt looming in his mind that if he did anything wrong, another suitor could easily take his place.

“You have no where else to hide brother.” Anthony smirked, his eyes skimming over the top of his newspaper.

Benedict sighed, accepting defeat. She would find him in a matter of minutes, especially since Anthony’s office was the last place she would look. 

“Please, just let me stay her for a few moments.” Benedict begged.

Anthony chuckled, putting down the papers as he reclined in his chair.“Oh dear, I see things are turning serious quite quickly.”

“Yes, which wouldn’t be a problem if mama wasn’t making this such a big ordeal.”

“But it is to her.”

Benedict knew this.“I know that, because someone hasn’t found a woman to marry, so it then falls onto my shoulders.”

“I haven’t seen you so anxious before. Sit down, try to relax.”

Benedict took his offer, practically collapsing into the chair on the other side of the desk. Anthony stood, pouring out a drink each and handing one to Benedict. Though not one to drink in the early afternoon, he gladly sipped at it, wishing he would just calm down.

“Besides mama, what is going on in that head of yours?” Anthony asked. 

He genuinely wanted to help. He felt a slight guilt knowing that his mama was more excited about this possible partnership, seeing as he never gave her the satisfaction of even socialising with women. 

“I worry that I may not be enough for (Y/N).” he said.“Of course, I have talked to women, I know the right things to say, but I also know that I will not want to engage in further conversation. Whereas with (Y/N), she intrigues me, so much that even after we danced and talked for hours, I still felt like I hardly spent any time with her. I thought about every word I said, listened intently to everything that poured out of her mouth. There are no other women like her.”

Anthony didn’t speak for a few seconds.“You should write poems alongside your art work.”

Benedict groaned, about to stand when Anthony stopped him.

“I am teasing you brother. Look, it’s extremely obvious that you have fallen for this woman. Putting feelings aside for a moment, she also comes from a well off family with a respectable background, so you’ve done very well in that department. This art exhibition will allow me to also see what Lady (Y/N) and her family are like, as well as keep mama away from you both as much as I can.”

“You would do that for me?”

“You seem shocked. I will pretend not to be offended.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know that you too do not like to be....bothered by mama at these events. No doubt she’ll talk to you about my potential courtship all night.”

The door opened as he finished speaking, Violet popping her head in. Her smile widened when she saw both her sons in the same room, now able to speak with them both about Lady (Y/N). Anthony and Benedict shared a look, knowing they would be there for some time.

Elsewhere in the house, Eloise was suffering through a conversation with Hyacinth. As Daphne had to endure, Hyacinth was questioning her older sister, wanting to know everything there was to know about the balls they attended. She wanted to make sure she had all the knowledge she needed when it was her turn to debut. They never spoke of these things in front of her or Gregory and she wanted all the answers. However, Eloise was not revealing anything, and making it seems that everything to do with debuting was awful.

“Go away and pester somebody else.” Eloise huffed as she descended the stairs away from her sister.

“Why are you always so mean to me? I’m just asking questions!” Hyacinth protested.

Eloise felt guilty, especially since Hyacinth was still young and didn’t understand many things about the world yet.“I’m sorry, but I’m not the best person to ask these questions.”

“Why don’t you want to get married?”

“If I explain, you won’t understand.”

“Yes I will!”

“You won’t Hyacinth.”

“You’re so mean!”

The young girl stomped off, having a tantrum to herself. Eloise did feel bad for being so snappy with her sister, but she really didn’t like talking about these things, doing all she could to avoid it where possible. It just made her feel miserable. And who wants to dote on a topic that eliminates all happiness from them?

However, Eloise did find that she was excited about the art exhibition. She was curious as to how (Y/N) and her brother’s encounter would go. For a moment, she felt like her mama. It sent shudders down her spine. It was nice to have the pressure and attention off of her, and to see her brothers in the spotlight. She knew too many friends with brothers who had it easier than the women of the family. Of course they had certain expectations, but Eloise did not see any men parading around in uncomfortable, tight dresses, with over the top embellishments and feathers. 

The remaining days leading up to the art exhibition were filled with dress and suit fittings, lessons on the (Y/L/N) family, and making sure everyone knew how important this day could be. Benedict grew more and more nervous as it approached, his mama making him realise that this could be a turning point in his life. Before this was all about him being excited to see (Y/N), to be in her company again, now it was as if he was proposing to her.

Eloise stepped out into the garden, welcoming the warmth that was still lingering at this time of night. She couldn’t sleep, knowing what was on her mind, but not wanting to admit it. She wasn’t surprised to see Benedict already on the swing set, secretly smoking as they had both done before. A small smile appeared on her face as she approached him, making sure to create some sort of noise as to not startle him.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one being kept awake.” she said as she sat down.

“I haven’t even tried to sleep yet.” Benedict said before inhaling through his cigarette again.

“Is someone nervous?” she wasn’t teasing him, she was concerned.

“Yes.” he surprisingly said.“I’m nervous because mother has made me believe everything is depending on this next meeting. Yet she forgets how long Daphne took to decide who she was marrying.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“And why is that?”

“Because (Y/N) likes you.” 

Benedict chuckled."Ah, I forgot you were the expert on such topics."

"I may not know a lot about...feelings and love, but I am not a fool. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you first saw her. (Y/N) was practically speechless too. But not like the other women who fawn over the Bridgerton name, she actually liked you for your face, for some reason. I don't know, it just seemed that there was something natural between you."

"Eloise Bridgerton, what a doting thing to say."

"I am trying to be nice to you brother."

"I know. And I appreciate it, but...I feel at ease with (Y/N), and I don't like the thought of mother's eyes burning into the back of my head. Anthony has said that he will do what he can to help, but I fear that mother will not be totally distracted by him. She’ll know his sudden interest will be fake.”

Eloise had an idea, and even if she didn’t want to go through with it, she knew it would help Benedict.“I will regret saying this, but I shall help too. I will make sure mama is paying attention to me, I’ll let her drag me around and indulge in hideously, dull conversations.”

Benedict had been shocked for the second time that day. Two of his siblings, both detesting the thought of marriage, had offered to suffer through this social event in order to give him time with (Y/N).

“What has happened to you two today?” Benedict asked.

“We are merely being charitable. Hopefully you return the favour in future. God knows I’ll be in need of saving soon.”

(Y/N) was all a flutter on the morning of the exhibition. Her mother had bought a new dress just for this, wanting to impress the Bridgerton family, prepping their halls and rooms for the exhibition for the last week. (Y/N)’s father was proud of what he had created, and that his daughter may be on her way to marrying a family who were held highly in their society. (Y/N) couldn’t focus at all, relieved that her maids were the ones in charge of getting her dressed and ready for the day; if left to her own devices, she surely would have put her dress on backwards. 

Guests streamed in, but (Y/N) was only on the lookout for one person. She remained polite, trying to stay in the moment as more and more people arrived. However, she still kept an eye out for Benedict, also staying on her toes. She had many things in mind to say to him, and she wanted to keep them in her mind. There was no way she was going to humiliate herself. 

Her heart started beating a thousand times faster when she saw Benedict enter the main hall, the one holding the biggest and most expensive pieces of art. She smiled, and somehow it grew even bigger when he made eye contact with him. His smile was so sweet, it made you fall for his charms even more. Benedict felt his stomach twist in anticipation, desperate to have just a few moments with (Y/N). Alas, that did not come when his mama latched onto his arm, steering him in (Y/N)’s direction. Although he wanted to speak with her, he found it all rather forceful, especially when (Y/N)’s parents suddenly appeared behind her.

Formal introductions were made, each set of parents making small talk about the last time they were in each others company. (Y/N) and Benedict were silent, nodding along with what was being said as they sneaked glances at each other. The conversation was dragging for them, they knew their parents wanted to figure out if this could be a potential arrangement. It didn’t seem that they were going to stop talking at any point, neither child wanting to be rude, until Eloise intruded.

“Pardon me,” she started, sending a subtle smile to Benedict,“mama, I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Ah, another Bridgerton. The next daughter to find a suitor, I presume?” (Y/N)’s mother beamed.

Eloise hid the urge to frown. Luckily her mother stepped in.“Yes, this is Eloise. I’m sorry darling, I did not mean to leave you stranded.”

“Yes, well, shall we?” Eloise tugged at her mother’s arm.

“Alright dear. It was lovely to see you both again.” 

As Violet eagerly followed Eloise, (Y/N)’s parents also dispersed. Benedict and (Y/N) were now finally together, just as they had wished; so why did it suddenly feel awkward?

“Well, that seemed to easy.” Benedict cleared his throat.

“What was?” (Y/N) asked.

“Getting rid of them.” he grinned, holding out his arm.

(Y/N) smiled back, happy to hold onto him.“I was trying to come up with something to say that would not be rude, but would also mean we could leave. I hope that it wasn’t obvious I wanted to leave.”

“Even if it was, I doubt they would care too much. We both know they are over excited.”

“Oh how right you are. I’m assuming your mother has been acting the same as mine this whole week?”

“Overbearing? Overthinking? Over-”

(Y/N) giggled.“Yes, yes, I do not wish to dote on the memory. I am happy that you are here though Benedict.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

The pair’s arms stayed linked as (Y/N) guided Benedict around the art work. Sometimes they joined other conversations, though liked to keep to themselves. It was easy to bond over artwork, especially since it was a passion both of them had. There were no pauses or silences after a few minutes of talking, conversation flowed naturally between them. Men and women also searching for suitors were jealous; a Bridgerton boy had been swept up all too quickly and (Y/N) had been a popular choice amongst the men. However, people could not deny they made a fitting pair.

"Come, let me show you something." (Y/N) muttered to Benedict, easily slipping away from the crowds and leaving the room.

"We really shouldn't be alone (Y/N)." Benedict said, even though this was all he had been wanting.

(Y/N) had a cheeky smile on her face as she tugged on his arm, her steps gradually getting quicker. Benedict didn't even take in her elaborate house, only looking at her beautiful face every time she glanced up at him. They stopped before two grand doors, which (Y/N) cautiously opened, slipping inside with Benedict close behind her.

In the middle of the room was a huge painting covered by a fine piece of cloth. Benedict was confused why (Y/N) brought him to this, until she let go of his hand (him instantly missing the feeling), and theatrically pulled the piece of fabric down. Benedict's jaw dropped as the piece was revealed. He had never seen a painting like it.

It was a large, landscape painting of a ballroom. It captured dancing pairs in the middle of some sort of waltz, musicians huddled in the corner whilst the other guests stood watching; and it was so intricate, Benedict guessed it must have taken the artist months to complete it. All the colours, the detail, it almost looked real.

"This is amazing." he breathed out.

(Y/N) was happy when she saw Benedict's shock."Isn't it? It's supposed to be revealed later, but I wanted to see your expression properly."

"Who painted it?"

"I don't know. Father said he is going to inform everyone later, but it is a new artist. I just think they're work is dazzling to look at. I become mesmerised."

Benedict's focus changed back to (Y/N)."Yes, that does tend to happen."

She didn't notice that he was referring to her, nodding along in agreement. Her smile faltered slightly, which Benedict was able to see immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he neared her, hating the gap that was created

(Y/N) covered her slip up, as her mother had told her."I'm sorry, it's really nothing..." she started, but found herself relaxed, and wanting to tell Benedict all her problems."It's only that...I used to paint frequently, well, I sketched more, though I enjoyed both. Like all girls, my mother told me to stop that and focus on becoming the most desired lady in society. I shouldn't have even told you about that when we first met."

"That's what made me desire you (Y/N)."

She blushed, realising how intense his gaze was."Oh, Lord Bridgerton-"

"What's with all the formalities all of a sudden?"

"I-I don't know. I don't want to ruin anything and it's only our second meeting. Third if you count when you called upon me."

"And I called upon you for a very good reason."

"I was wishing that everyone else would leave, so I could spend more time with you."

Benedict loved hearing her say that."As did I."

Subconsciously they had moved closer, though they both knew what they were doing. Benedict reached down to tenderly hold her hands, causing her heart to beat erratically. (Y/N) had no idea what to do, she only had experience from the books she read. It seemed simple enough to kiss someone, but also the hardest thing in the world. How much pressure should she apply? How long should they kiss for? Where would she put her hands? Where would he put his hands? She didn't have anytime to think as he was already leaning in towards her.

Eloise and Anthony were finding it extremely hard to keep the fake smiles plastered on their faces. Benedict was really in for it once this was all over. Their mama had kept a tight grip on them both, because as soon as they saw their chance to flee, they would. Both had to suffer through extremely long, boring and repetitive conversations, listening to parents boast about their children's achievements. Everyone knew how this worked, yet they all had to pretend to be happy about it.

"Where is Benedict? He's been away for a long time." their mama pondered as they took a break for refreshments.

"He's probably wooing Lady (Y/N), just as you wanted." Eloise slurped on her drink.

"Do not fret mother, he knows what he's doing. He truly likes her and will be doing all he can to...well, yes, woo her." Anthony said.

"I suppose you are right. It feels strange that one of my children are making an effort for once."

Eloise huffed."Oh, do not chastise us mama. We've been doing this all afternoon, haven't we?"

Violet squinted her eyes at them, suspicious that they were up to something. She was about to question it, but stopped herself. They were doing what she always wanted, finding someone to spend their future with. She wouldn't jeopardise that. Lucky for them, a servant announced that Lord (Y/L/N) requested for everyone's presence inside. The guests were intrigued, following orders and grabbing full glasses of whatever quenched their thirst. Eloise and Anthony had got away with their plan for now, they just hoped Benedict and (Y/N) had had enough time together. 

[stopeatingwhales]

playing cards x damon albarn

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE OMG OK. hope you guys enjoy it!!!! I love arrogant damon sorry not sorry <3

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: 2.339

@damonfuckingalbarn this is 4 u!!!! <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Have this, you’ll like it far much more than what you’re drinking.”

Diverting my gaze from the beverage encapsulated in my palm, I met my view with the mysterious voice that had beckoned in my direction. “Excuse me?” I said, first landing my glare on his ethereal orbs, spheres that were so magnificent that I had to attempt a double-take; the idiosyncratic shades, merged together to create a masterpiece of different blues, as if they were small fragments of the water from most pure oceans, exemplifying the ideation of eyes that engulf you in at the instant - simply gazing into his orbs was the token I had needed to be entirely enthralled by his presence. Perhaps his gaze was too intense, too enticing, leading me on to trail my stare to admire the more gorgeous head of hair, which looked as if it hadn’t been brushed, though that portrayed its attractiveness. His face was beaming toward my direction, taking me aback slightly as I quickly ditched the sight of his face, drifting my sight to gawk at the two drinks clasped by his hands. “That looks like shit.”

A small scoff escaped his throat, evident that he was not expecting the abrupt attitude that had beckoned upon my lips. Slightly embarrassed at my dramatic remark, I adjusted my posture, accentuating such confidence that I had seemingly demonstrated so diligently with my demeanour. “Just try it.” he replied, placing one of the glasses on the dark wood counter, pushing it towards my direction lightly to prevent it from slipping off the glossy counter. Leaning my torso closer to the counter, I spent a couple seconds examining the contents of the unknown drink, it being something that I had never set my eyes upon.

Placing my original drink on the countertop, I nervously grasped the ambiguous drink that he had offered me, glancing back at him with an unsure expression illustrated on my features. In a way to reassure or encourage me, he nodded his head, resulting in me then taking a small sip to ease myself into the new flavour. Before the liquid had merely touched the back of my throat, I spat the contents back out into the glass. “That’s minging!” I choked, my face scrunching up in disgust. Focused on each move I was making, I felt his eyes continue to gawk at me as I attempted to rid the awful taste that lingered on my tongue by taking a lengthy sip of my pint, swallowing down the contents gleefully. Connecting my stare with his, I once again analysed his features, almost like my mind trying to discover what had been the true ideal that his beauty had enthralled me so rapidly just gaping at him. Perhaps I had over-emphasised his gorgeousness too much, though my doubts were denied as soon as my view had set upon his face once again. He had a smirk carefully illustrated at the side of his lip, curving the top of his cheek slightly, his face sculpted so delicately it urged the want to caress your finger against his skin, it conveying the impression that it was so soft, accentuating the prettiness of his facial features. Something inside me was itching towards the fact that he was somebody I knew, or at least somebody that I had seen somewhere, until it had clocked that he was from television, more specifically Top Of the Pops, last night. "You're that singer from that art school band, aren't you?" I questioned, my vision squinted together as I challenged my active recall abilities. “Damon isn’t it?”

"Wow, you know your music!" he laughed, edging his arm to rest on the counter. The stare orchestrated between us remained, as I left my mind to ponder over the common-knowledge of how men were like in bands. Aware of what he was going to solicit, and knowing that he would think it was going to be extremely easy, I had to prepare myself not to fall for it, no matter how good-looking or tempting the concept engulfed in my brain made it out to be. "Want to go out for dinner tomorrow?"

“No, sorry.” I bluntly replied, breaking the poignant eye contact to down the rest of my drink, slightly forcing the glass containing the beverage he had offered me, back to him. If I had my eyes lingering on his for any longer, I’d end up doing something I’d highly regret the next morning.

“Why not?” he quizzed, bewildered by my sudden response. Clearly he had never had a woman decline his offer before, or was definitely not expecting it after he had gone head to head and won against the second biggest band in the country the night previous. So arrogant.

“Because I don’t want to?” I replied, slightly amused by how perplexed he had gotten. Darting my eyes around the dimly-lit room, my gaze fixated on a booth consisting of boys that, from my vague memory, believed were his band members. Knowing that he was still looking at me, I allowed a smirk to fall on my lips as I thought of what to say next. “I've actually got my eye on that guy over there," I mumbled, pointing towards the familiar booth of boys, my index finger lingering on the tall, lanky boy, whose hair looked as soft as the petals of a newly-bloomed rose. Granting my finger to saunter for a while, it directed enough time for Damon to swivel his head around to see whomever I was speaking about. "Alex, isn't it?"

Switching my focus back to look at him, I noticed his jaw clench at my remark, his orbs dawdling over the three boys who had been engrossed in conversation. Feeling the smirk on my face widen, I relished in the sensation of battering his ego - even if it was just slightly. A small laugh escaped his throat as he locked his gaze with mine, clicking his tongue as he sneered, understanding what I was trying to do to him. It was a forced chuckle, most likely portrayed out of annoyance,  “Look, I just think you’re really pretty, alright?”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I felt my stomach ignite at his frustration towards my obnoxiousness. Butterflies were blooming in my stomach as a certain heat flushed over my cheeks, my body mindful that I couldn’t keep up with such a persona for a much longer time. As well as this, it would potentially drive him away, which at this rate I didn’t want him to do, so I thought of the best possible solution to bring his hopes up, reaching to the ground underneath the barstool to grasp my bag, taking out a deck of cards. “Let’s play snap.” I exclaimed, beginning to shuffle the card deck.

“And you just carry those around do you?”

“It’s fun to play.” I replied, splitting the deck and then sliding him his share.

“Can I just get you a drink?” He groaned, though a small smile had perched on his lips at the irregularity of the situation. A girl is asking him to play cards after she simply rejected him, at a bar.

“You already did, Damon, and it was shit.” I spat back, fixing my eyes on his once again. He looked slightly offended at the insolence I demonstrated towards his efforts, which, for some reason, sank my heart a little. “If you win this game, I'll give you a second chance.”

“Deal,” He beamed, the signature devilish grin of his painted on his lips once again. “Might as well get you that drink now.” he added, his arrogance seeping through his teeth.

As we began placing our cards in the middle of the table, one after another, the environment was tense as to when two cards of the same origin would land upon each other. It was funny, I had gone out tonight to blow off steam from the stresses that work had offered me the past week, and somehow I had landed myself playing a game of cards with undoubtedly the most famous musician in Britain at the moment. “I’m not falling for it, you know.” I said, avoiding his gaze.

"Then why are you doing playing cards with me, love?" he interrogated, the sneer on his lips evident by his lustrous tone. He was right; his obvious pretentiousness, and egocentrism only edged me towards loving his company just that much more, which had disgracefully increased my attraction to him, but of course I wasn’t going to admit that, hell, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to fall for it, even though that was exactly what I had been doing this entire time - sinking down a hole of allurement from his persona that panned something inside of me that I wasn’t able to pinpoint on. Pop star effect, I suppose.

Completely silenced by his comment, I felt a certain radiance tease it’s way to my cheeks once again, edging me into humiliation even more to the fact that he could tell the effect his words were having on me - the sly grin on his features was felt in the tension shared between us. In an endeavour to shy away my embarrassment, I dragged out my packet of Marlboro cigarettes, snatching one from its packaging and lighting it before placing another card down on the deck that had been piling up since we had started. Inhaling sharply, I allowed the cancerous smoke to escape my lungs, my body adorning the relaxed feeling that seeped through after. “Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Why not? Your pack’s full!”

Pausing my movements before taking another hit from the roll of tobacco, a smirk lingered on my lips as I let my head rest on my palm, keeping my body upright. "Why? Those songs of yours not selling much?" I mocked, blowing another whiff of smoke into his face, the stunned expression held on his face only exhilarating me more in what felt like... control, though from the way he had been acting, I knew that such power was not going to last for a long while. "Put a card down, for goodness sake."

Scoffing, he followed my demand, though the card he placed down was the exact same as the one I placed down before, ensuing his hand slamming suddenly on top of the card deck, my mouth agape as I realised that he had won. “Look who won!”

A beam covered my face as I shook my head, watching him grab the attention of the bartender, asking for another drink that once again, I hadn’t heard of before. Once the bartender was done preparing the beverage, Damon passed it over to me, another grin captured on his expression. Sighing, I discarded the remains of my cigarette before taking a sip of another, unknown drink, the feeling of déjà vu hitting me as I had enraptured myself in the same situation when we had first spoken. "For fucks sake Damon, this tastes worse than the last one."

"More for me then, isn't it?" he grinned, my mind now aware that he had simply ordered such an appalling drink to agitate me. Be that as it may, he was aggravating, and took delight into making one’s time horribly spent, there was something about him that kept me latched onto him. Perhaps it was his glowing features, which were so enticing that it blinded me into thinking that he was the only other person in the room, and the only other person that I could set any fragment of attention towards.

"Stop pissing me off, you twat." I mumbled, looking at my bag as I placed the card deck back inside, it not proving much use to the situation anymore.

"You could quite easily just walk away, if I’m pissing you off this much.” he said, his head tilted to the side as his eyes lingered on me, practically forcing me to connect our gazes once again. “Doors just there, love." he uttered, beckoning his hand towards the timber door that divided us between the streets.

"Why would I leave when I'm getting free drinks?" I asked, trying to maintain whatever control I had over the situation, which had been deemed to have slipped out of my grasp at this given moment. The tension between us had been alleviating faster than it had been before, as we began reaching the climax of the encounter.

"You're not liking them though, are you?" he replied, face beginning to draw dangerously close to mine, his eyes flicking from my eyes to my lips every couple of seconds, contemplating how to end the situation. It was fully in control with him now; I was merely wrapped around his measly little finger, and he knew it. Our noses grazed ever-so-slightly on one another's as I felt his breath fan onto my cheeks - all I had craved for at this point was to attach my lips onto his, my breathing quickening as the realisation of just how close our bodies were to one another. "Just admit it, you're loving this." he mumbled.

"Am not." I whispered, my eyes staring at his lips as shuffled closer and closer to mine. We were both aware that what I had said was a lie, but my stubbornness wasn't ready to let that slide yet. Just as I thought we were going to connect lips, he darted his head away rapidly, the movement so swift I hadn't come to realize until a couple seconds afterwards, my cheeks now reddened to the point that I was almost convinced I had a fever.

"You fell for it, lovely." he grinned, placing a white slip on my lap, decorated with numbers to which I assumed were in relation to his telephone number. "Let me know when you're free!" he exclaimed, before waltzing off to the booth where his friends had, leaving me completely stunned, and exactly where I knew would be - absolutely encapsulated by the man known as Damon Albarn.

[desiraypark]

Alright. 

So.

I really wasn’t trying to get too deep into the mess. Why? For a couple of reasons.

1) Because when I joined this ADCU fandom--I was very aware that I was going to see racist shit. A lil’ internalized sexism. All of that. I’d mentally prepared myself for it before I came through, or tried my very best. As I stated in a post a week or two ago, I was very vocal about these things in my younger adult years, but now, I am tired and just no longer interested in letting racism, misogynoir, microaggressions, and other things on the internet get my blood pressure up (because I’ve gotta deal with it in real life). I simply block, filter, and move on. This is my path. Not saying that it’s right, that’s just the stage that I’m in right now. 

2) What I’ve heard of this controversial fic is offensive to me. More so, the erasure of certain elements about the Civil War is what I found offensive. Did it piss me off or enrage me? No, because again, I’m tired lol. Offended, yes? Angry--me? No.

Now, I’m not writing this as a “woman of color”. This is a BLACK woman about to tell you what HAS pissed me off over these last few days. And I’m saying it straight from my account--not on anon or some account that just blossomed a couple of days ago. 

I’m writing this as a Black woman who lives in a neighborhood that used to be a plantation (big house and slave cabins still up and intact up the street from my home) - because there is barely a place in my city you can walk where your feet don’t touch land that used to be a plantation, or a slave trading station, or an auction block, or a public whipping post, etc. I live in a city that is ENTRENCHED in “memories of the Civil War” -- “good” and bad memories. 

I’m writing this as a Black woman who once worked next door to a Confederacy Museum--MUSEEEEUM--and watched old white men sit outside of the building with their flags. Or, who once had an old white man come to into my job, walked up to me with a shady, condescending glint in his eye, to ask me questions about “the museum next door” that he hoped to visit one day.

I love historical AUs and write them myself. Me, personally, I’m not gonna tell anybody they can’t write romantic/smutty Civil War AUs (I’m just gonna fucking block them). Because people are gonna do what they want and as we’ve seen demonstrated, there are some people who are gonna do the shit HARDER if it’s called out. But I DON’T have the privilege of reading something in that setting and being able to imagine myself as a landowner. This is a fact. 

People can say “oh, well there were Black landowners back then!” But could they own that land without a  “guardian”? Could they walk around town without “papers” to “prove” that they were free? Do we think that free and/or landowning Black people were just walking around untouched in the 1860s and AFTER? We LITERALLY just commemorated the 100th Anniversary of the Tulsa massacre. Come the fuck on, now. 

I can BARELY write my 1920s AU shit without thinking about how race impacts the my OCs. I just CAN’T make that separation. And it must be nice that some of you WOC and white readers can do that. I’m happy for you. Whatever. 

Now, from what I’ve gathered, I believe that this is the point that was originally being brought to SH--that not only could some of her audience not see themselves in this story, but some of them actually might be hurt by it. And instead of being thoughtful of that, excuses were made. The “colorblind” card was thrown out and it was stressed that “sides” in a Civil War setting were written “vaguely”. The dismissal and denial is what has frustrated me. 

But ah, here’s the thing.

This is a pattern. 

I think some of you might be under the impression that this might be the author’s “first misstep” (that is, if you think that is the case at all). I’m going to tell you a quick story. And this story is not secret--these incidents and the posts (pro-cop posts) that correspond to them were shared publicly. 

I’ve long had SH blocked for awhile. Why? 

You remember when another writer whose name started with an “S” went  through this whole thing about all cops not being bad? I was actually quite friendly with that writer and expressed among people (including SH) that I wanted to reach out to S because I knew she was young and probably just hadn’t lived enough life and been around others to understand why their stance was problematic (and wrong). But then, I found out that she’d done the whole deleting POC’s comments thing...

She’d reached out to me wanting to talk, but at that point, after learning about commentary deletion, I didn’t want to be bothered. I decided that I would not reach out to her. I unfollowed her and moved on, because as I later told SH, Aiyana Stanley Jones was born around the same year that S was--but unlike Aiyana (who was murdered by WHO?), S will be fine. And I don’t regret my decision. I would have been a fool to try to be the Black person who “reaches out” to try to educate somebody. And I would have regretted doing so.

So, anyway. SH tried to encourage me to talk to S anyway, because S felt so bad and hurt. I politely declined, gave my reasons why, and me and SH left it at that and remained cordial. This is something I do regret because I should have known better. Because guess what? About a month later (IF THAT), SH made a post regurgitating S’s same pro-cop sentiments. 

But I made no fuss. I simply unfollowed and blocked. She’d shown me who she was and I finally decided to believe her. No need to argue. I had no desire to “call her out” because she already knew how I felt--and she’d only shown me that (as history has shown my ass time and time again), I don’t matter to her and I don’t count in the world she’d rather exist in--(edit: or at the very least, the fanfic worlds she’d like to create). Calling her out would have been fucking pointless.

So, I can’t let this week end with y’all thinking that this is just some “slip up” or misstep--or some “sudden attack” made out of jealousy or whatever other shit people are spewing. These recent events are merely a day that has long been coming. 

Now. 

I’m about to put “Civil War” in my filtered tags and content, and go on about my day. Bye.

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragments II

Part I here

Word Count: 2,516

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Second chapter here we go! I’ve been very excited to continue this series, and I hope you find it as fun to read as it was to write. I already have mapped out a plan for where the story is going, though I’m not sure how many chapters it will take. We’ll see how it goes!

Dear Signora,

I am happy to inform you that the task you sent me has been completed. The fortune teller, though they still refuse to reveal their name, appears to be somewhat legitimate. I’m not sure what you’re going to do with this information, but I hope you’re prepared for a difficult time, as…

 Scaramouche sighed, putting his pen down, although not after scribbling haphazardly on the paper in front of him. It had been two weeks since he’d first recruited the mysterious clairvoyant, and altogether nothing of consequence had happened. Not for lack of trying, of course; the Harbinger had taken to banging on the door of an inn almost every day, demanding that the unwilling coworker inside come out and do something. Honestly Scaramouche was surprised he hadn’t been asked to vacate the premises at this point, though of course that wouldn’t’ve stopped him. Still it was becoming a tiring ritual, and though Scaramouche himself wasn’t entirely sure what he’d meant when he suggested you work with him, he was certain this wasn’t it. Something had to happen, and soon. If not, well the Harbinger wasn’t above kidnapping unwilling colleagues; regardless of their threats to burn down his living space.

“At the very least I’m getting them out of that damned inn.” Scaramouche muttered to himself, for the time wasted was appalling, the inn being located not in your own village, the closest villager to the camp, but in one farther away. Standing up, crumpling the unfinished letter in his hands and throwing it into the trash, Scaramouche walked out of his tent and towards the now all too familiar road. He wasn’t doing this anymore.

Walking along the road, unfortunately there were no waypoints in villages this small, Scaramouche thought over the whole matter once more. He’d not expected you to agree to his offer of working with him, especially not after supposedly reading his future. Nor had he expected to truly believe you. And yet something about your demeanor had certainly changed since you’d looked into his future, accepting his proposal aside. Scaramouche wasn’t one to pry about such things, he didn’t really care what you saw in his future, especially after your revelation that doing so wasn’t an exact science. He had to admit though that the longer this went on the more he wondered what exactly you had seen. What had you seen to make you agree to his proposal, then refuse to even open your door to him? Or had you simply said yes on a whim and were now regretting your decision?

It was baffling to Scaramouche, and what he didn’t know or understand irritated him. He was a harbinger, and though you might’ve been blessed by the gods or some such thing, you’d still agreed to work with him. He’d see this through, if it was the last thing he did.

 The inn was just as rundown as it had been the day before, and Scaramouche’s feet dragged as he made his way up the stairs towards the offending door. Knocking as softly as he could, not wanting to bother the other rooms and get kicked out, he called out. “It’s time for you to get to work. You’ve had two weeks to recover from whatever shock you’d had in the woods, and now you must uphold your promise.”

 You stared at the door, still lying on the bed, the place where you’d spent most of your time recently. This routine had played out for two weeks, and you were becoming tired of it. Honestly, couldn’t the idiot realize when he wasn’t wanted? You thought that you’d made it clear enough.

Ignoring the banging for a moment you stared up at the ceiling. Two weeks, for two weeks you’d agonized over what you’d seen. What you’d expected to be dulled by time still came as a shock, and if you closed your eyes the image of you smiling at the Harbinger danced around in front of you. You didn’t regret your decision to work with Scaramouche, the determination for a better future still lay firmly in your heart; but you hadn’t realized how much personal agony it would cost. Certainly your now conflicting feelings weren’t helping, as you couldn’t help but wonder if your sudden awareness of the person now knocking on your door was caused by anything genuine, or simply by what you saw might come to pass.

The knocking was louder now, and you groaned, dragging yourself out of bed, thankful that you’d at least had the sense to have changed out of your pajamas. You were going to answer him today. It was what you’d been telling yourself all morning. You couldn’t live at this inn forever, the bill was beginning to rack up terribly. And, conflicting feelings or not, you weren’t about to steal away in the middle of the night. That would be perhaps the stupidest move one could make when dealing with a Fatui harbinger to whom one had made a promise.

 Scaramouche let out a huff of surprise and relief as the door suddenly began to make way. This was some progress. Usually your early morning conversation was shouted through the closed door. Although you barely appeared from behind the door at first Scaramouche could see the improvement in your health. At least now you didn’t look to be constantly seconds away from once more passing out. As if reading these less than generous thoughts you scowled. Looking around, as if making sure there was no one around, you grabbed Scaramouche by the wrist and dragged him into the room, closing the door with a firm click behind you.

Though the inn was certainly bedraggled, the room you were housed in seemed nice enough. The furniture was sparse, only a bed, a small table, a chair, and a pair of sad looking dressers. Sitting down cross legged on the bed you pointed towards the chair. Smirking, Scaramouche sat down.

“Are we not talking today?” He asked snidely.

“Nice to know your personality hasn’t improved.” You shot back.

“Maybe I’d be a bit more amenable if you had left this room at all in the past two weeks. Do you even eat?”

“Thank you for so graciously caring for my wellbeing, but I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“We had an agreement.”

“I know.”

“Then why won’t you hold to it?” Scaramouche narrowed his eyes, his temper wearing increasingly thin. He didn’t like yelling, found it beneath him; yet right now he wanted nothing more than to find some secluded area and scream. Letting out a hiss of a breath he shook his head. “Why did you let me in if you won’t even look at me?”

As if on cue your head snapped forwards. Although it seemed as if you were about to say something your expression quickly shifted into something unreadable. You said nothing, simply staring at him, that odd, opaque expression leading him to silence as well. The transformation was so sudden that it managed to throw the Harbinger completely off guard, and he found himself scrutinizing you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking of.

As you continued to stare at him Scaramouche realized that he was losing time. Shaking his head slightly, he spoke again.

“I want you to move into the camp.”

“Over my dead body.” You replied venomously, the spell obviously broken. “I refuse to live surrounded by members of the Fatui.”

“Well then where are you going to live, you can’t stay here forever.”

“I’ll… figure something out.”

“I’m offering you a solution to your housing problem. You can even live on the edge of the camp; but I refuse to continue this song and dance of walking six miles just to get you up. Consider it part of your work benefits.”

“What a lovely benefit, being housed against your will.”

“You made it perfectly clear you have nowhere else to go. You abandoned your village, you’ve holed yourself up in a random inn, you made a promise, an agreement, to work for me. Have you forgotten that?”

“Of course I haven’t!” You snapped, once more tilting your head towards the wall. “How could I forget after what…” You trailed off.

“After what?” Scaramouche pressed, but you shook your head, merely glancing at him once more.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if it’s affecting our bargain. Something must’ve happened. You’ve been acting, strangely.”

“How would you know how I act?” You scoffed. “Anyways, my behavior is none of your business. I promised to work with you, and I will, if only to stop this stupid conversation. But I won’t move in with the Fatui. They’re the worst sort of organization. Besides,” you added, voice lowering slightly. “I’m not comfortable staying in unfamiliar places.”

There was a pause in the conversation, as Scaramouche wracked his brain. He needed to get this to work. He couldn’t stand this; no matter what, he’d make sure this conversation didn’t drag on any longer.

“Fine then,” Scaramouche finally sighed, “let’s make a deal.”

“We seem to be making an awful lot of those.”

“It’s the only way apparently to get you to do anything. Here’s the deal. I arrange it so you’re allowed to use your own furniture and belongings in your tent. You can use one of the extra harbinger tents, they should be big enough for that. If I promise to do so, will you promise to move out?”

“I’m not letting random Fatui members sack my house, not even on your orders.”

“Then do it with the. I’ll just send some men to carry the heavier furniture, you can handle the rest. Agreed?”

You paused, staring at him, expression much more readable this time, being one of distrust. Still, eventually you nodded your head and Scaramouche finally began to feel some sort of relief.

“Good. Now pack whatever you have. Thankfully it’s early enough to have this finished today.”

And with that he stood up, not bothering to look behind at you as he walked across the room and out the door.

 --------- 

Scaramouche entered the tent, nearly running into you in the process. You glanced back at him, letting out a quick “sorry”, before scurrying over towards your cot – your bed had ended up being too bulky to move.

“I see you’ve finished.” Scaramouche spoke up, feeling slightly awkward, not sure how to converse with you in a way that wasn’t arguing. Luckily you didn’t seem to notice, nodding enthusiastically.

“It’s so odd to seem my dresser on the grass floor.” You giggled softly.

The Harbinger stared for a moment, realizing that this was the first time he’d seen a genuine smile out of you. It was almost transformative, and for a moment he found himself forgetting all the haggling it took for you to get here. Walking towards you, slightly unaware of what he was doing, he stopped a few inches away from you. You seemed caught unaware, and as you stared at him your smile slowly faded, instead replaced once more by that odd expression you carried when you look at him. This time you seemed a bit more agitated however, and instead of lingering you shook your head slightly, walking sideways towards the dresser you’d just mentioned. Suddenly aware of himself Scaramouche mimicked the gesture, stepping back towards the tent opening.

“Well,” he said, voice stilted, “I’m glad that we’ve finally resolved this. I’ll let them send dinner to your tent tonight, though I expect you to eat with everyone else afterwards. I’ll see how you are later.” And, not wanting to start another argument and still trying to process what had just happened, Scaramouche marched out of the tent.

The late afternoon air was finally beginning to cool down, and Scaramouche took in several deep breaths. Not wanting to deal with the presence of various underlings he made his way out of the camp and towards the woods, the woods in which, about five miles away from here, he’d met you for the first time. Now, leaning against a tree, he thought back on that night, on everything that had happened since then. Mostly he thought about the odd experience in the tent.

Scaramouche hadn’t really meant to walk up to you, he found being the proximity of people odious most of the time. The action was completely instinctive, devoid of any motive to intimidate or to scare. It was just, it was just the fact that he’d liked your smile, it had drawn him in, literally, apparently. As had your expression, what was that expression? He wanted to ask about it again, wanted to know what was going on. This whole experience was alien to Scaramouche, your interactions all the more so. A normal underling would’ve never talked back, would’ve never forced concessions out of him. And yet that wasn’t the only abnormal thing. A normal underling would’ve never been so important, and, more importantly, would’ve never drawn such a strange reaction out of him. A reaction he was still feeling the effects of.

It wasn’t simply walking up to you, no, nothing was that simple. It was how he’d felt, the way he didn’t mind being that close, wanted it even. The way a part of him was somewhat disappointed when you – rightfully – drew away. Even now he still felt those lingering feelings, that alien want to be closer to someone, to learn about them, to… what? That was the beginning and the end of it, wasn’t it? He wanted something, and he didn’t even know what that something was. Information he supposed. It was always that in the end; something that he could use, a bargaining chip. Maybe he just was getting tired of these concessions.

 It was dark by the time Scaramouche returned to your tent. You were slouched forward on your cot, a book held up to your face, your attention utterly captivated. Looking up at the shuffling of feet you saw the Harbinger staring at you, as opaque as before. Although your initial instinct was once more to look away you instead met his gaze, letting out the faintest crack of a smile.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“It was nothing. If you’re going to be my clairvoyant assistant, well, this was for the best.”

Your whispered something and Scaramouche leaned forward.

“What?”

You repeated the word again and the Harbinger’s brow furrowed.

“What does that name have to do with anything?”

“It’s mine, idiot.”

“You could’ve just said that.” Scaramouche scoffed, glancing away. “Thank you.”

“It’s my thanks, for doing this for me.”

“I see.” Scaramouche stood there silent for a moment. Eventually he looked around and nodded. “All seems to be in order. I hope you’re an early riser, tomorrow we’ll get to work. So make sure to sleep. I…” he began to turn towards the tent opening. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Good. Go to sleep.”

The sound of your name whispered into the night by him was something that would keep you up for a while longer.

[curiousconch]

Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 2)

Part 2: Before I dive right into you

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of their pretend wedding in Las Vegas, Gabe begins to unravel his growing feelings for Alex. But as he attempts to bring his past to light, someone from Alex's previous life casts a shadow on the future.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.4k+ (sorry 🙈)

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, some swears

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

A little after 1 AM, Las Vegas

Gabe can't help but smirk at the look of mischief in Alex's eyes as they stood by a quiet spot in the middle of Las Vegas. With her in that glittery dress, he somehow can't bring himself to part from her yet.

He knew it wasn't only him who felt that tingling in his fingertips when he brushed her cheeks, her breath smelling strongly of martini. He was very aware that Alex felt the same when she stared back at him, standing at that cramped cheap chapel while an Elvis impersonator stood nearby. The moment she stepped away when he said that it's just all pretend made Gabe's heart ache with regret.

So here they were, standing awkwardly after he shot down her advances again.

But he was sure he didn't want the night to end here.

After calling for a car, he shoved his phone inside the pocket of his slacks and turned to Alex.

"I was serious when I said I wanted a celebratory drink," he glanced apologetically to his side where she stood. "Our hotel bar offers my favorite scotch."

Alex raised her head, smiling. "Knew you had it in you, Gabe."

A car ride and a couple of glasses of Lagavulin later, there they were, lounging on stools at their opulent hotel bar, warm lights and jazz music providing a backdrop on the casual atmosphere.

"And I could not believe the rat thing worked! Who would've known they kept a rat in there as a pet? Like really?" Alex raised her glass to her lips, as Gabe sat on the barstool beside her, cradling his own drink.

"Beginner's luck, I would believe," he chuckled in reply, leaning forward, tie loosened and his coat hanging at the back of his chair.

"I am so offended," Alex gasped as she shoved her hands flat on her chest in mock disbelief. "I'm not only the boring nerd when I was in high school, Gabe. I was that nerd who sang and dance at the drama club!"

Gabe shook his head, his lips pursing. "That makes so much damn sense, Alex." He took another swig of his third shot, fighting for dear life from laughing his heart out. Not wanting to give her that satisfaction, he threw a sarcastic dig at her remark. "That's so believable, seeing you could snatch an Oscar from Meryl Streep herself and the no one wouldn't even bat an eye."

"Ah, law was plan A, sir." she saluted, placing her empty glass on the bar counter. "Acting was a fallback in case it didn't pan out." she giggled.

Gabe grinned as he rolled up his sleeves, beckoning the bartender for another round. "You should have made it your plan A, seeing how you turned out," he teased, bringing up the fun bit they did to retrieve a copy of Lydia Rothswell's marriage certificate. The very same act that almost made Gabe kiss Alex in the middle of The Strip.

"Aww, Gabe, finally found a better lawyer than you? Feeling threatened yet?" Alex leaned in, snickering as their glasses were refilled. "Don't worry, I' ll settle for being a Junior Partner for now," she said as she reclined, before throwing in a playful wink.

"Well someone's head just became bigger," he gave her a smug look.

"Just trying to keep up with all the cockiness in the room," she smiled coyly, watching Gabe's stupefied expression. It was clear then that she scored a slam dunk at the championship of comebacks, laughing at his astonishment.

Gabe finally gave up, joining Alex in her laughter. As their joy receded, he let himself take in the sight of Alex without any inhibitions. What he was beginning to see was the extent of her wit, her ability to keep her cool, and the sharp humor that matched only his.

Under the warm light of the lounge, she brilliantly shone. He couldn't focus at what she was now saying as he danced at the appeal of them becoming more than colleagues. Perhaps he resisted his own feelings long enough that he was past the point of denial. Or simply because he was starting to get drunk.

Though before he can even begin to consider that, he was still sober enough to know that he first needed to tell her the truth.

The truth that sometime long ago, their paths have already crossed. And that he did something very horrible.

Call him cynical, but he wasn't kidding when he admitted he was an all-or-nothing kind of guy. And that meant laying down all his cards on the table. Because for him, Alex was more than the occasional one-night stand. And he can't be certain of how long he could keep himself from his budding feelings, all stakes be damned.

What better time to be honest when there was enough alcohol in his system to prevent all rational thinking? It's now or never, he figured.

"Alex, I -"

"Alessandra? Alessandra Keating?" a deep voice came from behind him, interrupting Gabe. He cocked his head to get a clearer view, as a man with slicked back blonde hair approached from a private booth nearby.

Without hesitation, the tall stranger in the dark suit stepped forward, his striking features Gabe would have easily recognized anywhere. That face was almost in every blockbuster movie in the last five years.

"Julian? What are you doing here?" Alex asked, as abashed as he was. Gabe saw how she clammed up the very second she recognized the man.

"Oh my, it really is you!" the man stopped beside Alex's bar stool, welcoming himself to their company. The way he was looking up and down at her made Gabe's jaw clench so hard, his teeth gritted. But the man's next movement stunned him all the more. In front of him, the man embraced Alex, making Gabe suddenly want to combust. His tumbler could've shattered if he tightened his grip on it a little more.

"Uhm, Julian, hi," Gabe surveyed Alex as she writhed within the man's arms, waiting for any signal from her so he could do something, anything, to make this man go away. But she assured him with one look, shifting a little, making the man who wedged himself between them release her.

"It's been so long! When was the last time I saw you, like, 12, 13 years ago?" the man exclaimed, his annoying smile making Gabe want to slam his fist somewhere. And it wasn't on the bar counter.

Gabe heard Alex scoff, fighting hard to regain her composure. "Yeah, high school," Her icy demeanor took over, one that Gabe only saw in the courtroom. She brushed her dress as she tilted her head to Gabe's direction.

The man turned to Gabe, the surprise evident as he acknowledged Gabe's presence behind him. The two men sized each other up sending an undercurrent of tension between them. Before Gabe could even consider acting out of impulse, Alex cleared her throat to diffuse his temper.

"Julian, this is Gabe. Gabe, this is Julian, my -"

"Ex," Julian interjected, before turning his attention to the lawyer. Apparently, this guy had a habit, Gabe observed. "We were together senior year. Alessandra, my angel, we had the best time together, didn't we? We looked good together, at least after Alex thought to improve her image here. Sadly, we had to break up. Teenage romances, you know?"

The picture couldn't be any clearer; this was the person Alex was speaking about during their dinner back in New York. And hearing the way he talked, no wonder Julian got under her skin. He was a damned manipulative pretentious liar. Gabe could hear the dishonesty between the words, not an ounce of authenticity in sight while the blonde hotshot rambled on.

Alex wasn't showing any sympathy either, her brown eyes staring daggers at him, as he went on about his monologue, emphasizing on how she was his back then. She was clearly infuriated by his attempt to own her, as well as his lack of shame. As Gabe quietly considered her reaction, he deliberated on a strategy to put her out her misery. The moment an idea came to mind, he gave Alex a subtle look asking her to back his play.

Alex nodded, sitting a little straighter. Finding the instant shift in her, Gabe made his move.

"Sweetheart," he slowly raised his voice as he said the endearment, enjoying the contempt from the other guy when he was interrupted. "You never told me Julian Wintour was your ex."

Alex smiled smugly, appearing pleased with the nickname Gabe chose, a clear pun on the whole high school sweetheart trope. "Never crossed my mind, babe. It's such an unimportant detail in my past," she waved her hand dismissively.

"Ah, nonsense," he finished his drink and gestured for the bartender to clean up. "Mr. Wintour's history would have made a good conversation starter." Gabe straightened his vest and stood, collecting his coat. He sauntered towards Alex, circling around the now speechless Julian. He draped his jacket over her shoulders, clearly making a statement before he reached for her hand, wrapping it in his.

"Why? Isn't the shiny nameplate of Senior Partner not good enough?" Alex expertly rode along, locking eyes with her former flame before gazing back at Gabe enticingly. "Forgive him, Julian. My lovely boyfriend here has a bad hobby of underselling himself," she smiled warmly, the irony of her statement eluding her ex. Gabe was about to smirk with her ingenuity, stopping when he felt her arm slowly wrapping around his waist. He barely stifled a groan at the intimacy of her touch.

The other man went beet red at the gesture. For embarrassment or infuriation or both, Gabe didn't fucking care. All he cared about was for Alex to slap this douche's face, metaphorically speaking.

"Anyway, Julian, it's been a pleasure. It's been a long night, and we're about ready to retire at our penthouse suite," steadily, she got up from her seat. The command in her was undeniable, forcing anyone to feel nothing but regret the day they decided Alessandra Keating wasn't good enough for them. Then with a flourish, she turned around as she let Gabe take her away from her past lover's scrutinizing gaze.

Inside the elevator, Gabe caught Alex's exhale of relief, probably thankful that Julian was out of her sight. Gabe still held onto her hand, though Alex didn't seem to notice. As they began their ascent, he waited for her to break the silence, deciding that the questions running in his mind can wait.

"I would have traded my rankings for the look of disbelief in Julian's face," Alex said turning to him, to which Gabe arched his brow.

He smirked devilishly, knowing Alex could take the hint. "I believe I could offer a sight better than that."

She grinned at the innuendo, further lightening up the mood between them. "One day, Gabe, I'll take you up on that," she said, crossing her legs as she leaned on the polished wall behind her. "Though I'm sure you're dying to know... How did I end up dating the Julian Wintour?"

Gabe pondered before answering. "Hmm, actually not the first one that comes to mind, no." He tapped against his temple. "I doubted you would ever bat an eyelash to his direction."

Her eyebrows rose. "Ah, you think so highly of me." She chuckled, shaking her head at his reply. "But yes, he was my ex. And yes, he was the red on my ledger. He was my first love," she admitted. "That ideal, once in a lifetime, true love everyone's talking about? Julian was it, or at least I thought he was." she sighed, glancing at her reflection on the polished metal panel beside her. "But when things started to go downhill for me, he was the first one to walk out," she paused, taking a deep breath. "By cheating on me."

Gabe's body went rigid, clenching his fists so hard until his nails dug unto his palms. What the fucking hell? I know I should have punched that guy's perfect teeth! He decided against airing his vengeful thoughts, staying quiet as he glimpsed at her image on the walls.

"Joey reminded me how Julian made me doubt myself. If I'm really over what he's done to me, if he's still in my head," she continued, rubbing at her nape. Gabe felt her gaze fall on him, which he reciprocated. "But after walking out from him tonight, I am much more certain that I made it out, after all."

Gabe felt her squeeze his hand as she said those words, and his heart somersaulted inside his chest. "So thanks. I needed that little nudge," she said in finality.

He turned to beam at her as he relished the triumph in her words, hoping that it was enough to convey that he was proud of her. And to be part of that discovery about herself, about who she always was in his eyes - someone who was his equal.

When they arrived at her floor, she gently freed her hand from his grasp invoking a sharp exhale from him. She stepped out of the elevator, her gait as undeterred as ever. But then she turned, her soft expression dimmed by the lack of light. "And while we're on the subject of appreciation," she uttered, before dropping one last revelation.

"Thanks for that save you also gave me ten years ago," Alex glanced up at him with half-lidded eyes, her words laced with meaning.

It took him a few moments before he could even comprehend what she was trying to convey. He searched her eyes for some explanation but found none. "What do you mean, Alex?" he said, managing to find his voice.

"I know exactly who you are, Gabriel Ricci."

With that, the doors slowly closed in front of him, her sly smile fading from his sight until he can only see his own reflection. He examined her last sentence, repeating the words over and over in his head. There was only one plausible explanation: she only knew half of the truth. His body sagged against the wall as he shut his eyes, angry at himself.

No Alex, I think you really don't.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your continued reading! As some of you may have already noticed, this part was written purely in Gabe's POV because I wanted to expose his conflicted feelings for Alex. It's probably my own version of revenge, with PB stretching that slow burn as much as they could 🤭 Share your thoughts in the comments, I'd really appreciate it! 💖

Taglist: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @fucking-random1 @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer

@choicesficwriterscreations

It's my first time tagging a couple of folks, so please inform me if I missed including you. Also, want to be added or removed from the tag list? No problem - just let me know 😊.

[x-avantgarde-x]

Of love and dancing- Levi Ackerman

Summary: after taking back wall Maria, you and the other members of the Survey Corps, attend a ball held on your behalf.

Warnings: none, apart from some modifications of the canon story. Mentions of Erwin/Character and pure fluff.

Song to listen to: As the world caves in by Matt Maltese.

I also had this image in mind while writing this image because Levi looks amazing.

I have to thank @starrynightlys for taking the time to read this! Go check her blog if you don’t know her guys, she’s amazing ♥️

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Pink silk gently framing her well defined curves, her curly brunette locks tamed down to perfection for the first time in years in the survey corps; red juicy lips and rosy cheeks, it all combined with a soft pearly eyeshadow framed your best friends snow white pale skin making her look like a goddess out of an ancient painting. The enticing smell of roses being adding a little something to the picture in front of your eyes.

You smiled sweetly at her, quite proud of your work after the many hours you had spent locked in your room making sure that your best friend looked her best for her ball tonight.

The night had been carefully planned out from weeks before. Since the very first time she had lightly told you about her infatuation with commander Erwin Smith you had made it your duty, as you always had, to ensure her happiness by helping her lure the man. You yourself had had a certain someone in mind, from the moment the event had been announced the image of a certain raven haired captain had done anything but to roam your every thoughts. You had intended on inviting him to attend the ball with you, but for the past weeks Captain Levi had been awfully busy and you hadn’t had a chance to properly talk with him, if only to exchange a few words when you crossed paths on the hallways or delivered him one of his many cups of tea, before he drowned himself back in paperwork.

“Are you done already?” You hear your friend Maria talking from outside the door, “We’re almost done!” You responded, before rushing to the other side of the room and grabbing both your purses. You walked back to Andrea, a reassuring look on your eyes. “Are you sure he will like this?” She asked, voice trembling gently from the butterflies inside her stomach, “Trust me, he will love it.” The words were simple, but the unspoken message hidden behind them was acknowledged by you both ‘He will love you’, that particular way you had had of communicating with each other without the need of words since you were merely kids coming in handy once more.

You were greeted with your friends Maria and Rocio, each of them respectively holding Jean’s and Connie’s arm, while Sasha happily waited for you leaning on the door. Maria shook her head jokingly while complaining “Took you long enough in there to get ready” to what Connie and Rocio agreed while Jean added with a smooth smile “But has it been worth the wait, though”. You all laughed at his comment while Maria crossed her arms, playing offended with her boyfriend as he tried to get her to forgive him.

Once in the castle, your eyes widened in fascination. It was the biggest, fanciest place you had ever stepped your foot at. You were pretty sure, by the look of Andrea’s face, that given her rich familiars she had been to places similar to this before, but given that the place most similar to this that you had ever gone to was the upper class restaurant at the end of your street back at wall Maria, and the fact that the establishment wasn’t comparable to the luxuries and the greatness of the palace left you speechless and feeling quite out of place.

At the end of the room you could hardly pick out Historia, now Queen Historia, from the thousands of people in the room. After successfully taking back wall Maria, and having properly mourned the fallen soldiers, she and her ministers had decided to hold a ball in order to commemorate the Survey Corps and its members. And you couldn’t be any more grateful to her for any of this.

Returning your attention back to the room, you saw Sasha make her way to the food tables as Jean and Maria and Connie and Rocio drifted off to the dance floor, getting lost in between the many couples swaying together, as you tried unsuccessfully to find both your superiors. Making your way through the room, holding hands with Andrea in order to not get lost, you walked along the room a few times failing miserably in your search. Dizzy and bothered by the many people in the room you both walked away to a quiet corner hidden in between a few columns, sitting in a forgotten table that had been placed there you took in the look of disappointment in your friend’s eyes, so in order to light up the mood you asked her “Would you like for me to go and pick up a few snacks and drinks before Sasha finishes with it all?” She nodded faintly as you stood up walking once more towards the buffet.

As you walked back to your table, plates in hand and two glasses filled to the brim with the most expensive wine you had ever tasted, you finally found the men you had been searching for hours ago, Squad leader Hange and them sitting all together in a table in one of the most crowded places of the room. Without losing a moment, and leaving your food behind, not before taking a last sip of your wine, you made your way towards them with steady steps. When you were close enough to their table you made your presence known with a gentle cough and a loud enough “Commander!”

As the tall blond turned to face you, you tried your best to ignore Levi’s piercing eyes looking directly at you. “Cadet (Y/L/N), what a pleasure to see you here. Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked you, but you didn’t fail to notice how he seemed to be searching for someone behind you. “Indeed I am, sir” you answered politely “but I wish I could say the same for my friend Andrea, over there” you added, pointing back at were your best friend sat, patiently waiting for your return “She has been awfully bored since we got her. But I’m pretty sure it’s not something a nice dance couldn’t solve”.

Erwin stood up from his chair almost immediately after your words, and you weren’t really sure that he had even heard your words as he walked away, a bright smile on his face. Hange laughed almost hysterically at the scene playing out before their eyes while you took the seat Erwin had occupied moments before, sitting right next to the man you had been dying to come to this same ball from long ago. You were about to speak, fearing to fall into an awkward silence, when you hear the captain’s smooth voice talking to you “I actually thought he wouldn’t end up asking her for a dance given how things were going. Though he probably hasn’t talked about anything else for the past few hours”, you chuckled in response, turning yourself back to face him.

Levi looked dashing, dressed in a pristine black suit and hair slicked back, giving him some sort of aristocracy air to his appearance. You could feel your heart skip a bit and once again you found yourself growing insecure about your appearance, asking yourself if the plain cream coloured dress and golden high-hills you had come with and your barely noticeable makeup were enough for the place you were at. “You... you look amazing, Captain” you told him, a sweet smile on your face, a faint blush appeared on his cheeks and ear “You look pretty too” he answered back, as if he could read your thoughts "and cut the formalities, tonight we are not in a mission" laughing at his comment you agreed with him, leaning back on your sit not without catching another glass of wine from one of the butlers trays. The next 30 minutes were spent in a comfortable silence, as you entertained yourself with watching your friends and their partners dance to the music, and enjoying your wine along the many decorations of the room. It was then that the music came to an end, the musicians getting ready to play a new symphony, that you finally got the chance you had been waiting for. “Levi...” you called for his attention making him turn back to you “ would you care for a dance?” He looked taken back by your question, his posture getting totally stiff and a disturbed look on his face “I’m sorry, I...” Levi spoke, voice low and trembling, as if he didn’t know how to phrase his next sentence “You...” you spoke back, trying to encourage him as you placed your right hand on top of his, which rested upon the table, and drawing small circles against his skin. He inhaled deeply and said in a rush “I don’t know how to dance”.

You weren’t able to stop a small chuckle from escaping from your lips, to what the man next to you reacted by straightening himself once more and trying to get off your touch. In an attempt to solve the situation you came closer to him, a sweet look on your face “Levi, it’s okay if you don’t know how to dance... follow me” a small smile took over his face, what made your heart skip a few beats at the sight, and his eyes glimmered in amusement as he nodded in agreement and extended one of his hands for you to take it. Doing so, you walked him out of the lounge to a small and solitary room you had spotted once you walked inside the palace, there you could still follow the music without getting swallowed by the mob of dancing couples and without worrying about judicious looks. Intertwining your fingers with his long ones, you placed his left hand upon your waist at the same time that he pulled your closer to he’s chest, a shiver traveling both your bodies making goosebumps appear because of the proximity. The song began and you started to move, almost gracefully, around the dance floor. In a moment of braveness, you decided to place your head against his chest, listening to the rapid rhythm of his heart against his rib cage; you breathed in deeply, his usual scent of tea leaves, old wood, and soap slightly masked by the scent of his cologne. As you continued dancing you could feel his body relaxing against yours, his steps becoming less unsure as you twirled around the place, your whole attention laid on one another.

Songs began and songs ended and there you spent the rest of the night, twirling around the room in your Captain’s arms, detached from the rest of the world that stayed behind a closed door.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Inevitable

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (不可抗力) which has not been released in English servers!🍒

This R&S features S2 Gavin!

It is incredibly important to read Ch 9 Part One before embarking on this!

[ Chapter One ]

At midnight, a young man makes a turn at a secluded alley, walking into a small hotel that’s still open for business.

He walks around the main hall, and straight into the innermost booth. The sound of shuffling in the night is continuous, and the dealer holds a cigarette in his mouth, drawing a card.

A hand suddenly approaches, and the muzzle of a gun covers his temple.

"How long will it take for you to finish this round?" Gavin’s voice is calm, fingers exerting more pressure on the trigger.

The others are so frightened that they rush out. With no way out, the man suddenly whips out a knife and swings it at Gavin. Gavin grabs his wrist, the other hand reaching for the handcuffs.

All of a sudden, a voice rings in his head: Don’t get hurt, and don't ignore the consequences. If he were to do this, it seems someone would be very sad. He doesn’t seem to want to make that person sad either.

In that second of distraction, the knife glinting with a cold light in the man’s hand slices the area between Gavin’s thumb and index finger. The thoughts in his mind accumulate amidst the pain. Gavin gathers some strength in his palm, a raging gale rolling up the battered tables and chairs. The man’s gaze turns frightened...

-

Three minutes later, the man, who was puffed up with pride earlier, is firmly handcuffed and kneeling on the ground, begging for mercy.

Gavin pushes the person out of the booth, and the colleague responsible for providing assistance steps forward, escorting the person into the police car.

In the main hall, the little girl who was clapping her hands and singing the birthday song earlier has burst into tears, shocked by the sight before her. Her mother comforts her. "Don't be afraid, darling. This is the Special Police Uncle who catches bad men and is here to protect us.

After glancing at him, the little girl cries even more fiercely.

Gavin nods to the girl’s mother apologetically, then walks towards the claw machine at the entrance of the hotel. After a short while, he returns, hugging the largest doll in his arms.

"Happy birthday.”

He hands a huge cartoon doll to the little girl, then turns and walks out the door.

-

An hour of interrogations is enough to leave one exhausted. Tang Chao stretches, holding a tidied statement while heading towards Gavin’s office.

It’s late at night, and the lights are still on. Tang Chao knocks thrice but receives no response. He tries pushing the door open, and is shocked to find that Gavin, who is seated behind the desk, is neither dealing with a case nor official business. Instead, he’s in a daze.

Gavin leans against the chair, his gaze fixed on the computer screen for a long time, brows furrowed deeply. Tang Chao walks over and glances at the screen - it’s a report regarding the arrest of the producer from [MC’s Company Name] not too long ago. He reaches out, waving his hand in front of Gavin. He asks, "How many fingers?”

When Gavin glares back coldly, Tang Chao feels relieved. However, seeing the scab wound on his hand, he’s confused again - what could be so important that he’d forget to tend to his wound?

He places the tidied statement on the table, then drags Gavin to the infirmary. "Even a body forged in iron can’t be compared to you.”

Fortunately, the wound isn’t deep, and can be healed in a few days. But Tang Chao’s intuition tells him that Gavin is a little different from usual. This time, the offender wasn’t considered dangerous, and could be easily subdued by Gavin’s skills. How did he get hurt this easily?

Before Tang Chao can ask a few more questions, Gavin has already vanished without a trace.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

At four o'clock in the morning, the clerk at the 24-hour convenience store yawns, overcome with boredom as he stares at the TV commercial on the wall to pass the time. A cheerful electronic sound rings. The automatic doors slide open, and a young man walks in. 

The clerk perks himself up, and is about to say "Welcome" when he realises that the customer in front of him looks very familiar.

This man lives in an apartment in the vicinity, and visits this convenience store frequently. Sometimes, he drives past in a smart-looking motorcycle. When someone tries to hit on him occasionally, he always rejects them coldly. It’s a pity that whenever he visits, he either buys instant noodles or instant bento... looks like it’s the same this time.

When the clerk sees him heading towards the convenience food shelf, he sighs in his heart: Young people these days don’t take care of their health at all.

Gavin leans down, his gaze flitting across the neatly arranged food on the shelf, absentmindedly differentiating the expiration dates marked on the packets. 

Shiitake mushroom flavoured instant noodles aren’t tasty. The stray cats at the entrance of STF prefer meat, not anchovies. Don’t get hurt, don’t get mired in danger alone, don’t leave without saying a word.

Such thoughts once again surge forth. From a certain point in time, many unfamiliar experiences have been intruding into his life. It’s as though he’s sharing another memory, these disordered fragments of memories twisting into a long, thin thread, holding onto his wrist, tugging at him secretly from time to time. 

Gavin returns to his senses, subconsciously drawing back the hand that was reaching for the convenience food, and picks the brand at the side which contains more vegetables.

When checking out, Gavin notices that there are rows of potted succulents next to the cash register. 

"This is a public welfare activity jointly launched by our store and the Loveland City Environmental Protection Association. For every plant sold, we will donate the same amount of funds to the environmental protection charity.”

Seeing how unresponsive the young customer in front of him is, the clerk is tactful as he continues scanning the remaining products, "Nine dollars in total.”

The receipt is printed, and the clerk hands it to him along with the bento. The young man suddenly points at the small potted plant that had just emerged from the soil. 

"Add this too.”

-

Back home, Gavin throws his jacket into the washing machine, sets the time for washing and drying, then heads into the bathroom to take a shower. 

A strong gush of water flows from the shower, and white mist quickly fills the entire space. The stinging pain from the wound sobers him up quite a lot, and he subconsciously thinks: The wound should be tended to quickly, and “she” can’t know about it.

Realising what he’s thinking, Gavin is once again stunned-

Who’s “she”?

And why is he so concerned about how that person feels?

Stepping out of the bathroom, the washing machine makes a "ding" sound. Gavin wipes his head and walks over to take a look, only to realise that he had put bleach instead of laundry detergent. He stares at the washing machine in silence for a while, then reaches out to unplug the power, retrieving the ruined jacket.

After all of this, Gavin suddenly remembers the small potted plant he just bought. The clerk said that if it is placed in a location with sufficient sunlight, there would be new shoots in a week, and that it’s very easy to grow. 

Gavin places it on the balcony, then picks up the phone and begins to search "How many times must succulents be watered in a day". Whether it’s a mere illusion, that sense of deja vu once again surfaces.

"What in the world am I doing...?" He mutters to himself, tossing his phone aside a little irritatedly. He returns to the bedroom, lying on the bed and closing his eyes, waiting for sleep. 

In the depths of this autumn night that no one knows about, the rain outside the window patters against the leaves gently, and there is a very, very light stirring in his heart.

Gavin opens his eyes, looking at the ceiling which is illuminated by car lights. Suddenly, an unnamed emotion surges in his heart - he feels that the memories he has never been able to grasp weren’t “forgotten”. Rather, they are “losses” which render him powerless.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

On a rare, idle weekend, Tang Chao calls a group of friends from the STF together for hotpot. Right after ordering the hotpot base, Lu Yi’s conscience suddenly bugs him, and he asks if he should call Captain Gavin over. 

Thinking about how rarely Gavin gets to rest and how he definitely wouldn’t be willing to see this group of people, Tang Chao knowingly shakes his head. However, his mouth has a different idea. “I’ll call him then.”

On the other side, a few special police officers are comforting Xiao Zheng from the Publicity Department who was hurt emotionally. Xiao Zheng fell out of love last week, and has been feeling extremely fragile and sensitive these few days. Hearing the bitter love songs in the shop, his eyes immediately redden.

Tang Chao taps open his contacts list, silently recalling the odd behaviour of Gavin recently. He isn’t interested in being a busybody, but his instincts tell him that Gavin has something on his mind, and it’s a change obviously brought about by that girl’s appearance. But whenever Tang Chao wants to inquire about it, the words get halted by Gavin’s killer glare. 

Thinking about this, Tang Chao glances at Xiao Zheng sympathetically, and comes to a definite conclusion - if Captain Gavin were to continually suppress his emotions without releasing them, it’d result in an illness.

Tang Chao asks the waiter to serve two dozen beers, then dials Gavin’s phone.

"Good evening Captain Gavin. Have you eaten?" 

"I don’t mean to annoy you, but Captain Eli invited us to have butter hotpot. You coming? 

"Don't be in such a hurry to refuse. I’ve got something to talk to you about. Yes, it’s happening right now... it’s of utmost urgency.” Tang Chao shoots a grin towards an astonished Eli. Then, he continues fabricating a tale. "I don’t want to run laps. There’s a genuine matter.

Half an hour later, Gavin frowns as he walks into the hotpot restaurant. Seeing this, a few young special police officers immediately set down their chopsticks and stand up straight in a row. The only thing they haven’t done is to salute at Gavin. 

Tang Chao grins, asking the waiter to bring an additional pair of tableware over. “Captain Gavin, you’re here.” 

Gavin glances at Tang Chao and says in a cool voice, "What’s the urgent matter?"

“Xiao Zheng fell out love, so he asked you over to console him with us.”

“...”

Xiao Zheng frantically waves his hands in surprise, stammering a retort. Tang Chao pushes him back onto his seat and signals for him not to speak. 

"Don't be sad, the chances of people ending up together is always unpredictable." Tang Chao pats Xiao Zheng on the shoulder. "Besides, who doesn’t have someone in their heart? Don’t you agree, Captain Gavin?" 

These words are akin to a sudden clap of thunder on a calm sea. Xiao Zheng immediately forgets to cry. Eli immediately straights up, and the others hurriedly set down their chopsticks, whipping their heads over to look at Gavin like meerkats.

Gavin remains expressionless, though the hissing sound emanating from his body is even cooler than the ice cubes in the beer.

Since they’re in public, Tang Chao knows that it wouldn’t be convenient for Gavin to give him a beating. As such, he’s incredibly composed, and continues with his questions without a fear of death. “Captain Gavin, why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Why do you think this has anything to do with her?”

“I already saw the photograph back in the training days. Is she the lady from before when you roared “Tang Chao, put your hands away”?

[Note] These are references to R&S [Tempering] and Ch 2 Part One!

"...Tang Chao!”

“I'm here, I'm here." Tang Chao fills Gavin’s glass with beer. "Captain Gavin, I actually realised that you haven't been in the best state recently, but you don't like speaking your mind. I’m showing my concern." 

“It’s said that you speak the truth after drinking, and today’s beer should be enough. Whatever you want to say, whatever’s suppressed in your heart, just release them all happily. Right, Captain Eli?”

After three rounds of drinking, Tang Chao fails to get Gavin drunk, but ends up drinking too much himself. Once again, he complains about Gavin's "Death Training" back in the days of special training. In the end, Gavin foots the bill. 

Eli steps forward and pats him on the shoulder, saying, "Did something happen recently?" Gavin shakes his head in resignation. "You really believed him? His mouth is like a runaway train.”

Eli looks at Gavin and sighs. "I know you don’t need anyone to worry about you.”

"But that kid Tang Chao said one thing right. If one keeps suppressing their feelings, they’ll be suppressing problems.”

-

[ Chapter Four ]

On the way back, Gavin sees withered leaves on the branches along the street, and only then remembers the small succulent he had bought not long ago. 

Back home, the potted plant on the balcony shrinks alone in the corner. Originally thinking that the plant he had left “free range” for so many days would meet a premature end, it turned out to be alive despite having a few withered leaves. Gavin finds this a little unbelievable, and he becomes more meticulous in watering it.

-

The next morning, Tang Chao opens the door to Gavin’s office and apologises solemnly. "Captain Gavin, I'm sorry. I promise that I’ll never inquire about your personal life in the future, let alone make arbitrary conjectures about your feelings.”

Without looking up at Tang Chao, Gavin only tosses out a sentence. "Before next Monday, re-check all the case data in the Archive Room.”

The Archive Room is on the third basement floor. The dust is very dense and the materials are very thick. Tang Chao wails immediately, leaving dejectedly.

Gavin picks up the document Tang Chao had just placed on his desk. It is a sealed report for the seizure of "small syringe" production plants, which records in detail the batches and output of pharmaceutical companies which participated in the production.

Reaching the final part of the report, Gavin is silent for a moment. At the end of the report, there is a line of small characters - "Ten boxes of drug samples are suspected to have gone missing." 

Without putting much thought into it, a face with a beaming smile locks onto his mind.

“...I won't investigate you this time." He sighs, putting the report back into the drawer. 

After ferreting the mole out of STF, Gray Rhino seems to have erased all traces of the "small syringes". But Gavin knows they wouldn’t withdraw easily from competing for "CORE" - naturally, neither will Black Swan.

Gavin is clear that the current peace will not last for long. Before the girl stands against him on the opposite side, what he has to do is be one step ahead, obtaining more crucial information as soon as possible.

The phone beeps, notifying him of a new e-mail. Gavin is pulled back from his thoughts, and his eyes fall on the unknown email that popped up.

"Congratulations on your successful registration in the Hunter Game" - the sender’s address is encrypted, and there is no doubt that no information can found.

Gavin's thoughts gradually settle. His hands are clasped lightly on the table, his gaze falling on the words "Hunter Game", his gaze turning sharp and determined. 

That place definitely has something they’re looking for.

-

[ Chapter Five ]

In the STF Intensive Care Unit, a dripping sound accompanies the plastic tube. Gavin sleeps very peacefully, and he feels like he had a lot of dreams in his dazed state. They aren’t nightmares which wake him up with a start, but dreams which make him willing to remain asleep.

However, it seems he can only remember the final dream from the long series of dreams. When he’s roused awake by the sound of footsteps in the corridor, what lingers before his eyes is a blurry yet familiar face. Gavin sits up on the hospital bed, the pain from the no-longer-effective anaesthesia making him more awake. 

Despite not telling Tang Chao and Eli about his participation in the Hunter Game, they aren’t suspicious. They’ve grown accustomed to Gavin’s aloof nature, and as such, assumed that he went on a secret mission.

During his absence over the past few days, there was a new development in the Evolver assassination incident - a new victim has appeared. 

Gavin is very clear that if the cases were to be allowed to ferment, the higher-ups from “that side” would intervene in the matter. They have to take immediate action.  

“There’s one more tricky thing." Tang Chao sits at the edge of his desk. "For the latest assassination case, we encountered a witness with a special situation. We might have to ask an Evolver who can read memories for help."

Tang Chao blinks and asks, "But I don't know any Evolvers with this ability. Do you know any, Captain Gavin?”

-

According to theory, aside from work purposes, they should be keeping a distance from each other. But according to the girl, the reason why they’ve come out for an idle stroll is, for one, to relax. Two, to search for inspiration to solve the case.

The lead from the only witness to the Evolver assassination was cut short. Gavin isn’t affected much, since he knows that this matter isn’t simple. In contrast, the girl is especially bothered by it, and feels apologetic for not being able to help. 

On the bustling street in the afternoon, Gavin returns to his senses, taking the oden which the girl hands over with a smile. 

When walking by her side, Gavin realises that he’s barely thinking about the things that are bothering him. He naturally picks up her conversation topics, as if they had wandered aimlessly on the street side by side before. 

Does she feel the same way? In his heart, Gavin shakes his head in self-mockery, wanting to forget these thoughts which confuse him.

Walking out of the food street, rain patters down. The pedestrians on the street crowd together suddenly, rushing towards the station. Gavin holds up an umbrella, planning to send her back. 

The yellow wintersweet flowers exude a subtle fragrance in the rain. The smell, colour, and the scent of the person next to him seem to be magnified, forming a memory of the present moment. 

Perhaps, even before he noticed it himself, while he has been deliberately neglecting the complex emotions in his heart, they have been also been growing in a place where he cannot see. When she calls his name, when she accidentally touches his hand, it’s as though some things from a very long time ago are coming back to life in his mind--

Someone had once called his name using such a tone.

Someone had once held his hand in this way.

Someone... was once his strength.

The emotions which he conceals deeply, whether they are good or bad, were once held gently. 

A scorching wave of heat suddenly rushes into his chest.

The traffic lights change, and the crowd waiting at the side of the street slowly surge towards the middle of the road. The surrounding pedestrians squeeze past each other, bumping into his shoulder from time to time. 

Gavin lifts his head abruptly, watching the side profile of the girl as she’s in the rain. It’s as though there’s an intriguing overlap. It’s as though a very long time ago, his heart had leapt this fiercely for her.

The girl suddenly turns around, looking in his direction and waving at him. Putting away her umbrella, she points to a mother-daughter duo hiding from the rain underneath the bus stop. She asks for his opinion through her gaze. Without much thought, Gavin removes his jacket, brisk walking towards her in the rain.

Raindrops patter down, and the water beneath his feet leave splashes in their wake. Akin to rain, they land on his body. It’s as though he gets slightly more drenched with each step. At this moment, Gavin realises that on days when memories are muddied, he has grasped a thin thread since a long time ago.

The jacket supports a narrow world, and wind and rain occasionally blow in. 

If their reunion was meant to verify their directions, no matter what the future holds, what he has to do now is to run forward with her, together.

[Note] Please don’t ask me about the Hunter Game! I haven’t had the chance to read the earlier chapters in detail so I don’t know the specifics 😅

💙 More S2 content: here

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[lesdemonium]

romtober day 6: adopted by love interest’s family

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 1675 Summary: Jaskier wasn't quite expecting to have such a warm welcome at his first visit to Kaer Morhen, but he certainly isn't complaining. Especially not when he accidentally overhears conversations he wasn't meant to hear.

read on ao3

“I do not kiss and tell,” Jaskier insisted haughtily, though he winked at Eskel and Lambert as he did so.

Lambert snorted into his drink--something far stronger than Jaskier would find at any old tavern in the Continent. Jaskier had taken one sip, gagged, and made some crack about it curling his chesthair that had Eskel and Lambert howling as they offered him something more suitable. More suitable, apparently, meant probably the strongest wine Jaskier had ever taken. It was meant to be sipped, absolutely, but at least Jaskier could stomach this one. He had never considered himself to have a weak constitution, but Witchers just so loved proving him wrong.

“That’s a lie and we all know it, bard,” Lambert accused, a finger pointed at Jaskier as he narrowed his eyes. Jaskier smiled pleasantly back. “If you had actually managed to kiss that princess, you would be bragging about it until your dying breath. I bet she rejected you.”

Jaskier feigned affront. “Rejected? Me? I’m offended you would even suggest such a thing. But I will forgive you, simply because you do not know of what you speak; you have not seen me in action.”

Now was Eskel’s turn to snort. “We haven’t seen you in action,” he repeated, an eyebrow raised pointedly and a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Have you seen him in action, Geralt?” Lambert asked, with all the faux innocence a shithead like him could muster. “Is it truly a sight to behold? Knicker dropping, would you say?”

Jaskier’s face flushed and he resolutely did not turn his attention toward Geralt, lest Geralt read a bit too much on his face. Geralt, however, didn’t seem to notice the teasing, which was less surprising and more disappointing than Jaskier would have thought. Instead, he hummed and tapped the table as if he was actually considering his answer. Bastard.

“It’s a sight, I’ll say that much,” he answered, ever the diplomat.

“Inspirational, truly. I think your roles should be switched. Geralt should sing of Jaskier’s triumphs,” Eskel said, rolling his eyes.

Jaskier waved a hand. “Save us all that misfortune, Eskel. Geralt would have to say a nice thing or two about me on occasion. I don’t think his poor, delicate heart could take it.” Jaskier grinned at Geralt and nudged him with his shoulder, only to receive an eyeroll and a push back--Geralt likely thought it was just a nudge, but it sent Jaskier tumbling over on the long bench. “See? Brute.”

When Jaskier had first come to Kaer Morhen, he had expected a far cooler reception than the one he received. He had been traveling with Geralt for years, and though he knew Geralt was fond of Jaskier, in his own ways, Jaskier could never quite call him warm. It was a safe assumption that a winter in Kaer Morhen would be much the same, but from three new witchers. 

Vesemir did have a bit more of his progeny’s cool and collected demeanor, but he had clapped Jaskier on the back in a way Jaskier could almost call fatherly on multiple different occasions. When he had met Lambert and Eskel, Lambert had loudly started singing Toss A Coin at them and Eskel had pulled Jaskier in for the most thorough hug of his life. 

Since that welcome reception, they had been outrageously chatty compared to their brother in arms, and nearly every night was spent talking well into the evening. Jaskier had no monster stories to regale them with, but the others did not make him feel as if he was the odd man out. Instead, they looked forward to his stories of skirt chasing and court drama just as much as he looked forward to their tales of heroics against monstrous monsters.

Monstrous monsters. Maybe he’d had a bit too much of the wine.

“It seems my meager human constitution pales in comparison to what your sturdier frames can put away. I fear I must retire before I say something to embarrass myself,” Jaskier said, pushing himself back from the table and standing.

“That’s the longest way to say ‘I’m pissed, gonna go sleep it off,’ I’ve ever heard,” Lambert snorted. “Do you ever say things straight?”

“No,” Geralt answered. “He once ranted through an entire meal, but the only thing he managed to say was that I was a troll.”

“And you are, darling. And a miserable hag to boot.” Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “A true wordsmith such as I knows how to weave even the most simple of statements into works of art. Try not to miss me and my eloquence too much, and pray that you do not drink yourselves into an early grave. Is it still an early grave if you’re well over a hundred?”

The witcher’s laughed and bid him goodnight, and Jaskier made his way out of the hall.

The problem with the witcher’s keep was that it was not the most intuitive place to navigate. Jaskier prided himself on his sense of direction, having been in many a castle before, and all castles started to look alike with their long, windy hallways and doors upon doors, many of which led to nowhere. The keep was much the same, and the combination of its inherent confusion, the darkness, and Jaskier’s slight inebriation had Jaskier lost. Quite quickly.

It took him about ten minutes and four different doors he was certain had contained stairs earlier that day to finally admit defeat and shuffle back to the dining hall. He didn’t mean to overhear, he really didn’t. Jaskier wasn’t even trying to be sneaky--why bother, when you’re in a keep full of men pumped with so many mutagens they could tell the color of a rabbit from the way it shuffled its feet? Only, apparently the ale had dampened their attention enough that Jaskier’s quiet steps had gone unheard, and he was able to approach the door to the dining hall without so much as a stutter in their conversation.

“--like him, Geralt,” Eskel said.

“Aye. If you manage to fuck things up in the next year and don’t bring him back, I’m not sure if we can let you pass through the gate,” Lamber agreed, though his voice was unusually pleasant. Like he was teasing Geralt.

“So glad to know my own brothers have turned on me so quickly,” Geralt scoffed.

“Well, we’d probably let you in, but only because if your froze your balls off we’d be hearing about it for the next century or so. Seriously, though. He’s nice to have around. You have certainly been less moody this winter,” Eskel said.

“Yeah, you were a right prick last year. And the year before that.” Lambert paused, as if he was considering something. “You have been a right prick this year, too, now that I think of it. Maybe the bard just distracts from your overall unpleasantness.”

There was a quick scuffle and a grunt from Lambert, followed by a long laugh from all of them, though Lambert’s took a moment to move from begrudging to warm. Sometimes, Jaskier wondered if they truly were brothers since infancy; they certainly acted like it. Though, he supposed experiences like they’d had bound people together far more securely than mere blood.

“I’ll ask him, but there’s no guarantees. He makes his own decisions. Goes where he wants. I have no claim to him,” Geralt said, and Jaskier was sure he was not drunk enough to be imagining the sadness etched in his voice.

“Well that’s bull--” Lambert started, only to be drowned out by Eskel.

“Geralt, are you kidding?” Eskel asked, incredulous. “That bard would go wherever you went, if only you’d ask. Even over a fucking cliff.”

“Seriously. He makes eyes at you so frequently, I don’t think he’s even aware he’s doing it at this point.”

Lambert laughed, as if it was a joke, but Jaskier’s face grew hot with embarrassment. Ah. So they had noticed. Jaskier was half afraid they would, and now he had mounting concern over the fact that they were telling Geralt. Jaskier was quite certain this winter was about to get a hell of a lot longer, lonelier, and colder. Either Geralt would realize Jaskier’s affections were just as his brothers said and be disgusted, or he would just let them stay there, as if nothing had happened. Jaskier wasn’t sure which option was worse.

“I’m going to bed,” Geralt said, his voice gruff, and Jaskier heard the scraping of his chair against the wood. 

Jaskier stumbled back a few steps, silently cursed himself, then tried to tiptoe away without attracting too much attention. This was not something he wanted to explain. Except, he still didn’t know how to get back to his own room. Fuck.

“If you’re smart, you’ll go to your bard’s bed!” Lambert called as the door opened. Fuck.

Jaskier scrambled behind a nearby door, trying to hide as quietly as he possibly could. It was a fool’s errand, he knew. After all, even drunk, Geralt would be able to notice him, surely. But he had gotten lucky once tonight when it was him against witchery senses; Jaskier could only hope he’d be lucky again. Otherwise he would have a fair bit of explaining to do.

Geralt walked by the door, and Jaskier only narrowly avoiding expelling a breath of relief. Until he heard Geralt stop, then push the door closed.

“Next time, you should make sure you close the door after you hide behind it,” Geralt said, a smile in his voice, then continued on his merry way, as if he hadn’t left Jaskier frozen to the spot in shame.

It took a long time for Jaskier to build up the courage to leave whatever room he had been hiding in. By the time he did so, Geralt was gone. Apparently, that was that. Apparently, Geralt was content to allow Jaskier to at least sort of live this down.

Maybe this winter wouldn’t turn out to be horrible after all.

[mintseesaw]

Aurora | 4

Pairing: general!jungkook x reader!princess x prince!jimin Genre: angst, fluff, historical au, forbidden love affair au Word count: 8.3k Warnings: themes of abduction and insurgence, imposing abortion as a punishment, story setting is heavily patriarchal // rating: 18+

translations of unfamiliar words will be provided below ^^

*unedited

masterlist

Previously...

“Did you miss me, Princess ________?” You heard him greet from behind. The sultry yet sweet tone of his voice, compelling you to face him as if your unwillingness to meet him so suddenly wasn’t there, anymore.

With a graceful turn, your solicitous expression caused by your unintended tryst last night gone in a flash tipping your chin forward to display a false confidence in front of the prince.

The amusement on his face widens, taking notice of the exceptional glow radiating from the princess. Have you been dolling yourself up just for him? The certain strangeness in the dark of your orbs igniting fire in him before he blinks and it vanishes, gone without a trace of acknowledgement from the weight of your stare.

He crosses the offending distance, smiling sweetly before he took hold of your hand and kisses your knuckles with an ardent gaze clashing against yours that harbor the coldness he had grown accustomed with.

“My lord,” an old man hurriedly attended to Jungkook just as he took an empty table without a word. Must be the owner of the stall. Uttering his request, the owner bobbed his head low before vanishing from his line of vision.

He was supposedly going to have breakfast with you after having tediously cooked the dishes, himself. The lack of light in your eyes and your dead enthusiasm had spoiled his appetite, and severely wounded his soul. Nothing could probably ease the ache sitting beneath his ribcage. Not when the intimacy he shared with you the night before and your cold treatment of him earlier painfully reverberated in his head like a roaring thunder in the sky.

You, giving him mixed signals, confused the hell out of his weak, young heart. 

What am I supposed to do with you, Jagiya?

Perhaps, it was the uncertainty that was instigated by your emotions. That must have been the only reason.

Shortly after, the old man came back with an empty cup, pouring it full with rice wine from the bronze pitcher he brought with him. Jungkook mumbled an audible thanks before chugging down the alcohol like an angry man on his bad day.

“This isn’t something we both have a choice of.”

Your voice echoes in his head. A sweet, delicate voice that could easily slice his heart into two with your mere heartless words. A smirk made its way on his face, despite the amusement never reaching up his eyes.

There is nothing left to decide on because you’ll be with him in the end. He wouldn’t leave you, again. He wouldn’t lose his only chance he has to claim you as rightfully his. When he almost lost you back in the days you were young, right in his arms, before his eyes— it was the day he promised to show you what his heart truly desires. Whatever the cost may be.

He had never been that frantic in his life. Not even when he saw with his own eyes the deep cut in his arm gushing too much blood when he was young. Not when two poisonous arrows almost killed him in the battlefield.

When he stripped the covering off of the suspicious cart in search of any sign of you, the last thing he was expecting to see was your unconscious body, with your restrained arms and a piece of cloth stuffed in your mouth. With your aristocratic braids gone, he couldn’t see much of your face as your hair hung loose covering half of your face as your body lied down in a foetal position, as if you tried to make up with the little space the average sized cart provided which was filled dominantly by materials of what looked like rolls of linens of various colors.

He knew it was you.

Despite the filth covering your attire down to the skin of your bare hands, and your seemingly thinner frame, the mere sight of the body screams everything about you.

At the time, his younger self was almost sure he was going to explode at any moment from the excruciating constriction in his chest.

His eyes were livid while they scanned over the blood bathed bodies scattered around the cart that were slain by the sharp edges of his sword, looking for another sign of danger. When he was certain that none of the rebels on the ground were moving, he dropped his weapon.

“Princess!” He calls out, his bloody hands leaving imprints of the dirt-covered article of your hanbok as he shook your shoulders none too gently, desperate to wake you.

To no avail, you remain unconscious. The sight of you in a devastating state dreaded him. His younger self thought his world right there and then was collapsing, his surroundings slowing down and his gaze shrinking and focusing into you alone. Not even a pittance of fear shook him despite killing a group of rebels, none of the fact that he stood there alone fighting for his life did. None. Not until he pulled the bamboo mat off of the cart.

Where the fuck is that old man?

It’s been hours since Lord Min suddenly came up to his residence, forcing him out of his slumber at dawn without telling him the purpose of his abrupt disturbance.

When the scholar said he found another lead, Jungkook only took it lightly—not knowing it would turn out to be the key to finally locate you.

Lord Min led him to a trail behind a group of merchants who were supposed to exchange goods on the capital’s port with Mongolian merchants. When the suspicious group split into two directions— it left him and the scholar no option but to part ways as well. However, Jungkook insisted on following the merchants who particularly brought their supposed cart of goods.

As soon as he took his outer layer of robe to cover it on your shivering body, the morning breeze hits him mercilessly. Discreetly, he gathers you in his arms. As he sets you on his lap on the ground, he removes the cloth in your mouth, while pressing a trembling hand on your chest to feel your heartbeat.

“Your Highness,” he tried once more when he sensed a faint beating against your chest. His hands shuffle to remove the tie around your wrists.

“Come on… open your eyes for me, Princess.” He whispered desperately, tears freely rolling down on his cheeks without him ever noticing.

He gasped when he caught the slightest bit of movement from you. He thought he might have been hallucinating out of his desperation to see you alive. But then, you proved him wrong as your heavy eyelids slowly peeled open, before they closed shut, again.

“Your Highness! Please… do you hear me? Can you open your eyes again?”

You did, and with your slightly parted mouth, you drew a breath in heavily.

“W-Who are you?” you managed to rasp, almost inaudibly. However, he was too close not to miss what you said. Too close to be deemed righteous around the lady he desires. He didn’t care, because your cold body needed as much as heat from him. Nothing else mattered more to him than to save your life.

“It’s me, Jungkook. I am Prince Taehyung’s friend—“

“I-I… must… be dreaming,” you croaked in between dry, painful coughs.

“You’re not dreaming. Please, don’t talk. It's hurting you.” He chokes back a sob.

“Is this real? You finally noticed me,” you pause, only to breathe through your mouth once more. “I’m… tired, I want to rest,” you say without opening your eyes. But the moisture pooling out of your eyes meant one thing to him. You’ve been suffering from immense pain.

“No, no, no. Please, stay with me. Lord Min is coming to get us. He’ll be here soon,” he coos, not caring how he sounded a little more desperate, taking your cold hands up in his mouth to warm them up.

Jungkook continuously rocked your shivering body back and forth on his lap, never removing his eyes on you. He wanted to embrace you tight, cover you with his body to protect you from the horrible cold of the morning weather but he was afraid he would crush you.

He waited, waited and helplessly waited. Lord Min would come find him. That was what he reminded Jungkook as before they parted ways in the woods.

It was him and Lord Min who found you, even when the King had ordered a mass search for his missing daughter.

---

Although your disappearance was largely perceived as abduction, neither evidence nor eye witness was found to support the claim, hence stirring the urge to find you, himself. Roughly 10 days after you were last seen, not even a single trace of your whereabouts had been identified. Something was definitely off with the way the case was being handled. The lack of progress on the investigation drove the King in extreme desperation as well as the court in anguish due to the King’s adverse political decisions.

In spite of the rumors of insurgence spreading like a common gossip story in the villages surrounding the capital, the rumors fall on deaf ears in the court on the possibility that your disappearance was plotted by the rebel forces. As if the missing person was not a princess whom the rebels could use as a pawn to bend the King on his knees.

Jungkook spent most of his days in the capital, inside the gambling houses, pretending to play with men of all sorts of class. On some days, he visited the courtesan’s house capital marketplace under the disguise of an interested guest due to the rumors that some gisaengs, at the time, were avid followers of the insurgence. At nights, he pieced together the collective stories he tediously gathered during the day.

One day, he decided to make progress on his investigation, spying on a group of merchants trading with Jurchen merchants who were pretending under the guise of Mongolian heritage. It was Mina, a gisaeng whom he somehow befriended when his visits at the courtesan’s house had frequented, who shared her discovery of a Mongolian merchant accidentally revealing his identity when he fluently spoke a dialect she distinguished as her mother tongue since she was a Jurchen-born immigrant.

He didn’t find any suspicious or illegal goods being traded on the port nor could he confirm the real heritage of the merchants. However, on his way back to the capital, he was cornered by a man he recognized as one of the merchants in the port.

To his surprise, the merchant was strangely skilled enough to defeat him in a fight— scoring a severe cut on Jungkook’s side. He didn’t think the merchant would be merciful enough to let him live when Jungkook fell to the ground after what seemed like several minutes of intense sword-to-sword combat. Strangely enough, the merchant was forgiving and instead of ending the life out of him, the merchant took his time to scrutinize every item inside the satchel Jungkook brought with him. By then, he had already sensed that the man was anything but a mere trader.

Breathing heavily, he pressed his hand hard to his bloody waist as he watches the merchant curiously unfold a piece of hanji. It was the trade map he had drawn a few days ago, alongside the location where the camp can be found.

Jungkook knew it was over for him as he saw a glint of recognition in the eyes of the merchant.

After what seemed to be a long moment of silence, the merchant looks at him. “What is this map for?”

Jungkook laughed dryly and as his shoulders shook a little, a surge of pain shot in his core. He winces as the sensation doubled over his effort to make fun of the act the merchant was pulling in front of him.

“Are you one of them?”

If the merchant understood what he meant, he simply chose to ignore it. “I’m asking you a question, kid.”

“You’re one of them, are you not? I’m most certain you know what that map is.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth as the pain on his side intensified, spreading like a magma on his midriff.

By now, the merchant’s focus zeroed in on him. “You know about the camp? Who do you work for, kid?” The merchant interrogates, further. Though the man remained passive, Jungkook found it odd to notice the slightest bit of awe in the eyes of the strange man. 

“You tell me, you act like you know my every activity.”

The merchant only raised an eyebrow. “Well, here’s the truth. I’m not a rebel. I’m not a merchant, either. I will help you if you tell me what you have gotten about the camp so far.”

Jungkook darted a glare at him. “As you can see, I’m heavily wounded, literally. You think I still care?”

“You’ll live,” the merchant dismisses nonchalantly, which made Jungkook scoff in disbelief.

“Look kid, I’m not going to kill you. But in exchange for your life, you’ll help me follow the movement.”

“It’s not like you gave me an option to decline.” Jungkook weakly contended.

The merchant effortlessly helped him up from the ground, “Come on, my grandfather is a physician. He’ll tend to your wound.”

Jungkook learned that the merchant who introduced himself as Lord Min turned out to be a scholar. He was writing a case relative to the alleged insurgence centering mostly in poor villages in the capital. Although he didn’t fully trust the scholar, sparing Jungkook his life was enough reason for him to disclose the true nature of his investigation to the scholar who was, at the time, penning colloquial stories about the insurgence.

Lord Min paused his scribbling, throwing a look of surprise at his new-found friend. “Did I hear you right? You believed the princess was abducted by the rebels?”

Jungkook only shrugged, already concluding what the scholar would say next. “It’s not the first time someone thought I was going crazy for telling them that.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I have been following the movement for months now,” Lord Min asserted, which prompted Jungkook to look back at him. “And since I heard about the sudden disappearance of the princess, it was the only theory I could come up with. Unless…” Lord Min trailed, taking notice of the interest glinting in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Unless?” Jungkook echoed expectantly.

Lord Min pretended to be in deep thought before adding up, “There is a lover involved.”

In disbelief, Jungkook threw a scornful look at him. “There’s no man in her life, I’m sure of that.” He remarked with conviction, folding his arms in his chest.

To his surprise, Lord Min hollered into fits of laughter, only severing the look of disdain on Jungkook’s expression. “For a young soldier like you, you seemed to be a little more concerned about the princess.” The older man remarked, meaningfully.

---

“Isn’t it too early to be drinking on your own, kid?” Taunts a voice, forcing him out of his reverie. With a lift of his head, his eyes landed on a commoner seemingly older than him adorned in a daffodil shade of a simple robe. Half of the man’s face was covered in conical shaped hat and just as the man tipped it high with his fingers, Jungkook immediately recognized the person standing across his table.

Your breath hitches on your throat as the warmth of his mouth sends tingles straight through your veins. With a subtle tug of your hand from his hold, the prince almost didn’t take your silent plea, not without his companion guard clearing their throat that snapped him out of daze.

If there’s particularly one thing that stood out to him aside from his aristocratic, --almost polished physical features, it was his forthright admission of his feelings on you. The was the he had made a move in regards to feelings. You appreciate the way he had not once tried to break into your boundaries for his satisfaction.

After what had happened, the least person you expected to see is him. The only man who had the guts to be with you despite the rumors that tainted your reputation. Guilt thrums heavily through your veins more than the throbbing of your muscles in your body.

Jimin deserves someone far better than what you can offer. Not with your heart, and most definitely not with your broken chastity.

“Your Excellency,” you greeted, tilting your head low in a subtle bow. Your eyes stayed firm on the ground, refusing to return his stare as you murmur, “I trust your journey has not been too much for you?”

You missed the way your concern roused a smile up on his flawless face or you would have flushed right away. “It was as expected. I am an impatient man, but it was worth the trouble now that my reward is standing in front of me.”

Taken aback at this teasing remark, your mouth unconsciously parted. You didn’t have the time to retract from the proximity he initiated just as he extended his arm, his palm meeting one of your cheeks as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. The pad of his thumb feather lightly caresses the softness of your skin there.

The abruptness of his move left you immobile for a moment, the heat coming from his hand involuntarily eliciting goosebumps to come out on your covered arms.

“Have you been well, little flower? I couldn’t be at peace knowing your health is not in the best condition. I was a thread of breath away from forcing my way into your quarters just to check on you myself, but you may never forgive me for if I ever disrespect your privacy.”

“There’s nothing to worry of. Mayhaps... my body has not been reacting too kindly to the cold weather. I had since taken herbal teas to help me recover.” The lie glided smoothly out of your tongue, piercing your lower lip with your teeth to prevent yourself from throwing up out of disgust.

The way his head bobs up lightly made you believe he bought your excuse. “Very well. Will you allow me to accompany you?” He whispers, as if it’s possible to turn down a powerful man like him. 

“Of course, Your Excellency.” The smile you plastered on your face was enough to conceal your fears for now.

At your answer, the court ladies immediately hurried towards the recreational area, pulling the wooden chairs for you and the prince to sit on.

You take the opportunity to pull back from his touch as an excuse to occupy one of the chairs. 

Mimicking your move, he settled on a seat, one that was the closest to yours. He then motions a dismissive wave on the watchful eyes of his guards, giving him and the rest of the court ladies a silent order to leave you two alone. With a bow, everyone retreated back down onto the ground, obediently.

As he turns his attention back at you, he asks, “Do you like to tease me, Princess?”

“W-What do you mean?” Your stutter evoked a subtle grin to reappear on the corners of his mouth. While your insides are a mess, the delight shining in his eyes lets you know he couldn’t see right through your miserable heart.

The subtle smile on the corners of his mouth stretches wider, “You know I like it when you call me by my name.”

His teasing once again scores a twin stain on your cheeks. Although you remain placid with his remark, he didn’t miss the immediate rush of blood coloring your face that, in return, earned a smirk from him.

Blinking, you straightened your back. “Why are you not appropriately dressed for the season, Your Excellency?”

Prince Jimin beamed in your attempt of changing the subject, eyes glimmering in glee. “My attire is fine. Mayhaps, if you are concerned, I can put on another layer of thick robe.”

Quickly, you shake your head. “There’s no need for such if you don’t feel like the weather is too much for you. Winter has just begun and only a few weeks more before the weather becomes unbearable, especially for envoys like yourself.”

“I can only imagine how our departure would be like.”

“You chose to come to the kingdom during the winter. Is there something that’s urgent on your purpose not to delay it until the weather has calmed down?”

”The only urgent thing I found was to see you. Have I not made it clear from the beginning?”

You purse your lips, afraid to voice out your thoughts. On the other hand, Jimin was way too deep in the subject to notice the slightest bit of trouble reflecting in your eyes.

“I didn’t think any woman would stir my interest after having my heart broken when I was young. You know, my brother—the Emperor gifted me a marriage in exchange for my service in the military. I was supposed to leave the palace for a while to visit my bride. The Emperor halted my plan only to have me represent him on his behalf during the coronation of Queen Soheon. If I didn’t come here, I would have been married by now.”

Burying your trembling hands on your lap, you distracted yourself with the beauty of the winter blooms on the pond, swallowing the gasp that threatened to spill as an involuntary reaction. His revelation left a lasting impact on you. In your head, you could hear yourself screaming the truth in front of him. He shouldn’t be this infatuated over you.

“Perhaps, you are well enough to company out of the palace? You still owe me a tour to the capital.” The prince posits all too suddenly.

Swiftly, he stood up and offered a helping hand in front of you. The sun is barely out, concealed with the thick layers of clouds to which is a great opportunity to wander around in the marketplace. Your false confidence slowly faltering as seconds turn to minutes with his gaze sweeping on your whole length. You accepted his hand, granting his wish. It was the least you could do to make up for him travelling a thousand miles to see you.

The following day, an event is set to be held in Changdeok to pay tribute for army’s victory in defeating the rebel forces in one of the borders in Joseon. Hours earlier than the customary outset in the palace, the finishing touches on the day’s festivities have already been wrapped up by the court ladies even before the sun rises on the east.

Historically, the day held no significance to the royal court nor to any prominent military figure in the nation. However, some weeks prior to the present day, the king received a letter from the young general relative to the army’s arrival to the capital, hence, the sudden establishment of a dogam to organize a jinchan for the returning heroes from the northern border.

With the anticipated attendance of the royal family in the morning banquet, you were forced to rise at dawn to prepare for your participation for the festivity.

Shortly after the attendants have finished braiding your hair, your morning tea was served just before you are set to leave your quarters.

“There will be two more banquets after the event in the morning, Your Highness.” Hyowon, one of the court ladies attending to your daily nourishment answers when you absentmindedly voiced out your thought as she pours a tea on your cup.

Fortunately, you were not foolish enough to utter the name of the man who’s been haunting your dreams since time immemorial. She may only be a distant relative of Jungkook, but the same blood runs thick in their veins and you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of anyone, much less to anyone related to him.

You nodded, taking your cup and hold it up to your lips.

Traditionally, the nighttime festivity is said to be the most anticipated from all sorts of celebrations as the audience who are commonly from noble descent look forward on the performances of high-class entertainers. Jungkook is obligated to attend all the events for the day as one of the honorary guests of the jinchan.  

The supposed banquet is going to be your first attendance in a political gathering ever since you were given the title of a gongju on your seventh birthday. The thought was making you uneasy in some way in case something unforeseen transpires during the celebration, that it would be denunciated by the curse you were forced to live with in your lifetime. However, the thought of him present in the same room with you brings more in disarray. 

A court lady from the dogam came to escort you to the reception afterwards. And not long after the arrival of Queen, the massive doors of the dining hall flew opened, revealing the King as he enter the premises.

Perhaps, you would still have had a clear view on whole expanse of the dining hall if not for the ivory article covering the totality of the platform where you and the rest of the royal palace women.

Meals have been simultaneously served just as the King had announced the ceremonial toast indicating the beginning of the celebration. An instrumental piece played by the musicians proceeded after, keeping the atmosphere pleasantly solemn despite the audible chatters in the hall.

From your seat, you could only see the king’s back as he led the banquet—sitting at the head of the table while the rest of the state and military officials sat in two long sets of vertically-arranged sobans. Despite the barrier, it was not difficult for you to locate where the man of your thoughts was settled at just by the mere sight of his silhouette. There he was beside Prince Taehyung, seemingly fascinated with the performances on the center if not occupied with something Prince Taehyung was telling him.

You could never change the way you treated him so poorly, yesterday. Your hostility was uncalled for, but perhaps, it was enough to displease him enough to lose his interest in you.

“You are not eating your meal, Gongju. Are the dishes not to your liking?” Princess Consort Sooyoung asks. Unlike you, your sister-in-law seems to enjoy the sumptuous serving on the soban, as opposed to your lack of enthusiasm on the food.

“It’s not that. Perhaps, it was too early for me to consume anything solid after I had my morning the tea.”

You drag your hand up on the table, picking up the pair of chopsticks to nestle them in between your fingers. To ease her worry, you attempted to touch the sweet flavored delicacy among the servings.

The banquet progressed rather slowly. As hours passed by, your legs grew numb from the lack of physical movement. It didn’t help that the remnants of muscle aches from your intimacy with Jungkook still lingers. Your sister-in-law caught the discomfort in your expression.

“Gongju,” Princess Consort Sooyoung calls for your attention, once more.

Tearing your gaze away from Jungkook, you tilt your head on the side to meet her solicitous eyes.

“Is your breathing alright? I noticed your heaving has frequented.”

“Uhh...I’m alright, Bubuin.” You falter. Instinctively, your eyes flew back to where he was situated. Your sister-in-law followed the trail of your gaze, and it was only then that she had pieced together the reason.

She chuckles softly, “I thought you were having difficulty with your breathing.”

Your face incredibly flushed with her words.

She didn’t attempt to speak to you after that, seemingly distracted in one of the ceremonial performances of the banquet.

Three hours later, the first phase of the jinchan had finally come to conclude to your relief.

When it was your turn to be escorted out of the hall, you couldn’t help but skim your eyes across the expansive lot. Of course, the chances of running into him are very slim to none. Not only that he was in a rush to leave the reception, but he would also take the path on the west out of the palace while you would take the opposite direction to go back to your quarters.

You thought wrong. Because the moment you arrive at the entrance of the Gyeongbok, you catch on the back of his frame on the small stretch between the library and the tall concrete wall.

Your heart instantly jumped at the mere sight of him adorned on the same uniform he wore the day before. But something didn’t make sense. What is he doing in the main palace—hiding there right after the banquet has ended?

The court lady remained still behind you as you tried to build up the courage to approach him. Perhaps, apologize for your behavior yesterday. But then as he shifted on his feet, you caught a glimpse of a hanbok across him— appearing nothing like the clothing of any man. A lady.

“You have the freedom to choose any woman in your life.”

Your own words hurriedly came rushing back on you, nearly losing your footing when the weight on your chest grew heavier. You couldn’t breathe.

“Princess—” you jumped at the sound of a low baritone voice from behind, the same voice you’ve known by heart since you were little. 

Sheepishly, you turned to face your brother, his forehead crumpled causing his eyebrows to meet into a line.

“You looked like you’ve seen an apparition,” Prince Taehyung jests, with his face remaining passive without a trace of playfulness despite his obvious teasing.

That’s because you did! You seethed, internally. With an ugly emotion slowly seeping through your veins, you find it difficult to display indifference as if something—someone was not putting you in an emotional distress.

“Your Excellency,” you greeted half-heartedly.

“You are aware about the luncheon tomorrow, right? I am expecting you in my courtyard, little flower.”

“Of course,” You briefly answered. His face finally stretched into a grin, ruffling your neatly braided hair before bidding a farewell.

When you spun back to peer at the spot where Jungkook and his female companion were standing— nothing. No one was there anymore. Jungkook is gone, and so is the lady he was with.

The scene remained etched in your brain the rest of your day. Being unable to stay still in the confines of your quarters, you decided to do readings in in the library.

You were alone, just like what you have asked to your attendants, with the exception of a guard outside. Shortly after going through the shelves in the House of Yi section, you once again stumbled upon a book of biographical sketches after secretly reading the book several years ago. The sight of it alone refreshes your memory of the things you have discovered written in the pages of the books—specifically about Princess Moyoung, your grandfather’s eldest sister who slowly died in the hands of her husband who was born from a fourth class family.

It was said to be the matter that pressured the next royal generations to marry off any king’s daughter to a yangban which was prohibited prior to the princess’ unfortunate case to avoid any arising political conflicts.

It was the same thought that bothered you even when you had gone back in your quarters, bathed, and dressed in your night robe. If your father were still living, would he insist on keeping you in the palace? Or would he allow your supposed matrimonial union with Jimin over one with Jungkook?

However, you understand that either selection is a sacrifice. Life is about losing something to gain something else. You know what will be taken from you if you were to possibly end up with Jungkook. But what could you have possibly gained if you were to lose the man who owns your soul? An extravagant life with the prince?

The ache in your heart has sat idly in your chest since this morning. Your time in the library seemed to have worsened your distress as pain starts to sear in your head.

You stood up. Your attendant mimicking your movement to smoothen the sleeves of your silk robe. “I do not wish to be followed,” you simply say. They crouched their upper body low, conveying a silent message of obedience.

As you pass through the L-shaped corridor leading to the outdoor of your quarters, the rectangular hallway making up the main pathway of the courtyard is eerily quiet and empty. With subtle luminance provided by the light torches on each post you passed by, it was just as exactly the way you expected Gyeongbok during this time around. The reason why you chose to be alone since no one else will run into your way this time of night.

However, at your third turn, just as you enter the borderline of the queen’s courtyard, you hear a distinct sound of door opening from afar followed by the heavy, collective footsteps ringing in the air. As the footsteps grew louder, you hurriedly ran to the side of the greenhouse to hide, afraid of being seen without a companion to look after your care.

“Your Majesty!”

You bite your lip as your heartbeat picks up at the sound of a male voice—assumingly the queen’s eunuch, as if in desperation to stop Her Majesty to wherever she intends to go at this hour.

You didn’t know how long you were hiding there at the side of the greenhouse but it wasn’t long enough for you to be able to hold your breath until the traces of the footsteps were fading.

When any sign of human sound was out of earshot, you finally heave a sigh out of relief, taking a solid peek through the corner of the wooden wall to confirm your guess. Considering the pathway clear and safe from any presence, you cautiously proceed back to your footpath.

Merely focused on either side of your vision, you failed to sense that someone was making their way onto your direction. Their presence became known only when your arm was snatched from behind and a calloused palm right away covered your mouth, losing your chance to call for help. Panic immediately surges through your veins, your shock causing you to freeze momentarily.

Even without having a single look at your perpetrator, the feel of his thick arm around your waist lets you know you don’t stand a chance against their immense built and incredible strength. Just as you recovered from your shock, you frantically squirmed about against their hold but the more you struggle, the tighter their arm gets around your waist, pulling you flushed against their body.

“Why is Lady Yi- being punished?” Demanded Queen Soheon the moment she stepped foot inside the King’s quarters.

King Namjoon sprang up to his feet to meet her half-way, concern stirring immediate in him at the sight of his wife, noting the way her voice unusually croaked and holding such heavy emotion. He silently curses, taking notice how upset she had seemed to be over the scandal the concubine had caused all to herself.

“Sit down, my love. You shouldn’t allow your emotions to run high, it’s not good for your condition.”

Queen Soheon is always calm and graceful no matter how grave the situation is. He had not once witnessed her lose her innate grace ever since he married her, with the exception of the times he was intimate with her.

“Why?” She repeated, her eyes burning with fire.

“My love—”

“Jeonha, please… stop with your sweet filters and answer me why you didn’t stop them from forcing her to drink the medicine?”

He sighs just as he attempted to place her in his embrace. To his dismay, she pulled a good amount of distance between them, clearly setting the line of her anger on the matter, right straight to him.

How can he possibly be sure you would never find this matter out when only a slip of a tongue can give her the idea of what transpired some hours ago.

“You know I cannot disrespect Halma-mama’s power when it comes to the women in the inner court.”

As the Grand Royal Dowager Queen holds the highest rank in the inner court, it would only be necessary to say his grandmother ordered the punishment, when in fact it was never her idea to impose a harsh discipline on the concubine. However, the appeal of the elders in the inner court to decide on the fate of her unlawful conceiving resulted in a consensus decision to abort the unborn child. Unless the queen is proven to be sterile, the inner court strictly prohibits the harem to carry a King’s child. 

“She is carrying your child!”

He knows that, very well. But he wished his wife would refrain from carrying the weight of her emotions as it might put a toll on her health and consequently affect their unborn child. “Calm down,” King Namjoon prompted cautiously.

He could never forgive himself for failing to protect his unborn child from being stripped off the chance to live in a world where his/her father rules out a kingdom. Never in this lifetime and in the next would he ever learn to spare himself the forgiveness.

“You know, Lady Li and I are both with child. If I were not your queen, you’d simply allow them to get rid of my child, would you not?”

He reaches out, once more. “No, no. Of course, not. Not under my watch.”

But the queen was quick enough to retract from the close proximity.

Perhaps, he was right. He cannot have the power to overrule the inner court, but why does his words feel insincere? It made her suddenly fear for her own child’s life despite the position she holds. When her mother warned her about the sickening life in the palace and the doctrines in the inner court, she never thought it would come to this extent.

How can she look at his family and pretend everything is alright. One wrong move and might lose her child as well.

All too suddenly, she could feel herself slowly being overwhelmed with disgust, needing the urge to throw up.  

She couldn’t stand being here, to see anyone just yet. She fixes a glare at her attendants, warning them not to follow her. Her eyes lingered on him for a second before she took a swift turn, exiting her way out of the vicinity.

With quick strides, he followed her trail, only to spin back around, skimming through each one of servants in his quarters.

“No one must follow me or the queen,” his eyes particularly burned at his eunuch. “Do you understand?” He glowered, not waiting for them to answer as he too disappeared into the halls of his royal residence.

When you felt their grasp loosening, you began thrashing out as fear dominated your senses. Even with their hand pressed firmly on your mouth, you could hear your own sobs croaking out of your throat. And as if your pellucid fear had triggered them to stiffen, their hold around your waist loosened. But the adrenaline running in your senses all vanished the moment they finally spoke.

“Jagiya.”

Your eyes went round, recognizing the owner of the voice. He lets his hand fall from your mouth. 

”J-Jungkook?” you hesitated. While you remained flushed against his body, you couldn’t be sure of their identity.

Swiftly, he spun you around to confirm your assumption for yourself. The light torches were a little far where you two stood but there was no denying it was him, judging by the little features of his face you could make out through the help of the vibrant moon lighting up in the sky behind him.

Yet, his action had already shaken you up, feeling the loud beating of your heart. All of your emotional baggage rushing all at once, you couldn’t help but lash out to him, seeing his chest as a target to release all your frustrations.

“Why did you do that?! I thought I was being kidnapped,” you anguished, horror remained etched on your face.

He took all your hits without a fight as guilt all too sudden consumed him after realizing the effect of what he had done. “I’m sorry, Jagiya. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmurs, drying the moisture on the corners of your eyes with his thumbs. The moon was like a spotlight focused solely on yours, giving him the clear view of your weary face.

It wasn’t long before you calmed down. Now, all you feel is shame as your anger washes out of your system with every hit of your fist against his chest. Your head bobbed lower, “Just... don’t do that, again.”

Hearing him whisper a promise not to repeat the same mistake, you all but give him a curt nod, allowing the silence to fill in the moment.

Jungkook, once again, made you upset, the second time he had gotten himself close to you after his return to the capital. Must he keep making you in anguish just whenever he’s around you? It was wrong of him to catch your attention the way he had just done when he could’ve simply called you out to do it. But after seeing the queen and her maids passing by the same path you’re about to take, he didn’t want to make an unnecessary sound in case anyone’s lurking around without him seeing through the vicinity covered in almost pitch black.

He wondered why you seemed determined to go on your way despite going on around without a company. 

“Where are you going—”

“What are you doing here—”

You stilled just as he was surprised to hear you spoke the same time he decided to break the silence.

“I saw you going out of your quarters.” He simply answered. It was true. He left the festive banquet at the east to randomly visit your residence. He knew it would be unnecessary to invite himself into the premises so he just stood there, particularly waiting for nothing to kill time before he leaves the palace.

But then he saw the outermost doors of your residence opening, revealing none other than the subject of his thoughts. Then the rest was history.

“W-What? Are you spying on me?”

“Spying?” He chuckles at your choice of your words. He would’ve honestly accepted stalking better. “The banquet’s getting too loud to my liking. I’d rather spend my time with you. Mayhaps, luck is finally on my side when I saw you just in time— going out.”

Hearing his words earned a scoff from you. Wasn't he just with a woman this morning? Not to mention, it was one of the reasons why you randomly sought the need to breathe in some fresh air on a cold, winter night.

“I guess if you’re not distracted with your prince, you would have immediately caught the sound of my footing. Where are you going, anyway? Will you go see him?”

Your mouth parted in disbelief, “You didn’t hear anything from me when you were the one hiding with a woman just this morning.”

Hiding with a woman? For a second, his forehead crumpled in thought, recalling his activities prior to this moment. He couldn’t seem to remember when he actually hid with a woman. He didn’t even talk to any woman earlier in the morning, except for a friend—

“Ahh,” He hums in understanding, “Jagi, I’m not hiding with Mina—”

“Mina?”

He recalls speaking with Mina after the latter who belonged to the group of gisaengs during the banquet who recognized him inside the reception and was only able to catch up after him at the entrance main palace. Mina enthusiastically dragged him behind the closest infrastructure to briefly speak to him in peace without potentially attracting an audience.

“I met her a long time ago. Jagiya—“

“Forget it,” you immediately dismissed, but with him not missing the way color bloomed on your cheeks. “It’s not my business to hold it against you. You’re free to do as you wish.”

Are you being serious? How can you think he can be possibly interested to another woman? 

He tilts your chin up so he can see your pretty eyes, clearly. “What are you saying, Jagiya? I thought we’ve already established that I’m yours. Have I not?”

He heard no answer from you, but didn’t miss the subtle shake of your head.

“No?” He echoes, the frown on his face deepens. Still, you refused to speak nor return the heavy weight of his peer.

“Our lovemaking wasn’t enough, was it?” His sudden brought up to the matter which should never be spoken of made you dart your eyes back up at him. There it was again, the same emotions reflecting in your eyes the morning when you put a cold shoulder at him. He couldn’t quite decipher the signals you were giving him.

“Jungkook, we’re not together anymore.”

“Then would you rather be with the prince over me?”

You look away, even though you really wanted to give an answer. 

“I haven’t seen your beautiful smile since I came back, Jagi. But you were smiling a lot around him. Gods, was I jealous when you showed him of such privilege I was deprived of.” He groans, slowly inching his face closer, as if testing your reaction to his advance.

He took your lack of withdrawal as a sign to keep going. Silently, you gave him the freedom to intrude your personal space.

“You saw us,” you murmur, confirming it to yourself more than throwing it as a question to him.

Your jaw went slack, shamelessly anticipating for his lips to touch yours. Closer. Until your noses bumping, his mouth a breath away from touching your plump lips. It almost happened. Almost. Because just as he shifts his head a centimeter forward, finally capturing your awaiting lips with his, a cry of protest loudly resonated through the air, echoing as the sound bounces back from the empty silence.

“Stop following me!” The voice was undoubtedly owned by a woman.

If Jungkook didn’t recognize  the voice, you certainly did. Her voice was too familiar for you not to identify her as the Queen, forcing you to draw back from the proximity immediately. Once again, panic courses through you, rapidly consuming your senses as fear worsened your capability to think rationally in a situation such as this.

Your wide eyes stared back Jungkook in a silent plea.

It wasn’t clear to you how far she was from both of you, but the nearing claps of footsteps tells you the queen and whoever was following her are passing by behind the greenhouse. If they decided to take a turn right across where you two stood, they will certainly not miss the sight of you seemingly in a rendezvous with Jungkook.

“I said—Jeonha!”

You gasp, slapping a hand to your mouth, utterly stunned at what you just heard. Jeonha? Does that mean she was addressing her order to your brother?

“The K-King is here...” you stammer.

He hushed you, silently telling you to keep still as he cages you against the outer wall of the greenhouse, as if shielding you from any potential eyesight. He was too close as he let his head hang low just beside the shell of your ear. You could hear his heavy breathing, the warmth oozing naturally from his body seemed to calm your nerves in some way, nearly forgetting about the predicament both of you are in, nearly missing the silence lingering in the air.

Are they gone?

Despite your pellucid reaction, Jungkook seems not one bit shaken by the fact you two are a thread away from being seen together in the dark.

Suddenly, he shifted onto your left, breaking his manmade territory around you to move further away from where you two were supposed to be hiding.

“Jungkook!” you desperately called for his attention in a panicked whisper.

Nervously, you watch his back as he extends his neck to peep behind the greenhouse. It didn’t take him long before he whirled back around, and in a flash, grapples your wrist and dragged you into the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?”

Though Jungkook could hear the agitation in your tone, he ignored your question, averting his focus to hide you and make no sound at all. The couple turned out to be closer than he had guessed them to be.

Just as he stopped in front of the doors of the greenhouse, he heard you argue about his choice of hiding spot, but ignored you for the second time.

In a calculated shuffling on the rusted bar keeping the twin panel of doors closed, he flicked it up, allowing him to push one of the doors open. The firm grip of his fingers on your waist was all you could focus on as he urged you to enter inside the greenhouse. Carefully, he pushed the door back closed, dragging you with it as he pressed your back against the cold surface. His hands on both sides of your head as he rests his forehead against the door, just above your shoulder. You couldn’t see much of the view behind him because of the lack of light inside. But the moonlight seeping through the transparent roofing of the greenhouse was enough to give you the faintest possible light to make out the features of his frame.

“It was too quiet, isn’t it? I thought the queen and king were gone.”

“We were intruding them,” he simply replied.

“W-What?”

He shifted his head to the side and before you knew it, a pair of warm lips touched yours in fervor. Jungkook has never been this bold before to break your personal space nor touches without asking your permission.

Years without seeing him, you understand that he might have grown into a persona different from what you know of him. When you saw him that weary day after four years, you picked up a sense of strangeness in his aura. Perhaps, it is his confidence or the powerful aura he naturally emits that made you speechless.

Groaning as the feel of your mouth accelerated the temperature of his body, Jungkook deepens the kiss with his tongue pushing passed your parted lips.

The way he held you in place, with his hands on your face and his torso locking you firm against the door, you didn’t expect him to withdraw from the kiss so soon which resulted in a soft breathy whine to slip out of your throat.

“Perhaps that answered your question,” he says, picking up the teasing tone in his voice. Jungkook dipped his head lower, burying his head on the crook of your neck to press a warm, wet kiss on the same spot he bruised purple two nights ago.

grand royal dowager queen - spouse of a former king; presently the king’s grandmother Halma-mama - how the royal grandchildren address their grandmother gongju - title of a princess bubuin - title of princess consort (wife of a prince) gisaeng - female entertainer yangban - any nobleman holding a government position dogam - a committee/body authorized to organize a royal event jinchan - other term for royal banquet soban - other term for a traditional table used in joseon era hanji - other term for traditional korean paper Changdeok - East Palace Gyeongbok - Main Palace/main residence of the royal family

note: after posting 4 chapters of the series, im finally opening a tag list skskssksjsj hahaahaha if u lovelies want to be tagged in the future chapters, send me your url here.

mintseesaw © 2020

[thran-duils]

From All Sides (P.4)

Title: From All Sides (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Pirate Tony. Tony is obsessed with a certain barmaid at port and showers her with gifts to try to bring her to his bed. She is resistant to his advances, her eyes elsewhere, specifically on her coworker, the cook. Although, that love is unrequited and always will be. The reader is forced into close quarters with Tony unexpectedly and sailing the sea, she slowly bends to his will. And he plans to give her all the affection he can to make sure she stays. Words: 2,420 Warnings (for the whole fic): Eventual smut, violence, angst, possessive behavior Warnings (for this chapter): Tony displays some homophobia

Part Three || Part Five || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

He was right, your head hurt the next morning. He tried to shake you awake and you whined, pulling the blanket over your head. Tony chuckled which only served to make you more upset about feeling sick.

Tony laid a soft kiss on your temple through the blanket, and said, “I’ll leave you be then, love. I will make sure some water is sent in. And some bread. Don’t leave the quarters without me. I don’t want you getting snatched up. Without me, you’ll look like fair game.”

You grumbled in response, and he gave you another kiss through the blanket before crawling out of bed.

<><><>

Walking down the dock towards the stairs to go up into the kitchens, Tony was greeted with Bucky and Steve sitting. He altered course and came out onto the overlook with them. Steve held out a piece of bread and Tony waved him off.

“I was heading in to get myself breakfast. And Y/N some bread.”

“So, she’s not feeling great?” Bucky questioned, taking a swig of water from his mug.

“No.”

“And did you…” Steve asked expectantly, trailing off. His raised brows indicated exactly what he was asking.

Tony sighed and shrugged, “Persistence pays off.”

“Jesus Christ, finally. Now you can stop whining about her going to bed alone,” Steve muttered, taking a big bite of his potatoes. “Even if it was only for a night that she obliged you.”

“Watch it,” Tony muttered, and Steve merely shrugged in response.

“She’s finnicky.”

“Not anymore,” Tony responded.

Bucky rose his brows, “At least you hope so.”

“I’ll make sure of it. She’s going to stay on the ship with me.” Steve and Bucky exchanged a look and Tony demanded, “What?”

“The men may not like that…” Bucky pointed out.

Tony waved them off, “They’ll get used to it. She’ll be a sight for sore eyes. Not that any of them will be allowed to touch her but I won’t toss anyone overboard for merely looking at her. In fact, I’ll be happy she is being admired and knowing she is mine.”

“Unless she gets back home and finds that guy,” Bucky commented, and Steve shot him a pissed off look at the mention of him. Bucky noticed both Tony and Steve glaring at him and he demanded, “What? You know it’s true! He was pining! And—”

“And what?” Tony snapped.

Bucky seemed to lose a little bit of steam seeing how adversarial Tony was. “Well, he seemed persistent.”

Grinding his teeth, Tony stepped closer, and he said, “That’s not a problem anymore.” Bucky furrowed his brow and Tony said in explanation as he pulled out his pipe, “Boy isn’t among the living anymore.

Realization washed across Bucky’s face.

“Why did you kill him?” Bucky asked, incredulous.

“I didn’t want him alive,” Tony responded simply, striking up his match.

“That’s fair,” Steve said.

“How is that fair?” Bucky snapped. “What if Y/N finds out? Or Peter for that matter? They were friends!”

“They won’t? Who is going to tell them? Dead men tell no tales,” Tony responded, lighting up his pipe.

“You didn’t have to shoot him,” Bucky muttered.

“Who says I shot him?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow and Bucky merely narrowed his eyes unimpressed. Tony smirked around his pipe before inhaling deeply. He blew the smoke rings out and shrugged. “I see smooth sailing in front of me because of that gunshot.”

<><><>

The ship stayed docked and you only left the room on the island to go grab food in the evening. You barely kept the stew down and Tony rubbed your back. You scowled at him, and he only smirked before going back to his own bowl. That night, he left you alone, letting you rest.

The next morning you woke up to him holding you close underneath the blankets. He felt you stir and he burrowed his mouth to your neck, kissing you gently. You smiled as you stretched before pressing back on him. He took the invitation and ground himself into your ass.

“If you’re going to do something, do it. Don’t tease,” you murmured, turning your head to meet his eyes. A salacious grin came over his face.

Tony lifted your leg and entered swiftly, leaving the two of you breathless and dozing off to sleep again for the second time.

Later in the day, you woke up and found the bed empty. You sat up, the blanket falling to your waist as you searched the room groggily. He was not there. You got yourself ready quickly and left the room, despite his warning yesterday not to.

Thankfully, you found Bucky before anyone else and he intercepted you.

“He’s fishing.”

“Fishing?” you asked disbelieving.

Bucky nodded, “He enjoys it. Plus, it helps feed the island.”

“Anything to keep his feet off the land,” you commented in a sigh, as your eyes were drawn out towards the water.

Bucky gave your shoulder a squeeze and said, “You’ll like it later when you get some bass to eat later, yeah? I’m sure he’ll bring one specifically for you.”

<><><>

You accepted Tony’s offer for a dinner on the beach. As Bucky predicted, Tony had brought a fish specifically back for you and he was roasting it over the firepit on the sand. He had brought a bottle with him, and you having recovered, you were indulging again. The fish was good and filled you up along with the vegetables he had used in the pan as well.

Sitting on the log, you stared into the fire. Tony passed you the bottle and you took a long swig.

“I believe I was promised earrings if I came to your cabin,” you commented lightly.

Tony laughed at that and said, “I know where they are.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, they’re locked away. I was saving them.”

“For?” you pressed, passing the bottle back to him.

He shrugged, “Like I told you. You had to come to my cabin to get them.”

“Well, I have done that. Were there strings attached that you did not inform me of? I still have the necklace on!” you asked, smiling. You showed him, pulling it out from your dress. You knew he had seen it. Of course he had. He had taken you in his bed with it twice now, the one thing you had not taken off to lay with him.

Tony shrugged again. “Stay. And I’ll give them to you on our wedding day.”

You laughed but then saw he was looking at you offended. Oh. He was serious.

Brushing the intensity of the moment off, you exhaled deeply, dramatically. “Well, when we see fit to settle down, I suppose I’ll get them.”

Tony said nothing and you hated the uncomfortable silence. You cleared your throat and scooted closer, getting his attention.

“We should go back. Back to my home. So… I can see.”

Tony was unconvinced from the mention of it. Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I can handle it. Whatever happened.”

“I don’t think it is wise.”

“It matters not what it wise. It’s what I want.”

Tony was adamant, “No.”

You scooted away from him, and he noticed that. His eyes followed your movement and saw your hands planted firmly as you glowered at him. Good. He could see how serious you were about this.

“So, you’re refusing to take me back?”

“You escaped there. You were held down there,” Tony argued. “You don’t… need to go back.”

You straightened up and asked, “’Escaped’? I liked it there!”

Tony was accusative now, aggressive. “Do you want to go back for him?”

“Who?”

“Adam.”

You stared him down, matching his fiery gaze.

“That’s what your afraid of? Competition?” Disgust washed across his features and you pressed on before he could interrupt. “No, Tony. It’s not for him.”

“Then what for?”

It was either the liquid courage or wanting to be honest, or possibly a combination of both, but you were honest. “Eloise.”

It felt good to proclaim she was worth something. Even to someone as jealous of your affection like him. With him, the impact would be different. You hoped. If you proclaimed your love for Eloise to him, it was safer than anyone else. And he understood desire. Hell, he had been trying for you for so long. To return to port just for one person, he had to understand that.

But immediately you saw it had been lost on him and now you were to be floundering until you explicitly explained it.

“You’re worried she got taken?” Tony asked, trying to understand. That only made it clear he was clueless about your unrequited love.

Tears stung your eyes, and you squeezed your hands between your thighs. The waves crashed, filling the space between before you inhaled sharply and said, “I mean, yes. That is a very big concern. She could have been harmed. Taken… raped.” You met his gaze, and he was waiting, like he sensed you needed to say more. And you did. You swallowed and whispered, “I loved her. So much. And I knew she was never going to love me back. But it was okay pretending.”

Tony looked like he had been slapped. And that is when you realized you had made a mistake in confessing this to him. He would not be understanding like you hoped he would have been. Why did you think that?

Still you tried to play it off, using emotion.

You shrugged in return, bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes. “It was at home at port. We worked together. We were close… I dreaded the day some man would come steal her away.”

Still Tony said nothing, and you turned your eyes to him. He was staring at you with such intensity, frozen in the moment. But only for so long.

“So, she was the reason,” Tony finally said. You furrowed your brow at his tone. He took another swig of his rum. He suddenly gave a scornful laugh, shaking his head. “The whole time, I thought it was all those men chasing after you. That you liked playing games—” Your mouth fell open at that remark in shock. “—And keeping your options open. But you already had your heart set. On a woman, no less.”

You shifted and said desperately, “I did not think you would judge—"

Tony cut in swiftly, roughly. His tone could cut glass.

“And on someone who would never appease you or return the affection. You set yourself to doom. And for what? So, both of us could suffer?”

You realized he was making this about him and his feelings. And that ignited anger quickly. “Tony, that’s not fair!”

“I never stood a chance if you were already dead set on staying sorrowful forever.” He scoffed, standing up, your eyes following him. He stared down at you, stumbling a little in his movement as he threw an arm out. “Looks like we had both anchored ourselves to misery and unfortunately for me, it was unknowingly because you returned my flirtations constantly. Dragged me along.” He pointed at you and sneered, “You’re selfish!”

You stood up with him and you said forcibly, “I am not! Yes, I flirted back because I do like you! But do you think I wanted to hang my hat on someone who was notorious for sleeping around?” Tony gave you an incredulous look, but you pressed on. “And for someone who spent most of his time at sea? What? You just wanted me to wait around for you whenever you thought it appropriate to grace me with your presence?”

Tony stepped closer, a finger in your face. “If you would have given yourself to me, I would have brought you aboard or made home—”

You interrupted with a shrill laugh and his jaw set in offense. “You? Make home? Don’t make me laugh.”

“For you? Yes! I would have!”

“Will you now?” you asked, still lightly laughing.

Tony was serious when he said, “If you would only ask it.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I will not.” He scoffed and began to turn away, but you raised your voice, catching his attention again. “Because as heartfelt as you feel right now – and it may be genuine – you would get bored. You’re married to the sea. You would never be married to me.” You gestured between the two of you. “You and I are meant for the bed and that’s it. There won’t be long term affection. At least on your end.”

“So, I’m the problem?” Tony snapped. You nodded and he bit his cheeks, turning away from you. He used his arm holding the bottle to wipe at his mouth, staring out at the ocean. You swayed on the spot, feeling the alcohol running through your veins. When he turned around again, he almost lost his footing in the sand and you moved to steady him, but he waved you off, stopping you in your tracks. “You never even gave me a chance to prove myself, Y/N! I’m so glad you’re such an expert on what you think you know about me when you never cared to even ask! I would kill you for! I did kill for you! Or have you forgotten that? Or do you just not care?”

He got even closer, and his breath was hot. “I would kill hundreds of men to keep you safe. Just to make sure you were there for me at the end of that bloody trail! And you’re so fucking ungrateful about it! I should just leave you here. Let you simmer on that! Be passed around between the pirates coming through! Cause you obviously don’t give a shit about who you open your legs to! Might as well get paid for it! And at least I’ll still know where to find you. I’ll have coin ready!” He leaned in close and hissed, “If you won’t have me fully, then I’ll just keep you at another port to visit just like before!”

You gasped, hurt, as he turned away from you. He left as quickly as he could, trudging through the sand until he found the rocks again.

“Drew me in and drowned me! Temptress! This whole damn time! And here I thought sirens were only on the sea!” he shouted over his shoulder.

All that was left was the sound of waves as you watched him go up the path.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

[insomniasymphony]

Obsessive Chrollo Lucilfer x Female Reader [The man you belong to]

Constellation: Obsessive Chrollo Lucilfer x Female Reader Words I got: → Fear → Affection → Surrender Rating: Teen up and Audience

                           ►► You will never get far enough away,                                    From a man whose plan it is                                    To break out a storm. ◄◄

Chrollo isn't a monster. He is by no means a man who lets things slide without thinking.

Chrollo gives you the space you need. At least, that's what you always thought.

The flickering light of the room has trouble staying on and to illuminate the bloodstained walls that adorn the far too large, way too expensive room. The chandelier in the middle still swings unsteadily back and forth and the stifling silence chases your pulse ever upwards. Only sometimes you hear the soft, pleasant rustling in the air that brings gentle breezes.

Uncertainly, you pull your legs a little closer. Under the bar, hidden between a small fridge and the rack for the evening's takings, your shoulders shake more than the legs of the man who grabbed your ass and caused the last drop in Chrollo's awareness to spill over.

“Will you come out?” Lucilfer's soft, far too gentle voice hums through the room like sweet death until it settles on your shoulders. The restlessness inside you quivers, making your muscles jump and at the same time unable to move. Nevertheless, your hands push you forward, out of the hiding place that seems so much safer than being close to Chrollo.

You struggle to your feet and glance over the counter at Chrollo, who is standing in the middle of the room, under the flickering light of the chandelier, looking stubbornly in your direction. The book in his hand is still open and Indoor Fish is still active. But he has already closed it once, let the fish go before, to silence the painful groans of the people. Then he called them back to double-check. Now there are three of these monsters swimming around the room as if it is their aquarium, paved with corpses that had once been dancing and laughing guests at the event.

Your eyes meet almost predictably - he with newfound calm, you imbued with fear. Because of you, everyone in this room had to die, and though you know he would never hurt you, you also know you bring nothing but death with you at all times. He hates it when other men beg for your attention and you give it to them because you are friendly and some of them are really easy to talk to. Chrollo doesn't approve of that. Because in his eyes you belong to him and no one lays a hand on his property.

“You didn't have to kill them all,” you bring up after clearing your throat harshly.

“Two or two hundred makes no difference.” Finally he closes the book, causing Indoor Fish to lose its form and disappear into nothingness. “Those lives had no meaning at all.”

“Like yours?” Almost offended, you cross your arms in front of your chest. Chrollo doesn't care about the little things if they serve the greater good. Lives are just numbers, as insignificant as he is, as long as the concept he's pursuing lives on. “Or mine? You killed two hundred people because two of them were nice to me.”

“We both know that was more than being nice,” he returns with a sigh before burying his hands in the pockets of his suit and simply waits. His eyes seem to pierce you, are as sombre as this room when the light is replaced by darkness. The covered forehead and the loosely falling hair make him seem normal, although there is something about everything about him that draws you in, even in situations like this. He is a handsome man and he is yours.

As a result, you saunter a few steps in his direction, carefully and deliberately. You fold your hands behind your back to appear carefree, though his behaviour still gnaws at you.

“They were just being nice. One offered me drinks and the other dropped maybe two compliments,” you explain to him. “The only fall-out was the guy at the bar who patted me on the backside. But I can fight back. You shouldn't have...” You can't name it. It's one unjustified massacre hanging over you.

Chrollo, on the other hand, merely lowers his eyelids. He doesn't give in because he thinks he is in the right. “You didn't notice the way they looked at you.”

“Chrollo, I can defend myself, really.”

“Would you have done it?”

You wouldn't have. That's a fact because none of those men did anything and because of that there would have been no reason to do anything. Even the slap on the butt didn't elicit anything more out of you than a disgusted “Hey!” and a threat.

“Thought so.” Chrollo doesn't even wait for your answer before giving it to himself and taking a few steps in your direction. All of a sudden, no more than two metres separate you and the pounding of your heart is no longer fear but affection because, despite everything, you cannot resist him and, on the other hand, it is frighteningly pleasant to know how much he cares for you. Indeed, he is frightening when he cold-bloodedly slaughters everything and everyone who stands in his way. But he does it for you, and even if that doesn't make it better, it still brings a certain charm.

You suddenly bridge the remaining distance with amazing ease until there is hardly anything separating you. Instead, you bump your upper body against his and simply look at him. “You know no one can stand up to you, don't you?”

“That's easy to say.”

“I love you, Chrollo.” You can only surrender to him, give yourself to him because he's all you really want. “A few men with hope won't change that.”

One of his hands finds its way out of his pocket to caress your cheek lovingly. His closeness is warm and caring, loving in a way one would expect but never think to ever lay eyes on. You, on the other hand, know his weaknesses, the fact that he too is only human and sometimes behaves like an idiot. That's why you put your head in his hand, enjoy the affection he gives you and equally put a hand on his cheek. In the end, you are a good couple, even though you know there is no way out of this relationship. Chrollo adores you. Enough to shatter the world to pieces.

[Liked the Story, want to read more or you have a request? Check here!]

[hisunshiine]

Money Heist | knj | Part 1

moodboard 1 | moodboard 2 | playlist | Netflix ReImagined BTS Masterlist

↳ #NetflixReImaginedBTS: Kim Namjoon x Reader starring in a bank robbery au

↳ M-18+, implied sexual content, major character deaths, bank robbery actions (violence, use of weapons, deciet)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Money Heist Masterlist | Heathfritillary (author)

The Professor’s Rules

Rule #1 - No real names Rule #2 - No falling in love Rule #3 - Absolute trust Rule #4 - No games Rule #5 - Follow the plan, throughout Rule #6 - No taking lives, no civils Rule #7 - Low profile Rule #8 - Memorize the plan Rule #9 - Codes, escape routes Rule #10 - Blend

Prologue: Dread was not the right word to use to express how I felt. Every waking moment was an uncertainty. Every passing day I had to look over my shoulder. Senses on high alert, heart-pounding fiercer, I had to stay sharp. All I had to rely on was my intuition, rationality, the rush of adrenaline as it pumped through my veins as it guided me to safety.

There was no room for fuckups. Rules were set in place before, during, and after the heist. The Professor made sure of it.

Everything was methodically thought out. There was zero tolerance for anything that steered from what already was part of the Professor’s plan. Every detail was thoroughly calculated, gone through numerous times until perfected, and every possible scenario or turn the heist could go, the Professor had already considered it.

When I met him, I guessed him to be someone who was reserved. That initial thought, however, remained throughout the months I spent and got to know him. Regardless of my attempts to loosen him up, he grew more inward. A timid and quiet man, one I could not quite figure out despite my intuitive bullshit radar. My instincts told me otherwise. The Professor was someone I could trust. Moreover, he was someone who had my back if the going ever got tough.

Even after I had broken one of his sacred rules, he kept me around.

He stated it was solely because of my natural blend-ability. In other words, I was the type of person who could go unnoticed and get away with things. Although originally offended, one of the Daegu brothers – during our first meetings – mockingly pointed out my pretty privilege, claiming it was a universal thing to bend the rules and show favoritism to people that society deemed as attractive.

It bothered me to my core but despite it – and as the only woman on the team – I had to admit, I could complete missions and do things the others were not able to. Because of this, I was an asset regardless of how many rules I broke.

I was aware of it being careless, stupid even. It was not something that was planned, it was merely something that happened beyond my control. It occurred and I did not regret it one bit.

Love always seemed to happen at the least likely places. It was not a foreign concept to me, neither were relationships. In fact, I cherished everything about love and my language of expression was forever limitless.

When I was introduced to the other members the Professor carefully handpicked for the heist, I was taken aback by their charms and charisma.

They were handsome, all six of them; each with their own styles and skills to assist the Professor and his master plan. Some of them knew each other from rumors or past jobs and others did not.

I worked alone, always had and always would.  

The day the Professor recruited me, he had asked to meet him at Chateau de Foix, a castle in France. He had sneakily placed a note in my jacket as I was scouting a Chanel store intending to rob it days later. I was not sure what I was getting into but before even meeting him, he assured me with his note that he could make me wealthier than I could ever contemplate. So, I met him at Chateau de Foix.

I was interested. He caught my attention.

He did not disclose much until he was certain I was someone who he could trust. Honestly, I could not blame him. Partners were not my thing, especially partnering with a man. There was something about them that made my skin crawl. When it came to men and money, there was always one certain thing; they would fuck you over.

The Professor laid out pieces of his plan and as obscure and ambitious as it was, I kind of felt intrigued by his nerdy appearance, his hesitation to look me in the eye, how well-spoken he was and how greatly he sold his plan.

Again, he caught my attention.

Luckily, he had informed me where the next meeting would be and that I was the only woman on the team. He requested I thought it over and I did. I flew to South Korea. That was where the plan had to take place.

At first, I could not escape the futile catcalls or misogynistic remarks. The Professor was too much of a beta to control the dominant thieves who thought they knew better than most.

The worst one was the man with the effortless beauty and striking features. At first glance, he did not look Korean. GC as we called him, or Geochang County as the Professor had dubbed him. Younger brother to Daegu and quite frankly, a little too handsy for my liking and too excited to see a pair of tits on the team. So, I did what I had to ensure my survival and role as well as what I did not tolerate.

He did not appreciate the sass and the chokehold on his intimate part as I stood my ground.

Since then, no one had attempted to try my patience. In fact, all the teasing became just that, teasing … with zero malice or ill intentional comments. They were guys around me, sure, but they became mindful, more tolerable. Exactly how I preferred my men.

For months, I spent time with the six guys including the Professor as we prepared to rob the Bank of Korea. I got to know them individually and I had to admit they were starting to feel like family.

The Professor had set us up at Jindo, a remote island known for its parting sea during the spring season. He had rented a beach house and from there we listened as the Professor disclosed his plan, made the necessary preparations such as getting familiar with the bank, its routines, staff, and much more.

Busan, Seoul, and I would often get paired when a trip to the Bank of Korea was presented.

Busan was a mastermind in human behavior and expertly designed profiles of everyone that worked at the bank; from cleaners to CEOs. If you ever wondered or had questions about anyone going in and out of the bank, Busan was the man to call.

Despite his small size and soft features, he was a man who could not tolerate disadvantages. Knowledge was power he would often say especially during a heist and he would stride for perfection.

He was smart.

I did not think of making profiles for the law enforcement that would be called to deal with the hostage situation we would inevitably have to take to secure our survival. But Busan did. He knew exactly who the bank would call, their past, their marital status, the number of kids, he knew everything.

He was an asset.

Seoul, however, possessed something that completely went over my head. Technology. At first glance, I guessed him to be an assassin of some sort.

He was the quietest of the group and the hardest man to get close to. Despite his big eyes and tattoos, he was extremely fun to be around. Once he opened up, I realized my instincts about him were a tad off. Although a part of me questioned my abilities, I came to the realization that looks could be deceiving. Seoul was someone who did not open up as easily as the rest and had to assess his environment first.

I was much like him and because of this, he and I became the closest.

The technology was not my strongest suit but it was his. Every trip we made to the capital, he gained more knowledge about the bank and the software they used including hacking their system, so we could gain access to the security cameras.

The Professor was beside himself when he received the live footage of the bank. This meant we did not have to expose ourselves by making those trips to the capital but could spy on everyone from the comfort of our beach house.

I was relieved. Unlike Busan and Seoul, I had to be the one to risk everything and use my abilities and go inside the bank. The Professor had bought wigs and often I would rotate them with each trip but that did not stop my heart from beating faster than it ever had.

A thief afraid of getting caught, Busan would joke often in my earpiece but the Bank of Korea was something far greater than the high-end stores I used to steal from. It was a different level and the consequence of getting caught was larger than a meaningless brand shop.

Once the dust settled and we gathered some information, part two of the Professor’s plan could start. Breaking in the bank and taking hostages as leverage was the easiest part. Once inside, we had to establish some kind of order. The Professor would be on the outside helping the rest coordinate from within while being the voice of the heist.

I caught him blankly staring at the vision board he often used like a teacher standing in front of his class, deep in thought as his eyes wandered across the whiteboard, “Can I help?”

“No, I’m thinking.”

“Need help thinking?” I teasingly suggested the wine bottle I was drinking from.

“Once inside, what is your job?”

“The hostages with GC.”

“Why?”

I shrugged as I took a sip. The Professor ripped his gaze from the board and glared at me. He was not in the mood for my games. Something was bothering him. So, I sighed, “We both can handle a gun, GC isn’t afraid to use it. By having one of each gender there, the women will feel safer and the men won’t try anything.”

“And?”

“And we are the calm and order. Our job is to keep them quiet and put the fear of God in them.”

“And you?” he murmured as he placed his index finger on the bridge of his nose, keeping his glasses from falling, “I am sure there will be arguments and disagreements once you get inside. There’s no going around that fact. All of you have some kind of experience but most of you are hot-headed. Who will put the fear of God in you? As you eloquently said. Who?”

“Gwacheon is the oldest.” The Professor stood up after my answer. I watched him as he began to collect his things from the desk before he excused himself, “Where do you plan on going?” I asked as I followed him to the front door.

“I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He reached for his jacket and told me to trust him and take a break until he returned before leaving for an unknown mission.  

A couple of days turned into a week. The Professor was gone and some of the other guys grew agitated. Some questioned him and his plan while others, including myself, did as he had asked and took a break.

Gwacheon, the oldest and the most level-headed person on the team, was lounging by the bonfire created for the dinner he was preparing. Loyal to the Professor as I was, he went ahead and took his suggestion.

Everyone was desperate for a break. It had been months of planning and thinking of every detail. A break was welcomed, needed.

Gwacheon had planned a dinner for the team and was thrilled to have some downtime. With beers in the cooler, the sun setting beyond the horizon, and a cozy fire, he began to season the beef as he hollered for me to start the music. The Professor was on my mind. So, in honor of him, I played ‘Bella Ciao’ by Manu Pilas. He was far from home as was I and although he was not around at the moment to enjoy the festivities with us, I knew he was with us in spirit.

I tapped on Gwacheon’s broad shoulder and he shot an amused smile. The Latin vibes of the upbeat song made me dance with soju in my hand. Allowing the Spanish words to energize and elevate my mood as I poorly attempted to sing along. He laughed at my dance but could not help swing his hips along to the beat.

My eyes then caught Daegu’s as he was assembling a gun. He smiled and shot me a quick nod to sit by him.

I eyed him as he began to pick the L85 apart before placing it in front of me. I raised an eyebrow at him, he chuckled while gesturing I gave it a shot. Proclaiming it was better to be prepared for a situation rather than a situation unfolding and remaining oblivious.

From the moment I met him, I knew he was the real deal, even heard rumors about the great mastermind who stole the Hope Diamond. When questioning him in my drunken state, Daegu simply flashed me a gummy smile. I was not too sure what that meant but I was certain he was someone who was legit and that I could potentially learn a lot from. I did.

Daegu was the kind of man who kept to himself, quiet and reserved like the Professor but he did not shy away from passing down his experiences and knowledge. I often caught myself wondering how polar opposite he was from his brother, GC. Daegu struck me as someone methodical with his approach while GC was spontaneous. But as the Professor ensured, GC had something most in the team did not have; quick thinking, unique perspectives, and the kind of smarts that could never be taught.

“Go ahead,” Daegu said as GC came into view with Gwangju carrying bowls of rice, kimchi, and steamed vegetables.

I grabbed the disassembled parts and attempted to assemble them to my best capabilities. Daegu grinned and GC approached the table. He waited a moment and watched as I struggled with the parts until he groaned and grabbed the gun from me.

Swiftly, he assembled the gun while casually counting in his native tongue, “Samshipil,” he announced as he slid the gun back to me, “31 seconds.”

“That’s a record,” Daegu smiled at his brother.

“I don’t know what the Professor was on but I doubt you’ll get any hostage to take you seriously if you can’t even do that.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s a prick,” Daegu shot his brother a glare, “We have time,” he began to disassemble the gun once more, “Try again.”

I was grateful for Daegu’s patience. Although I had some knowledge of firearms, I tended not to use them during my ventures. A small pocket pistol was always in my bag and I could operate it. However, these types of guns were far from anything I had experienced, bigger too.

Luckily though, Daegu was a trained assassin and this was his specialty. He along with Gwacheon and Gwangju had pulled off heists before; together as well as separate. In other words, they were the experts on the team.

Daegu and Gwangju had a friendship like no other and had often saved each other from dire situations. They had worked multiple jobs together and relied on one another in admirable ways. For a moment, I was envious of their friendship and loyalty to each other.

Although Gwacheon had worked with them before, he often carried out small heists on his own. Much like myself, he preferred not to have a partner but made me realize that sometimes they could be useful, especially when it came to bigger jobs.

He was a lone wolf when he had to be. He told me to remember that. And I did.

I did not see the appeal. In fact, humans tend to be unreliable and oftentimes selfish. I could not trust it, anyone for that matter. It was one of the first things I learned from my father. His partner had sold him out, so he could reduce the sentence the authorities were threatening him with. Since then, I did not seek the help of others.

It was always me, myself, and I. However, the Professor managed to find a group of people whose company I actually enjoyed. Despite being thieves and some of them murderers, they were a group of men I had grown to like and trust.

Gwangju sat opposite me as I struggled with the L85. He clinked his soju bottle with mine and I grinned before giving up, “Look me in the eye as you take the first sip,” I ordered.

“Cheers,” he said and grinned, “Does that mean something where you’re from?”

“Means you’ll have bad sex if you don’t.”

“Well in that case,” he clinked his bottle with mine once more, “We don’t want that.”

He shot me a big and pearly smile before he began to assemble the gun. I studied his prominent features for a moment, admiring his natural beauty and olive skin before directing my gaze down at the heavy firearm as he explained which parts went where.

Fully focused on his words and his handle of the gun, I felt Busan’s presence behind me. He climbed between Daegu and me, “What’s up?” I asked when I caught his eyes.

“After dinner, we should get lit and go to the festival,” his suggestive demeanor forced a smile from me. Out of the six men, he was the one who actively sought my attention, persistent fucker.

He was interested in me, I could sense it. And although it would have been easy to spread my legs for him or any of the others, I was only interested in collecting my end of the robbery. Completing the heist unscathed was my sole concern and these little horny thieves were not going to stray me from my goal.

“Low profile,” Gwangju spat as my eyes were on Busan’s, “We can’t be seen together. Rule number seven.”

“Screw the Professor and his rules,” he responded without taking his eyes off mine. Busan studied my features as my gaze shifted from his plump lips to his dark eyes, “Besides, we deserve a little fun,” he directed his attention to Gwangju, “What the Professor doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“He did say we were on a break until he got back.”

“Do not encourage him, London,” Gwangju warned after finishing the assembly of the gun.

“A little fun didn’t hurt anyone,” Busan voiced as his fingertips caressed my bare shoulder.

“Careful there, brother,” GC sat beside Gwangju with soju in hand, “You do not want her claws piercing your ballsack.”

“London wouldn’t be that mean to me,” Busan’s eyes wandered between mine and then my lips as he leaned closer, “Would you?”

I felt the hot air from his parted lip brush against mine and I could not help but meet him halfway. With a cocky smirk, I reached down for his clothed manhood, digging my sharp nails in the jean fabric he wore as a sudden groan escaped him, “Don’t get too comfortable, kiddo,” I whispered against his mouth as he hissed and cursed under his breath.

“Told you,” GC grinned, and soon after the rest began to laugh at Busan’s failed attempt.

➰

Busan convinced GC and Seoul to join him at the spring festival. Every year on the day of the parting sea, locals would celebrate the event by throwing a massive street party. The island was known for its festivities and attracted a lot of tourists. I could not visit South Korea and not experience what Jindo had to offer. So, I went, and as reluctant as Gwangju was, he joined us as well until Gwacheon decided to make it a family affair and convinced Daegu to join the outing too.

South Korea had always been a country I wanted to visit. It was known for its rich culture, delicious food, and its kind people. So far, I enjoyed everything I had experienced.

Despite the intention of the visit, I was grateful to be here and be amongst native men who could guide me and translate if needed. Sadly, one of the Professor’s rules was to blend as much as we could and not draw any attention to ourselves. Knowing him and the stick up his butt, he would not have been too pleased to know that we were lounging with the locals, getting drunk until late, and essentially making a mockery of his rule system.

Close to midnight, Daegu wanted to head back to the beach house and he did along with me and Seoul who had to prepare to monitor the bank in the morning. He was close to hacking into the internal security system, the one that allowed us to view everything on the inside.

Freshly out of the shower, the house was painfully quiet with most of the others still enjoying the festivities. I danced around with a pair of headsets blasting music in my ears, enjoying the alcohol that roamed in my system as I shimmied into my undergarments. ‘All That’ by Emotional Oranges came on and I sang along as I smeared lotion on my body. Soon the music captivated every inch of my body and I began to dance when suddenly I caught a glimpse of a man watching me by the door.

A loud gasp came out of me, but as startled as I was, my body knowingly eased, assessing the situation as I stared down the stranger without showcasing any fear. I had not seen him before and I wondered how he had gotten inside of the beach house.

Seoul had explicitly explained that the place was safely secured.

The man leaned against the doorframe as a small sigh evaded his plump lips while he unapologetically allowed his gaze to travel down my body, “The Professor didn’t say anything about a woman being on the team.”

“The Professor?”

He eyed me momentarily, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Ilsan. What’s your assigned city?”

“London.” I nodded as the realization came over me. He was what the Professor was searching for. He was the mission he had mentioned; the team’s leader and the one to instill the fear of God in us.

Just then did it occur to me that Ilsan had to be someone the Professor trusted completely. He was almost obsessively calculated with everything about the heist. For our safety and his own. Everything had to be planned. And he was right. We were hot-headed, argued, and disagreed many times. Everyone had their own styles but for the heist to be successful, it required that we all moved as a team. The Professor knew this, knew once we were inside, he was limited in terms of guidance. Although communication would be out of the question, he needed someone on the inside that would make sure the proper steps would be taken.

I eyed Ilsan and sensed why the Professor had chosen him. He had an authoritative aura. I was sure he was the kind of man who inserted his dominance well. The Professor was a beta but based on first impressions, Ilsan struck me as someone who did not mind and preferred - despite the pressure and responsibility - to be the top alpha of the team.

“London,” he sang, “That's a pretty name. I have been there. Wet country.” I attempted to hold back the appearing smile that the comment accurately described about my home city, “Did you choose it or did the Profess--”

“You got your sneak peek,” I hastily voiced, not interested in his small talk and especially with lack of clothes on, “Fuck off. I’m getting ready for bed.”

He chuckled into a low hum as he crossed his arms, resting his head against the doorframe, “You usually have a party before bed?” I caught a glance of his smirk and the dimples that came along with it. He was a flirt, much like Busan, and I was not having it. Ilsan did not know that I was someone not to be messed with. But he would soon. I walked over to the door and shoved him backward by his chest before slamming the door in his face.

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