#n there again's the pressure to accept it all. recognize and acknowledge. be better. do better

[ackerlert]

Sneaky Link

Pairings: Porco x fem reader x sugar daddy!zeke

Summary: University reader becomes Zeke’s sugar baby after meeting each other at her work, which is a stripper, ofc. Eventually develops a relationship with Porco Galliard, of whom Zeke employs ;)

TW: alcohol usage, oral (m / f receiving), food (icing) play, mirror sex, phone sex

You needed some money during college, and tutoring stupid high schoolers wasn’t making the bills. Plus, you couldn’t put up with their slowness one second longer.

When Sasha took you out for a night at the strip club to relieve some stress, her joke that you could always make bank shaking your ass for old men actually sounded quite appealing. It was a lot more fun than tutoring, anyways. 

Out of curiosity, you found yourself browsing the internet for openings at nearby nightclubs. Soon you were watching YouTube videos of strippers going through their daily routine, counting their tips, and describing their success in the industry. You were hooked.

You ask Hitch to take pole dancing lessons with you, and she doesn't suspect any of your true intentions, since this was on your bucket list of things to do together.

Soon you secured yourself a job at a local strip club. The first person you confided in was, unsurprisingly, Hitch. She was surprised you actually pursued being a stripper, but the shock didn't really last for long considering her knowledge of your freaky tendencies.

Hitch advised you to be careful, and she was particularly worried about how you would manage to fit this new job into your tight school schedule.

It was simple: you would take your classes, do your assignments, and report to your job at night. You’d work through the closing shift and get back to your shared apartment with Mikasa, Sasha, and Hitch sometime past 2am.

Zeke is a regular.

He gives you larger tips than any of the other girls.

He even pays for private sessions, which consist of you dancing for him mostly an hour at a time.

Eventually you two fuck it out in a booth of the club.

He asks if you'd like to “do this again sometime”. Naturally, you agreed. He exchanges phone numbers with you and asks for your cashapp. 

Blushing because you didn't realize he intended on compensating you for your arrangement, you agree to give him your account number.

You and Zeke continue this for a couple months, growing more addicted to the orgasms he gives you every time.

You had two generous sources of income now.

You found out a lot about zeke: he owned a decently large company, fucked a lot of women before he met you, and he was even more freaky than yourself. 

One day after a session with Zeke, you're sprawled out on the side of his bed, toying with the golden hair that trailed down his torso, and staring up at the ceiling, mind completely fucked out.

“I have a business event coming up soon,” Zeke states.

You hum in approval, not expecting zeke to continue on.

“It’s plus one.” He pauses, “I was wondering if you would like to join me.”

You turn your head to look at Zeke, almost asking him to repeat himself. Was this like a date thing?

Zeke turned to look at you too. His eyes glossed over at the sight of your surprised face and post-sex hair floating around the crown of your head. He smirked, visualizing the way he had made that sex hair. Gripping your h/c locks and pulling your head back, pounding into you from behind.

Your lips were swollen from being stretched around his thick cock, making him cum round after round. Now they were parted, unsure as what to make of his question.

Zeke repeated himself, “Are you free next Saturday?”

“Y-yes. I’m free.” You said, “I would love to go to your work thing with you.” A smile graced your lips. He fucking loved that smile. Loved seeing it bloom on your face when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, begging to take more of his cock.

“Alright,” he grabbed for his phone, pulling up the information from his calendar. Your phone dinged, no doubt zeke sending you over the event details. “It’s formal attire. Do you need to buy something to wear?” He glanced up lovingly from the screen at you for a mere second. “Fuck it, never mind that.” His eyes reconcentrated back onto the phone. Your phone dinged again, the familiar melody of the cashapp notification filling your ears.

“Let’s take you shopping, princess.” His legs swung over the side of the bed. A back completely full of endless scratches faced you while he stretched those long arms of his. His back muscles rippled as he did so, the sight making your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“Wait!” You say desperately and propping yourself up on the bed. You didn't intend on opening your mouth, but now you had to commit to it.

Zeke side glanced at you, acknowledging your pathetic request.

“Let me suck you off one more time,” you said. You added, “before we go.” A husky chuckle escaped from zeke’s throat. “Such a slut for me.” “What a good girl, knowing just the way to make me hard.”

Porco and you meet each other at the business event, it’s an instant click. He’s employed by Zeke. Soon you're exchanging numbers with him.

These business parties became more frequent with Zeke. And every time, Porco was there. You two would sneak off to help yourself to drinks while Zeke was bombarded with potential buyers inquiring about his product.

Porco makes you laugh so much. Honestly, it’s probably the alcohol, but every joke he cracked earned a cute giggle from you. It only made him harder for you than he already was.

“I could go a lot longer than him, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sooner than later you’re texting Zeke that the alcohol was killing your stomach, and you just had to get out of there right away. 

Porco didn’t wait to stick his strong hands in your pants when you tumbled into the taxi.

“Gonna take you away from that old man’s dick, yeah baby? Give you this big cock like you deserve?”

You make it back to his large apartment, practically humping his clothed leg on the elevator ride.

By the time you’re inside his place, your panties are soaked and the black lace Zeke bought you is falling from your shoulders.

Porco throws you on the bed, not leaving you any time to remove your heels. 

He climbs over you and just starts completely obliterating you with open mouthed kisses across your collarbone.

You don't fail to notice the mirror above Porco’s large bed, seeing the way he straddles over your small body.

Porco sits up from his position on the end of the bed and grabs for your ankles, yanking you closer to him. Just as he hums into your folds, a buzzing emerges from your purse in the middle of the living room.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing the pattern as Zeke’s contact. “It’s Zeke,” you groan.

“Answer the phone, pretty girl.” Porco says with a devilish smirk.

“Wha-?!” Your face fills with terror.

“I said answer the phone.” Porco grows stricter in tone.

“O-ok” your hands shake as you make your way across the floor to where your purse was.” As you accept the call, Porco motions you back to the bed.

You nod, doing as he says.

“Hey princess,” Zeke says with a smile on the end of the phone.

“Hi,” you say shakily. Porco gives you a menacing look.

“Not feeling good?” Zeke refers to your text. 

You let out a shy “Nuh-uh” in response.

“I’m sorry baby,” Zeke says, “I can pick you up so you can spend the night with me in case you feel any worse.”

“No!-“ You say startled, “I mean, no, my girlfriends have me all bundled up back at my apartment.”

Silence from Zeke.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.” He adds, “I wanted to make you feel a little better than they could tonight.”

You look at Porco, a little intimidated by his intense stare on you. He can hear Zeke’s toying with you from the other end of the phone. He nods, urging you to play along.

You giggle softly, a bad attempt at sounding sicker than usual.

“Really? How so?” Porco slides down the edge of the bed, focused on your legs.

Zeke clears his throat, obviously getting off at the anticipation of phone sex.

Some shuffling is heard on the other end of the phone before Zeke says, “You know, maybe cook you some food. That layered strawberry cake you like yeah?”

You hum in satisfaction, but quickly noticed how your approval angered Porco.

He aggressively pushes your legs apart, eyeing your wetness.

“Use that icing on you.” Zeke says, “Make you filthy when I run it over that pretty body of yours. I’d fucking lick it off you because you taste so good.”

Porco starts to kitten lick between your folds, earning a whimper from you.

You imagine Zeke piping the vanilla icing onto your torso as he pushes himself into you, smearing it across your breasts and stomach with his rough hands.

The pressure between your legs rises as the licks grow longer and rougher across your clit. Porco suckles on that bundle of nerves, and you can’t help but cry out a moan.

The sounds from Zeke’s side of the phone indicate he’s jerking off vigorously at this point. “Say my name, kitten.”

You look wildly down at Porco, who stops his motions to shake his head at you. No way he’d let you moan another man’s name on his own bed.

“Daddy,,” you drawl out. You earn approval from Porco, who resumes lapping at your pussy.

Porco taps your thigh, indicating to you that it was time to hang up on Zeke, who hadn’t cum yet. 

“Oh gosh, Zeke baby” you start, “One of the girls is coming in i have to go-“

“Wait, y/n-“ but you didn't let him finish. You sigh with relief knowing you can fully indulge in Porco now. He grips your thighs roughly, leaving bruises to be discovered tomorrow.

“What’s Zeke doing now, huh?” “Pumping his weak cock thinking about this tight little pussy of yours?” “I wonder what he’d think if he knew your pussy was taking my tongue so well right now. Acting like such a whore for somebody else.”

Porco pulls himself off of your sweaty body, panting and licking up your wetness. 

His eyes are dead set on you, and you felt small under his glare. His hands grab under your arms, quickly flipping your positions. “Bounce on me for it,” he growls.

You nod eagerly, situating yourself above him. Your face reddens as you align your entrance up to him, nervous about his judgement. 

Porco softens, noticing your hesitance, “It’s okay baby girl,” His warm hands caress the side of your cheek, thumb grazing your plump lips, “You’re doing really good,” Porco looks earnestly up at you, flashing you a soft grin. You press into his hold on you, strands of hair covering your forehead that tangled around Porco’s fingers.

You finally push yourself down on Porco’s length, his large girth stretching you full. Porco moans at the new feeling, and you can’t help but whimper at the burning pleasure. Your hands roam around Porco’s strong torso, feeling down his thick abs and rubbing circles into his sides. A low groan emits from his chest, and you admire his expressions from above.

You begin moving along his hard length, his tip hitting just the right spot each time. Keeping a slow pace, you tease Porco a little longer, but he’s quick to bark at you to go faster. You let out a playful giggle, “Okay, you’re the boss.” “Doing so good putting Zeke in his place, hm?”

Porco groans at your words, and you swore he was growing larger inside of you at the thought of demoting his Zeke.

Your movements quicken and Porco continues to let out strings of curses.

“Yeah ride my cock baby, just like that. Just like you do for Zeke.”

The thought of another man puts butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself falter. 

Porco doesn’t miss a beat, however. He quickly thrusts up into you, earning a gasp from your mouth. His hands fly to your sides, balancing you while he does all the work. You whimper at his rapid pace, nearing your climax.

“Porco,” you moan, “I-ah, g’nna cum.”

“Ok, baby,” he says in between thrusts, “Cum then.” 

That was all you needed to hear before spilling your release over Porco.

He continued to milk you out, eventually finishing not too long after. He lets you fall on top of his frame, palms rubbing circles into your and easing you from your high.

“Good job, y/n.” You lift your head up to look at Porco’s face. He smiles back at you tenderly. “Alright let’s clean you up.” 

He settles you on the bed next to his side and slides off the bed to grab a clean towel from the linen closet and discard the condom in the trash. You watch his muscle-y body move across the apartment floors, his clear focus on grabbing the right things for you. 

He comes back with an iced water and starts cleaning up your thighs. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you smile, “I can do it myself.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows screwed up in confusion, “What? No, I’m doing it.” He continues his work at cleaning you off. 

“..oh, ok.” You say shyly, butterflies in your stomach from his actions. 

“Does he not do this for you?” Porco asks, not looking up from fixing up the sheets below you.

You replied slowly, “No, not really.”

Porco sighed, “He’s such a selfish dick.”

You laugh at Porco’s attitude. But now that you think about it, Zeke was always thinking about himself. The thought passed as soon as it came, and you did consider the fact that he was paying you.

Porco nestled himself on the side of you after he was done, grunting a little from his tired state. His big arms hugged around your smaller body as he pulled you in close.

“Porco?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” you muffled into his chest.

Porco blushed at your comment, but simply toughed it over and patted your ruffled hair, “Mhm”.

A few pings were heard from your cell phone as you drifted into sleep, no doubt from Zeke, and each time Porco pulled you in tighter. A smile curled crept onto your lips, “It’s not like I’m gonna leave, Pokko,” you giggled.

“Good,” he said, “I wasn’t planning on letting you anyways.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

Betrothred Ch. 1 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 1: Bride

Summary: After making your choice, there’s no going back from it.

Warnings: Blood, Murder, Threats, Angst

Words: 2390

Story Masterlist

A/N: This first chapter is kinda angsty but it gets better, I swear!

Today is the day.

Even though only mere hours would separate you from becoming a part of the Zoldyck family, the whole situation still felt very much surreal to you.

To be invited and welcomned on their property was one of the greatest honor of all, but to be considered a fitting consort for their eldest son was just unimaginable.

One of the butlers was harshly braiding your hair, trying to get it in a position you’d usually never wear. Another one would be working on your make-up, something you’d usually find unnecessary considering your profession.

Why would an assassin care for their physical appearance anyway? Well, all of this was probably part of some kind of tradition or ritual.

No matter how roughly they were tearing and tugging on you, trying to modify your body until you wouldn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror, you’d take their invasion of your personal space in a calm demeanour.

Because that’s how you were raised.

Obey, endure and function.

Your bloodline had a long history of both feared and powerful Head Hunters, for decaded being third place of all known assassin families - with the Zoldycks claiming the indisputable top.

Torture, poison and death were your fellow comrades throughout your whole youth, even though there were limits:

Only the most promising children would be chosen to become Head Hunters. The others were free to choose their way as they wished.

Your upbringing was strict, yet loving. And it was forbidden to break your free will. Serving the family should be an honor, not a burden.

Other than the Zoldycks, your family believed that emotions could become the surce of strenght.

There were other moral standarts: Murdering children was off limits, for example.

And your ‘carreer’ was just about to begin when it took this unexcpected turn.

You had met your soon-to-be-husband after finally completing your formal training, now allowed to take on the Hunter Exam.

Already accustomed to the basics of Nen, it was easy for you to see behind the disguise of the man calling himself Gittarackur.

At first being rather passive, even as the two of you completed the Trick Tower together, he soon stated to be impressed by your exceptional strenght and capability.

Truth be spoken, you always thought yourself to be mediocre at best. So that sudden compliment hit you off guard, especially after he casually revealed his true identity and heritage.

Immediately after the exam, you gathered all of your courage and asked Illumi to teach you in the ways of a true assassin - so you could grow and become the next leader of your clan.

And much to your surprise, he instantly accepted, not even wanting anything in return. You were useful to him and his missions, he stated. That would be enough.

After that, it wouldn’t take long until the stoic man announced that you’d make for a formidable spouse, asking your father for your hand in marriage.

Even though you weren’t quite sure if you made the right decision, his proposal alone the greatest honor for your kin and you just couldn’t disappoint them.

Illumi had always been very reserved about anything else than his work, making you doubt he was even capable of feeling anything else than the joy of killing.

Yet he was a reliable ally, both smart and strong - and admittedly very good looking. You were convinced that he wasn’t the monster most people saw in him: He had just been molded to be the perfect assassin.

And because of that, he would make for a good husband as well.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful?” The voice behind your back was Kikyo, dismissing the servants with a single gesture of her hand.

You wanted to stand up and make a curtsy as a sign of respect, yet felt her palms on your shoulder, pressing down so you’d remain in your seat.

Looking in the mirror, you saw your mother in law behind your back, her visor making it hard to read her intentions. Her aura gave it all away, though.

Illumi’s proposal surprised her just as much as yourself, and she obviously wasn’t content with it. You actually doubtet that she’d ever consider someone good enough to marry one of her children, so you didn’t take it personal.

The pressure would only help you grow.

“You’ll become the perfect partner for my son, won’t you?” Her fingernails dug deep into your flesh, but you didn’t even flinch. “Of course, honorable mother.”

“Good.” Apparently your answer didn’t calm her fury, since her fingermails only turned in the wounds they dug into your flesh. She only stopped when she realized that the blood was staining your clothes.

“I don’t expect any less from a lowlife like you are.” Seems like you should stay alerted around her. But that was no surprise, and it didn’t scare you either.

You knew what you were getting yourself into. And it was worth it.

To prove your worth, you’d go even beyond your limits.

“It’s time, Y/N.”

Up until now, you hid your emotions very well - but hearing that familiar, monotonous voice, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Illumi!” Kikyo shreeked out, “You’re not allowed to see Y/N before the ceremony!”

“Unnecessary superstition” he retorted quite unaffected, approaching both of you.

Kikyo stepped back, revealing you fully. He took in your appearance, rather observing than anything else. “Is that your blood?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

He grabbed your ankle, forcing you up from his seat to look at him. “How did this happen?”

You didn’t dare answering. It was not your place to drive a wedge between your fianceé and his mother, even though you highly doubtet that he would care at all.

Illumi turned around, his blank stare now directed to his mother, who defendingly put her hands into the air. “I-I was just advising-”

“No need for that” he cut her off. “I can take care of any business concerning my partner myself.”

Now she got all hysterical again, just as you got to know her. “B-but-”

“Never touch them again, or I’ll kill you.”

Kikyo relented, then having a mental breakdown for excactly 5 seconds, screams and cries filling the room.

The air had gotten incredibly thick, the unsettling atmosphere making you wish to just disappear right on spot.

“Oh, Illumi!” she exclaimed, sounding jubilant all of a sudden. “Being so cruel to your own mother...You’ve grown so much!”

What a weird fucking family.

“Show me your arms” Illumi demanded after he told his mother to be left alone, yet you flinched away.

“I apologize for having provoked an argument” you spoke all humble, “My wounds are of no concern. Don’t worry.”

“Starting today, I’m expected to take care of you. So you should obey and let me patch this up.” You sat down with a small sigh, exposing your shoulders and presenting them to him. “It would be a shame if you get scarred by something else than a honorable battle.”

Eventually you found time to appreciate your fianceé’s exterior: Illumi had his hair braided back, wearing a fully black suit with a white shirt and a bow tie.

It was the first time you ever saw him in formal wear, and it actually suited him very well.

“You’re very handsome, Lumi” you absentmindedly blurted out as you watched him bandage the wounds on your shoulder.

And Illumi would acknowledge your looks in his own way. “Your appearance is very adequate for this occasion as well.” That counts as a compliment, right?

“Glad you like it” you smiled, “But sadly the stains won’t get out. And we have no time to clean off the blood.”

Illumi swiftly helped you on your feet once again, vaguely explaining “Don’t worry. It won’t stand out after the ceremony.”

You linked arms with Illumi, who led you to the main room as you still pondered about what exactly he meant with that statement.

The celebration would be a small one, not even your own family being allowed to attend. When you entered the generously decorated hall, there were only Silva, Kikyo, Zeno, Kalluto and Milluki.

“Welcome, Y/N” Silva spoke in a way more welcoming tone than his wife earlier. You bend your head as you stood in front of the table where the family had gathered, greeting them politely before making your way to the altar.

Zeno would be the one to confirm the bond. You were actually glad that it was him, because he had already grown fond of you.

“Are you ready?” the old man wondered, noticing how you were trembling.

“Far away from it” you chuckled without doubt, adding “But I’m prepared to do anything.”

“That’s a honest but brave answer, young adult” he paised in an attempt to calm you down, then arranging both you and Illumi to stand facing each other. “And just what you need to become part of this family.”

One sign of Silva and the door swung open, a Bunch of butlers dragging in a terribly inured human.

Much to your shock, the person was not dead - not yet.

“So it begins” Illumi whispered as he saw the man wince in pain, begging for his life, and he almost cracked something like a smile.

“Wha-” Before you could even comprehend what was happening, it hit you like a brick: You were supposed to finish that person off.

That was what Illumi meant. A few blood stains on your wedding dress really were your smallest problem considering what awaited you from this day on.

“That man invaded our property with the intend to kill us” Silva explained to you, his stare bringing across his demands. “You’ll prove your loyality through ending his life.”

At that moment, you knew that you’ll disappoint them - because you were frozen in place.

You had taken and destroyed so many lives, yet always had the full information on them and could decide through your own standarts. But now?

What if it was a lie? You didn’t know that man, why he was here or if he deserved death.

Maybe he had family or came for revenge. Goddamn it, he could even be a reporter who just sneaked in to snatch a photo! Or they had presented you a completely innocent man, seeing if you were the undoubting slave they wanted to have!

Madness runs in this family, apparently.

It was a test. You knew that much. Quite fitting for someone from a family which was only rank three, known for their rather humane way of working.

“No Nen allowed” Kikyo completed the task, “No guns or similar either. You may only use your bare hands or close combat weapons.”

Yes. It was way harder, imprinting your soul to kill that direct way. How you’d deal with the situation was crucial for the outcome of this wedding. 

But were you really ready to throw all of your morality abroad just for your own sake?

“We won’t kill you if you decline the order” Illumi cut off your brooding. Was it out of sympathy? You had no idea. “You’ll be considered unfitting, but you are free to leave and no one will ever bother you again.”

“N-No” you stumbled across your own words, “I’ll do everything for the family.”

“Interesting” Zeno stated. “I never doubtet your spouse, Illumi, but I thought they'd take longer to decide.”

"I think Y/N will make for a great companion.” Silva’s wide grin streched across his face, making his eyes wrinkle a bit. “In both family and business.”

When all was said and done, Illumi grabbed a knive that was placed on the altar. “Let’s do it together, then.”

You almost felt guilty that you became flustered in a moment like this, but couldn’t help it as Illumi genuinely smiled at you, taking your hand as you took firm steps towards the enemy.

“P-Please have mercy!” the man pleaded to no avail, and determination swelled in your chest at that intense moment.

Taking someone’s life together - it would connect two people in a cruel yet beautiful way.

Whatever else could be more fitting for the marriage of two assassins? 

It would be an easy kill. He was unable to flee or fight back. Just a single strike, ending his life quick as act of mercy.

“You should’ve known better than to mess with my new family.”

Both of your hands intertwined, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the knive before thrusting it into the victim’s chest.

And then it dawned to you.

“A needleman?” you sulked, ripping out one of Illumi’s needles out of the stranger’s head, while the others broke out in boisterous laughter.

“Yeah. He was already dead” Illumi shrugged. “I know you don’t like burdening yourself with victims you didn’t choose yourself. But we needed to test you anyway. It’s a tradition.”

Was he actually respecting your boundaries?! What the-

“I like your guts!” Silva attempted to pat your back, but it felt rather like he was going to break your spine. “Sorry for our harsh methods. I know it can be a bit much at the beginning. You’ll get used to obey our rules slowly, don’t push yourself.

Even Kikyo embraced you, now almost convincing motherly. “Reminds me of my first kill for the family!”

It almost felt like those people could actually feel compassion for others. They at least had undoubtingly strong bonds with each other, even if their way of living together was rather unusual.

Stiff movements as always, Illumi placed his hand on your head, almost as if a robot was trying to mimick human interaction. “I’m proud of you. I knew I chose well.”

The rest of the ceremony was just as you expected it: No vows, no rings, no music, no kiss. Just you and Illumi hearing to whatever Zeno had to say about bringing honor and wealth to the family, bearing strong offsprings, and other things that were the exact opposite from romantic.

“Blood for blood” Zeno stated now instead of “You may now kiss”, and every family member repeated it.

You took the knife from the altar once again, cutting your palm until it drew blood without any hesitation. Illumi would now do the same, then reaching out his hand for yours to hold.

As your fluids mixed before dropping to the floor, you unsucessfully searched for any hint of emotional reaction in your husbands expressionless face.

His eyes however would never leave yours, his hand firmly squeezing yours before Zeno announced:

“Your fates are now inextricably connected.”

____

If you want to get on the taglist or get removed from feel free to ask! ♡

@roseburry-jam @food-cures-all @oprah-winfriess @ullinic @sun-and-moon-elfingsmeme @chocolateislovr @sapphic-ghoul @coco724 @jessiejunebug @yukiwins​ @weflyinfluff​ @readlatersnowy​ @gibk​ @spasmodicterror​ @djgirl66​ @pweeenis​ @trblsicheng​ @theromaniangirl​ @cluelessmxnd​ @s1sterofthemoon​

Feedback is always appreciated!

[silkylious]

I Am in Love. Fuck. (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Dancer!Bakugo Katsuki x Dancer!Reader Warnings: swearing and just some tooth-rotting fluff!  Prompt(s): #35 “Oh shit... I am in love. Fuck.” + Dancer AU

A/N: Thank you so much @1-800-callmekatsuki​ for the request, this was super cute and fun to write. I hope you enjoy this! yall i know nothing about dancing so for any dancers out there please bear with me lmao

Squeaks of sneakers against the waxed floor echoed throughout the studio, overshadowed by the rhythm blasting from the speakers. Heavy puffs of air mingled with the surrounding noise to create a ruggedly enchanting symphony. Crimson irises peered at you as your hand delicately held him by the neck, moving up to caress his sharp jaw all while you kept up the movements of your feet and the saying of your hips. Katsuki's hands perched stop your waist guiding your motions, grip tightening as the song playing in the background built up to a final crescendo, preparing to support you for the finale of your dance number. As the last notes of the musical piece sounded through the closed space, you struck a final pose, surrendering your body to Katsuki's grasp. You stayed in that position for a second too long, your figure hanging with the help of his strength in an exaggerated dip, his pointy, upturned nose brushing against yours and his muscular arms holding you securely, saving you from an inevitable fall. Your lidded eyes bore into his soul, daring him to go further. He wouldn't give in to your teasing gaze so easily, though. With a painfully audible gulp, he pulled you upright, detaching his body from yours. 

A sharp whistle crashed the tension between you two, followed by overly enthusiastic clapping. 

“That was awesome, guys! You're totally gonna win the competition with this,” Kirishima hollered from the other side of the room, his keen stare watching with amusement as you and his best friend stiffly walked to your respective lockers. He found it infinitely humorous how you could have such palpable chemistry on the dance floor, then act like awkward middle schoolers once the music halted. 

Your skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat; the choreography was exhausting, despite how effortless you and your dance partner made it seem. It surprised you when Katsuki approached you with this particular sequence, he wasn't one for sensuous moves (much less a pas de deux for that matter), and quite frankly you doubted he had it in him to be so intimate and flexible. But as usual, he surprised you with his adaptability, Katsuki really was a natural at many things. What was completely out of left field, however, was his intensity. It was just a duet, you knew that, but fuck did his eyes send you hurtling to other worldly stories with just his glare, the sensuality of his touches immersing you in a fictional forbidden love. The way his lips ghosted over your shoulder as you rocked with your back to his sculpted pectorals. He was doing it on purpose. And you'd be damned if you didn't play his game too, returning his lingering touches with just as much vigour, passion. The plastic bottle in your hand protested under the unnecessary pressure of your clutch, your bottom lip catching behind a row of teeth. Shit, he was getting to you–

“Oi, you're gonna spill water everywhere, dumbass,” Katsuki's gruff voice snapped you from your reverie, making the baby hairs on your neck stand at attention. He chugged his own water in one gulp before successfully throwing the plastic container into the recycling bin from a far. By the time you turned around, he had gotten alarmingly closer. “Overall, you’re not as shitty as last time. Your footing is still fucking abysmal, though. You call that a pirouette? My grandma could do better and she has arthritis.”

Of course he wouldn't let you celebrate, you were convinced he was physically incapable of giving non-backhanded compliments. You shook your head with a light chuckle, his creativity really shined through in his insults. They never really bothered you, you were aware that hidden beneath the layers of unwarranted cussing and borderline rude comments, lied genuine, constructive criticism. Grabbing a change of clothes, you slammed the locker before heading to the public bathroom for a quick rinse, barely sparing him a glance on the way there. 

“Duly noted.”

Vermillion eyes observed the way your hips swayed gently as you walked, completely unaware of similarly colored eyes watching him with gleaming mirth. “You’re so whipped for her, dude.”

Previously relaxed features pulled taut in an agitated grimace. “No, the fuck I’m not.”

“Mhmm, sure. Keep telling yourself that, man.” Kirishima escaped the premises before he could experience his best friend’s wrath, a jubilant bounce in his step as he thought about his two friends. He was the common denominator between you two. That’s how you met, at one of Kirishima’s frat parties, and even though Bakugo wouldn’t ever say it out loud, an instant connection sparked between you two. The mutual love for dancing brought you together.

Thoughts of you fogged Katsuki’s mind for the rest of the day, practice that day had been exceptionally sensual, both of you getting progressively more daring. He fruitlessly tried to go about his day without having intrusive thoughts blocking his focus, but to no avail. He found himself aimlessly staring out the window, hyper-realistic sensations buzzing along his skin, it was almost like you were still there, still touching him. He sat there on his couch, trying (and failing), to elude any thought of you. He huffed at his inability to get you out of his head, he had one last resort to aid with his problem.

That damn porcupine wouldn’t stop reappearing in your mind, it was so surreal, the way he looked at you as you forfeited your body to him, his minty pants of air, his natural musk. All of it was too much to handle. Uncertainty stopped you from pursuing the man that had unknowingly snatched your heart, each session with him felt like a shot of fireball running down your throat. So sweet and addictive, yet the repercussions left you impaired. He was a drug to you, making you chase the gratifying high of his touches, but once the endorphins dissipated you were left to battle with the symptoms of withdrawal. Your plans of having a relaxing evening were thrown out the window, you needed anything but alone time to overthink, and you had the perfect getaway from visions plaguing you. Unbeknownst to both of you, you shared the exact same idea.

Drowned in the music provided by his ear buds, Katsuki failed to hear the sounds of someone else in the studio as he rounded the corner. The sight before him momentarily made his heart halt, only to beat twice as fast as his eyes raked over your twirling figure. Dim light peaked through the blinds, casting an elegant, pastel halo over your features. You looked so in your element here, so at peace. Your expression gentle, eyes soft and lips pulled into a preciously small smile, despite the strain pulling at your limbs, begging you to rest. Your body alone made the muscles in his heart clench and unclench rapidly, made his otherwise focused and composed mind a reeling, fiery mess. But what affected him the most, provoked an itching desire in him to be as close to you as humanly possible (a desire that he had refused to acknowledge) was the simple fact that you were doing pirouettes. He’d figured that your comeback to him earlier that day had been pure sarcasm. Seeing you take his advice, practicing all on your own, having the courage to fall and learn, failing and bouncing right back up again over and over until sweat dripped from your temples, all to make both him and yourself proud with the fruits of your labor, that’s what set him off. 

“Oh shit... I am in love. Fuck.” 

The date of the competition came faster than either of you could comprehend. The days preceding it were filled with hard work, sweat and augmenting tension. With his feelings for you finally recognized and accepted, Bakugo couldn’t help the pink tone frequenting his face whenever you went over the dance together, which he defensively dismissed as a byproduct of heat each time Kirishima brought it up, a knowing look in his eye. That last dip always made his stomach churn. When he was that close to your face, he had to restrain every atom in his body from doing something impulsive, but oh did his lips plead to mold with your own, did his fingers beg to tangle with yours. He’d never experienced anything like this, it was almost like all his body parts had a mind of their own, whenever he was by your side he consciously had to shun his whole being from twitching as it wished desperately to entwine with you in every way possible.

“This is it.” You said, more to yourself than to him, reminding yourself that this was the time to reap all the exertion and time you’d sowed. Your mind was slowly trickling into anxious territory, but a calloused hand interlacing with your own stopped you from straying too far. You gaped at the sudden act of reassurance, a familiar giddy feeling bubbling in your veins. He grinned at you. You grinned back.

“This is it.” He repeated, words coming out strong, resolute. His cadence conveying all the encouragement he didn't know how to voice, his hand anchoring you in what was here and now. 

“And last but not least, please welcome our last competitors, Bakugo Katsuki and (last name) (name)!”

That was the cue for the both of you to emerge from backstage. As you took your starting positions, you inhaled and exhaled uniformly, Bakugo sending you a look of slight concern which you returned with a smirk, telepathically telling him let’s win this thing. 

The music kicked in and you lost yourselves between the melodies. It was like Pavlov’s conditioning almost; as soon as your ears heard the starting notes, your bodies moved on their own, muscle memory taking the front seat and grabbing hold of the steering wheel. And yet it was anything but a blur. You saw everything in blinding clarity, minutes seemed to slow for your perception. The way he moved was etched into your brain in overwhelming detail. The dance was as amorous as can be. Your gaze remained attached to his throughout the whole number, only leaving when you twirled or turned around. This time around, you didn’t dance as mere partners, no you danced as lovers. There was no teasing involved, only unbridled adoration. Applause fell on deaf ears, anything that wasn’t him was mute and colorless to you, and vice versa. You danced like nobody was observing, like you were a married couple swaying around your kitchen.  

The final notes brought you two back to reality, and through the unease in his gorgeous, crimson irises, you knew he had a decision to make. Your palm skimmed across the expanse of his neck, trailing the unblemished column before moving up to his jaw. With practiced ease, your feet skidded along the stage while your hips moved in tantalizing waves, his sweaty hands gripping at your waist tightly, a clear indication of his ongoing, internal debate. You gave him a last glare, one that ultimately made him settle on a choice he vowed to never regret, then your body slackened in his hold, his arms dipping you backwards in a closing pose, concluding the exhilarating choreography. 

But he still had one more thing to do.

As his nose pushed up against yours, he made a final push, lowering his lids in preparation. His slightly chapped lips puckered against your soft ones, prompting your eyes to grow wide. Obnoxious cheering erupted, but neither of you could hear it. Shutting your eyes, you moved your lips in a sensuous rhythm against his own, not too dissimilar to the number you’d just performed, basking in the sensation that you’d daydreamed about during endless sleepless nights.

For once, Katsuki couldn’t give less of a shit about achieving an indisputable first place in a competition, because no matter the outcome of this dance, whether he swooped all the medals or not, he considered this to be the biggest win in his book.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

probably i just love to suffer but what about y/n having abusive relationships with her professor in Oxenfurt(secretly of course) but yennefer founds out and trying to help reader get out of this mess while also falling in love we need more yennefer love in this fandom ✨

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Yennefer x ReaderWord Count: 1,851Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle  a/n: I went in a bit of a different direction here. I don’t write abusive relationships and I don’t do professor/student relationships but I do recognize that these things exist. I reference a professor/student relationship but I tried to do so in a way that was clear on where I stand about those power dynamics and the inability for true consent on the part of the student. This fic also ended up being much more yearn-y and angsty than anticipated but I hope you still enjoy what I wrote. Thanks!

Yennefer.

Dark hair and light eyes.

Magic and mystery.

Yours and nobody’s.

Yennefer who taught you to want more from this world. Yennefer who made you feel like you’d placed every single star in the sky. Yennefer who break your heart when she left, wordlessly, senselessly.

You knew she’d be standing on your doorstep but still you opened the door. You’d never been able to keep her out. Not when it mattered. Not when you needed her. And like it or not, you did.

She was the same as she’d been when she left. A little cooler and distant but those eyes still glowed and you felt your heart sway into a familiar hum of adoration at the sight of them.

“Y/N,” she said, a word she hadn’t allowed herself to think much less speak since the day she’d left. She didn’t know what pulled her to you but whatever the reason she knew better than to question it. There was no such thing as a coincidence and she wouldn’t fail you. Not this time, at least.

“Yennefer,” you replied, not bothering to put up a pretense of surprise at finding her there. You stepped aside and gestured for her to walk in and she followed, looking around the little house with a small smile. It was all exactly the same. There was a timelessness to this place that she loved. You had not stalled with time, though. You were older, the shadow of wrinkles playing about the corners of your eyes and lips. The eyes were still just the same, though, if a bit sadder than before. Her heart ached at this, knowing she was in part to blame. But there was no point in resting in regret.

“What brings you?” you asked.

“You tell me,” she countered. You sighed heavily.

“Yennefer you can’t just show up on my doorstep 10 years later and demand I tell you everything,” you insisted. She considered your words for a moment.

“And yet I am,” she replied simply. You shook your head, hating that you found her characteristic stubbornness charming. She had no right to charm you. And yet.

“Same Yennefer,” you said.

“You liked that Yennefer.”

“I used to like a lot of things.”

“You still do.”

Her words were more of a plea than a statement and you tried not to fall into your old role, reassuring her that you still did, of course you did, when you knew she wouldn’t offer the same reassurance in kind.

“Perhaps you have come to offer me congratulations,” you said, changing the topic, “I am to be wed.”

Yennefer’s heart lurched at the words and she forced her face to remain neutral but you felt the tension settle in the space between the two of you. You gave her a challenging look, daring her to be jealous or angry and hoping desperately that she’d rail against the news.

“That must be it,” she said. She walked into the little sitting area, taking up residence in what had once been her favorite chair. It had never felt right sitting in it though you’d spent countless hours crying there, nose pressed against the fading fabric, seeking the last traces of her scent before that too was taken from you with time. Everything had been taken but the love you felt for her. You followed her into the room though it bothered you that she fit so perfectly back into it as though no time had passed.

“Tell me about him,” she said, giving you a placid look of interest though blood rushed in her ears, nearly drowning out your words as you spoke.

“He’s a good man. Respected. A professor,” you said, ticking off the points your parents had recited when you were informed that you would be marrying him.

“Professor?” Yennefer asked, catching the detail you’d hoped she wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you said, eyes on the back of the chair, near her face but not actually looking at her.

“From Oxenfurt University, I assume?” she pressed.

“Yes,” you said.

“Y/N,” she said sharply and you finally met her eyes which flashed dangerously, “Is it Charles?”

You straightened your back and summoned all of your dignity, shooting her a defiant look.

“Yes,” you said, charging towards the conflict head-on, “Yes it is.”

“Your teacher,” she emphasized, glowering darkly.

“He isn’t anymore.”

“He was when it started though, wasn’t he?”

“He isn’t anymore,” you repeated, face growing warm.

“Did you do it to hurt me?” she asked. She’d warned you that your professor had been extra attentive, tried to tell you that time spent with him outside of class could only lead to trouble. But then she’d been gone and he was there to comfort you and make you feel special and ok. And then things escalated and it went from a lapse of judgment that you were warned never to speak of to a proposal of marriage that your parents charged you to accept. You’d successfully put it off for years, pursuing higher and higher levels of education for the sole purpose of extending the length of your engagement despite pressure from your parents and the professor himself. You’d run out of time now. It would happen soon. You’d hoped he would lose interest but the more you tried to push him away the more determined he seemed to have you. As a child you would have found this flattering, but you weren’t a child anymore.

“Did you leave to hurt me?” you asked, thoughts returning to the question Yennefer had posed. Now it was her turn to shift in her seat uncomfortably and form her answer.

“No,” she said, “I never wanted… I didn’t want that to be how it had to go.”

“How it had to go?” you echoed with a bitter laugh, “Please explain why it had to go that way.”

“I don’t have an answer you’ll like,” she admitted.

“Try an answer that’s honest, it’ll get you farther,” you retorted. She took a deep breath and you waited.

“I had an offer at a job. It was going to take me far away, it would offer me training that I could never hope to get here. If I told you… if I talked to you, or saw you, I would have turned it down. I never would have been able to go. So I left. I made a hard choice, perhaps the wrong one-”

“Perhaps?”

“I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t achieved some of the goals I set for myself. I’m not going to pretend to regret everything I did. But I do regret that it caused you pain,” Yennefer said.

You knew that wasn’t good enough. It was a bad sign of how things had been going that someone acknowledging causing you pain and regretting it made your hungry heart soar with gratitude. There was so much to unlearn from the unkind years that had passed but you would unlearn it if it killed you.

“You know that’s not good enough,” you said, though you wanted to pull her into your arms and tell her it was all forgiven, all forgotten, all erased if she would just tell you that she loved you still.

“I do,” she answered, “But it’s all I have to give right now.”

“The wedding is in one week,” you said, rising from your seat. She rose as well and followed you to the foyer.

“There will be no wedding,” she said bluntly, surprising even you who thought you couldn’t be surprised by her anymore.

“You don’t make that call,” you argued.

“I will if I have to. I will for you,” she insisted.

“Yennefer-”

“Tell me you love him and I will walk out that door, destiny be damned, and ride away forever,” she said. You looked into the violet eyes that met your gaze unflinchingly. You tried to say the words but you were tired of lying. You’d never been good at it and you never could like to her. You didn’t want to. And Yennefer always told you to never do things you didn’t want to do.

“If I try and leave him… I don’t know what will happen. And whatever does happen, he has the support of my parents. I am alone in this, Yennefer,” you admitted, fearful even as you spoke that your fiancé would appear from somewhere hidden and drag you to a chapel in an instant. Yennefer took a step forward, one hand resting against your face softly, tears coming to your eyes at the feeling of her touch after so many years left with only dreams and memories that could never compare to the real thing.

“No. You are not alone. Not in this, not in anything. And certainly not with him,” Yennefer’s voice dropped low and dangerous as she spoke the words and you feared for a moment that you’d incidentally sealed his fate.

“It’s easy to say that,” you argued, “It’s easy to pop by because destiny taps you on the shoulder and tells you to intervene but what about the other times? What if destiny tells you to leave again?”

“That wasn’t destiny,” she said, shaking her head, “That was just ambition. And I am still ambitious but I am also in a better place to choose how I pursue those ambitions. And with whom.”

Her hand fell to yours, slightly trembling but quickly clasping hers back.

“If I go with you, I cannot allow you to be my only source of support. I need to make friends. I need to earn my own coin. And I need to have my own life,” you said. There was a loud voice in your head screaming at you to be quiet, to accept the scraps she could offer, to cling to her for as long as you could. But you knew the voice had grown in a time when those instincts kept you safe. They couldn’t serve you anymore. You wouldn’t let them.

“Of course,” she agreed, “Does this mean you’ll come?”

You looked back at the little house. You’d built a life around this space, in this town. You knew the rules of this world and even if you didn’t always enjoy the game you knew how to play. 10 years before Yennefer had changed the rules, knocked the board over and forced you to learn a new game. But you had. You had done that alone. You could do it again. You would do it in a way that served you better.

“When do we leave?” you asked, heart in your throat as you answered. Yennefer smiled and began to move in for a kiss, pausing before she did and stepping back. You were grateful at her restraint because you knew you wouldn’t have it. In time, if it was right for you, you would taste her kisses again. You would know the soft warmth of her body against yours and you would share a love worth building together. But for right now you needed time and friendship, and she would give you both.

“Now.”

[little-dragon-stories]

King Epilogue (the end)

Royal au fic pairing female reader and Kwon JiYong

Feat: YoungBae, TaeHyung, MinHo and SeoJoon (just because  I had their face in mind when I pictured their character)

W.C: 7650

Warnings: None. Fluffiness overload.

Disclaimer: Everything in this story is fictional. There is no research to be politically  accurate or to fit a certain period of time or place. In one word, it’s all invented.

Thank you, to the few readers that stick to this big adventure. Thank you for your likes and your sweet comments. I appreciate it, always. 

Epilogue 2 is written in collaboration with @aspaceformyselffics09​. Since she was my muse editor, since she helped me give birth and nurtured this fic, I felt it was natural for us to close this serie together. Thanks love, you helped me perfectionnate my writing. You are an angel in my life and I love you.

I’m really emotional to end that serie. You have no idea how many hours I spent on it. Not that I was forced to, of course. But I enjoyed writing it so much, I needed to write. So, enjoy that last part with those wonderful characters that I love with all my heart. I will miss them. 

Epilogue 1

A few days after the trial

JiYong was sitting on the floor of the executive room, his legs crossed under him. He didn’t know what to expect, when HyeJin requested an official audience with him, using the official procedure. As she walked towards him, previously announced by the servants, he was intrigued.

“Thank you for receiving me, CheonHa” she bowed, using all the decorum required when you officially meet a king. 

He waited for the servant to pour the tea into their cups and asked everyone to leave the room afterwards. Finally alone, he spoke.

“There is no need to be this official with me and you know it’.

“In that case, it was necessary CheonHa. I have a request to make and I didn't want you to think that I was not absolutely sure of my choice or that I wasn't serious. I wanted it to follow the official procedure”.

“What is it, HyeJin?”

She cleared her throat, nervous. 

“So, I’m gonna just say it. I want to be dethroned. I no longer want to be queen, nor to be your wife. It’s an official request I make, CheonHa”.

She took him by surprise and on the spur of the moment, he didn’t know what to say. He sipped his tea in silence, warming his hands on the cup.

“Why, all of sudden?”

“Please, grant me this favor even though I don’t deserve it.  But also, I have always respected your choices and I have always been by your side despite everything. I have taken my role with all the seriousness required”. 

Feeling that she was caught up by emotions, he took her hands in his and spoke to her softly.

“HyeJin, I haven’t said no. I’m just asking questions. I want to know why you suddenly want it. That’s all. There must be a reason, right? In more than 5 years of marriage, you brought it up for the first time. Is it because of Y/n? If it’s because of her, she is fine with it. She knew about us”

She calmly breathed in, trying by all means not to lose control of her voice. She didn’t want to cry in front of her husband and friend. She wanted to leave proudly. She felt emotions twisting her guts but she managed to control herself. 

“It’s partly because of her, yes. In all honesty, I don’t believe I deserve to be a queen anymore. No, don’t interrupt me, please. It’s already hard for me to tell you all this” she told him when he tried to interrupt her.

“I’m sorry. You can go on”.

“Twice majesty! You almost died twice by the hand of the man I shared my life with. I never noticed anything. I hope that you believe me when I say so. If I would have noticed, I would have taken our son and came under your protection. I wouldn’t have stayed quiet about it. Please, forgive me. I was completely blind”.

“I forgive you, HyeJin. I already told you”.

“I know. Majesty… I was so in love with him, I never realised he was using me. He never loved me for real. He was only praising my beauty. I’m sorry, I will say something shocking but the only thing he wanted from me was to… you know. Fuck me. I was a trophy for him.”

“HyeJin, I actually do believe that he loved you. He loved you a lot, when we were younger. He just changed. His ambitions changed him. And he lost himself along the way”.

“I should have noticed that he was not taking me in his arms afterwards. I should have noticed he was not looking at me tenderly. I should have noticed he was not in love with me anymore. But I was blind. And twice he tried to kill you. I gave it a thought recently. His behavior had changed towards the end, you know what I mean? He was saying bad things to me, about you. About our son. About me. I didn’t recognize him anymore”

He increased the pressure of his hold on her hands. In a soft unspoken reassurance. He was sad for her. He could only imagine what it was like for HyJin to go through what she did. He nodded but didn’t answer. He wanted her to go on.

“I should have understood something was going on when he and Kyo were talking in japanese. They had all the liberty they wanted to plot! I didn’t understand a word”.

“Don’t be too rough on yourself, you loved him. It’s normal not to doubt the person you love”.

“Y/n, the first time she met him, she sized him. She did majesty. She was able to read inside of him and she managed to make him talk and betrayed himself. She did all that so bravely, even though he was threatening her. It took her one single conversation with the man and she knew. How stupid that makes me? I spent my entire life by his side and I never suspected him”.

“First, don’t forget that she didn’t have an easy life on the plantation. Unfortunately, she’s used to this kinds of men. She is also very talented at reading people’s intentions. She reads me like an open book. But that being said, she knew I was suspecting him. We were working together to find evidence against SoYoung. And the day she met him, she had found those evidence. Without her help, the country could have been facing a crisis right now”.

HyeJin smiled at her husband.

“She makes you happy, right? You never smiled that much before you met her. I was not used to seeing that beautiful and shy smile” she teased. “See, the way you look at her, I never experienced it. I would like to be free again so I too, can find love. To be perfectly honest with you, I’d rather be loved than be a queen. I was always a pathetic romantic”.

“Yah! You aren’t pathetic at all. But romantic, yes. You always have been. With your personality and your charisma, you’ll find love. Real love. I have no doubt. And you deserve to be loved HyeJin. You do”.

“I want to add something, if I may”

“Yah, of course you can”

“Apparently, your ex courtesans didn’t really appreciate being away from your bed and they already have spread the word that you had a woman in your life. Now that you have called her ‘love’ and ‘my woman’ in front of the audience at the trial, the word has spread fast. Now, our people, they all know that we are husband and wife on paper only. And majesty, I don’t want to play that game anymore”.

“You are right. I was also thinking about our wedding too, to be honest. Also, about the kids that both you and me could have in the future. With the beautiful nightdresses you gifted Y/n, there is no doubt we’ll be waiting for a little baby soon”.

She burst out laughing.

“Ooooh! I knew you would love it. She must be hard to resist, indeed. I think that her charm lies in the fact that she doesn't know she is irresistible”.

“She has many charms, believe me. But seriously, I was having a thought for our future babies. Let’s say you have a kid later, will I have to acknowledge this child even though he would already have a father? Would it be fair for the man that will share your life? You know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean majesty. Same if you and Yn have one. I think it’s better if that child would be recognised as a prince or princess by blood. Not some kind of ‘bastard’. Now, our country is peaceful but if conflicts happen, your child has to be protected and recognised as a royal member of the family. Not a bastard, even if I know you would never treat a child like this. People might in case of conflicts.”

“I came to the exact, same conclusion. So, I will accept your request. And thank you, it will allow me to marry the woman I love”.

Relieved, she bowed at him as a thank you.

“Good luck with that, majesty. People call her Duljjae mama and she keeps stopping them. Each time, she explains to them how she doesn’t want to be a queen. Really, I wish you good luck”

“Nah, she loves me. She’ll marry me. Don’t worry”. 

She smiled tenderly.

“I know she will. You were made to be together”.

“HyeJin, I have to say. In the circumstances, you were the best queen I could have ever asked for. I don’t regret that you shared those years together with me. And we raised Channie together. We did a great job, right?”

“Yes, majesty. We raised a beautiful little boy. Speaking of which, he’ll turn 5 soon. We’ll have to prepare something, right ?”

“Yes, we’ll have to. Wait, before that. I have a request too”.

“Oooh! What is it?”

“Because we have a son, because our son is the prince. I would like it if you continue to live inside the palace walls. You can even keep the queen’s quarters, if you want. Y/n won’t be living there, we will always share the same bed”.

“I’m not sure. I don’t deserve this house, I won’t have any titles. It wouldn’t be fair for Y/n”

“She won’t mind, I’m sure of it. Also, it’s for Channie’s security. He will be visiting his mom you know. If you go live in the village, I think yours and his security could be compromised”.

“Okay for a house inside the palace’s borders. But I don’t want to keep the same house, please. It reminds me of him”.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it. Stay in Channie’s for now, he loves to have his mom with him and you have enough room. We’ll think of something”.

She took the bag she had brought with her and took out the crown she wore on official occasions. The gesture was symbolic and both HyeJin and Jiyong were moved. 

“Thank you for being a wonderful queen, all those years, HyeJin”

‘Thank you too, Majesty for accepting me in your life and opening your heart to me”

“We’ll stay friends?”

“Agreed. We’ll stay friends”.

Epilogue 2 

2 years after the trial

“How is my little princess doing?” JiYong asked you with his hoarse sleep voice as soon as he woke up. You have tried your best not to wake him up but SaeJi was so thirsty, she was drinking her milk like a little greedy She was lapping and humming vigorously. He sat straight in the bed and stroked the fine black hair that covered the head of the little princess, right after he kissed your shoulder. He had a tender smile on his face. Exhausted, you yawn loudly.

“She’s doing just fine now that she drinks”

“But she was drinking an hour ago, is she sick?”

“No, it was 5 hours ago. You slept like a log!”

“Really? You should have woke me up, I would have helped”

“Nah, there’s not much you can do anyway, I’d rather let you sleep. You work so hard, you need to rest”.

“And so do you, my love” he kissed your temple and leaned on the same pillow as you to get a glimpse of his daughter.

For you, it was very important that your daughter would be fed by you and not from a nurtured mother from the village. You wanted to create that bond between mother and child that you witnessed in the plantation. Even though it was not conventional for a queen to do it, JiYong agreed when he noticed how you had it at heart.

“Aaaw, isn’t she adorable? I can’t believe that we’ll be celebrating her 100 days today. I wonder how our lives would be without her. We would have a lot of free time, right?” 

“Says the king of Korea” you laughed. “My dear husband that I love with all my heart and with all my respect, you have no idea what spare time means”

He chuckled, poking your side tenderly. 

“Yah! I’m better than before, you can’t complaint! Since I know you I take all my evenings and even 1 or 2 days a week”.

“Oooh! You’re almost lazy now!” you teased him before you put your attention back to your  princess. You kissed your daughter’s precious hand that was grabbing your finger. “Happy birthday my little girl! Daddy’s right, how was our life without you? Can you tell me?” 

She was the first child you and JiYong had together and it was not an easy pregnancy. Even less an easy delivery. You had pushed many hours and lost a lot of blood, she was not coming out. The doctor had to use an emergency method or both of you would have died. JiYong was paler than you, after she was finally born. Scared like he had never been before to lose his wife or his baby. But it was worth it. She was worth all the sacrifices and wounds it required and you would do it again without hesitation. All of this because the little miss wanted to come on this planet her own way: she was not presenting her head but her little butts instead and there was no way she could be delivered like this without a medical help. On the plantation, you wouldn’t have survived.

The surgeon that operated on you said it was impossible for you to have another child, that he had to remove some “feminine” parts. Therefore, SaeJi will be your one and only baby. You were not sad or mad about it, it was life. Things have to be like that and there is nothing you can do about it. And although JiYong was a little deceived, he was happy to be able to make love to his woman, like he loves to call you. That without being scared that she may die afterwards, from giving birth. He had his little prince and princess, he was satisfied. His family was complete, now. Your family was complete.

You heard a little snore and remembered, Channie was asleep in a small mat near SaeJi’s crib. He didn’t want to leave his little sister’s side ever since she was born. He took his role very seriously. Following your gaze, JiYong looked at his son. He was now almost 7 years old and he couldn't be prouder of the little man he became. He didn’t resist the temptation and got up to kiss Channie’s cheek while he tucked him with the blanket that had slid down the mattress.

“Our little prince is tired, I made him exercise today. I wanted him to spent energy”

“You’re almost a mother for him, my son has 2 moms! You’re adorable”.

“Nah, I’m sexy” you said, giggling. No, you didn’t feel sexy at all with your big circles under your eyes, your messy hair, your dry skin. Not to mention the weight that you didn’t lose yet and made you feel like your body didn’t belong to you anymore. But JiYong was telling you every hour of the day how much he loved you and that he didn’t care at all about your weight. 

“Yes, indeed you are. My sexy queen”.

“aaaw! I love you Kwon JiYong”.

“I love you, Kwon Y/n” you welcomed him back on the bed with a tender kiss.

Your daughter stopped drinking but didn't seem to want to sleep. The little devil displayed her biggest smile, making all sorts of sounds. The milk came out of her mouth and as if she were discovering this for the first time, she started making bubbles with it. Like for everything that she did, JiYong was under her charm. His eyes shone when he looked at her and a blissful smile adored his face.

“Daaw! Look at my little princess. I love her so much. I knew I could love that much, because of Channie, of course. But I didn’t remember how it was in the beginning. She’s so small. You know, at her age, she is totally under our responsibility. There is no arguing, no confrontation. Nothing else than pure love and adoration”

“I know, right?”

SaeJi seemed to agree with that too. She was smiling brightly at her father’s voice, trying to catch his face with her clumsy hands. 

“I think she loves her appa very much”. 

“Of course she does” he said,cupping her cheeks. “She’s daddy’s little girl, after all. Let me take care of her. Go back to sleep, love. I’ll play with her for a while”.

“Thank you” you said, placing her in his arms and turning to face the other way. 

“Oooh, you accept the offer tonight? Interesting”

“Yes, you can’t go very far in the middle of the night anyway. Now, if you’ll let me sleep” you said, a smile in your voice.

You didn’t hear the question he asked only a minute later. You were already far gone in dreamland.

The morning came too fast for your liking. But it was the life of all the new parents. You were more than lucky, you couldn't complain. Not a lot of people had a delegation of maids, servants, chef and housekeepers. The only thing you had to do was to take care of your own self and SaeJi.

The hundred day  birthday party for the princess was this afternoon. Your private garden being too small to welcome all your friends and their family, the convivial event will take place outside your quarters. Near the artificial lake between the bridge on stilts and your apartments, there was a beautiful clearing and you had a huge white silk marquee installed. Lots of lanterns were set up for later tonight, when the sun would set. Beautiful flowers bouquets were displayed all around the place.  Being a queen had some advantages. All you had to do was to planify things. The maids and servants did all the job and you didn’t have to lift one single finger.  You were grateful for the help they provide every day. 

“By the way, HyeJin said she’ll be introducing her ´friend’ ” JiYong told you as he was dressing up with the help of his valets.

“Ooh, finally. Tae asked me if he could come with his lover as well, it cannot be her, right? We would have known…”

“Nah, I’m not feeling it” JiYong answered, thinking “No, Chan told us that she was seeing a scholar, right?”

“True, where’s my head! I guess I gave all my intelligence to my little girl, I can’t think straight anymore!”

JiYong laughed and mocked you “I didn’t want to mention it but now that you bring the topic, I can only agree with that”

“Yaaah! You think you’re funny?” You pretend to be upset but laughed nevertheless under the tender gaze of the staff.

The end of the afternoon finally arrived. The day had been exhausting. You had to work on the final details of the party. But the worst had been to contain the hectic joy of Channie, who constantly hopped around you and JiYong. With the noises of the background of the servants carrying the cutlery containing a multitude of fruits, dye meat and fish, rice cake, kimbap and appetizers of all kinds to sustent you while waiting for the main meal, you welcomed your friends with your husband by your side. Channie had monopolised Tae and a man that he brought with him, as soon as he saw him arrive. Tae’s love for children, especially yours, Seo’s and YoungBae’s, was endless and he never spared his efforts to prove them. Ever. You smiled, looking at them. 

“Will you carry me on your shoulders, uncle Tae?” Channie’s little voice reached you.

“You’re kind of heavy now, my prince. But if it’s what you want, I will do it, for sure” he answered, bowing and using an unnecessary formal language.

A few minutes into the party, HyeJin showed up, a tall man by her side. He seemed rather nervous and shy with his cute dimples showing as his lips curved into a smile, his eyes never leaving HyeJin’s as they make their way towards you. You can feel their love towards each other ooze out of them with just how tenderly they gazed at each other. Just the sight was enough to make your heart full.

“Mama, CheonHa. I would like you to meet my… my… my companion” HyeJin timidly stated. She was ravishing, with her hair braided and up in a knot on the back of her hair. She always had been a beautiful woman, too beautiful to be even human for your eyes. But the way she looked at him, made her even more stunning. Her eyes were glistening and her smile seemed bright. You have never seen her like that, free from worries and joyful.

“Please HyeJin, I beg you. Don’t use formalities with us, and even less when we meet in private like this.”

“It’s the habit JiYong ssi. I’m sorry. So, I would like to introduce you to my new partner. Well, the only one I had since… let’s not talk about it”

The more she was nervous, the more her companion seemed nervous too. Both of them influencing the other’s state of mind, like a couple in perfect harmony. You came to her rescue, that poor HyeJin was never nervous before. It was cute and adorable to see her like that because of a man.

“Hi” you introduce yourself, bowing at the beautiful man standing straight and tall in front of you. “My name is Y/n. Please don’t call me anything else than by my name. I’m glad to meet you. I think I’ve met you once, at HyeJin boutique, right?”.

“It’s my honor, Mama. I’m more than happy that you accepted to meet me in your private event. And yes, I was in her boutique once when you came to deliver the books you had translated”.

“The honor is ours. Here’s my husband, JiYong”.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Majesty,” The man bowed to the both of you, “I’m Kim Namjoon.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too Namjoon- ssi,” You both returned Namjoon’s greeting before Jiyong stopped and looked up in surprise, “Wait, I might be wrong, but you mean, you’re The Kim Namjoon?”

Namjoon looked at the three of you confused.

“You’re a scholar. I heard all about you,” Jiyong continued, “ You’re known for a lot of philosophical thoughts and lectures you gave across the country. They were really inspiring I must say.”

Namjoon beamed at him, almost shy of the attention trained in on him, “I’m glad you found them inspiring your Majesty.”

“let me guess, you’re the one who gave Channie all sorts of mathematical problems to solve?”

“Yes, I did. I hope that it didn’t bother you.” 

“On the contrary, I think it’s wonderful. It kept that little boy busy for half a day last week. He was placing rocks by groups, trying to figure how to resolve the problem”.

“Yes, I remember, he was obsessed by that until he resolved it” Ji agreed “So, you and HyeJin are together?”

“Yes”, “Sort of, I guess” they answered at the same time. But sharing a history that you don’t know about, they looked at each other’s eyes and laughed.

“Sort of?” HyeJin questioned, holding onto his arm “What do you mean, sort of? she laughed. Clearly those two shared something.

“I mean, you are unconventional and you made it clear that you didn’t want us to be a regular couple, I didn’t know what to answer according to…” he scratched the back of his head, his cheeks turning pink in shyness. 

“Aaaaw, that’s my clever man. He’s an intellectual, you know” she said, looking at you and JiYong. “I love him, you have no idea how I love him but he cannot give a simple answer to a simple question. He has to analyse it and give all perspectives. I found it adorable,” she said, looking at NamJoon in the eyes.

“This is the cutest thing I saw today” you said smiling brightly at them. You cannot say that you became best friends with her, it was not with her that you shared your secrets for example. But she became a person you met regularly to share a tea and talk. She was important in your life and you could always rely on each other.

“Love, you forgot our princess. She is the cutest little thing we saw today” JiYong said half serious.

“He’s a proud appa, you’ll have to forgive him. Where is she, by the way?”

“Last time I saw her she was in YoungBae’s arms” HyeJin answered, scrutinizing the area to see if she could see the princess.

“Very good, I’ll go feed her, she’ll be thirsty soon”.

“I’m glad that I met you, Mama and you too, your Majesty,” NamJoon politely said, bowing to the both of you one last time. 

“My pleasure NamJoon. I hope you’ll take good care of HyeJin, she is an amazing person,” You said.

“It’s my pleasure too,” Jiyong added, “ Namjoon - ssi, if you’re up for it, I would love it if you can deliver a talk for me and my ministers at the royal court someday.”

“I would love to, your Majesty,” Namjoon said and then turned towards you, “I will definitely look after HyeJin, mama. I promise that.”

With that both Namjoon and HyeJin left hand in hand to enjoy the rest of the party. Once they were out of sight, you turned around looking for your baby princess. It was almost difficult to locate her because most of your close friends were already enamoured with her and couldn’t stop spoiling the little one to bits. Well, not that you blame them. You and JiYong weren’t any better yourselves. 

And that was when you finally found her. She was wrapped in Taehyung’s arms, who was carefully cradling her and cooing at her as she made tiny noises. There was a small man standing next to him. You wondered if he’s one of Taehyung’s new friends because that kid collected friends like people collected stamps. He was gazing at Taehyung with a soft expression on his face, as Tae continued playing with the princess in his arms. 

“Tae, I need my princess. I’ll go and feed her before we’ll sit to eat”.

“Nah, she’s not hungry at all. Let me spoil myself just a little bit more, pretty pleaseee?”

“Oh! My!  You visit us every single day! You’ll have the chance to see her very soon. You’re such a baby sometimes” you laughed. 

Tae has been visiting you very often lately. Sitting with you, sipping tea and talking. Always offering you to take care of your daughter when he wanted you to rest or just relax. He was a wonderful uncle for Channie too, making him laugh and playing with him. He was keeping him busy when you were feeding the princess, too. But that being said,  that man was almost a mystery for you. From one side, he was talkative like an open book, unable to keep a secret from you. Asking for your advice on this and that.  But when it touches his love life, he would only answer your many questions by playfully winking at you and saying, “You’ll know soon enough, Noona”.

“Are you complaining? I visit you because I love my niece and nephew, where’s the problem?”

“You don’t come a bit for me too?” you pretended to pout.

“Mmmm, no, not really!”

You burst into laughter. You will always love that man, his energy and his sense of humor. He was always the one people could misinterpret, because of his carefree attitude. He seemed like someone who wasn't serious or implied. But on contrary, his out of the box thinking, gave him the opportunity to see things always in a different perspective. He was able to analyse things like no one else.

“Seriously though, I want you to meet someone,” He said beaming, his signature boxy smile spreading across his face, as he gathers the man next to him in one arm and pulls him closer to him, “Noona, meet Yoongi Hyung.”

“Hyung, this is my Noona, Y/n. She’s the mother of this little mochi ball princess, here and the most amazing queen of this kingdom!  Y/n, this is Yoongi Hyung.The love of my life!” He declared, a proud expression on his face.

“Oh my!” You exclaimed, looking back and forth at the two of them. From where you were standing you could see Yoongi's face heat up as he looks at both you and Tae in a mix of nervousness and flustered panic. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Yoongi -ssi,” You cry out, taking one of Yoongi’s hands in yours while shaking it vigorously. You weren’t sure why you feel so emotional about this. You don’t know if it’s the euphoria of finally unravelling Tae’s secret love life or because the whole idea of the man you considered your little brother finally falling in love, “Welcome to our family. And please feel free to visit us next time Tae comes around. I would be very happy to get to know you.”

“I would definitely love to, Mama,” Yoongi says as he bows to you politely, “Tae speaks of you a lot. You’re a very important person to him. And thus, you’re important to me too. And of course that counts your family too.”

“Tae, how is he so perfect?” You ask, your hands over your chest. To which Tae just flashes you a dazzling smile, “I know right? I knew you would love him. I guess I got really lucky.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything to that, probably because of how timid and shy he got. You could tell by the way his cheeks got pink. 

“Aaaww Hyung, are you blushing?” Tae cooed from beside you. To which Yoongi just snorted and mumbled, “You wish.”

“ I bet you had a lot of fun watching me trying to set you up with HyeJin,” You pouted.

“Nah,” Tae replied, “I was too busy courting my man.”

“Yah!”

“But really, when I met Hyung, I knew that no one else was going to stand a chance.”

“Aaaww Tae,” You cooed and then gazed at the couple tenderly, “But, regardless, I’m so happy you found each other.”

“Me too Noona.”

You felt a movement on your back, it was JiYong that had stopped to greet someone on his way to you. When your gaze met his, you fondly smiled at each other. Observing the scene, those tender emotions that flashed into your eyes, Tae went nostalgic. 

“Noona, you know, who would have predicted that we would be living a life like this now? We were so lucky to have crossed the king’s path. Right? I can’t thank him enough. He’ll have my eternal respect for taking us out of that misery”.

“And mine too,” Yoongi said from beside him as he smiled sweetly at Tae.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” You agree, “He really loves you too you know? As a brother, as a trusted soldier. He knows you’re loyal to him. He loves and respects you a lot!”.

“He does?” Tae asks, his eyes going wide.

“Yes, of course. He’s not always the most demonstrative but you’re important to him. You, Seo and YoungBae are his people”.

“True, he’s not very demonstrative. His actions speak louder than his words”. 

“Aaaw! I know a woman like that, who’s actions speak loud. Even through her words too.

“What do you mean?” you asked as you felt his comment was about you.

“You, noona, who always gave me a part of her oatmeal while we lived at the plantation. My noona, who always made sure that i was not lonely. Who made sure I felt some sort of kindness as a child. You were always showering me with so much love. I felt blessed.”

“You were just a small kid Tae, someone has to take care of you”.

“That someone was you Noona, thank you”

Overwhelmed by Tae’s open display of affection, you just blinked and waved him off, your heart 

filled to the brim with emotions. That was when JiYong arrived from behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You leaned into his touch. It was more than welcome. He lured you against him and put his chin on your shoulder, kissing you when you turned to look at him.

“How’s my woman doing?” he asked, hugging you tighter and humming in contentment.

“Stop calling me that, would you?” You smiled, feeling loved by so many people today.

“Nah! I love it too much. Hello princess” he said, reaching a hand to caress her hair. Tae giggled as he shifted closer to Ji, to give him more access to his daughter. While also trying to balance her better in his arms. 

“Don’t drop her Tae!” Ji exclaimed, “ She gets heavier by drinking all that milk”.

You and Tae looked at each other, trying to see in each other’s eyes the hint of either JiYong was serious or not. It appeared that he was and both of you laughed at his overprotective attitude.

“Yah! Ji! Of course Tae won’t drop her. She’s not even 10 pounds! You really have to relax.”

“I’m sorryyyy! She’s just my tiny baby princess. Look at her. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her”.

“Don’t worry, Tae is strong enough! I’m pretty sure of it!” You blinked at your husband.

“I shall relax, right?”

“Yes, my beautiful man. You should relax a little bit. But at the same time, you’re so gaga for our daughter, it’s endearing!” you said, fondly caressing his cheek. “But don’t be too scared, we both know that Tae is taking care of her with all the delicacy and responsibility like we do.” 

“You two are the best couple ever! You know that, right?” Tae state, looking at one after the other with his cute little face.

“I agree with that! Now, I’ll go feed her before we eat diner” Tae gave you your princess and you welcomed her in your arms with a big smile. 

“Hello my baby princess, you missed your mom? Yes? I missed you too” you said, pressing her against your chest. 

As everyone present was adoring you and the princess, that was when JiYong noticed the man beside Tae. 

“Oh Taehyung! Another friend of yours?” JiYong asked, looking back and forth between the two.

“Oh! Ji!” You exclaim, animated, “This is Yoongi - ssi, the love of Tae’s life! His words!” You giggled.

“Our little TaeHyung had met someone?” Jiyong asked, his face breaking out into a tender smile, “That’s nice! It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi -ssi”. 

“It’s an honor to meet you too, your majesty,” Yoongi bows politely. 

“I invited Yoongi to visit us, one day”, You said excitedly, “I’m sure you won’t mind.”

“Of course” JiYong’s attention went back to YoonGi. “He’s always welcome at our home. Anyone important to Tae is also important to us right?”

“See Hyung?” TaeHyung broke into a wide smile at Jiyong’s words, “I told you they would love you. There was no reason to be so stressed about meeting them”.

“I was not that worried,” Yoongi grumbled, his mouth forming into an adorable pout, “You’re exaggerating.” 

Tae cooed at the older while Yoongi sulked and you couldn’t help but soften at their bickering. It was cute to watch them together. 

Meanwhile, SeoJoon arrived, with his daughter MiNa sitting on his shoulders. Enjoying her ride.Carefully leaning forward to have a better look at the little birthday girl, he reached a delicate hand and carefully patted her belly.

“Ah!! Look at her! The princess is more beautiful every time I see her. When will this stop? She looks like you, Y/n. The more she grows, the more she has your features”.

“I agree, my princess has nothing from me. I gave it all to Chan.” JiYong commented, smiling. “And look at you, little MiNa! You’re so cute, dressed in yellow today. That color suits you well” Ji complimented her as he grabbed her calf. “Do you have a good time today?” He asked, grabbing her hand.

“Thank you uncle King, I have a dood time and I ate a lot of food” she mispronounced cutely. 

“You spare your legs for later? Will you dance with me?” 

“Oh! Yes, uncle King. I will dance with you. You will let me jump on your feet?”

“Absolutely. But don’t say it out loud, Y/n could have the idea too and she’s so tall, it would hurt my feet!”

“Kwon JiYong, you’re terrible” you laughed while you poked his side with one hand. You couldn’t add anything. Meanwhile Channie arrived in front of you all.  He had a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He probably had escaped the event for a couple of minutes and collected them in the fields around. Breathless, he handed you the precious gift.

“I have picked a bouquet of flowers for you and one for mother,” he said, smiling. A quick gaze at HyeJin told you that she, too, had received flowers. 

“Amazing, thank you Channie. It’s very sweet of you. You know how much I love flowers.”

“Yes, but also, it’s because I want to have you by my side when I’ll ask something to abeoji”.

“Ooh!” you said, confused. “What do you want to ask him?”.

He shifted weight from one leg to another, uncertain.

“Ok, I’ll tell you. After all, Uncle Seo and Uncle Tae can help me too. Hum Hum” he cleared his throat. 

“Yah, Channie! It cannot be that bad. What have you done, you mischievous little one” JiYong jokes, not sure if he had to be anxious or not about the situation. 

“The thing is…” Channie started but suddenly stopped, breathing in through his nose. His serious attitude concerned you. He seemed to be nervous and happy at the same time. But at 7 years old, he couldn't have done anything really bad, right?

“Yes… go on” JiYong said, looking in your eyes, trying to see if you knew what it was about. You shrug your shoulders, as ignorant as him. “Chan, what’s going on? Spit the beans.”

“So,” he started, serious. “I know, I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been. But Master Kim was not far behind. We were having a lesson and he brought me to the village you know, to demonstrate his point. The guards were with us, but yes… I admit… I took a different row then them at the market.  But we should focus on the most important thing here, please abeoji…”

JiYong was looking at his son, waiting patiently for him to continue. He had no idea where that story would go but was smiling widely at Chan’s cuteness.

“You won’t understand because you’re too old…” he continued as the adults that you were, exchanged looks, smiling. Channie sighed loudly, a theatrical look on his face. “So I met this girl… It was love at first sight”

“Ooooh!’ all of you exclaimed at the same time.

“She is 12 years old. She and her mom sell rice cake sticks at the market. I told her that I would come later to ask her hand to her father”.

“Aaaaw! So cute”, “What did she answered?” you spoke at the same time, touched by so much naivety.

“I will always remember her answer. She told me ‘come back when you’re older, little punk’ and she gave me a stick of rice cake. I’m completely under her charm. Dad, I’m telling you. She’s the one I want to marry.  Her answer, it means yes, right abeoji?”

“Your son has a little something for older women,” you said to JiYong. You had to precise your thought, when he lifted his eyebrow at you. “You don’t remember? He’s the first Kwon that asked for my hand”  he started to laugh, remembering the souvenir. You then added looking at Seo, Tae and Yoongi, “Also I have to add, he was better than his father, at least way more cute. When Ji asked for my hand, he called me Pabo…”

“Yah, don’t mock me, I was so nervous” he pouted. “And you told me you wouldn’t tell this to anybody. What will I look like”? He was laughing and hiding his face, shy.

“I said I wouldn’t let that one go” you teased.

 “Hum, hum!” the prince cleared his throat to have your attention back.  “So, her name is HaNeul and she will be my wife”.

“I’m sorry my son, I got interrupted”. JiYong knelt down in front of his son and took his hand in his.

“She’s that amazing?” he asked Chan, smiling fondly at him.

“Yes, dad! She is”.

“Then, in a couple of years, if you still want HaNeul to be your wife, we’ll make it happen”.

“Yeah! You’re the best dad in the world! Thank you abeoji!”

“I said, if you still want her. But I forgot to precise, she’ll have to accept too” 

“She will, I’ll conquer her heart just like you did with Y/n’s”

His sweet attitude and naive courage made all of those present laugh not just out of fondness for his little antics but also because it made you all genuinely happy at the sight of such young love. 

Soon everyone dispersed and you found a place in the shade under a large tree and sat down. You settled down comfortably and a cushion appeared under your arm. The servants were never far away and always ready to help you before you even asked for it. 

“Thank you” you told your maid.

“Of course mama. If you need anything else, just let me know”.

The sun was still high in the sky and no cloud was undermining its brightness. Filtering through the leaves and the branches the light conjured a beautiful mosaic and reflected it's drawing on the grass. After the dim candlelight of your share room, the bright light thus filtered by the vegetation was your favorite. You liked the effect that the different shades of green brought to its brilliance. 

JiYong came and sat by your side. The princess had just fallen asleep after she drank, satisfied. 

“Can I hold her while she sleeps?” HyunSa asked as she appeared from god knows where in front of you. “Stay with your husband for a minute or two. I’ll take care of my princess. Channie is giving a piggyback ride to my son. I have a few minutes before he discovers that I have disappeared” 

Her son was 12 months old and learning to walk. He was so cute, never leaving his mother’s side except when he was with Channie. Chan could do whatever he wanted with the baby and had practiced his big brother’s skills with him before SaeJi was born.

“Yes, take her. But don’t go too far, I don’t like when she’s out of my sight” you told her.

After she left, you leaned against JiYong. He welcomed you in his arms and hugged you tightly. 

“I’m so proud of you today, my love. Normally it’s hard for you to separate from SaeJi for more than 2 minutes. Now, you let her go from arms to arms”.

“I’m so sorry. It’s because I found her so small. She’s my baby daughter and I can’t breathe when she’s out of sight. What can I say? I'm like mama bear”.

“Have you heard me complain? I’m proud of you. You worked hard to bring this beautiful creature on earth, you deserve each and every single moment you share with her”.

“Ji… How on earth was I that lucky?”

He thought of it for an instant. Thinking about you, about your past as a former slave, the word “lucky” wouldn’t have come to his mind. 

“You think you’re lucky?” 

“Maybe I used the wrong word. Let's say blessed. That’s it. I’m blessed with so much joy and love. It’s overwhelming”.

He wrapped you in a warm swaddle of his chest and arms, keeping you close to him. Enveloping you. His heart beating like the steady rhythm of a drum against your own, you were astonished that after all those nights spent together, you desired him like if it was the first day.  You lift your chin to look at him, to observe his face, amazed by so much grace and beauty.

“I know those eyes… Tst, tst, tst! You’re naughty, naughty” he teased you. 

“Yah… I don’t know what you’re talking about” you denied, your chin up in the air.

“Yeah, yeah… that’s how you want to play? Hum… I too can play that game.” He smirked, his eyes on yours, scrutinizing every single reaction you could have. 

“Oh, really. Hum! I can’t wait to see what card you’ll display, this time, my king” you lift your eyebrow cockily. 

“Damn it woman, we’re in front of people. You can’t look at me like that”.

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about”.

In front of you, all the people you loved most in the world were gathered. The children seemed to have fun. The adults talked and ate while laughing. In your husband’s arms, time stopped and nothing mattered but the present. You knew that with him, with the family you built together, nothing could happen. You’d always be there for each other.

 “Thank you, Ji, for giving me a family”. 

“Thank you my love, for giving me the world”.

[taste-thewaste]

Potential-Madderton fic

Title: Potential Ship: Madderton Word count: ~4800 CW: Fluff, angst, mutual pining, misunderstanding sort of steering the plot lol Summary: Richard and Taron decide to take the next step and go out on their first date...but it’s a disaster. After, they don’t know where they stand with each other. A/N: This fic is a labor of love lol. Someone prompted me from a list of winter prompts that I reblogged forever ago, “our first date goes horribly so i don’t know why i say yes to a second date, and now, we’re stuck at the diner until the snow slows down and i'm having fun” and I’ve been working on this for a long time. This is the longest fic that I think I’ve written! It’s full of fluff and angst and gratuitous writing, so beware lol. Thank you for reading :)

--------

They’re sharing a pint in a tiny pub, and Taron’s just been stopped by the third person timidly asking for his photo. His eyes light up as he enthusiastically smiles for a selfie, his arm wrapped tight around the girl who owns the phone he’s staring into, and then he gives her a quick hug as she jets off back to her group of friends. Richard’s no stranger to being recognized-it’s happened twice to him tonight, as well-and it’s just a hazard of going out. Taron returns to the table and smiles sheepishly at Richard. 

“Sorry, Rich. It’s not always my favorite thing, but I’m still...grateful, you know? These people enjoy seeing me, my work, and just...I can’t believe this is my life sometimes.” Taron casts his eyes down, his cheeks pink from the beer and the heat of the tiny space and from his own brazen vulnerability. Richard just tilts his head, a slow smile spreading on his face. 

“Can I take you out to dinner Friday night?” Richard blurts, and then his own cheeks are pink and matching Taron’s. 

They’ve spent weeks in this place of non-definition, this gray area of relationship, not acknowledging the ways in which things have changed. They spend their evenings together, in pubs, in the cinema, in each other’s living rooms, and things are, functionally, very similar to the way they’ve always been. Except that now Rich’s knee brushes against Taron’s when they sit on the sofa, and neither of them move; Taron’s eyes linger on Richard’s just the slightest beat longer than they used to; once, in a fit of daring fueled by a few beers, Richard had pulled Taron close to him in a tight hug, buried his face in the sweet spot on T’s neck, kissed it just gently. 

No, they haven’t acknowledged these small moments of intimacy, not until now, and Richard has made a firm, calculated leap into reality. 

“Dinner?” Taron asks, softly, and Richard nods. 

“I...like you,” Richard says, his words trailing off into almost a whisper. It is raw, and vulnerable, and he is filled with fear as soon as the words leave his mouth. Taron is silent for a moment, and in those moments are everything Richard’s worried about since he came to the conclusion that he wanted to ask T out. He feels like a bloody teenager, like he’s covered in pimples and misread the signs; in those few silent moments, he rethinks everything he’s been thinking about this man. He pictures Taron recoiling in revulsion, accusing Richard of being mad, storming out of the pub. He thinks of all of the many ways he could have misread these last few weeks. He admits, to himself, that things were not clear in the slightest. 

“I-I mean, if you’d like to get dinner, that is, no pressure. It could be like tonight, just picking up some food, a beer, whatever, it doesn’t have to be anything serious…it doesn’t have to mean anything.” Now he’s stuttering like a teenager, good Christ. 

And then Taron’s hand is on his, gently, but it’s intentional and Richard looks up, allowing his eyes to meet Taron’s, and he’s calm again, because Taron is calm. 

“Yes, I want to get dinner, and I do want it to mean something,” Taron says evenly, and how could he have been nervous? His face breaks out into a relieved smile, and he nods.

“Okay. Sounds good,” Richard says, and the two of them finish their beers, make plans for Friday evening, laugh at everything stupid.

-------

Friday comes around, and for all the confidence that he’d felt when accepting, Taron will never admit to anyone how nervous he is about this dinner with Richard.

He gets dressed hours early, pulling on a pair of slacks that are both comfortable and flattering, clinging to his bum in just the right way. He pairs it with a dress shirt-dark blue, it brings out his eyes-and a jacket. It’s 4:05, and Rich isn’t due to arrive until 7. Taron’s cheeks flush as he realizes just how early he is, just how nervous he is, but it’s true. He doesn’t know why, but his stomach is churning with anxiety, his hands are shaking, and the only thing he’s certain of is that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll vomit all over his expensive shoes. He sits on the couch for a moment, willing his heart to stop pounding. 

“This is bloody ridiculous,” he says to himself, his voice echoing throughout the flat. “It’s Richard.” He has nothing to be nervous about; this is his best mate, his pal, the man with the ocean-blue eyes that he can’t stop thinking about. He’s been dreaming about something like this for ages, since the first time they kissed on Rocketman, and now it’s here and he can’t stop freaking out. 

He stands up from the couch and physically shakes out the nerves, flaps his arms, rolls his neck, attempts to release the tension. “I just have to chill out,” he mutters to himself. 

He kills the next three hours in a variety of ways. He attempts to read three different books, setting each of them down after just a few sentences or paragraphs. He turns on the telly and flips through the channels at lightning speed, not registering anything in front of him, ignoring the blur of the sounds and colors. He shuffles through the music on his phone, changing the songs one after the other. The activity that sticks longest is the game he makes of catching popcorn in his mouth; he tosses them in the air, tilts his head back, careens wildly to let the pieces fall into his mouth. 

By the time Richard arrives to pick him up, Taron is full of popcorn and feels like his eyes are spinning in his head. He’s more nervous than before, somehow, so when the knock comes at the door, he almost pukes. He frantically smoothes down his hair, takes a deep breath and opens the door.

--------

Richard decides to take Taron to the nicest restaurant he can find; he deserves that much, he deserves the world, Richard thinks. He makes a reservation and spends three days choosing what to wear. He bites his nails to the quick and when the day finally comes, he almost talks himself out of going. 

I could tell him I have food poisoning. I could tell him something’s come up and I have to fly home. I could tell him...anything, I could tell him anything because what if this is a terrible idea? 

The only thing that gets him into the car and across to Taron’s flat is reminding himself, calmly, insistently, that this is Taron, after all, his little Duckie, and this will all be fine. It’ll be better than fine, it’ll be brilliant. 

These words simply get him into the car and over to T’s, though. They do little to quell the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he drives there, the trembling in his hands as he approaches Taron’s door. Before he knocks, he takes one last big, deep breath, and reminds himself of the fact that he is absolutely certain he’s the only one who’s nervous. He’s sure that Taron is completely calm and ready for this evening. He reminds himself that everything will be just fine, better than fine. It will be wonderful.

He knocks.

-------- 

I don’t know that I’ve ever been nervous about something and had it turn out worse than I was imagining it, Taron thinks as he lays in bed that evening. It is 10:04 P.M. and he is laying in bed alone, the calling card of a date that didn’t go the way either party had hoped. Taron curls up into a ball and pulls the covers over his head, wishing he could stop reliving their evening, but unable to stop. 

It was as though every moment of their relationship up until that point had vanished out the window. Not just the small tender moments over the last few weeks, but their entire friendship. The car ride was silent and awkward, the only sound coming from Richard fiddling with the radio stations. 

Once they got to the restaurant, the awkwardness only swelled. They both behaved as if they were complete strangers who’d met on an app or through a mutual friend, strangely formal and courteous. Richard didn’t tease him about his hair or the bits of popcorn stuck in his teeth; he didn’t joke with Richard about the way he was walking as if there was a pole shoved into an uncomfortable position. They didn’t even talk about Rocketman or any of their shared experiences. They spoke politely and civilly, talked about the weather (cold); perfunctory details about their families (they were both close with their mums); their taste in music (similar). 

Taron was actually grateful when the food arrived, as it gave him something to do other than stare at Richard awkwardly and smile. They both ate quickly, barely glancing at each other throughout the meal.

“Quite good,” Richard remarked once. 

“Indeed,” Taron answered, swallowing thickly and taking a long drink of water. 

After they’d finished eating, the waiter came back and began to describe the dessert specials, until both Taron and Richard interrupted him with a sharp, short, “No!” 

Richard’s face flushed and he offered the waiter a shaky smile. “No, thank you, sir. Just the check, if you don’t mind.” 

Richard had insisted on paying, despite Taron’s repeated attempts to either pay for the whole thing or toss in his own portion, and they left quickly, for a repeat of the painfully silent car ride back to Taron’s flat. 

Once they’d arrived, Richard unbuckled his seat belt and started to open the door, but Taron had stopped him. 

“‘S okay, Rich. Why don’t we say goodnight now?” he’d muttered. Richard had cast his eyes down and nodded. “Thank you for dinner.” 

“Thanks for coming,” Richard had said quietly. “Have a good evening.” Taron had nodded and practically fled from the car, his heart thumping in his chest. 

Now, here he is, in bed alone at an absurdly early hour, and his heart is still thumping, but from something else. They’d tried it, going out, and it hadn’t worked. That isn’t what’s upsetting him, though. Sure he’s sad that their attempts to turn their relationship into something more haven’t worked; he’s been looking forward to more. The excitement of more between he and Rich has kept him going for longer than he cares to admit, and now that he knows it won’t work between them, the letdown is hard. 

But what’s really hard is the crushing feeling that something has changed between them. He’s closer to Richard than he is with almost anyone else. Rich is kind and funny and smart and the idea of losing him in any way, any capacity, as his friend, is devastating. He can’t shake the feeling that that’s what’s happened, though, and it’s too much for him to handle.

Taron burrows deeper underneath the covers and shuts his eyes. 

-------

The next morning, Richard rolls over in bed and squints against the bright sunlight. The first thing he’d done after getting home was fix himself a drink, then another, and another. It’s making the early morning sun a bit harsher than usual, and it’s, blissfully, all he can focus on for a minute. Then the previous evening floods back, and he buries his face in his hands. 

He’d been so stiff, so uptight, so worried that everything was going to go wrong that he’d ruined it all. He’d wanted Taron to like him so badly that he’d been unable to think of any reason why Taron would like him in the first place. He’d been unable to think of a single thing to say that hadn’t already been said, and then their night had ended obscenely early. 

After a shower, choking down a late breakfast and trying not to puke, he decides to fire off a text to Taron. Bugger it, he thinks as he types it out and sends it before he can lose his nerve. 

Hey. Thanks for going with me last night.

It takes twenty minutes for Taron to answer when it normally takes just a minute or two-the man is glued to his phone, always searching for cat videos and recipes-and the fact of that doesn’t escape Richard’s radar. 

No problem.

Richard’s heart sinks at the reply. It is blunt, matter-of-fact, to the point. There’s no banter, no back-and-forth. He takes a deep breath and plunges forward. 

Wanna grab a beer later? 

This time his reply takes two hours to arrive, during which Richard has taken to pacing the floors, worrying, flipping through channels. When it finally comes in, he leaps on his phone and hates himself for being so manic. 

Not today. Maybe next week.

There is no question mark at the of his sentence, he is not asking Rich if he’s free next week. He is making an excuse, deflecting from the question Rich had asked him. Rich quietly clicks his phone off and slides it onto the coffee table. His heart sinks, and tears well up in his eyes, unbidden. He sits on the couch, the low evening light just starting to filter in through the windows. 

Well, he thinks, at least I know where we stand now. He has taken the best friendship he’s ever had and ruined it in one evening, or so it seems. He knows he should leave Taron alone now. Their date had gone disastrously bad, the kind of bad that you write a shitty movie about, and he knows he should just let it be and see what happens naturally. 

This, of course, is something Richard simply can’t do. 

He spends the evening wallowing, watching bad TV and going to bed early. When he wakes the next day, he turns his phone back on, hopefully, and waits to see if Taron has sent him any messages. Maybe he’d misinterpreted the text last night, maybe Taron had just been in a bad mood or tired. Maybe, he thought hopefully, maybe he’d even misinterpreted how bad the entire date had gone! 

He waits a moment for his phone to catch up, but there are no notifications from Taron. One from his mom, another from his sister, and one from Jamie, but none from the person he really wants to talk to. His heart sinks, and he slides the phone back onto his nightstand, forgets about it for the rest of the day. 

-----------

When Richard texts him the day after their disastrous date, Taron sits with it for a while, lets it roll around in his head like a marble. His first instinct is to fire something back to Rich immediately, a gushing text about how he’s sorry it was so awkward and he wants to try again and no matter what he will always want Rich as a friend. 

But he stops himself. He tells himself he will wait, at least a little bit. 

During those twenty minutes, Taron’s mind whirls at a million miles a minute, and by the time he finally decides to text back, he’s convinced himself that Rich had only reached out to be polite. It would be just like Rich to do that, he thinks. The man is over-the-top polite in every scenario; he thanks everyone over and over, he holds doors open for strangers, he pushes his chair in when he leaves a table. It’s something that Taron has always admired in Richard, a quality that has always made him love him even more. 

But now he thinks that maybe Rich has only texted him to be polite. Maybe he’s just texting him to be nice so that their friendship doesn’t end on the sour note that had been their date last night. So when he answers, he is cordial, but there is no emotion behind it. He nearly scoffs when the text comes through and Rich pretends like he wants to hang out again; another attempt at being polite. He deflects, and their conversation ends. 

After he sets his phone down, he is filled with an immense sadness, like a weight pressing down on him. He wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers again; disappear from the world until he feels ready to face it without Richard. 

But face it without Rich he must, because the show must go on. If life has taught him anything, it’s that.

---------

For the next two weeks, they are both at a stalemate, both men wanting desperately to reach out and both being too stubborn and pig-headed to do so. Taron sits in his flat, goes over the scripts that he’s sent, stares occasionally at his phone and pretends like he’s not hoping to see Rich’s name light up. He watches telly mindlessly, flipping through the channels and trying to distract himself from Richard’s face, which pushes its way into his mind more often than not.

Richard does the same, but he also cleans like a madman; when he’s stressed, he cleans. He scrubs the bathtub, polishes the countertops, and reorganizes his entire closet. He alphabetizes his bookshelves and rearranges his pots and pans. When he’s done, his flat is practically sparkling, and he’s still thinking about Taron.

Despite the fact that they are both constantly thinking about the other, neither of them wants to be the first to text. Neither of them think there is anything to text about. 

One night, though, Richard is sitting at home and he’s bored. He’s more than bored, he feels as though he will crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t get out of his flat right that very second. He’s done everything he can think of to keep himself entertained; he’s read books, he’s flipped through the channels, he’s listened to music. Nothing has kept his attention, and as such he is practically vibrating with anxiety and irritation. 

So he grabs his keys and his coat and he takes off for a drive. The night is cold and clear and it smells like winter. He marvels at the blue-black sky, inky and full, the weight of the world seeming to hang just above him. His car starts up smoothly, and he rolls down the windows just a bit despite the cold, letting the sweet night air blow into the car, making him chilly. 

He pretends like he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, pretends he’s just driving for the sake of getting out of the house. Maybe he’ll stop and get ice cream or a coffee or even a beer, maybe, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He’s not surprised, however, when he finds himself pulling up outside Taron’s, walking boldly to the door, and knocking. His knuckles are sharp on the door, and he feels like he’s never heard anything louder than this sound as it rings out into the night. 

There’s a long moment and T doesn’t come to the door. Richard considers just leaving, hanging his head and tripping back down the sidewalk. He wrestles with his brain for another moment, and is just about to turn around and leave when he sees the doorknob turn. 

And then Taron is standing there, and it’s like a punch to Richard’s gut, just seeing him. He’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt, and he looks good, fuck, he looks good. His hair is fluffy and disheveled, and his face is slightly soft and puffy, his eyes blinking rapidly and confusedly in the bright porch light. He has been sleeping, Richard realizes, and he feels bad. 

“Rich? What the hell are you doing here?” Taron asks, his voice still thick and husky from sleep. It’s a valid question...what the hell is he doing here? 

He is unable to say anything for just a moment as he just gazes at Taron. They’re only a few feet away from each other, but it feels like miles, and the air feels electrically charged with everything that’s not being said. Richard wants to reach out and grab Taron, pull him close to his body, bury his face into the sweet spot on his neck where his skin is always the softest, tell him how much he has missed him and how he doesn’t care if they ever go on another bloody date again, he just wants him, all of him, exactly this way. 

Instead, he stands just so many feet away, his arms crossed over his chest in an effort to look casual but really just making him look uncomfortable, which he is, and then he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Well?” Taron asks, and his voice sounds slightly hysterical. “It’s 11:30 at night, what are you doing on my porch?” 

Rich is slightly shocked at hearing how late it is; he’s been so in his own head lately that time has had almost no meaning. I missed you, he wants to say. I am here because I cannot imagine my life without you in it in some way. Because I missed the sound our voices make when they’re together. Because I missed your laugh. Because I missed being near you. He can’t say these things, though; he doesn’t know why, he just knows that he can’t. So he shrugs, struggling to maintain his nonchalance, and before he knows it he blurts out “Are you hungry?” 

Taron’s eyes narrow. “You came to my house at 11:30 p.m. to ask me if I’m hungry.” The words fall out of his mouth flat, and Richard suddenly feels like the biggest fool. It is over between he and Taron, and he has been unable to accept that. He has to. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shifting his gaze to his feet. He hears a tiny sigh escape from Taron’s mouth. 

“Give me a minute,” Taron says, and Richard looks up just in time to see T disappear back inside. When he comes out five minutes later, he’s wearing worn-in jeans and a thick sweater; he tugs his front door closed, locks it, and looks at Rich. “Where to?” 

----------

They end up at a shitty all-night diner, the kind you see in indie movies and read about in novels with beveled edge pages. There’s only two other people inside, a pair of weary-looking old men eating limp sandwiches. There’s one waitress, bustling around behind the counter, refilling the coffee pots and wiping everything clean, and a bell rings out as Taron and Rich push the door open. They ease into a booth, their bums sliding across the cracked, faded leather. Rich runs a finger along the edge of the table, cracked formica. 

“Not exactly five-star accommodations,” Rich says with a small smile as he hands Taron a menu from the stack at the other end of the table. 

“It’s fine,” Taron says, meeting Rich’s smile with one of his own and cracking his menu open. 

The drive over had been silent, but the silence was not unwelcome or hostile. They were not trying to impress each other or mend any fences; they were simply together, as they’d been a thousand times before. 

Now the waitress bustles over and asks them if they need a moment before ordering; she is tired, and her voice suggests she’s been here for hours. They both order coffee, nothing more, and she sets down two mugs, fills them, returns with cream and sugar. 

Rich smirks as he watches Taron dump in his customary truckload of sugar, and outright laughs at the look on his face after he takes a big gulp of it. 

“Stuff’s horrid,” Taron whispers, but he is smiling still. Richard takes a drink of his own and nods hastily. It tastes burnt and bitter but he’ll always be grateful to that cup of coffee, because it breaks the ice between them, gives him enough courage to speak. 

“So what’ve you been up to the last couple of weeks?” 

Taron stirs his coffee absent-mindedly. “Not much. You?” 

“Yeah, not much.” 

“I--I’m glad you came by. I’ve missed you,” Taron says. “A lot,” he adds, under his breath. A warm feeling spreads in Richard’s stomach, his heart flutters a bit.

“Why didn’t you text, or call me?” Rich asks. 

“Why didn’t you text or call me?” Taron fires back, a steely glint in his eyes. It doesn’t upset Richard, it makes him smile even more. Taron has always been stubborn, and it’s one of the things Rich loves best about him. It can be infuriating at times when you’re begging him to just do something simple, but it also means that he’s stubborn about what he loves, too. If he’s being pig-headed, it means there’s still something there. 

“I thought I’d buggered our date up so badly that I’d ruined everything. I didn’t want to bother you. Especially after how you answered my text the morning after,” Rich says. 

“I thought you only texted me to be nice. You’re always so polite, I thought you were just doing it because you thought it was what you were supposed to do,” Taron says in the tiniest of voices, and it breaks Richard’s heart a little. He imagines Taron, sitting in his flat, thinking that his best friend, his...whatever-the-hell-they-were, was only talking to him to be polite. He impulsively reaches out and catches Taorn’s hand across the table. 

“I’d never lie to you, T. I’d never do anything disingenuous to you. You mean too much to me,” Richard says earnestly, squeezing Taron’s hand. “The truth is that I’ve missed you so much these last few weeks that it actually, physically, fucking hurts. It sounds dramatic but it’s true. I wanted nothing more than to ring you a million times. I just kept replaying our disastrous fucking date over and over in my head…” 

Taron laughs. “It really was brilliantly awful. What happened?” 

Richard passes the mug back and forth between his hands. “I don’t know, I wanted to impress you so bad. I picked the nicest restaurant and I dressed nicely. I was just so nervous, and I wanted you to like me so badly…” 

“God, Richie, I would’ve thought you knew me well enough to know that I’m impressed by you exactly the way you are,” Taron says lightly. “I mean, you’re the most talented actor I’ve ever seen. But besides that, you’re funny, and smart, and incredibly kind. You’re the kindest person I know. And the fact that I even get to know you is amazing. So, you see, you’d already done the impressing by the time we even got to the date.” 

He says all this effortlessly, as though these are things he just inherently knows and has thought about for ages. He says them as those his words are just true, as if they don’t mean everything in the world to Richard. But they do. 

“T, I...can we start over? With everything?” Rich’s cheeks flush with a hint of pink, and his hands are now laid, flat, on the chipped formica table. They are shaking, just a bit, from the nerves and a rush of love and the wholeness of it all. Taron reaches across and grips both of Richard’s hand in his. 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Taron asks, a grin slipping onto his face, and Richard matches it eagerly. 

------

They leave the diner an hour later, full of bitter coffee and a slice of apple pie that they’d shared, and Taron looks up at the sky. Snow is swirling around them in great tufts, coming down in a dizzying array of white. Richard’s car is already covered in it, and their shoes, hastily selected sneakers instead of the boots that would’ve been more helpful, slip and slide through the fine white powder. The world is still, at almost 1 a.m., as the snow cascades down around them. 

“It’s beautiful,” Taron says, his voice as soft as the flakes that land in his hair. His eyes are shining with the reflection of the snow and the bright streetlamp.

Richard reaches out and pulls Taron close to him, finally nuzzles that sweet spot on T’s neck. Taron scrunches his face up and laughs a little, and the sound is like music to Rich’s ears. “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispers in Taron’s ear. Taron leans over and impulsively, madly, kisses Richard. It is insistent and present and better than anything they’ve shared together so far, somehow. It is a joining together, a reminder of why they started this in the first place, an erasure of their terrible first date. Richard smiles into it. 

“Come back to my place?” Taron asks, and Richard nods. He laces their fingers together and leads Taron to the car, towards Taron’s house, towards a future together.

[madmadmilk]

Return to Sender | Tom Holland x Reader

Pairing: Tom Holland x Yours Truly (You)

Summary: A letter made out of love and loyalty. It’s your choice to press post, send, delete, or save to drafts. The only thing we’ll never know is if he decides to read it or not.

Warnings: cursing, (lowkey highkey) angst, and a fair amount of delusion

Word Count: 1.8K over the character count

-

How to read: First Person POV, so read this as yourself first and foremost. Then read this as his good friend, read this as someone who saw him yesterday, read this as someone you haven’t see in a long time, read this as someone who has nevermet him, read this as someone who has only known him through the lens of social media... read this as someone who has a lot to say but will never send it.

-

Hey Thomas,

I must have written this over a thousand times, and I know it’ll never be just right.I just feel weird calling you Tom over this absurdly long, formal message, and Thomas kinda just looked better to me. And, blah, I know this could never change your mind, or make you see me any differently, but it doesn’t hurt to try, right?

Let’s get the hard part over with.

There’s about three things I’m absolutely positive about. First, you’re amazing. Fucking, brilliant. Second, there’s a part of you–– my wishful thinking, I suppose–– that I know, cares about me or could. And third, hah, I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you.

Yeah, I totally just took that from Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight, but you know what?? I gotta pay homage to how fiction and storytelling has always left a significant impression on me. Fluttery stories of love and hope and strength and cute brunettes–– all leads to you.

And I’m joking and rambling now, I know, but it doesn’t make it mean any less.

I love you.

Truthfully, I don’t even know where thatstarted. Was it when I saw you fight impossible odds during a tsunami as a boy? Or when you trained to spin webs and do back-flips and shit. Did I notice this affection through your first appearance in the MCU? The second, or even the third? Did I realize it when I found your instagram, and finally let myself follow? That time when you mistook your hair gel for toothpaste…? Or when I caught your livestream at the Right Time? When you looked right at me, and I let myself believe?

I don’t think I’ll really ever know whenthis started. I only know what I want and wish to happen now.

Through the videos, posts, movies, interviews and experience, I just… I just feel like you’ve always been there for me. You’ve always been someone I could fall back on–– look back on. I open my phone, and you’re right there. Beneath my fingertips, first in my search bar, bright on my lock screen. You’ve always been.

I look for your voice before I sleep, and I imagine the sights and sounds when I see new pictures of you. All I can do afterwards is wish I were there with you.

That’s all I want.

All I want is to leave an impression on you, to have something that lets you remember me. After that, I can let go and rest forever, if I knew I could mean anything to you.

I draw you, write about you, read about you, dedicate a whole blog to you–– and still wonder if it’s too little or too much.

(Side note: does it weird you out? Seriously, let me know and I’ll halt productions.)

Gah, it’s staggering to think that we are worlds away from one another; that we could meet tomorrow and then never again. Or how often I see your face, and never know how often you see mine––

I don’t let myself think of that most days.

You’ve brought me so much peace and happiness just knowing you.

My view is one-sided and biased and rosy. It’s limited, blurry, and lacking. There’s so much I don’t know about you, so much I wantto know about you.

And that’s what keeps this going.

The hope.

Or some shit.

I wonder if you would tell me if you had a girlfriend, or boyfriend, or someone special. I wonder how that would make me feel, or if that could make these feelings stop…. Hah, but I don’t think that would take anything away from me.

You’ll still be you.

You’ll still be that sticky boy who’s kind and generous and cute and funny and good to his family and friends.

You’ll always be that to me.

Not that I’d refuse to believe that someone else completes you or supports you better than I can, but I’ll always have the warmth you’ve given me. They could love you more than me, be closer to you than me, be better than me, and that’s alright.

Because all I want is for you to be happy.

If you are, then so am I.

And that’s love, I suppose.

It’s something selfless, it’s something that’s kind of like a hobby. You enjoy it and you endure it. You build it, you tear it down. You want to share it, but keep it to yourself. And no matter what happens, you learn and grow from it…

Oof.

I do hope you continue to share these things with me. No real pressure, of course. It’s your life to take control of. You deserve your privacy first and foremost, and time away from the public and social media. You deserve the time to recharge and reorient yourself after long trips and interviews and work hours–– we all do.

I just hope you decide to continue to share the snippets of life that you do.

It’s a lovely world to be a part of.

I love that you share so much with your family and friends. I love seeing your cute lil dog and snaps of places you call home. I love seeing how you spend your night out, and the sporadic nature of it all. I love that you can’t use instagram stories for shit. And I love that you continue to try anyway.

That’s something I’ve always really liked about you.

You don’t give up when you can’t do something. You’ll post the same thing twice to get it right. You keep your cool and roll with the jokes. You laugh at yourself when appropriate. You stand up for yourself when things go too far. You try your best while we all are watching. You try even harder even when we’re not.

I really respect that.

And I’ve gone so far off track from what I came here to say, I don’t even know if you’ve bothered to read this far. There’s just a few more things left, I promise.

I just need to say that I’m sorry for being a pest. For lurking so far up your ass and hitting the bottoms of your feeds so much. For applying more pressure than you need. For reading fakey gossip and making bold assumptions. For forgetting that you’re human just like me.

I’ve made these mistakes, and I don’t know how to make them right. I’m still out here learning too––

And what I’ve realized is that to move forward, I have to  step away.

I see your posts and fawn, and then I have to turn and leave. Suppress the urges to tease and make fun, to shout profanities, to post about what I wish I could do to you or you to me.

A well wish is all I can give you.

“Have a nice day,” and “Do your best,” is so fucking vanilla but it’s what I want you to hear from me. Something soft, loving and easy.

Something that will undoubtedly go unnoticed.

And I’m fine with that (most days).

You don’t have to acknowledge me, you don’t have to recognize me.

Because I want you, but I don’t.

I don’t know what would happen if thisbecame real. If you suddenly become realto me in my real life. Real, real, real. It’s seriously unimaginable.

Not because I’m me or anything.

But because you’re you.

I can picture myself beside you, but I doubt you could with me.

That sounds so pathetic but–– I don’t know!

I’ll never know, unless youtell me. Or I tell you and you tell me. Or we end up in one of those fanfiction slow-burn roommate!AUs. Unrealistic, but romantic.

And this is the point of it all, I guess.

I want to tell you, “hey! I love you!” because I have to know what could happen next. Not that I’m expecting anything grandiose. I’m just hoping for a chance that you’ll listen to me and accept the feelings I’m giving you.

I just want you to hear me, so I can get rid of it.

So here, take it! Here it is! Do with my heart what you will!

I’m sick of hiding behind a screen, but too scared to show you my face.

Just take this pretty moment, remember me like this, and let me know what you think in 5-7 business days.

I’ll be waiting like I always have. Never too high on my toes or too relaxed in my bed. Leave it all to chance–– Can you believe I don’thave notifications set up for you?

You don’t own me!

And now that I’ve managed to give you a hard time figuring out what to do with my feelings, I’ll move on to the last part.

Happy Birthday, Tom Holland.

I’m so happy to have seen you grow on-screen and off. I’m incredibly proud of your achievements, and baffled by your impact. Keep fucking growing, dude! This is your time to thrive. All with your bare fucking hands. Fucking wild.

I can’t even compare myself to you––

But anyway, I hope you’ve had a nice day or night or whatever the hell. Please get some good rest tonight and tomorrow night, and all the nights onward. Take time to take care of yourself and brush your teeth.

And thank you for being your being here for me.

I hope you can take my words and turn it into strength and support, no matter how you deem to view it. It’s only to remind you that someone cares, after all.

Yeah, so before I dig myself a deeper hole, I’ll end this letter here. A reply would mean the world to me, and even if you don’t, I wouldn’t hold it against you.

You’re a busy guy, I know.

Thanks, Tom.

You have all my love.

Sincerely,

Yours Truly

-

-

-

-

-

A/N: and that’s it!  really raw and kinda exposing who i am lol. You can make your own assumptions of what happened next. What perspective did you read this in? Did you actually send the letter? Did he reply? (is the reply the title of this fic?) Hahaha, I don’t really know what this is. I just felt like writing a love letter. Please let me know what you think! Did it work? Did it make sense? Thanks for reading :)

Please like, comment, reblog, subscribe and turn on bell notifications!! Haha

Peace out ✌🏼

Madmadmilk

[hecohansen31]

Gurl if you got more ideas for them please dish! Lol that's my request, just more of that, whatever your ideas are for them lol

(A/N): Hello sweetie!

I know that I have already started a story about those two, but hey… I literally wrote this supernatural AU (although I don’t know if this could be properly called AU, since Roman is already a supernatural being) a few months ago and it was supposed to be about an OC insert (so if you see Heco, sorry it’s reader) and it was supposed to be actually MichaelxReaderXIvar… but I feel like Roman is just more fitting, so…

I really hope that you’ll enjoy it and if you like this verse please let me know because I literally finished the first chapter of the other fanfic I was working on so I will be working on the smutty continue of this…

Thank you, again for your support lovelY!

(Also I am tagging @walkxthexmoon, since she expressed her love for it, if you want to be tagged into something else… let me know!).

Also, since it is implied but not explained: Ivar is a werewolf, whereas Roman is a vampire (actually a “upir” but both Ivar and Reader tease him calling him “vampire” so I am here doing the same thing!).

WARNINGS: Bad Friends (I literally have to say that each time I am wirting about shitty friends I am like “No, my friends are not like this”, and then they make something… and I am like “this is karma for being assholes), Bitchy Reader, Heavy Flirting and Mentions of Sex and Threesomes.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed when her friends had sent her into that demonic village, as a birthday gift.

She was almost wondering if they hated her that much

(Was it the fact that she was more successful than them, or the fact that she was the only single one of the group, ruining with her mere presence the life of all its components…).

Because there was no way that journey was a vacation, it was absolutely a punishment of some kind, starting from the fact that her freaking car had stopped working an hour before arriving to the hotel, on a full bus, with her heavy luggage.

She was supposed to spend a weekend as a single lady with her newly broken-up best friend, except…

Except her ex-boyfriend appeared a few days ago, proposing to her and basically blowing off her plans.

If you could call “plans” something which had been thrown on your way.

She still regretted all the books she might have received, instead of being sent in this shithole.

She didn’t mean to judge a book from the cover, or better by the shitty phone reception, and the shitty appearance of the hotel where she was staying for two nights and three days and the shitty shops.

She hoped she might find some kind of bookshop… because that’s where she hoped to spend the days… although there were a lot of bar and liquor shops, maybe people liked to get drunk enough to forget about this shithole.

No, she wouldn’t be judging, not even as it started raining just when she stepped off the bus and reached hurryingly the hotel, almost slamming herself on the closed door, that thank God gave out under a little pressure, allowing her inside and in the warmth of the hall, for which she was thankful.

She spent a few minutes trying to recollect herself and thanking whatever make-up goddess, she hadn’t worn any, alongside collecting from her bag the vacation’s document and her wallet.

She approached the receptionist, a man, bigger than her of a few good inches, and turned around fixing some documents, till she coughed, more because of the cold she had been in than anything else, gaining his attention, or better a very pissed glare.

She almost though about fleeing the scene and checking the buses station, but the glare dissipated as soon as he took her in: she was sure she looked a mess enough to pray for his pity.

-Well… it is raining outside, isn’t it? – he mused almost shyly, immediately leaning on the table of the reception hall, almost as if to be closer to her, making her squeak lightly and in response her social anxiety kicked in, making her shove her folder with the payments and bookings in his face.

He smiled, with his shining blue eyes, taking (very gently for a man of his stature) the documents and setting down his eyes on them, and she almost whined to be robbed of those two spots of ocean, but she tried again just to readjust her appearance, wanting to seem calm and at ease, although she hated doing anything that remotely made her have contact with strangers.

-(Y/N) (L/N)? – he asked and she had to stop herself from saluting him as a freaking soldier, but the voice raspy and rough made him seem like someone who wanted everyone to stand at attention when he spoke to them, so she tried her best, although staring right into the ocean was a bit scary -… but I don’t see any Annie Howin, are you waiting for her? -.

Here came the hard part: explaining her friend had balled out of this “magical adventure” and if she could use a single room, instead of a double…

-… nope…- she almost wanted to slap herself for the childish expression, but the guy looked at her wolfish, clearly amused by the way she had rolled the word, which made her blush (wasn’t it too warm here? Or was she just burning from embarrassment?) -… you see… we were supposed to spend a weekend as singles…-

-You are,,, single?- he seemed  almost surprised by the way she said it, but she tried not to mind the comment too much, spitting out the discourse she had rehearsed for two days.

-… but her ex-boyfriend came back in town and… he proposed…-

-… and she accepted? – he commented as if they were in some kind of cheap telenovela, bringing a smile on her lips, while his own mimicked it in a smirk, a very sensual smirk (part of her thought it was the one lovers offered when they were teasing the other, as if humoring them but also trying to get them out of the shyness shell).

-Yep- again the childish expression and again the wolf-like smirk, which honesty made her wonder if his teeth were freaking sharp or it was just an impression -… and after he cheated on her… the dude kind of sucks…-

-Well, he must have other talents- the innuendos made her start out a laugh, mostly because of the absurdity of the situation: shy little (Y/N) gossiping with a gorgeous receptionist, who seemed into her.

(Key-word: “seemed”, she was pretty sure he was just flirty by nature, with those good looks and arms that could carry her everywhere, no she wasn’t totally imagining herself clinging at them, meanwhile he whispered naughty things, before dropping her to their shared bed…).

-I don’t know, I wasn’t the one he cheated her with…- and then she went back to the straight discourse, gaining a little laugh from the receptionist -… so she is not coming… and I am all by myself…-.

She didn’t meant to appear that pathetic, but it must have seemed that way to the guy, who rose his head, as if his ears could stand at attention as a well-trained dog, before giving her a sultry look and in that moment she remembered how stuck to her body her clothing was, nothing too transparent but… she was definitely vulnerable and that guy was checking her out as a piece of meat.

But not in the “sexual harassment” way, the “I really want you in my bed” way, and she was sure she was just mistaking the signs.

She was not ugly, but not a boy magnet: she just eased the “feminist who won’t put up with your shit” attitude, and it didn’t help to have social anxiety and shyness.

-So, you are all alone in a wedding suite… that’s honestly sad…- he mumbled but he didn’t seem sad for her, he was still leaning, and although his head was at the same level of her cleavage he was being a gentleman and still staring at her eyes.

-Yep, that’s why I would like to change it to a single: wedding suite is definitely too big for me…-.

-Sorry, lovely- she almost jumped at the nickname but he just smiled at her sweetly, letting the flirty persona behind -… we can’t change, but I am sure you will find the wedding suite to your liking, it is one of our best-.

Oh, just her luck.

She must have shown her disgust on her face (not a difficult thing, since she couldn’t hide anything) because he smiled apologetically to her:

-I swear it is a lot better than it looks, and we have warm water-

-But no wi-fi- she mumbled sadly at the sign on the window.

He scratched his head nervously, nodding.

-That sucks absolutely, but you can find an amazing wi-fi connection at “Shiny Moon”, it’s a bar near here, if you want, I can accompany you later-.

She seriously was flattered by the offer, but she didn’t know this guy and although he had been a gentleman (still sending her a few glance that made her feel hot and bothered, but maybe she was imagining them) she didn’t want trouble, mostly with hunks.

-Thank you, but I am sure I will find it, also I wouldn’t want to disrupt your work- she tried to push the “don’t want to bother you” excuse and he clearly didn’t believe it, but nodded as if he was used to that rejection and she thought for a moment to tell him, that maybe he…

But a beautiful blond-haired woman appeared catching the receptionist’s attention.

-Ivar! – she shouted, the name probably written on the little thing on the man’s tight t-shirt, which she couldn’t read because her glasses were a mess.

Ivar didn’t seem happy to be called and (Y/N) honestly didn’t get why: the woman looked like she came straight from a Swedish version of “Sports Illustrated”, definitely a model, who had unluckily chosen a shitty hotel.

-The water in my room isn’t working- she didn’t acknowledge (Y/N) as soon as she stepped near the receptionist table, locking eyes with Ivar, who turned his head down, avoiding categorically her gaze, but grunting a “ok” -… it needs to be fixated immediately, so come to my room-.

The last part of the quote seemed a clear invitation and it was what made Ivar snap, turning around abruptly and sending a glare at the woman, before recognizing her presence and softening his grim grin.

She didn’t know why, probably for empathy, but she smiled straight back at her, before coughing to make the rude model acknowledge her presence and whisper, trying to appear sultry.

-Ivar was minding my case, give him five minutes and he will solve your problem…- she wanted to add “your attitude problem” but she didn’t dare, already having said much more than the model expected, from her smiling face which sent her way a venomously sweet smile, nodding.

She didn’t answer to her, just turning to Ivar again and mumbling in a languid voice.

-Be swift, I don’t think it can wait much longer-.

Ivar just nodded, eyes fixed on the desk, and raising just when (Y/N) whispered a “she is gone”.

-She is a…- he tried to mumble, clearly numbing his rage to her benefit, meanwhile she shot him a compassionate look.

-Some people should just get a kick in their beautifully shaped butt- she mumbled and laughed honestly, as if releasing all the tension, something which was truly heartwarming for her, and made her smile to him as genuinely as she could do.

-I mean I would, but I am scared it would get just stuck there…- he made her laugh brightly and for a moment she thought about how embarrassing she must have sounded: nobody liked her voice or her laugh, too high-pitched, childish and definitely creepy but he looked at her as if she had just told him she was the freaking Virgin Mary, before turning around and catching a key.

-I am supposed to photocopy your document, but since you seem pretty cold and have dealt with an assholish receptionist, I’d say you can go to your room and warm up, it should be done by now- he put the key in her hands, reaching out for the physical contact.

He could have thrown them at her, made them dangle in front of her, but he straight up waited for her to offer her hands, gently putting the keys into them, covering them with his: that freaking contact was not accidental.

But she enjoyed the warmness of his hands, smiling thankfully at him, before trying to take everything in her hands.

And just when she was going for the elevator, she felt herself being called out.

-I know you might already know, because Fredys gave it out, but I am Ivar-.

She got into the elevator and she faced him smiling brightly before offering her hands as if she could grip his.

-I am (Y/N), but I think the documents gave it away-

-… unless they are fake, (Y/N) a pretty common name…- he made her laugh so easily she forgot to push the button, thankfully somebody else called the elevator and she made it in time just to smile at him and start her phrase.

-Strangest…-

-… parents- she mumbled meanwhile she reached her number, forty-eight, she low key liked it and the place looked much nicer inside, the old style that made everything seem “vintage” although it was a step from destroying itself, which might happen with her luck.

The key actually worked and she slipped swiftly inside the room, smiling at the clean smell and the warmth of it: a shower and a change of clothes would do her good, but firstly she moved around the room to check everything was alright and was surprised to find out how luxurious it actually looked, with even a bathtub, with hydromassage and a long plump bed where you could roll around in silk sheets.

The architecture was old and there was the much hated and anti-hygienic moquette, alongside with a horrible fantasy on it but everything looked in a classy way, much better than the motel she expected to find and much more than for what she had paid for her.

The place didn’t cost too much, according to her last research but it looked like it was worth every penny, if you ignored the fact that it was in the middle of nowhere with no wi-fi.

It was perfect if you looked for the perfect place for a “Shining” replica.

She tried to focus on positive thoughts, such as the fact that she shower water was immediately warm and she was happy to sing a little meanwhile relaxing her tights muscles from carrying her luggage every freaking where.

She then blow-dried her hair with the hair-drier that was there working perfectly, meanwhile slipping in a more comfortable attire: she had mostly short dresses, since she thought she would be out partying, a few sweater and her beloved high-waisted skinny jeans but she had managed to slip some ugly leggings and an old ruined university sweater.

It was barely three p.m. but she was tired for the long journey, which should have been a very short one, but the breaking of her car didn’t help (she had thought for a moment it was a sign that she should have just gone back home); she had had to deal with the police, coming to help her.

She had thought that maybe luck would be on her side, when she saw the bus coming on her way.

Unluckily the freaking bus journey sucked, so… she was tired AF and the cheap reality show she had chosen didn’t help and she ended up falling asleep on the plush bed, mumbling something about how bitchy bridesmaids could be…

She woke up because something on her head was vibrating and scared her into thinking about a possible earthquake, but it was just her phone.

It was Annie, from whom she had missed five calls and thousands of messages.

But she was so tired, that she actually thought about not answering her back and going back to Tom Hardy’s muscled arms.

(She had dreamt for a minute about the reception boy… Ivar… but it low key felt wrong; he wouldn’t definitely be involved into the situation she was dreaming, alongside the fact that it would be low key disgraceful to see him and blush after what she had seen in her dream).

-Hey Annie… I was sleeping- she even yawned, trying to tell her friend to make it quick.

They had never really been best-friends, forever competitors in everything and at the social level it seemed Annie was winning.

-Thank God you answered! I was getting worried…- she mumbled, clearly chewing her lips, she was also probably staring at her elegant diamond ring, part of (Y/N) wanted to tell her it was as small as her boyfriend’s dick, or so the rumors said, but she had stopped herself from doing anything, she had just “awed” stupidly alongside her other friends, when Annie had shown it to them (the ring, not her boyfriend’s dick)-… did you arrive? -.

-Yeah- and she watched her watch, apparently it was late enough that she might have missed her dinner, because of her little nap and outside it was pretty dark.

She put her friend on speaker, trying to put on a decent outfit, nothing too much to go to the “Shiny Moon”, which she highly hoped wasn’t some kind of exclusive club or a strip-club, because she had no intention to stick her tired body in a skirt, so she ended up in her comfortable jeans and an even more comfortable sweater.

-… so I am still sorry, but I felt like me and Gerry had to have our space and time, after the proposal… did I tell you he took me out to the “Sinatra”…- the most expensive place in their hometown, Heco remembered how it was something Annie always wished to do, and she was low key happy her friend could cross that off the list.

-Oh, it’s beautiful! – she commented, grabbing in her hand the sheer lace of her mini-black dress, the sexiest dress she owned and definitely the one she used to go out to clubs, but she immediately put outfit down, not feeling confident enough for that look -Hope you two had fun! -.

-I hope you will, too, (Y/N), is the room nice? -she asked, quitting the chipping about everything else.

-Oh, yeah, I have a jacuzzi- she heard her friend “owww” and mumble “maybe I should have come” -… and I am going out to get wi-fi, that’s why I haven’t been answering your messages because my 3G is not working so well…-.

-Yeah, I can’t hear you well…- mumbled Annie, but this didn’t discourage her from keeping up the conversation meanwhile (Y/N) adjusted her head in a high ponytail -… so I was thinking about the maid of honor: my sister or my cousin? -.

She low key didn’t expect to be the maid of honor, but not even being considered?

They hadn’t been best friends but (Y/N) had tried to play the part, remembering her friend’s birthday and gifting her lavish gifts, consoling her when asshole Gerry had left her and helping her build her confidence.

Annie had always left (Y/N) behind, after she was alright, and (Y/N) had been ok with that, she had stopped expecting people to do something for her, but still, it stung…

And to avoid confrontation, she started making horrible sounds and stumbling on her words as if she was seriously having a shitty phone reception, hearing Annie trying to scream and give up in the end, telling her to call her when the phone reception would get better.

She threw the phone on the bed, huffing and breathing heavily before adjusting elegantly her appearance and attempt to go out.

She stalked the reception hall and found a woman instead of Ivar: a beautiful blonde woman who seriously made her wonder if everyone there was a model.

She chatted a bit, asking for directions for the “Shiny Moon”, meanwhile the woman photocopied her ID, but clearly as disinterested as Ivar had been flirty.

She thanked the woman and adjusting her light coat she moved outside.

It was November and it was definitely cold but not as cold as in some  other states: the sweater and the coat kept her warm for the ten-minutes-journey to the “Shiny Moon” a dark and grimy place.

Still from the window she saw that there were many people dressed just like her, just with their computers or chatting up.

She entered and although the main colors of the club were golden and black, in a very tacky assemble that mixed a sex-club with a diner, the atmosphere was peaceful, alongside almost empty.

She sat at the bar stool, immediately making eye contact with a pretty girl of her age.

-Hi, welcome to the “Shiny Moon”! What can I get you? – her voice was emotionless although she showed off a smart smirk.

-Whatever can get me the wi-fi password?- she asked, trying to get straight to the point and gaining a sincere smile from the girl, who took a little piece of paper and offered it to her, before asking if that was all.

-Can I get a menu if I am not too late for dinner? – she asked, feeling her stomach grumble miserably, since she had avoided lunch.

-You are lucky, the kitchen is open for another hour and in the meanwhile can I bring you some kind of drink? – she said, putting out a white notebook and offering a plastic menu.

-Oh…- she didn’t know what to say -… coca cola? -.

-With rum? – added the girl, smiling at her teasingly and making her blush.

-No, no alcohol- she liked alcohol, but only when she knew she would make a fool of himself between people who did know her, not a strange grimy place, where she knew nobody, although if they looked all like models she could make an exception -… I need to go back on my own, so…-.

-If you can wait till my turn is over, I can accompany you- offered the girl she had just met and this brightened (Y/N)’s heart, but also she didn’t understand why a stranger might offer her help, after a few minutes of knowing.

-Oh, no I don’t want to bother you- she mumbled, using again the excuse she loved, since she constantly felt like a bother for everyone, even strangers she just met in a bar.

-Oh no bother, sweetie- the girl cheered sweetly -Us girls must stick together-.

And she sent a wink her way, worsening her blush, but she was immediately distracted by a blonde ghost appearing beside her.

-What have I said about talking with clients, Destiny? We have a full night.. we have no time to…- and then she met the ghost bluish-green eyes -… well I think I can make a little time for you, doll-.

Ivar adjusted the hydraulic tools back again on their shelf, fixing his appearance.

He had managed to avoid Fredys’ advances this time, although he hadn’t minded the flirty attitude of the new guest.

It wasn’t a typically flirty, more like he was the one doing all the flirty parts and she was just batting her long eyelashes, smiling shyly and worst of all: her freaking hips…

They looked like a freaking goddess’ hips, large and he wanted to see them in his hands, meanwhile he pushed them down on the bed, reassuring her with kisses on them.

Shit, the little girlie had done just a few steps in his direction and he wanted to bed her already, something he couldn’t do, but still nothing made him avoid the pleasure of making her blush and maybe if he played his cards right he would get to feel those hips.

He had a serious problem, worse than Hvitserk and food.

Talking about Hvitserk, he was coming up the stairs just when Ivar was going down on them, swiftly.

-Oh, hello there! – saluted him cheerily his brother, meanwhile he stopped alongside Ivar -Going out? -.

-Yep, I am going out for a few shots at the “Shiny Mood”, want to come? – he proposed.

-Sadly not, me and Ubbe have clan thing to do, but maybe I can join you later…- he knew he had lost the faith of his brothers and it hurt every time they reminded him of that but he tried to rein in his anger.

-Ok, have fun at the clan meeting- he tried not to sound bitter, but he knew he had failed when Hvitserk failed to keep his own straight face.

-You know we would absolutely love for you to be here with us, but… the clan is still not trusting you…- and he patted on his younger brother’s back -… you’ll be back soon-.

-I hope- he mumbled closing the conversation, and moving down the stairs, meanwhile his brother stuck there, but got a last look from Ivar -Oh… and we have a new guest, room forty-eight, she is mine, don’t try anything funny-.

If with Ivar, the flirting was strangely comical and harmless, with the green-eyed bartender she felt dangerously exposed even in her turtleneck and her full fitting jeans.

-Just cola, so, beautiful? – she just nodded, avoiding the bartender’s gaze.

Men weren’t usually that blunt with her and not having the control made her feel definitely vulnerable.

-… Destiny you can go to deal with other clients, I got this one- he ordered to the gentle girl and (Y/N) shot her a glance as if to ask her not to leave her with the hot bartender.

But the girl just sent her a sorry glance, before moving off to the other clients.

-You are new in town- it wasn’t a question, but she still nodded again, just to feel a hand under her chin, gently raising it up so that her ink eyes could meet the bluish and greenish of the bartender, who sweetly stare into her making her feel as if she was showing him her soul.

And she was thankful he liked what he saw.

-Much better, doll, look at me in the face while we speak, you have pretty eyes and even a prettier mouth-.

-I have never been told that- she mumbled but kept her eyes up.

-Oh, what a shame- he replied, moving his hand, which was still resting on her chin, to her hair, caressing her as if she was some kind of dog, something which made her roll her eyes but also lean into the touch -… women like you need to be cherished each day-.

-Aren’t you the flatterer…- she mumbled and he laughed sensually, dropping his head and turning around, thing that made her almost drop a whine, being robbed of the beauty, but he came back immediately, with her drink, and exactly like Ivar, he handed it to her with extreme physical contact, thing that made her almost wink at him.

-Just the truth, lovely mystery lady- he replied, before dropping on his elbows so he could stare at her at the same height, making her blush and cough out her cola.

-You didn’t tell me anything about yourself also, mysterious bartender- she sassed him and it got a pretty smile and an hand offered to her.

-Roman- and she accepted it, offering her own name.

-(Y/N)-.

-Pretty strange name, (Y/N) look more like a tequila girl- he humored her making her cackle a laugh.

-I do like tequila, but I am in the middle of nowhere and I don’t want to be kicked out of my single night out-.

-Ohh… single night out…- Michael almost whistled, clearly focused more on the single part than the ladies night -We host a thousand of ladies night, but don’t they involve another friend? - .

-Didn’t I tell you I am nothing like ordinary? – she said, with a bitter smile, drinking her sorrows away in the sugary drink -My last single friend got engaged a few days before, so I am all out of single friends, that was why I was trying to talk Destiny to join my night out… you literally ruined my night-.

-Oh, did I? – and he did a thing with his tongue that made her almost faint.

-Yeah, you are obviously not a single lady- she mumbled, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

-I am not a lady- he appointed -… but I am single, sweetheart-.

And the hand was back on her cheek, coaxing her nearer, till she felt somebody occupying the bar sit next to her…

-…well I am single too, so can I join the single train? -.

Shit, flirty! Ivar was back again.

Roman had had a tough night, a full night at the “Shiny Moo” and Roman had wandered off, meanwhile Destiny was chatting up clients, making others wait, and he had immediately moved to tell her to move her ass, till he saw the pretty girl she was talking to.

Clearly the type of girl who didn’t care to walk in a bar in simple clothes and she still managed to be the most stunning girl in there, and she was just wearing jeans, jeans that looked like they were painted on her perky butt, and a mickey mouse sweater, he honestly thought looked deviously innocent.

Part of her looked like she could have just come out of a fairy tale books, but the way she talked and once the shyness went away… she seemed to come out straight from an erotic novel, the well written kind.

She honestly made his night better.

Ivar, a little less.

The fact that they wanted to bring the same girl in their beds made it… interesting.

-Hello there, lovely, saw you found the “Shiny Moon”-.

The girl smiled more at ease, than with him; Ivar was a people-charmer, whereas Roman was more sensual and the girl looked like she was entirely scared by her sexuality.

So, Ivar clearly had the advantage, but Roman knew how to get everybody on their knees for him.

-… yeah, I mean I am not amazing with directions, but this place is basically in front of the hotel so…-.

-So, you are staying at the old “Kattegat”? – asked Roman, trying to get more info than Ivar, also because he was honestly mesmerized by the girl, utterly smitten and curious to know more.

-Yeah, just for the weekend- and then she moved her little chin to Ivar, smiling slightly and asking -Oh by the way the room is beautiful-.

Ivar looked like a puppy who got a treat after the compliment he had received, nodding immediately meanwhile he mumbled lowly a few words.

-… that place might seem a terrible on the outside, but believe me, it’s very much worse inside, alongside the fact that his owners are all assholes- replied Roman, wanting her eyes back on him and getting them, alongside a shocked expression and a grunt from Ivar, which was immediately suppressed by something that said “do you want war? I will bring it to you”.

-People only come here for the free wi-fi- replied swiftly the other man, sparking a little fight.

And immediately (Y/N) came between those two, touching Ivar’s chest.

-Woah woah… your places are equally broken on the outside, but they are prettier on the inside, and yeah the wi-fi bonus is amazing- she laughed lightly, but her intention was clear: she wanted no riot or brawl in there, cocking an eyebrow at Roman, in a little show of dominance.

He, instead, licked his lips, a little aroused by a girl that could handle two extremely territorial males, without and ounce of fear; Ivar was thinking the same, looking at the hand on his chest with wide eyes.

-You are definitely all over men’s bullshit- mumbled attentively Roman, making her drop her hand from Ivar, who looked a few minutes from crying for the loss.

-Oh, all over every person’s bullshit, but you men are just the absolute worst- she laughed timidly, before downing again her drink, as she tried to avoid thinking about the two men looking at her smugly and intensively.

“Well you are lucky, we are not men, sweetie” that’s what he wanted to tell her, but seeing through all  the confidence she was faking, that she was pretty shy, it wasn’t the time to tell her they were supernatural beings.

Although she seemed smart to figure that out on her own.

-… men disappointed you, lovely? – Ivar asked, tried to sound compassionate, meanwhile he adjusted himself on the stool, probably because of his legs bothering him.

-It’s just…-.

-Are you a lesbian? – asked again Ivar and Roman sent him a death glare, knowing perfectly from the adorable blush she was wearing that they had just burned a chance to talk with her.

-No, I mean girls are beautiful, but not interested into them, although maybe I should, men are…-.

-… the worst- mumbled Roman, sending a straight up glare at Ivar, as if to let the sweetheart know that he was indeed “the worst”.

Ivar clearly looked embarrassed by the way she mumbled back, and moved near to get her attention, offering and half-hearted apology, helped by his sweet and dramatic blue eyes.

-Sorry, didn’t mean…-.

-Don’t worry- she mumbled leaning towards him -… a lot of people assumed it the same: no dates, no guys out of my house and I frighten every boy who comes my way-.

She tried to laugh it off but Roman could find how much it actually pained her: the loneliness and the sadness made her feel as if she was not enough.

But she was so so much more than enough and sweet, and she had already two men courting her.

-They were all boys to be frightened by such a pretty and powerful girl- replied Ivar, immediately gaining points by the pretty compliments, she leaned back into him, not enough to touch but… Ivar helped the contact by putting a hand over her shoulders, making her blush even more and sending Roman a winning smirk.

But he hadn’t lost.

-So, pretty girlie, do you have any plans for this weekend? – he asked, taking away the attention from Ivar and leaning forward, thing that was made by (Y/N) herself.

-Just to relax and do anything else-.

-Never thought about a threesome? – and the look of shock was enough to be a win for him.

Ivar seriously couldn’t be the prouder guy in the entire bar with the prettiest girl in town under his arm, smiling sweetly and with red shadows on her cheeks he wanted to kiss and maybe he would get to if he accompanied her back to the room.

Also, it was a little win over Roman, who instead of him, just needed to look at a girl to have her in her bed, and he also had had another little advantaged over him.

But he ruined anything as soon as Roman spit out the “threesome” proposition; it wasn’t rare for them to share a girl, mostly because of Ivar’s “little problem”, but this girl so sweet and pure… he felt like the sharing option was crazy.

She looked shell shocked in her expression of true shock, even worse than the one that she had on her face after his “embarrassing question”, but she almost laughed out, probably expecting it all to be a little joke.

Michael looked at her like a cat with a mouse, clearly trying to stay serious, although he laughed it off as if it was joke before going back to being serious.

-But seriously sweetie… if you want to do something more than just relax, we are more than willing to help you with a little fun-.

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

(ao3 story link)

A/N: lskdfa;kfgjgkbvklnlkvs Also I’m crying. 

Chapter 46.

“If I recognized the name, I would tell you,” Noble assures me from the passenger seat of my Mustang. We sit idle at the curb on my block after a noticeably quiet drive home from the gym. “You don’t think I’m trying to hide something do you?”

I lean back against the headrest, pausing for a slow inhale before I look at him. “No,” I answer. “I like to think that if you knew something, you’d tell me.”

“You like to think--”

“Mostly, yes. But you’ve been evasive with me in the past--”

“Whoa.” Noble’s eyes flash with this insulted cut. “What?”

“Times you owed a guy money, or you were flying in for some dodgy card game. And I had to pull the truth out of you.”

“Oh wow.” He says it loud with a nod as he turns to look out the front windshield. “Way to bring up shit from six months ago. So you don’t believe me.”

“Look, do I think you’d outright lie about knowing a guy who posed a potential threat to either one of us? No. But I think it’s a possibility that you may have crossed paths with him at some point and maybe you were oblivious--”

“Damn. So not only am I evasive, but I’m also a dumbass.”

“Noble. It was 2005 and probably before then. How should I know--?”

“Exactly. How should you know?”

“I’m asking!”

“And I said I never knew him!” He insists. “So why are we still talking about this?”

Swallowing the tightness in my throat, I don’t say anything for a minute, then eventually I cut the engine and pull out my keys. “Let’s just go in.”

The two of us push out of the car into the freezing late morning air and quickly make our way inside my building.

Up the stairs, we don't talk. I just get through the door and cross the apartment to toss my gym bag on the floor of my room when I hear Noble's voice from the living room.

“Maybe you’re looking for a problem where there’s no problem.”

“There’s no problem?” I question, coming out to meet him.

“It’s like you want me to know this guy. I don’t know him. So what now? Because you’re obviously not taking my word for it.”

“I’m not looking for a problem,” I tell him. “But I am being careful. And realistic. And considering you’re the one who wants to move to New York, I’d think you’d be the same way.”

“Oh, I’m the one.” He says it with this phony sense of realization, thoughtfully narrowing his eyes. “Huh.”

“You know what I mean--”

“How about you say what you fucking mean, Jamie.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about anybody moving just yet.”

Blinking, he glances away with a nod as if he’s considering it. “Great. So we’re just going to live twelve hundred miles apart until what?”

I have to scoff a quiet laugh. “Hasn’t that been the deal this whole time? Besides, you said that’s how it could be for as long as I need it.”

“Yeah, I said that and I’m realizing maybe I was wrong.”

I look at him without saying anything for a moment. 

He goes on. “That’s not what I want, Jay. If I’m being honest, I want to be here and actually have a life that’s like, worth something. With you. But if you’re telling me it’s not possible, then… I don’t know.”

“Why does it have to be New York?” I attempt. “Maybe a move to Miami should be on the table.”

“Oh right.” Noble laughs. “I’m already the enemy. But you move to Miami and your family would probably disown you. I don’t want to be responsible for that resentment--”

“It wouldn’t be like that--”

“How would you pull that off?” He questions. “You can’t even manage to tell anyone but your sister that you’re seeing someone.”

“That’s not fair, Noble.” I react from the sting in my chest. “I can’t go to my family and tell them anything until I have a solid plan for your protection. You act like you can just move back here a brand new person--”

“You kind of led me to believe that it was possible.”

“WitSec works because the witnesses are relocated, removed from the threat. Once you break that, nothing’s guaranteed. I don’t have magic strings to pull. If anything, I go to my dad about us and it blows up in our faces. He’ll ask me what was I thinking. He’ll tell me I put everyone at risk. My brother will lose his shit. God knows my grandpa won’t even be able to look at me,” I spout off. “It’s easy for you to stand there and claim I can’t bring myself to admit this to them. You don’t have as much to lose, Noble. You don’t have anybody.”

As soon as I say it, I feel sick. I close my eyes for a moment and wish I could take it back, rubbing fingertips across my forehead before I dare to glance up at him.

Noble just stands there, presses his lips together and looks away. I see him swallow hard, then nod faintly as if to accept that’s that.

“I mean--” I let out a breath that was swelling in my chest. “Anybody… who would demand an explanation from you--”

“No, I know what you meant,” he mutters. “You’re right.” Then he offers this matter of fact shrug and scratches a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I watch as he turns, makes his way to the bathroom and closes the door.

There’s this pressure just in the hollow of my ribcage and it starts to rise until I feel it in my throat. Fuck. I can’t do anything but move to sink down on the couch, letting my hands catch my heavy head.

I’m the reason he doesn’t have anybody. And while I have no regrets about the necessary steps we took that led to that outcome, I know it never gets any easier for him to fully accept. 

Maybe I had led Noble to believe he could move to New York. We talk about it all the time and I want it so bad. I think about him here, working and living in the city, the two of us having this relationship that feels just as easy day to day as it does when we're alone together on hidden weekends. I imagine meeting up for a movie on a random weeknight, catching dinner in the city after work. If I ever manage to be recognized on Medal Day, I want him there with my family. 

But I had to know that eventually, I’d hit a dead end with all the hoping and daydreaming and actually have to make a real life decision.

I convince myself to get up, heading to the kitchen to do something mindless. At the sink, I wash last night’s wine glasses and this morning’s coffee mugs. 

I’m cleaning up the counter when I hear the shower turn off and Noble comes out of the bathroom. Glancing up, I see him cross to my bedroom, a towel around his waist, then he disappears. 

After a few hesitant moments, I trail him there and linger in the doorway to my room. “Noble, I’m sorry,” I speak up. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He hops into his jeans, fastening them but he still won’t look at me. Around the room, he gathers some of his stray things -- a sweatshirt off the chair in the corner, the gym clothes he’d worn earlier -- and begins to fit them inside of his bag. 

Finally, he sniffs, passes a hand across his mouth and turns to me. “It’s a lot for you to face,” he says. “A lot I don’t have. So--” Then one shoulder lifts and he returns to his bag.

“No, but that was a dick thing to say.”

“I’m alright,” he murmurs absently.

I just watch him, acutely aware of the distress that clouds his features and gives away that his mind is somewhere else. 

I gesture to his packing. “Don’t go. Please. Your flight’s not ‘til four.”

He snaps a clean t-shirt out of his bag and slips it on. “I need to go. And we need to end this.”

Something sinks straight through my gut like some possessed freefall carnival ride and it scorches my core. “What--”

“I don’t want a fight about it. Let’s just be real, Jamie.”

The deep, soft rumble of his voice is sobering and catches me off guard, I hardly know where to even start.

“There’s no… point,” he continues after pulling on the grey sweater he had decided against the morning before. “In all this. I’m not gonna put you in this position to be… disgraced by your family--”

“Noble--”

“I mean ultimately, we’re both better off going our separate ways." He exhales hard and tips his head down. “It’ll be fucking painful. Because… I love you so damn hard.”

When he rasps the sentiment, I cough out an unexpected breath, heat stinging behind my eyes. 

“But we gotta cut it off,” he finishes. 

Finally, I find some air. “No, I never said--”

“I’m saying it,” he tells me. “I don’t want to feel like this. Like there’s no good outcome. Like what we are, what I am, is some problem. Some fucking burden.” At this point, he’s just kind of mumbling to himself as he heads to the nightstand where he unplugs his phone charger.

“Noble, stop. You know that’s not what I think.”

“Regardless, this was unavoidable.” He decides it with this resigned shrug, not indifferent just… like an athlete accepting defeat after a championship, acknowledging that he played his hardest. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.” Then he stops his determined pursuit for a moment and scratches the back of his head. “I guess we shouldn’t have gotten in so deep. I don’t know."

"How can you say there's no good outcome? That's not true."

"That's just the sense I get," he explains. Picking up a plaid button down shirt off the chair, he goes to pack it and realizes aloud "This is yours," before he tosses it on the bed. "I don't want to get to a point where you're catching heat from your family about me and I'm forced to like, plead my case that I'm not some goddamn criminal.  And it'd just be endless scrutiny that'll eventually wear on you. On us."

I don't know how to sway this argument because he's right. This is where I'm supposed to fight for him. For us. But I'm just fucking stunned. He's way too calm about it all and it's making me panic in this delayed swell that’s about to overtake me.

He heads across the hall and comes back a minute later with his things from the bathroom, drops them by his bag and then leaves again. I turn to the edge of my bed and lean over to rest my hands there, holding myself up but I hang my head and attempt a deep inhale. The thoughts and reason trapped in my brain refuse to provide me with anything persuasive.

When he makes his way from the living room, his boots are on and he’s carrying his coat and I manage to land on something to say. "This is a pretty big one-eighty after everything we said last night."

Noble hesitates before he lays the coat on the bed and adds more to his duffel bag. Glancing down, he’s quiet a moment as if to recall that shower. "I meant all of that. And I still do." He clears his throat. "That's why it has to end clean. We say goodbye… and it's done. I can't do texts and phone calls and trying to be friends."

"Whoa--" I scoff, glancing up. What the fuck? 

"It's the only way I know how to do it, Jamie."

I manage to stand up straight and I spread my hands. "What are you saying? I can't even talk to you?"

He blinks and looks over at me. A faint shine lines the rims of his eyes but he glances away. “Hey, we did it before,” he tries to joke. But it just about wrecks me. 

I hear my own voice catch when I ask him, “How can I make you stay?”

Noble shakes his head. Then he pulls the zipper to his bag closed. “Don’t, Jamie,” he murmurs. “You can’t. Okay?"

My heart is pounding in my ears so loud, heavy like lead, it’s almost like I don’t even hear him. I can’t get my chest to fill up with anything. I don’t know where the air goes. 

“I gotta get out of here,” he utters, grabbing his coat as he lifts his bag onto his shoulder. He moves toward me where I’ve been frozen to the floor in the middle of my bedroom. 

With his gaze fixed down, he merely drags his palm along my stomach in this cursory way as he passes, like it was without thinking, before his hand falls to his side. 

With another few steps, his boots announcing his departure, he turns out of my room and heads for the door. 

And just as suddenly as he dropped into my life and changed everything, he's gone.

[shes-soparticular]

Slow Burn (Part V)

(Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV) (Masterlist)

A/N: Sorry this took so long! But it’s finally here and I hope you guys enjoy! As always, feedback of any kind is INCREDIBLY appreciated. Furthermore, I’m always accepting blurbs/requests. I’ve also been horrible about starting a tag list, so if you’d like to be added, please let me know! 

Words: 4723

I heard there was someone but I know he don't deserve you If you were mine I'd never let anyone hurt you I wanna dry those tears, kiss those lips It's all that I've been thinking about 

Instinctively, Shawn’s hand moves to graze the small of her back, brushing over the warm skin peeking out at the top of her jeans. The same skin he’d been pressed to only hours before, when his lips had brushed the back of her shoulder, just above the healing scar tissue of the tattoo he’d helped place there. But they’ve left the safety and possibility that Kraków had bestowed upon them and now? Now reality was shoving them apart again. A stark reminder that what felt so natural, so inevitable, wasn’t nearly as easy as it seemed between hotel sheets.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s squaring his shoulders, ready to step in front of Alex to protect her from the man walking towards them at a clip. However, hearing Alex’s voice acknowledging this stranger, calling him Ethan, causes his stomach to sink as low as it’s ever been. This guy isn’t a stranger at all, in fact, he arguably knows Alex better than Shawn does. Maybe better than anyone. That thought alone brings a tightness to his chest that he can’t ignore. Reluctantly, he takes a step backward, his hand leaving her body as she’s engulfed in the arms of someone else.

              On first glance, Ethan is every part the tragic fuckboy that Alex had unwittingly described. Every aspect of him seems a little forced, as though he’s perpetually trying too hard. From the comb over fade to the meticulously groomed beard, or the fact that he’s dressed like an urban lumberjack complete with timberlands and jeans that were carefully ripped up and distressed before they ever left the store, everything about him screams Small Dick Energy. Shawn knows that maybe that’s just the jealousy speaking as it sears through him, but the way Ethan unabashedly grabs a handful of Alex’s ass despite being surrounded by a group of her figurative colleagues? The way he only chuckles when she uncomfortably swats his hand away? It makes Shawn clench his fist without hesitation.

              “Hey Sweetness.” Even his voice has a smarmy quality to it, a frat-boy cockiness that someone several years removed from college should be embarrassed to exemplify. He can see Alex flinch at the endearment, her tension only becoming more pronounced as Ethan wraps one arm around her waist, tugging her into him a tad too roughly. Her hands brace against the front of his shirt, making it all too obvious that she isn’t ready to welcome him with open arms. Evidently, it goes unnoticed by Ethan, as he only tightens his grip around her, face nuzzling into the crook of her neck and placing a lingering kiss under her ear. Shawn knows he should walk away. At the very least, he needs to stop fucking staring. Yet, somehow, he’s frozen in place. There’s a look of possession in Ethan’s eyes as they sweep over Alex, not the adoration that Shawn can never manage to hide. “I wanted to see you.”

He can only see the back of Alex’s head as she tries to inch backwards out of Ethan’s grasp. “You know I’m only here for one night, right? We leave for Glasgow tomorrow morning…” Her voice stammers a bit, and once more, even though she’s having this exchange with her long-term boyfriend, it takes everything in Shawn’s power not to tell the guy to take a hike. At some point over those growingly fervent weeks, he’d become fluent in Alex’s body language. As much as he doesn’t want her to experience even a second of discomfort, it eases the pressure in his chest to see that she isn’t thrilled with this reunion.

Ethan doesn’t appear the least bit surprised nor phased by her uneasiness, his hands at her waist clearly not letting her back away much further. “Not a problem. Remember the summer program I did out here? I still have buddies in the city. I’m going to hang with them for a few days. But you’re sure you can’t spend a couple extra nights?” Not wanting to make it anymore obvious that he’s listening to their conversation, Shawn absent mindedly scrolls through his phone, but his attention never wavers from eavesdropping.

“No, Ethan,” Alex’s voice is hushed as she shrugs herself out of his hands, pushing him a few feet further from the rest of the group. There’s a red flush starting to creep over her cheeks and Shawn recognizes it instantly as embarrassment. It’s not the rosy glow her skin turns when she’s laughing at one of his jokes or wrestling him over the last Heineken. Nor is it the crimson she turned when Brian and Connor teased her about leaving his room that morning in Shawn’s shirt, a “wouldn’t you like to know” grin plastered on her face despite the heat spreading across her features.  “I’m working, you know that. I can’t change my schedule. That’s why I told you not to come out this time.” Her final statement is a bit sharper, her eyes narrowing as she rubs at the crease in her forehead.

“Work, huh? That’s not what it’s looked like on your snapchat.” Ethan flashes her a surprisingly stern look, suddenly dropping the happy go lucky routine before picking it right back up the second his attention turns over Alex’s shoulder to Shawn. “Seen you on there a few times bro, thanks for watching out for my girl.” Ethan brushes past Alex to clasp Shawn on the arm. The way his hand connects, with muted aggression, tells Shawn everything he needs to know about the unspoken words Ethan intends to express. “My baby sister loves you by the way, I think she got tickets to your show for her fifteenth birthday this year.” A low blow. It takes all of his will power to not shoot a retort about the way his music makes Alex’s hips roll, the way she smiles with hooded eyes as she sings his words back to him from the side of the stage. This image of her wandering through his head calms him immediately. It couldn’t matter less what this guy thought of him, it mattered what Alex thought of him. Having woken up with her hand wrapped around his that very morning? He’s done questioning whether she returns his feelings. The only question that remains is what she’s going to do about it.

Shawn snaps out of his thoughts, finally addressing Ethan head on. Giving a slight nod, he barely masks the chill in his voice. “Yeah, nice to meet you. Enjoy Vienna, man.” He only allows his eyes to lock on Alex’s for a moment as he steps around them on his way to the elevator, just long enough to see the loaded apology being sent his way. He doesn’t slow his pace until he makes it to his hotel room, alone this time, knowing full well he won’t be waking up there intertwined with her. He refuses to let his thoughts drift to the fact that there will be someone else waking up with her the next morning, but the thought doesn’t leave the recesses of his mind the rest of the day.

  Shortly after the Meet & Greet has wrapped up that his phone vibrates with the first sign of her.  I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was going to pull this. It’s unprofessional and I feel like an idiot. I have to go with him to meet up with his friends tonight, so I’m going to miss the show. But I really want to see you guys afterwards? Text me when you head out after the show? He rereads her text a few times, stomach sinking for the second time that day as he realizes this is the first show she won’t be at. If there was any other reason behind it, he’d be unbothered. He couldn’t imagine anyone truly wanting to watch him sing the same songs night after night the way that she did, but the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to pick her out in the crowd because she was playing dutiful girlfriend for another guy? It ripped him apart in a way he never would have expected. He takes his time to send her a response, trying to be as measured as possible. Not your fault, don’t be sorry. I think I’m going to head back to the hotel after the show but I’ll let you know if I end up going out.

He’s resolute until Alessia’s set has reached her final song that he oh so stupidly decides to check Instagram. There haven’t been any updates from Alex since the boomerang she posted of chocolate fondue in Zürich, a hand with a telltale elephant tattoo trying to snatch her fork away. In a masochistic move, he decides to check Ethan’s account. Sure enough, there’s a photo of he and Alex, his arms wrapped around her with a defensive tightness. She’s subtly leaning away from him, the smile on her face as fake as Shawn’s ever seen. It’s a frozen, tight lipped Posh Beckham-esque non-smile that he’s never even seen on her before. Nothing like the wide, toothy grins he’d become accustomed to, the ones that reached all the way up to create crinkles in the skin beside her eyes. It’s precisely in that moment he decides he most definitely will find her that night, even if it’s a bad idea, even if he might have to watch Ethan’s grimy hands roam her body in person. The fact is they crossed a line in Kraków, into this new territory beyond denying the inevitable. So if she wanted him to be there that night? He’d be there. Furthermore, it didn’t help that there was a sneaking suspicion taking root inside him that she needed him there nearly as much as he need her to.

 He rushes through the post-concert formalities and is unleashed on to the Viennese streets headed straight for the pub Alex promised to be waiting. Her texts had become increasingly hard to decipher as the night went on, but she’d shared her location which was enough to lead the way. Brian, Connor, and a few of the other younger crew members trail behind him, reveling in their last night in mainland Europe, already buzzed off of backstage vodka sodas and the cursory fireball shots. They don’t quite keep up with the pace he’s set, but even with his quick stride his long legs aren’t carrying him fast enough for his liking. All he can think about is that every second he’s not in that room could be a second that Ethan talks her into reconciling. A second where he reminds her why they’ve made it that long all while quelling her homesickness. Reminding her of the history they shared, the one thing Shawn undoubtedly can’t compete with. He ignores Brian’s call for him to slow down, only speeding up as he sees the bar’s neon light growing closer. The bar is dark and divey, a bit worn and rough around the edges compared to the newer clubs he’s accustomed to in Toronto. There’s a decent sized crowd and as he studies the sea of people, he doesn’t catch a single glimpse of Alex. In fact, it’s Ethan he notices first, bellied up to the bar, flanked by a few guys that from outer appearances mirror his fuckboy persona. Actually, Shawn hears them before he sees them, they’re easily the loudest group in the bar, carrying on and roughhousing over a growing number of empty shot glasses. Briefly, he wonders if Alex ended up leaving, she’s certainly nowhere close to Ethan’s side. That should be somewhat of a relief, but instead it leaves his stomach in knots. Amidst talking himself out of that foreboding feeling, he finally spots her head of hair leaned up next to the wall of a far booth at the back of the room. If he’d been walking fast before, he’s at a full-on sprint now, heart pounding in his chest as he makes his way to slide into the leather lined booth next to her.

“Alex? Are you alright?” He’s endlessly relieved when her eyes flutter open, though they’re glazed over in a way that doesn’t completely curb his panic. Moving his hand to her forehead to brush her hair out of her face, he’s greeted with a blitzed smile.

“Shawn, you came,” She sighs, her voice groggy under the weight of alcohol. He’s never seen her this drunk. Granted, he’s never seen her more than tipsy. Alex typically stays within her limits, at least since he’s known her. But now, her skin pale yet hot to the touch, her voice slurred under her breath, her eyes barely managing to stay open…it scares the hell out of him.

“Do you want to head back to the hotel? You’re not looking too hot, honey.” He presses his hands, still cool from the night air, onto her burning cheeks to help sooth her. A soft hum escapes her at the feeling and her eyes fall closed again.

“Will you walk me? Ethan doesn’t want to leave yet.” Just hearing those words fall from her lips makes his blood boil. Did this guy have any redeeming qualities? What had Alex ever seen in him? These questions burn holes through his mind but right now, his only concern is getting her out of there.

“Of course, let’s get you home.” Her body is so limp and pliable that it’s easy for him to extricate her from the booth, arm wrapping around her waist to pull her up to a standing position. He doesn’t see her jacket anywhere in sight, so he’s quick to shrug his off and help her into it, guiding her arms into the sleeves as if made of glass. All the while, her eyes meet his with an adoring gaze, her body melting into his the second he starts walking her towards the door. As they approach Ethan and his cohorts, Shawn can’t decide whether it’s worth it to acknowledge him at all. Would he even notice Alex was gone? Would he care? Before he can firmly decide what to say, one of the other guys notices them and points Ethan’s attention their way. Somehow, even at the sight of his unwell girlfriend tucked under the arm of another guy, there’s still a smug grin on his face.

“Whoa, where you headed, Mr. Steal Your Girl?” Ethan’s voice is slick with belligerence. Whether it’s liquor fueled or his natural state of douchery, Shawn can’t be sure. He’d bet money on the latter, though.

“Dude, she’s not having a good time, just look at her...” Protectively, he tightens his arm around Alex. As much as he wishes she had the type of boyfriend ready and willing to take her home, to care for her the way she deserved, there’s no chance in hell he’s letting Ethan leave with her even if the guy suddenly decided to step up to the plate. “I’m going to take her back to the hotel since it seems like you can’t be bothered to. Have a good one.” Of course Ethan scoffs, hostility flashing in his eyes. For a moment, it seems like a confrontation is imminent but after a tense silence, Ethan turns back towards the bar, rejoining his friends for what looks like another round of shots. “Asshole.” Is all that Shawn manages under his breath, turning his effort and attention back to Alex.

Her legs are wobbly at best and he’s already doing most of the work to hold her up, so by the time they get to the door he gives up and scoops her into his arms. Passing Brian and the rest of the group, he throws a quick nod of acknowledgement and a short explanation that he’s taking her home.

“Shit, do you want us to come too?” His best friend looks between Shawn and Alex’s face already buried into his shirt, sincere concern in his voice. Brian’s already starting to scan the bar for the rest of their friends, ready to usher everyone out, but Shawn stops him short.

“No, you guys stay, I’ve got her. I’ll text you when we get back.” The last thing he wants is for there to be a crowd around Alex in this state, but he knows he can call on any of them if need be.

“Okay, seriously, let me know if you need anything.” It’s not an exaggeration to say that they’ve all become a family, the way they’ve all bonded over the past weeks, and he knows that Brian and the others are nearly as concerned as he is. The same way Alex was the first one to pull together an icepack for Brian’s sprained ankle or how she’d stayed up all night talking with Alessia one particularly emotional day. There truly wasn’t a better feeling than knowing you were surrounded by genuine people that cared for one another, even this soon after meeting. Throwing one final nod in Brian’s direction, he makes his way back out into the night with her secure in his arms. Luckily, the hotel isn’t far, and while it’s the least of his concern, it’s best that Shawn Mendes isn’t photographed carrying a visibly drunk woman back to his hotel. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until he’s stepped into the safety of the elevator, her arms wrapping around his neck as she squints under the shock of the fluorescent lights. Considering she doesn’t have a purse with her, it means she won’t have her room key either, so he heads straight for his. “Alright honey, we’re here, you think you can stand for me for a second?” He hates to put her down, even for a second, but there’s no other way for him to get the door open. She gives him a weak nod but peels her arms from around his neck as he carefully sets her on her feet. He keeps his arm around her waist while searching his pockets for the key card with his free hand, finding it after a couple of wrong guesses. When they finally enter his room, he’s prepared to pick her up again, put her to bed, but as soon as the door comes to close behind them, she’s already making a mad dash for the bathroom. The sound of her retching fills the room before he can follow her, but he’s there, collecting her hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other by the time she finishes. Once she has it all out, she collapses against the tile of the bathroom wall, tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes. At first he’s not sure whether it’s just a result of her having gotten sick or if it’s coming from a deeper place.

“Hey, you okay?” He moves to sit next to her on the bathroom floor, ready with a hotel sized bottle of complimentary mouthwash and a cup of water. Unscrewing the mouthwash, he hands that to her first, waiting until she’s done to reach up and push the sweaty hair off of her forehead. “What’s with the tears?” One has finally started a path down her cheek, but he swipes it away with his thumb just before it reaches the corner of her lips. He knows that he’s probably not supposed to act this way with her, to be this intimate, but it’s all out of reflex at this point. He can’t bear to watch this girl cry, this girl he’s falling in love with, and not do everything in his power to make it better.

“I just. God. I feel so fucking stupid right now.” It’s clear that she’s refusing to look up at him, her eyes cast on her knees instead, brought up tight to her chest. “I’m a mess.” The fact that a great deal of alcohol has left her stomach seems to be bringing her somewhat out of the fog. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this.” Even though her face is tilted downward, he can see how hard she’s chewing at her lip. How desperately she means what she’s saying.

“Come here.” Pulling her under his arm and bringing her head to his chest, he searches for the words to tell her that she’s so far from being a mess. That he’d walk through hell to spare her an ounce of pain. That he might just be in love with her. But the reality of the matter is he can’t say those things. Not yet. Not tonight. No matter how badly it’s all threatening to spill out of him. “Everything is okay, you’re okay.” Despite the words he can’t say, he presses his lips to her forehead, hoping that can convince her that he truly believes those things. They spend quite some time together on the bathroom floor, enveloped in silence and an indescribable comfort in one another.

  He’s barely half asleep when there’s a knock at the door, the sky outside lightening as dawn approaches. It has to be after 5am but there’s no way it’s early enough to be housekeeping and he can’t think of any reason it’d be anyone else from the crew, so his first inclination is to ignore it and attempt real sleep before it’s time to leave for Glasgow. When a second knock rings out, his eyes meet Alex’s form across the room. She’s snuggled into the sheets of his bed, a soft drunken snore drifting from her and bringing him instant reassurance. He’d opted for the couch, as much as he wanted to spend a second night in a row curled up with her. When the third knock causes her to shift in her sleep, rolling on her side in the king-sized bed that looks so sprawling with only her body to fill it, he’s finally motivated to get up and get rid of whoever feels the need to give them a 5am wake-up call. His hand is on the door knob when he hears the voice behind the door.

“Come on Lexie, baby, let’s go.” Ethan. Of course. Who else would be roaming the halls that early in the morning, or most likely in his case, that late at night? Steeling his nerves, Shawn reluctantly opens the door. For two reasons, one, he knows it’s unlikely that Ethan’s going to leave. Two, from the sounds of it, he’s not angry. There’s almost a shade of pleading in the guy’s voice. Granted, that softness is directed completely at Alex who is very much asleep in another man’s bed, however innocent it may be. Purposefully, Shawn leans into the door frame as soon as he swings it open, covering Alex from view.

“Hey man, she’s sleeping it off, she’s fine.” Shawn cuts straight to the chase, there’s truly no need for small talk. When he stops there, Ethan appears to be ready to accept that answer, ready to retreat. But for some unknown reason, whether it’s a flex or a barb, Shawn feels the need to add one final comment. “I’ve got her.” So…definitely NOT the right thing to say. Not to a guy like Ethan that’s already hanging on to this girl by a thread.

“Oh, you’ve got her?” Ethan stops in his tracks, eyebrows nearly shooting off of his forehead. “You know, I’ve tried to be cool about this because I get that she essentially works for you. But you need to back off. She’s just giving you a pass because you’re some hotshot teen idol or whatever.” It’s abundantly clear that he has a growing complex about Alex being away. Not simply about her being away, but about the way her eyes are lit up in every social media post. The video of her dancing her ass off in Germany to “American Girl”, shouting at everyone that it isn’t fair to keep requesting the one song they know makes her lose her shit? It’s Shawn’s laughter in the background, his phone capturing her singing “take it easy baby, make it last all night” at the top of her lungs. The photo of her cheers-ing pastéis de nata with Connor in Lisbon with the afternoon sun blanketing her shoulders? He’d stolen a bite of hers seconds after that photo was taken, her admonishing him and his large mouth for taking more than his fair share. In nearly every memory she’d shared via social media had a backstory that included him in one way or another. The story of them falling hopelessly. Could he really blame Ethan for putting up a fight? He couldn’t imagine letting Alex slip through his fingers, to watch her fall in love with someone else.

And that’s exactly why he lies. Boldly. Quickly. “We’re just friends, you can relax.” Those words couldn’t be further from the truth. Just because they hadn’t completely crossed the line physically, just because they hadn’t named their tension out loud, didn’t mean that they weren’t already acting on these feelings. Inviting them in rather than pushing them away.

“Yeah, I’ll relax when you stop trying to fuck my girlfriend.”

“Frankly? I’m surprised you’re concerned. You show up to see her for one night and leave her wasted and practically passed out in the back of the bar?” At this point, Shawn’s done being cordial. This is truly Alex’s argument to have and in no way is it his place to step in and comment on her relationship. But after brushing those tears from her cheeks? That look of pain, of guilt, of uncertainty that was weighing down on her so heavily? He knew he was powerless when it came to the decision she would make next, how she would choose between the two of them. But that didn’t stop him from telling Ethan what he really thought. “If you lose her, you’ll only have yourself to blame. Maybe spend less time worrying about my intentions and a little more worrying about your own.” With that, he’s ready to shut the door and leave Ethan to his devices. Although, he’s not surprised that Ethan’s fragile ego needs the last word.

“Just because all of these people care who you are doesn’t mean that I do. Start minding your own business and give Alex some space, or we’re going to have a problem. Here’s her room key, make sure she gets it when she wakes up.” After shoving the key card at Shawn, Ethan starts to back off in the direction of the elevators, but stops short. “You think you know her so well? You don’t know the first thing.”

“Seems like I could say the same to you.” Alex and Ethan had history, there were experiences and memories they shared that Shawn could never replace or recreate. But if the last couple of months are any indication of where they’re headed? Of all they have yet to share? The jealousy for her history with anyone else pales in comparison to his anticipation for what’s to come.

Closing the door softly behind him and tossing the key card next to the dress Alex had discarded in favor of his clothes, he lets his eyes sweep over her once more. Everything he’s ever learned, every piece of advice he’s ever been given, has revolved around not chasing after someone that belongs to another. With everything he has to consider, his career, his reputation, his fucking heart, he knows he should walk away before he gets any deeper. Before it’s too late to turn back. But as his eyes sweep over her once more, they meet hers as she blinks away sleep. It’s clear she’s drinking him in too, his form bathed in the streetlight still illuminated outside. Her lips part into a tiny smile, not fully awake yet, just appreciating the man in front of her. As if there aren’t any risks, as if there’s nothing to lose. As if they’re the last two people in the world and nothing else matters. It’s then and there that he fully realizes – it’s already too late. It’s been too late since that first night in Amsterdam. Suddenly, there’s a line from a song she’d often played that ehoes through his head. Don’t get caught up in caution when love exists.

[kookingtae]

Hands of Fire (pt. 1)

→ scenario: As the princess of your kingdom, it’s always been your royal duty to have an arranged betrothal, despite your distaste for the tradition. But being in love with a servant might make things more difficult than you even expected.

→ pairing: servant/sorcerer jungkook x princess reader x lord yoongi (eventually)

→ genre: royal au, historical au, fantasy au, arranged marriage au, smut

→ word count: 11,128

→ warnings: mentions of violence

You were in the royal gardens when you spotted him.

The castle you lived in with your father and mother, the king and queen, had an elaborate garden around the front and back composed of intricate shrubbery and vibrant flowers decorating greenery as far as the eye could see. It housed a large staff that worked diligently for the royal family, including a set of gardeners who would tend to your favorite place to get away when you needed a breather from your stuffy life as the princess.

One of those gardeners was Jeon Jungkook.

You met him when you were just seven years old; the kitchen was another one of your favorite places to spend time because the cook always spoiled you with treats before the evening meal, and it was also where you once spotted a young, barefoot boy in raggedy clothing stealing a sweet roll.

“You’re not allowed to do that,” you called out to him, your words accusatory as his round eyes widened to the size of saucers at the prospect of getting caught.

“But sweet rolls are the best!” The boy tried to reason with you, your title unbeknownst to he who only had pure intentions and a heart full of gold. “Please don’t tell Cook!”

You pretended to think with your hand on your chin. “I won’t tell... if you share it with me.”

You didn’t think it was possible for the boy’s eyes to grow any larger. “No way! Get your own!”

You immediately opened your mouth, “Oh, Cook—!”

“Alright, alright!” The boy quickly leapt forward and slapped his hand over your mouth, some of the cinnamon icing on his fingertips dusting your lips. “It’s a deal. I’m Jungkook, by the way.”

You smiled softly to yourself as the two of you walked side by side out the back entrance of the kitchen. Growing up as the princess, no one ever realized how lonely it was. Other kids were either afraid to approach you because of your title or banned from seeing you because of theirs. Though this boy seemed to be different; you didn’t care about the tattered rags on his body or the dirt on his skin. For once, there was another kid who didn’t seem to mind you being the princess, and so you led him through the garden and into a clearing beyond the edge of the trees: a safe haven that would grow to be your second home with the boy over the years.

“I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook didn’t care about your royal title back then. The two of you became the best of friends, playing hide and seek throughout the garden and having imaginary sword fights beneath the trees just like the ones you would read about in the books you’d take from the library into the clearing. You taught Jungkook to read, and over the years those novels filled both your minds with fantasies and your hearts with a wanderlust that couldn’t possibly be cured.

That is, because you were the princess of the five kingdoms living under your father’s rule, and Jungkook was just a servant.

As you grew older, the vast difference in your social classes became more apparent. You couldn’t frolic in the gardens anymore because you had to attend your royal lessons that took place every day, and Jungkook was needed more and more out in the garden once he started to grow stronger. You also began to grow more... aware of Jungkook. The manual labor he performed daily had created muscles in all the right places, and his raggedy shirt would always cling to his chest with sweat whenever he was under the hot sun beating down on him. You tried not to stare when you would watch him work from afar, but it was hard not to notice—the years had been very kind to Jungkook and he was becoming a very attractive young man.

Jungkook, however, became more aware of you as well—or should you say, of your title and his relationship to you as a servant. The cheeky, mischievous boy that you once knew had now grown shy, timid; he would always downcast his eyes when you approached and never failed to make a hasty bow, as if you would reprimand him for being a hair out of place. He never spoke to you anymore either—just a few polite greetings of acknowledgment as all servants would when you’d pass. It was considered rude for a servant to speak to a member of the noble class, and somehow that message became ingrained in Jungkook’s head. It was as if the beginnings of your childhood friendship had all but vanished once you hit your teenage years.

Though that didn’t mean either one of you had forgotten; there would still be times when your eyes locked for a moment too long from across the garden, or you’d share a secret smile when you thought no one was looking. None of the guards ever went over by the clearing that was hidden within the edge of the woods surrounding your castle, so to this day the place was your special escape from the hectic duties and responsibilities that your royal title would shove down your throat. You liked to escape often; your father always wanted a life for you that you did not.

Now that you were well past your awkward teenage years and finally a young adult, your responsibilities were as insufferable as ever. Almost every hour of your day—save for the morning and evening meal—was taken up by your many lessons, and today was no different. Today, however, you were trying to avoid going to them.

Which was why you were currently strolling through the garden with a book in hand when you saw Jungkook knelt over a bed of flowers, his hands tenderly patting and kneading the rich soil with such care that one would think the flowers were his very own children. A small smile involuntarily spread across your lips; you loved to watch him work from afar, loved to observe the way his tongue would slightly poke out between his lips in concentration when he focused on a task with his complete and undivided attention. You watched as he reached up to wipe the sweat from his brows with the back of his hand and a smudge of dirt smeared across his skin, and you let out a soft giggle that ultimately got caught in your throat when he lifted the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe the excess perspiration from his face and revealed his toned stomach and lower abdomen to you. Your eyes couldn’t help but fixate on the sight; the cloth of his shirt had turned slightly see-through, leaving little to imagination and causing the feelings you developed for him over the years to fester like an open wound.

You had long since stopped denying the fact that you were in love with Jeon Jungkook. Only now he didn’t give you the time of day—and when he did, he was so formal, stiff. Nothing like the Jungkook you once knew—the Jungkook you knew was still inside him, buried deep beneath the pressures and struggles of his social status and daily servitude.

You wished there was something you could do to help him. It pained you to watch him overheat in the glaring sun while you were forced to stay within the cool air of the castle studying etiquette and ballroom dance. You knew servants were treated as lowly scum, barely getting enough food and water throughout the day and having to sleep on rolls of stiff straw and hay. You wished there was some way you could make things better.

Which was why you swiftly approached the nearest steward and obtained a goblet of water before approaching Jungkook with purpose.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you breathed out in a light tone, your windpipes suddenly feeling considerably tighter when his eyes fell on you.

He instantly rose to his feet and bowed his head with the utmost respect. “Your grace,” he let out in the same stiff, formal tone that all servants used with you.

You looked over your shoulders at the few guards that were within your field of vision. “Walk with me?” You suggested, knowing you couldn’t offer him the water with so many watchful eyes around—especially when he would get scolded just for being seen with you in a manner that was anywhere close to friendly.

Jungkook gulped, opening his mouth as if he wanted to speak though ultimately closing it and following you along the garden pathway. “Is everything alright, your grace?” He asked in a somewhat worried tone.

“Of course,” you answered, not wanting to worry him. “How is the garden doing today?”

You watched as Jungkook smiled softly at the thought. “Wonderful. It’s the time of year when the flowers are in full bloom, so I was planting some of your favorites for you along the route you normally take for your morning stroll.”

Your heart stopped at his words; he was thinking about you while he was working? “Thank you. They look lovely and I cannot wait to enjoy them in the mornings to come,” you answered with bright eyes.

Jungkook smiled at this, only for his brows to furrow in confusion when you finally came to a stop in front of a place you knew he’d recognize—a place the guards wouldn’t find you. “What are we doing here?”

“I wanted to give you this,” you replied, holding out the goblet to him that he was noticing for the first time was filled to the brim with fresh water and meant for him.

“Your grace, I can’t—“

“Please accept it. I know you must be thirsty after working outside in the summer heat without a break,” you urged him, your eyes silently pleading that he just at least put your mind at ease.

His eyes flickered back down to the cup again before reluctantly accepting it from your hand and taking a sip. After another moment’s pause, he suddenly leaned his head back and finished the drink in three large gulps as if he’d never tasted water before.

A pleased smile graced your lips at the sight. “I brought a book from the library,” you held up the fantasy novel that was lodged within your free hand. “I was hoping... you would read with me?”

A wide eyed, worried expression sprung onto Jungkook’s face. “B-but your grace, I have to work. If anyone notices I’m gone...” he trailed off, seemingly deep in thought as he nibbled his bottom lip. “If anyone sees us together...”

“No one is going to find us here; you know that,” you gently reminded him before taking a seat on one of the large roots above ground that belonged to a giant tree near the center of the clearing. You were desperate to escape—desperate to forget of your duties for even a moment and escape into the riveting story of a good book, and desperate to do it with the one person who made you forget of your title. “Please, Jungkook.”

The boy paused one more moment, two, before finally joining you atop the sturdy root. “Your grace, you’re going to ruin your dress,” he gently pointed out, and you looked down to where the bottom of the satin and mesh crinoline beneath your skirt swept along the dirt floor.

You, however, didn’t bat an eye. Your handmaidens had scolded you so many times over the years for getting dirty that you were immune by this point—it’s not proper for a princess to look as filthy as a gardening servant, they’d say. Little did they know a gardening servant was exactly who you wanted to spend your time with.

“You know you don’t have to address me as ‘your grace’ when we’re alone.” You have him a soft smile as you offered him the book. “Do you want to read it?”

Who knew how long it had been since he’d read? Ever since the two of you started keeping your distance, there had been no need for him to pick up a book. Servants across the land didn’t get an education, though you were sure if they did, Jungkook would love to learn. He always was curious about the world ever since he was a child; it’s the reason the two of you became fast friends.

“Uh... sure,” Jungkook cleared his throat before taking the book from you and smoothing it beneath his touch; the way his palm swept over the binding was mesmerizing.

“Once upon a time...” and then he was off, his melodic tone like melted honey as it poured over your skin, enveloping you in a warm blanket of natural sweetness that licked at the tips of your fingers and the bottoms of your toes. You missed this activity more than you realized, and now that you were here, underneath the tree in the clearing and listening to your favorite person read one of your favorite novels, you hadn’t a care in the world.

Being here reminded you of a simpler time, back when neither of you had to worry about schedules or work or classes. The nostalgia hit you like a ton of bricks, but as you listened to the sound of Jungkook’s soothing voice, somehow it made things better; it made you okay with how things were right now.

When he came to a stopping point, he closed the book and looked up at you, his eyes saying so much yet his mouth saying so little.

“This is where we shared our first kiss,” you blurted out, unable to filter the thought as it sprung to your mind. “Do you remember?”

The two of you had only been about 9 or 10 at that time, a time when questions about more mature things began to pop into your heads and stir your curious minds. Neither of you had had your first kiss, you both soon revealed, and so after quick deliberation you agreed to be each other’s, if only to see what it felt like. It was only a peck; the two of you leaned away just as quickly as you leaned in, and after that it was back to imaginary sword fights and hide and seek beneath the treetops. You didn’t quite realize what that exchange meant until you were older, and you hoped it wasn’t one of the determining factors that drove Jungkook away.

“Of course I remember,” Jungkook finally answered, his voice hoarse as if his throat was suddenly dry after reading so many pages. He quickly cleared it before continuing. “How could I forget?”

It warmed your heart to hear that the moment had left just as much of a lasting impression on him as it had on you; you wondered if this was only because he got to say his first kiss was with the princess, or if it had something to do with you.

You silently hoped it was the latter.

It was in that moment that you both stared at one another; the book was forgotten in his lap, the rest of the world fading away until all you saw was him in front of you. You were so engrossed in the sight of him, in fact, that neither of you heard the rustling of the leaves approaching from the forest. And by the time someone stepped foot past the trees and into the clearing, it was too late.

“Princess Y/N!” One of the guards called out, startling you and Jungkook away from each other. You instantly shot to your feet, a look of worry on your expression as the second guard marched over and shoved the beautiful boy next to you onto his knees. “Are you alright, your grace?”

“I-I’m fine—please, it’s not what it looks like,” you instantly started pleading, twisting and turning in your guard’s grip as you watched Jungkook’s shirt be ripped from his back. It was to your horror, then, that a long, thin whip was drawn from the second guard’s side. “I asked him to accompany me! Please, it’s all my fault, not his!”

It was as if your screams were falling on deaf ears; you thrashed and you kicked and you shoved, cries of “stop” and “please” falling from your lips faster than you could process what was happening, but no matter how hard you tried to free yourself from your guard and rush over to Jungkook in hopes of throwing yourself against his back like a human shield, it was no use. You were being tugged out of the clearing, and all you could do was watch in horror as the whip suddenly snapped against his skin.

You felt sick to your stomach.

You couldn’t eat, couldn’t drink; you skipped the evening meal with your family altogether, instead mumbling a measly excuse of not feeling well to your handmaiden from beneath the billowing blankets you were lodged beneath on your bed.

It was all your fault—all of it. How could you have been so stupid as to not double check for watching eyes as you led him out of the garden? Surely you knew the guards placed around the perimeters would get suspicious; a gardening servant was not supposed to leave the garden, and the punishments were not as lenient as they once were when you were children.

It was because of you that the boy you loved was badly hurt, and it killed you to think there was nothing you could do to help him. You tried to cry yourself to sleep, but the memory of Jungkook’s frightened face as the guard grabbed him haunted you well into the night.

You wanted to do something—anything, at this point. What was the point of your stupid royal title if you couldn’t achieve anything with it? The guards would only listen to you to an extent; they were, in fact, still under your father’s orders, and it was because of him that any servant who dared to get close to you beyond their range of servitude work was punished. This could be stopped by your father, you realized, and so you quickly made note to visit him with the issue in the morning.

But that didn’t ease your concern right now, because what happened to Jungkook had already happened. Every time you pictured his feeble, weak form bloody and broken, sorrow tore through you and a new set of tears washed into your eyes. You just wanted to ease his pain, if only for a little while, and the only way you knew how to do that was by comforting him. And so in that moment, you knew what you had to do.

You had to see him.

It was dark when you crept out of your window and your bare feet squished into the earth beneath you. The only light came from the moon shining above, because once everyone was in bed the candles lining the castle exterior were blown out and the only guards stood at the front entrance of the castle and the main gate. Thankfully, after years of sneaking around these corridors and knowing every nook and cranny that existed here, you were able to stay hidden in the shadows as you scurried across the land and made your way over to the servant quarters.

It was even darker when the rickety wooden door was pulled open to reveal the inside of the barracks. The small building paled in comparison to the sturdy regal stone used to create your castle; this building was made of entirely wood, the boards flimsy and rotting with big open cracks between every piece, making the entire room incredibly drafty. Not only that, but the small space housed nearly fifty servants; their sad excuses for beds were lined in rows.

Thankfully everyone was sleeping, and even if they weren’t, it was much too dark for them to see your face as you slipped inside. You expected it was probably common for servants to come and go as they pleased since there was no indoor bathroom, so the subtle sound of the door opening and closing alerted no one.

You nibbled on your bottom lip and ignored the faint odor in the air as you searched along the beds for Jungkook’s; thank god you’d long since mastered the art of keeping a silent step as you moved. It would be almost impossible to go through all these rows in search for one boy, but thankfully you didn’t need to; it wasn’t too long before you spotted the sight of thick bandages wrapped around a bare torso.

You crept closer to the bed, wanting to make sure it was actually Jungkook before you went about waking them up. And when you crouched down and the sight before you finally came into focus, a new wave of tears washed over you again.

He was asleep but shaking, his eyebrows furrowed and his face twisted into distress as he shivered from the draft drifting in through the poorly made barracks. The bandages were wrapped around his chest to keep them against the wounds that you were sure marred his back, though because he was facing you, you couldn’t get a good look. He looked so helpless and pitiful laying there, and the pain and guilt you’ve been feeling the whole night crashed over you like a tsunami.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you whispered between soft sobs, unable to keep your hand from reaching out and cupping his cheek. Your touch was gentle, faint, as if he could break under the lightest pressure at any moment. “I’m so sorry...”

The young boy suddenly stirred beneath your touch, and when his eyes slowly blinked open you could see the surprise in them. “Y-Y/N?”

You felt a single tear roll down your cheek as you attempted to smile in greeting. “I’m so, so sorry...”

Jungkook quickly sat up, his hands springing to your face and cradling your head between his palms as his thumb swiped against your cheek, feeling your fallen tear soak into his skin. “Sh... it’s alright, princess. Please don’t cry.” He quickly looked around before taking your hand and pulling the both of you to your feet. Then he was leading you out the front door, around the back of the small wooden structure, and into the bundle of trees that shrouded the moonlight and caused its white rays to trickle in through the leaves, casting a shadow against his breathtaking features. “What are you doing here?”

You couldn’t help but throw your arms around him as the tears continued to fall even harder than before; you were careful to keep your hands from touching his back, of course. “I couldn’t sleep... I couldn’t eat. I was so worried about you...”

Jungkook instantly engulfed you in his arms and crushed you against his chest, his bare skin warming your cheeks against them. “Sh... I told you not to cry. I’m okay.”

You pulled away with a sniffle to look up at him; he really was the most beautiful boy you’d ever seen. “What’d they do to you?” You were almost afraid to ask.

“They... whipped me,” he replied with a suppressed wince as if even the memory alone was painful. “It was our leading guard in the gardens who handled me; he said that if I got another offense, I’d be sent away.”

Your expression fell in realization and horror, then hardened with determination. “I won’t let that happen,” you stepped forward, your eyes locking and your hand gripping his as if trying to keep him from slipping from your grasp—and you meant it. You’d do everything in your power to keep Jungkook from being sent to another castle. He spent his whole life here; this is where he grew up with his mother and father and older sister. You weren’t going to let that be taken away all because of you. You’d have to be more careful.

Jungkook stared deeply into your eyes. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he breathed, and you weren’t sure if you were imagining the awe that you heard in his tone. But the reverie was cut short when a gust of wind swept through the trees, and the shiver down his back caused his face to twist in pain as he winced.

“Can I... see them?” You asked, desperate to help him in any way that you could even though you knew the sight would break your heart.

The boy paused before reluctantly nodding, and then he was slowly and ever so carefully unwinding the bandages from his frame. “One of the servants here stole these from the infirmary for me,” he admitted, his expression showing embarrassment and guilt as if he did not want to be the cause of another person getting in trouble. You understood the feeling all too well, and when he finally removed the gauze and turned around to show you his back, the feeling amplified tenfold.

You couldn’t help but gasp, and your breath was lodged in your throat, held captive and rendered motionless as the slivers of moonlight reflected off of the wounds that were still fresh and bloody on his skin. There must’ve been more than 20 lacerations, though you couldn’t be sure, because you lost count once your insides began to churn and you felt sick again.

Without saying another word, you went around the side of the shelter and grabbed the wooden bucket you’d seen fleetingly when Jungkook led you past it. It was sitting on the ground, the water within in chilled from the night air and the rag stained with dirt and other grime, though it was fully saturated. You quickly grabbed the handle and rushed back over to Jungkook before he could question where you went.

“Hold still for me, please,” you spoke gently, placing a hand against the slice of untouched skin so that he wouldn’t be surprised when you pressed the damp towel against his wounds.

“Ah,” Jungkook hissed lightly, his body tensing at the sensation before relaxing beneath you. “You don’t have to do that... it’s okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“I want to,” you quickly shooed away his worry, your expression crumbled in sorrow as you gently rubbed the rag across the bloody lacerations marring his beautifully tan skin. You admired the curvature of his shoulder blades and the muscles in his back that flexed harshly every time you went over a particularly sensitive cut. Each time he’d wince, you’d pause, letting the pain subside within him before continuing to clean his wounds.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook... this is all my fault,” you murmured just barely above a whisper, having to look away from the sight that tore your heart to shreds. “I never wanted to be the cause of your pain.”

“You could never be the cause of my pain, princess,” Jungkook replied, and you were in awe of the fact that he could be so caring as to reassure you when you were the one who had gotten him in trouble in the first place. Even when scars covered every inch of his back, he still comforted you, made sure you were the one who was okay. His kind heart and compassionate ways never ceased to amaze you.

When you were finished, you rung out of the dirty cloth, watching as the murky liquid soon turned a shade of red. You were quick to dispose of the water and put the bucket back where it belonged so that no one linked the blood back to him.

“Please don’t be upset...” Jungkook frowned when you were standing in front of him again, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek and catch any lingering tears. “This has been one of the best days I’ve had in a very long time.”

Your eyes widened in confusion at his words. “What? Why?”

“Because I got to spend time with you,” he answered, and you swore your heart pounded faster than it ever has in your entire life. “It’s not every night that I get a visit from you while in bed.”

His words were cheeky, filled with amusement as they caused light laughter to fall from your lips and dance in the air around you, and you realized that this was your first glimpse of the old Jungkook, the Jungkook who you knew was still in there buried deep beneath the weight and pressure that was sitting atop his shoulders every time he was around you. You wanted to be his escape from being labeled a lowly servant, just as he was yours from the expectations of being princess. You wanted to be the one person with whom he didn’t have a care in the world, and he could truly be himself.

This was why you always insisted that he not call you by your royal title when you were alone. You didn’t want to be the princess and a gardening servant when you were together. You just wanted to be Y/N and Jungkook.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you admitted, feeling the nerves building in your stomach with each second that passed. “I had to see you, to make sure that you were okay.”

Jungkook’s expression softened at that, and then his mouth opened and closed as if second guessing himself, only to open again. “I can never stop thinking about you,” he finally admitted. “You’re the reason I work so diligently in the gardens; I know you love the flowers.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and if your heart was pounding before, now it was leaping out of your chest altogether. You took a step forward, pressing your forehead against his and feeling the rhythmic sensation of his warm breath dancing against your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing that if you continue to stare you’d soon succumb to the power that he had over you. “What I love most about the gardens is you,” you whispered, your stomach clenching and your eyes opening to see how he’d react to your confession.

His eyes widened, and his mouth parted, and you were able to feel the cold intake of breath past his lips as he gasped silently at your words. Though once you got a glimpse of his beautiful features so close to yours, his eyes sparkling with surprise and awe and happiness in comparison to the fear and pain you saw in them earlier today, you couldn’t help yourself. You assumed the fact that he hadn’t pulled away from you or laughed in your face was a good sign, and so you leaned in, took a leap of faith, and kissed him.

It was as if the heavens above had opened for you. How long had you dreamed of feeling his lips on yours again after that briefly shared peck that lasted no more than a second when you were kids? How often had you admired him, longed for him, dreamed of having him this way while you were growing from your teenage years into the young adult you were today?

You’d long since lost count, but your guess was every day since the moment you’d met him. You always loved him, as a best friend when you were kids and then as something more when you were old enough to realize what your feelings meant. It was always him.

You pulled away after a moment, heat taking over your cheeks once you realized what you’d just done. “I-I’m sorry, I–“

“Don’t apologize,” Jungkook quickly shushed you, and the grip he had on your cheek tightened as if he wanted to keep you here by his side forever. “I.. I love you too, Y/N. I always have.”

And it was then that you threw all caution to the wind. You were back within each other’s embraces, your lips not able to get enough of one another as you kissed him like his lips were water and you were dying of thirst. Your hands ran up the expanse of his bare abdomen and chest that were toned from years of physical labor before winding your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair, feeling the soft tendrils that would always blow in the wind whenever a soft gust rolled by. And while your touch ran up his body, you felt his run down yours, from your checks to your neck and down the back of your spine, settling on your waist before locking his hands beneath your bottom and lifting you into his arms.

You let out a sound of surprise as you wrapped your legs around his waist, though neither the sound nor his actions caused the heated kiss to break as he carefully lowered you onto the forest floor. The mix of dirt and fallen leaves beneath you had never felt better now that his body was caging you against the ground, enveloped on all sides with nowhere to go but on him as you ravished each other like starving animals—and in a sense, you were. The two of you had been kept away from each other far too long, and now your love was spilling out of you like a broken dam.

Excitement stirred in the pit of your stomach when you felt his hands start to dance along the hem of your nightdress. “May I?” He asked in a formal tone, and you bit down on your bottom lip as a smile stretched across your lips and you nodded your head yes.

He soon hitched the thin silk material up over your waist and past the swell of your bare breasts.

“Oh my god...” Jungkook spoke on inhale, his voice breathless and movements stalling as he took in the sight of your almost fully naked body for the first time. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he marveled, and then his head was dipping down to capture one of your nipples between his lips.

You gasped at the feeling, your back arching and your chest pushing further against his mouth as you squirmed in pleasure beneath him. Never had you experienced a feeling quite so delicious before, and the sight of him devouring your body made the wetness between your legs begin to pool in your panties.

“Jungkook,” you whimpered, and at your voice he suddenly pulled away from your chest to swallow the sound with his tongue instead. You graciously welcomed him inside your mouth, the taste of you on his lips sending another wave of desire and arousal through you that you didn’t even know was possible. Jungkook had you on his tongue, you of all people, and you would never grow weary of it.

Your hands soon fumbled for the waistband of his linen pants, and once he realized what you were doing he quickly leaned back so that he was kneeling over your body, his knees on either side of your thighs and his figure shrouded in the shade of the trees.

“Are you sure, princess?” He asked, his voice full of genuine concern to make sure you knew of what you were asking for and if it was really what you wanted.

You nodded your head without any hesitation and propped yourself up. “I love you, Jungkook; I have for as long as I can remember. I want to be with you, completely.”

Through the slivers of moonlight casting shadows across his face you could see his eyes gleam with emotion, and soon his lips were on yours again, kissing you like his life depended on it and your were his only source to live. You only parted from each other to tug your nightdress over your head the rest of the way, and soon it was forgotten on the forest floor, his pants soon joining them until both of you were left in just your undergarments.

Your breathing grew heavier when you felt the outline of something you only had wet dreams about press against your core. You used to wake up hot from the goose feather duvet covering your body and bothered from the explicit nature of your dreams, wishing more than anything that you could have Jungkook with you the way he was right now. How could you be certain you weren’t having another one of those dreams right now?

With that thought in mind and trepidation in your fingers, you carefully reached forward and touched the bulge that was rock hard beneath his underwear. Jungkook let out a groan at the same time that you gasped, and the sight of his hips bucking once into your hand made you forget everything all at once.

“O-oh,” you gulped, your tone akin to a wavering moan and your eyes wide with awe as you glanced back and forth between the pulsing length beneath his clothes and the erotic expression of suppressed pleasure on his face. “D-does is feel good?”

“Yes,” Jungkook quickly nodded, his fervor giving you the impression that he’s never felt someone else’s touch; you selfishly hoped he hadn’t. “Oh, yes... keep going, baby.”

Your heart jumped into your throat at his term of endearment, and with it came the newfound courage you needed to tug his final undergarment off and engulf his member in your palm.

Your mouth watered at the feeling of his skin smooth as butter in your hand, and you watched a bead of precum slid from his tip. Never had you seen this in person; you lived a very sheltered life here within the castle walls, and you were supposed to keep your virginity until marriage. But in this moment, with the only man you’ve ever loved hovering over you, expressions of love and awe and desire and pleasure painted onto his features, you knew you didn’t want to lose it to anyone else. He was the first, the only person you wanted to give your body to, because you knew he would be your first and only love.

“I love you, Jungkook,” you couldn’t keep from blurting out again; he deserved to hear it every second of every day. “I want you to make love to me.”

Jungkook’s expression changed from that of pure pleasure to a softer one, and without another moment’s notice he gently removed your hand from his member so that he could lean back over you, his body encasing yours and protecting you from the outside world.

“You don’t know how long I’ve imagined you saying those words,” he admitted with a soft chuckle, and it wasn’t long before he was removing your satin panties as well so that you were both completely bare for each other. His fingers danced back up your legs, brushing past your inner thigh and swiping through your slit with one light touch.

You shivered at the sensation, your eyes squeezing shut as if bracing yourself for what’s to come, but after a few moments you still didn’t feel anything. You quickly opened your eyes to see what was happening.

Jungkook was leaned back again, his eyes staring straight at your core as if he was entranced. You felt your cheeks heat up, feeling somewhat embarrassed for putting your most intimate parts on display. “Jungkook,” you whined slightly, trying to get his attention.

Finally the boy looked back up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as if they were suddenly parched. “S-sorry. I just... I’ve always thought about...” he paused before gulping. “I’ve never been with anyone before.”

Your eyes widened at that, though you’d be lying if you said you weren’t elated by the news. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve always been so in love with you... I know it sounds crazy since I’m just a servant and you’re the princess, but I’ve always kind of been saving myself for you,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that I ever actually thought it would happen, of course. I just never wanted anyone else.”

Your eyes threatened to fill with tears; never had you been so touched and overjoyed by someone’s words than you were by his in this very moment. “Jungkook... I feel the same way,” you told him, an emotional smile lighting up your features. “I’ve never wanted anyone else like this... and I know I never will. I don’t care if I’m supposed to keep my vows of chastity until marriage. I want you to be my first.”

You watched as Jungkook’s lips trembled, but before he could say anything else he suddenly slammed his lips back onto yours. You welcomed the kiss, moaned into it as your mouths parted and your tongues danced together to a song of love. And when his knees parted your legs and your felt the precum on his tip coat your folds, you knew lucky you were to be the only person to experience this part of Jungkook. You would never take it for granted.

After making sure that you were ready and expecting his intrusion, he finally began to push inside of you, his girth tearing your insides and filling them for the very first time.

“Ah!” You cried out, the unfamiliar sensation startling you and causing your core to clench defensively.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Jungkook was there in an instant, his eyebrows knit in concern and his eyes searching your face for any signs of pain or regret. “Does it hurt, my love?”

The butterflies in your stomach from hearing the term of endearment on his lips distracted you from the stinging between your legs. “A little... don’t stop, though!” You quickly wrapped your legs around his waist to keep him from pulling out for your sake. “It’s just because I’ve never been... f-filled in this way before,” you mumbled, somewhat embarrassed by your explicit words. “You’re so... big.”

Jungkook’s brows didn’t unfurrow. “I don’t want to cause you any pain.”

“It’s a good pain, I promise,” you reassured him, your voice still breathless as your inner walls adjusted to his size. “Please, keep going.”

Jungkook bit his lower lip and gave you a wary look before finally starting to rock his hips at a snail’s pace, not wanting to push into you the rest of the way until you were stretched and comfortable. “I’ve got you, princess.” He leaned his head down to pepper sweet kisses across your face, down into the crook of your neck until he was whispering against the shell of your ear. “You’re doing so well for me.”

His praise and affection eased the tension throughout your body and you felt yourself start to relax against the dirt and his body cradled above you, careful not to run your fingers against the clean lacerations on his back and instead wrapping your arms around his neck while your legs circled his hips.

You felt so safe while hugging him—like even when everything in the world was against the two of you, you’d be okay because you had each other. You didn’t know how you’d gone so long without giving into your feelings for him.

Asking him to share his stolen sweet roll with you when you were seven was undoubtedly the best decision of your life.

“Oh god, you feel so good,” Jungkook groaned, and you could tell he was having trouble holding himself back from pounding into you. “You are—ah!—the best thing I’ve ever felt. Are you still okay?”

You felt your chest swell with pride at his words, and the sight of him barely hanging on by a thread had your core doubling over in desire. “Yes baby, please... let go,” you reassured him, leaning your forehead against his and letting your heavy breaths mingle while you gazed deeply into his eyes. “Make love to me like I know you want to.”

Your words seemed to be the kick that Jungkook needed, and suddenly all of his caution was thrown to the wind. His grip moved to your hips and tightened on your skin; his hips began to speed up and caused an explosion of pleasure to burst within your core. And when the tip of his dick hit the deepest part of your walls and had you seeing stars, his mouth was on your neck biting and sucking your skin as your tossed your head back.

“Oh my god, Jungkook!” You cried out, not even able to think about the servants who were sleeping mere feet away from where the two of you were in the woods. Expletives that you never even knew were in your vocabulary flew from your lips like a symphony with your moans. “Fuck, please don’t stop, it feels so good!”

“Yeah, you like that?” Jungkook grit his teeth as his cock rammed into you, the sound of his hips slamming your ass with each thrust adding to the lewd, wet sounds that filled the forest. “You take my dick so fucking well, baby. Oh my god, you’re perfect.”

His eyes never left your face as he continued fucking into you, lest it was the briefest of moments when he’d look down to marvel at the way his length would disappear inside of you. Even when he would lean down to devour your chest, his lips, nose and face desperate to be against every inch of the supple flesh, he’d still flicker his eyes back up to you, wanting to watch the erotic expressions that danced across your features every time he did something that drove you mad with arousal.

“I... I think I’m gonna finish soon,” he finally breathed out, his voice shaky and wavering from a mixture of the overflowing amount of pleasure coursing through his veins and the nerves he felt from not wanting to leave you unsatisfied. “I want you to come too.”

You focused in on his expression, the way his hair was damp with sweat and hanging in his big eyes that stared down at you like you were the entire world. “I wanna feel you come around my cock,” he continued when he locked your gaze with his and felt the way you quivered and trembled around him. “I’ve dreamt about this I don’t know how many times, and you’re so much better than my imagination, princess.” He let out a pleasured sigh teetering on the edge of its breaking point. “I love you so much Y/N. Come for me.”

And as if cued on command, you suddenly felt the tightly sprung coil that was holding all of your sanity snap within you, and you were coming, coming until all you could register was a white hot bolt of euphoria snapping through every vein of your body like a lightning strike. Your hips bucked and your back arched and your vision blurred with such intensity that you had to squeeze your eyes shut and let the wave of sexual bliss wash over you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Everything else around you grew fuzzier and fuzzier until it didn’t exist at all, and then you were sighing, the world slowly unraveling its spiral as you started to come down from your high.

“Holy shit, Y/N!” Jungkook cried out, his voice hitched to an erotic octave that you’d never heard before there was suddenly a warm, thick substance shooting into your walls, and the pulsing sensation caused your high to climb back into your throat until you were riding the aftereffects of your orgasm that were prolonged well after you had finished.

“Oh my god,” you sighed on exhale, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as you started to realize which parts of your body were sweating. Things started to come into focus that had previously been blurred at the edges or just gone completely, and it was with that hyper awareness that you felt the heat of Jungkook’s heavy breaths against your sticky skin.

It was silent for awhile until the boy enveloping your body like a warm blanket finally spoke. “That was... wow.” His voice was breathless, ragged. He turned his head from the crook of his neck so that his eyes could meet yours. “I love you.”

Even though he already confessed to you, each time you heard those three little words fall from his lips felt like the first time. “I love you too, Jungkook,” you smiled, and it was when he rolled onto the ground next to you that you remembered the lacerations adorning his back, because he let out a light hiss of pain and sat up slightly. “Oh god, I’m so sorry—I didn’t hurt them while we were doing anything, did I?” You quickly sat up as well and put your hand on his shoulder in concern. “No, I’m okay,” Jungkook shook his head and winced slightly before reaching up to grab your hand in his and placing a soft, tender kiss to the back of your knuckles. “I actually forgot about them... you’re a good distraction.” His lips curled up into a mischievous grin. You giggled at his words, glad to know that you were somehow able to help after all like you’d originally wanted to when you came down here. You reclined onto your back against the ground only to pull him against you so that he was curled into your body and nothing was touching his wounds, your lids heavy with contentment as you gazed up at the stars peaking above the treetops. “I wish we could stay like this.”

“Mm, so do I,” Jungkook hummed, and the sound of his slowly calming heart beating beneath his chest could’ve lulled you to sleep if you let it. “But we have to be getting back. If anyone were to notice you’re not in your chambers, or if anyone heard us...”

Your cheeks heated up at his words. Even if you weren’t to get in trouble, just the thought alone of someone hearing you have sex made your insides flip with embarrassment. “Were we really being that loud?”

Jungkook shared your sheepish smile. “I don’t know... I was too caught up in the moment to tell. I don’t want anyone else hearing your moans, though... they’re all mine.”

“Mm, only for you,” you smirked back at him as the two of you leaned in for another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer since you knew it would be one of your last for the time being. “Promise me we won’t go back to the way things were when the morning comes,” you spoke again after pulling away, busying yourself by watching the way you played with his fingers.

“The way things were?”

“When we act like the other doesn’t exist.” There was a frown gracing your lips as you looked back up at him. You didn’t think you could take it if he went back to avoiding your eyes and ignoring your presence tomorrow morning. “Of course we have to keep this hidden from the guards and everyone else, but... I don’t want to lose you.”

Jungkook smiled softly while he helped you to your feet, carefully retrieving your panties and nightdress from the forest floor before handing them to you. “You could never lose me, princess.” He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m yours.”

After getting dressed and parting ways around the side of the servant quarters—after sharing an impossible amount of kisses, of course—you swiftly kept to the shadows and made your way back to your bedroom window before anyone could notice you were gone. The darkness of the night sky still surrounded you, though the moon was lower in the sky, as if the faint promises of morning were about to peek out from the other side of the horizon at any moment. Thankfully your handmaidens never woke you until after the early hours of dawn, and so you crawled back into your bedroom, slipped beneath the covers, and finally drifted off to sleep without a single problem.

You awoke to the sound of knocking on your door.

Immediately your thoughts were filled with Jungkook. Had the joys and thrills of last night only been a dream? You wanted to rush over to your bedroom window and look out upon the garden to spot him and see if he acknowledged you, if only to give you some sort of reassurance that you really did make love to him last night, though you knew you had to remain in bed like you did every morning to not arouse suspicion. And so when you called out that your handmaidens may enter, it was no surprise to you that the three of them swept in with as much cheer as the sun on this bright summer day.

“Did you get enough sleep last night, your grace?” One of them asked as they brushed your hair at the vanity you were sat in front of. “You seem to have dark circles under your eyes.”

“Mm, I slept wonderfully,” you stretched with a grin, unable to wipe the expression from your lips since you’d woken up.

Once they were finished styling your hair, you were led behind the ornate paneling where you would change your clothes with privacy. After layers and layers of crinoline to make the skirt of your dress appear round and full and the tightening of your corset that nearly stole all the air from your lungs and crushed your insides, you finally threw on the final dress and stepped into your shoes before making your way outside your chambers. But much to your surprise, the guard who normally stood on the other side of your door waiting to lead you down the corridor was not there.

“Is something wrong?” You knitted your brows and asked one of your handmaidens, but she simply shrugged her shoulders and looked around, seemingly just as confused as you were.

“Get outside!” You suddenly heard someone at the end of the corridor shout to a group of guards that stood outside the dining hall, which is where you were supposed to be heading to break the fast. “We need all the hands we can get!”

You frowned before hurrying down the corridor and towards the castle’s front entrance as well, curious and confused beyond belief as to what could possibly be causing this kind of commotion. But as soon as you stepped outside, your gasp of breath caught in your throat.

Because hanging over the side of the front gate was a thick layer of black, beautifully haunting roses.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Had you ever seen black roses before? Surely you had read about them in your fantasy story books, but never had you seen or even heard about them existing in real life. And how could someone have the time to weave them together like a sturdy curtain and hang them over the front gate without getting caught? You had been outside almost all night long—surely you would’ve heard someone moving around, or if not, at least seen them hanging it. But sure enough, you knew nothing; it was as if they weren’t here and then they were in the blink of an eye.

“Wow...” you breathed out, stunned at the fantastic sight. “They’re... beautiful.”

“They’re a pain,” a guard, whom you bitterly noticed was the same one who whipped Jungkook yesterday, grumbled as he walked passed. “We were supposed to send out a shipment today, and now all caravans leaving the castle will have to be put on hold. What a waste.”

You watched as he shook his head before stalking off again. Serves you right, you couldn’t help but think to yourself. Maybe this blanket of black roses could serve a second purpose as karma for the lacerations he gave Jungkook yesterday.

Jungkook. Where was he? You quickly looked around only to see annoyed guards and servants alike who all would have to deal with this mess. Surely Jungkook would be one of them since he worked outside with gardening and flowers every day?

Maybe he’s in the infirmary to keep his wounds from getting infected, you thought to yourself. At least, that’s what you hoped as you went about your day, your lessons extending even longer than usual to make up for the time you lost yesterday. By the time you were finished it was almost time for the evening meal, and when you wandered outside for a stroll through the gardens, you saw that the black roses were down.

To your excitement, you finally spotted Jungkook over at the edge of the gardens, almost touching the tree line. You tried to make the pace of your steps casual, nonchalant, so that if anyone looked over they wouldn’t notice the way your heart was practically leaping out of your chest with desire to spend time with the gardening servant.

“Hi,” you spoke with a sheepish smile when you got close enough for him to hear you.

“Your grace,” Jungkook stood and bowed when he saw you, as every servant does, though when he looked back up you saw a gleam in his eyes and a smile on his lips that let you know there was no way last night was just a dream.

You looked around, careful to make sure no watchful eyes were on you before you took a seat on a nearby bench. There was no harm in resting, right? The benches were here for a reason, after all, and nobody would scold Jungkook because he was still doing his work in the flowerbed.

“How are your cuts doing?” You asked, wanting to get your concerns out of the way first before you could relax. “They’re not as bad now; a little sore after last night, but I tend to heal quickly.” He looked over to you with a grin before adding, “I went to the infirmary this morning to keep them from getting infected. See?” He lifted up the back of his shirt, revealing a thick layer of gauze covering the entire expanse of wounded skin. “Good as new.” “Having to wear bandages is not good as new,” you pointed out with a teasing smile, and Jungkook just chuckled in reply. “But I’m glad you’re taking care of them.” “Mm, more like you’re taking care of me,” Jungkook pointed out as he turned back to the garden. “The healer said if I hadn’t cleaned them the night before, they would’ve festered.” You watched as a small smile appeared on his lips while his eyes were trained on the dirt. “So thank you.” Your brows shot up at this news; thank god you snuck out when you did, or else he would be in even more pain than he was at first. “Of course. You know I’d... do anything for you,” you admitted after a slight sheepish pause, still unfamiliar with confessing your feelings to him out in the open since you kept them bottled inside all these years. This time Jungkook did look over at you, and you could tell from the emotion gleaming in his eyes that in that moment he wanted to do nothing but embrace you. “So would I, Y/N. I mean it.” You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress the giddy grin that was spreading across your face and looked down at your lap, not wanting to make it seem like the two of you were having a conversation if anyone were to look over. “Did you see?” You asked after a moment’s pause, changing the subject if only to settle your fluttering heart. “The wall of black roses?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jungkook paused to rub the sweat from the back of his neck, the dirt on his hands leaving a brown smudge across his skin. “What did you think of them?”

“I thought they were beautiful,” you sighed, unable to hide the somewhat dreamy tone from your voice as you thought about the rare spectacle. Nothing out of the ordinary every happened within the castle walls, so waking up to the dark curtain was more excitement than you’d had in years—excluding last night, that is. “Who do you think did them?”

Jungkook smiled, seeming pleased by your answer. “So did I. They reminded me of you, since roses are one of your favorite flowers.” Your heart fluttered as you exchanged a wistful glance before he continued. “I don’t know. Maybe someone who wanted to stop the shipments for the day, since they’re back up on the schedule and won’t get sent out til who-knows-when now.” He shrugged as he continued to pat the rich soil around a sprouting peony.

“But... how?”

“Probably magic,” Jungkook paused to glance at you over his shoulder.

You raised your brows in shock at his answer. “But magic is outlawed! Who would possess the power to create a whole wall like that; and so close to the castle, too?”

You didn’t know much about magic, since the practice of it was outlawed when you were just a baby thanks to an evil sorcerer they called the Necrolord. Legend has it that he grew mad with dark magic and almost wiped out the entire kingdom; thanks to your father, he was killed and a ban on magic was put into motion, and now the kingdom was nearly restored.

That would mean whoever casted a spell that covered the front gate in a curtain of black roses not only had to practice magic often enough to get their power that high, but also did it somewhere near the castle—somewhere near the man who outlawed magic in the first place. Surely the guards would’ve noticed something like that going on?

“I don’t know... but whoever it was, I’m thankful for them.” Jungkook’s words surprised you, and when you looked back over at him he had a soft smile on his lips. “I overheard the guards this morning talking about sending me over to another castle’s land. If anything, the roses distracted them enough to completely forget about me. Not to mention I helped take down a majority of them; I’m hoping that will convince them that I can be useful here.”

You hated that he associated his self-worth to the amount of work he did around here; you hated it. But unless you possessed the ability to destroy all roles of social class and people’s opinions of it in their mind, there was no way Jungkook would think otherwise. After all, to everyone else, he was just a servant. But to you, he was the world.

He went back to watching his hands knead beneath the dirt as another gardening servant passed by, waiting until they bowed to you and walked out of earshot before he continued. “But, I did get you one of these before they were all thrown away...” He paused to lift up the hem of his shirt, and just when your heartbeat was about to pound out of your chest at the sight, Jungkook pulled out one of the black roses that he hid within the waistband of his pants. “For you, my princess.” His voice was barely above a whisper now as he sat the flower on the walkway so that you could pick it up when you left.

Your lips parted in surprise, awe. Had he really risked stealing one of the roses and getting in trouble just to give it to you? “Oh Jungkook...” you trailed off, emotion swelling in your chest. You fought of the urge to run up to him and kiss him. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

“I knew you would,” he scrunched his nose up in a grin, the sight tugging on your heartstrings as it always did. “Hopefully it never dies; you can put it in your room and think of me.”

“It’s going right by my bedside,” you replied reverently, double checking to make sure nobody was listening in as you said your next words. “I love you.”

Jungkook glanced over at you, careful not to make his gestures to grand though his expression lit up at your words. “I love you too, Y/N.”

You felt much better about going to your evening meal tonight than you did last night.

After reluctantly leaving Jungkook’s side in the garden since you knew your handmaidens would arrive at your chambers at any second to get you ready, you swiftly picked up the black rose he left for you on the ground and stuffed it into your sleeve so that none of the guards would spot it on your way back. You stopped by the kitchen to grab a tall, thin glass vase and filled it up with water before heading back to your room and placing the flower inside and on your nightstand. When your handmaidens noticed it and asked you where you’d gotten it from, you lied rather bluntly that you’d stolen one from the pile before the guards could throw them out. They knew you were always getting into things you weren’t supposed to, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise to them.

The guard who normally led you to and from your meals in the dining hall was waiting outside your door this time, unlike this morning thanks to all the chaos that ensued. You bowed your head in thanks to the older man before taking your usual seat next to where your parents would sit at the head of the table.

They were always last to arrive, and so like every meal before this one, you stood for their grand entrance and kissed their cheeks respectfully before sitting back down. Everything that happened at these dinners was all a formality for show; in actuality you weren’t very close to your parents. You’d been a part of one too many arguments to repair your relationship with them about how they wished they had gotten a more responsible, well-behaved daughter to rule the future kingdom. You just never saw eye to eye on anything.

That being said, these evening meals were usually rather tame, with gossip within the royal court buzzing around concerning certain lords and ladies that you usually didn’t care enough about to be interested in. However, when your father remained standing after everyone else had taken their seats, you realized tonight was going to be different.

“If I may have everyone’s attention please,” your father’s booming voice echoed through the dining hall. “Everyone knows my daughter, Princess Y/N, has finally become the age that one must start thinking about a betrothal.”

You stiffened as all eyes turned to you, though you were used to the attention by now. You had all eyes on your father, brows knit and confusion written all over your expression. What was he on about now?

“So I am happy to announce that I have found someone suitable to rule as future king at my daughter’s side, and I’ve arranged for him to take her hand in marriage,” he calmly explained.

Your vision started tunneling. This had to be a mistake, right? Surely he was playing some cruel practical joke on you. Your father would never arrange a betrothal for you without speaking to you about it first.

“His name is Lord Min Yoongi, and he will be arriving here tonight.”

[idecidedtowriteagain]

Co-stars (2) ~ h.o, t.h

A/N: so here’s part two, please comment, I swear this started as just a Harrison x reader but as I wrote it Tom just kept coming up more and I don’t know how to feel about it. So there’s going to be at least one other part but this might accidentally become a series. Anyway enjoy, sorry if it sucks, I wrote it in about two hours, but I’ll edit it later and will post the next part.

Words: 1830

Warnings: cursing

“Harrison?”

“Y/N?”

“So, umm, I take it that y’all know know each other?” Tom says trying to break the tension after a few seconds of Harrison and you looking at each other.

“Tom, why didn’t you tell me that ‘Y/N/N’ was Y/N Y/L/N?” Harrison said a bit accusatory.

“You didn’t ask?”

“Okay that’s fair, Harrison, look who you’re speaking to.” I said jokingly as I roll my eyes at Tom. Although he was amazing, you had to admit he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Okay true, but mate, you’ve heard me fawn over her for the longest and you never even mentioned her before!”

“You’ve fawned over me?”

“You fawned over her?”

“Is that literally all you gathered from what I just said.” Harrison said while blushing but he looked like he was seconds away from slapping Tom for his obliviousness.

“Hey look, she’s the one that also said you were hotter than me, which is an obvious lie, but at least the feelings are mutual. And to think I was worrying about y’all not getting along, so anyway how do you know each other.” Tom chuckles at the first part but still confused at how his best friends knew each other.

“He and I are the lead in the new movie I was telling you about.” You say before finally taking a drink, hoping the alcohol would soon help diffuse the tension and trying to ignore the ‘mutual feelings’ comment.

“You mean the movie you haven’t told me shit about.” Tom says clearly salty you wouldn’t say anything.

“Yeah! That’s the one.” You say laughing.

“Wait I have one more question, Tom, why am I barely meeting her now if y’all are such good friends?” Harrison asks. Thankfully not acknowledging the other ‘mutual feelings’ comment as well.

“To be sure, I don’t know, I guess it didn’t really come up, she was there for the premiere of Civil War, Homecoming, and a few more but you would think you would have met at the Homecoming premiere but I guess not, she was my guest, well along with my family. She literally sat next to me, when she’s come to visit on set, she usually hangs out with Harry. I don’t really know, I wasn’t trying to hide her or anything.” Tom says perplexed as he realizes that he had lots of chances to introduce y’all before.

“That’s wild, but the past is in the past. At least we know each other now, even if you didn’t introduce us.” You joked, hoping that Tom wouldn’t feel bad about it.

“Yeah, I guess, still can’t believe you let me embarrass myself, though.” Harrison joked.

“Mate, you embarrass yourself regardless.” Tom laughed.

“That’s true, you literally bowed to me today.” You said joining in on the teasing.

“Mate! You bowed to her! You’re such an idiot.” Harrison grew red at the teasing.

“Hey look, at least he can recognize talent. Who has bowed to you, Tommy.” You tried to defend Harrison slightly.

“Lots of people, if you must know.”

“Leaning down to see your short ass doesn’t count, dummy.” You retaliated.

“Damn, I didn’t think I could idolize her more than I already did.” Harrison laughed.

“She’s literally shorter than me!” Tom says trying to defend himself but his words go unheard as you and Harrison continue to laugh at his expense.

The night goes on and it’s pretty relaxed from then. Tom filling you in on what has happened, how his family misses you, future projects he’s looking at, you listen and agree to go visit his family on the next break you have. Harrison also makes small conversation, haven’t talked to him since they stopped filming for Far From Home.

Tom manages to get some information about the movie and as expected, he starts teasing both you and Harrison for being love interests. You just joke around about it instead of getting flustered, like Harrison. Though you constantly try to turn the tables on Tom, which made him, mostly, leave it alone since you knew too many embarrassing childhood moments and Harrison was more than happy to share some from his time of knowing him.

Time passed too fast as it was nearing three am, and y’all were all slightly buzzed. But you decided to call it a night since you and Harrison, also Tom who decided to tag along, had to be on set in about five hours.

“Tom, you coming back to my apartment? Or?” I say as I start opening the app to ask for an Uber.

“Well I have my hotel, that is literally a five minute walk from here, why don’t you just stay with me? You can borrow some of my clothes, it’s not like you’re going to film in that, although you should, you look hot.”

You roll your eyes at his alcohol influences words. “Thank you, Tommy, I think I’ll take you up on that, you better have brought my favorite hoodie.” You accept his offer since you were both going to go to the same place tomorrow and it was closer than your apartment and you wanted to take advantage of every second of sleep that you could.

“Harrison, you good? Or do you also need a place?” You ask noticing his gloomy expression.

“I’ll be fine, I also have a place about 10 minutes from here. Are y’all going to need a ride to set tomorrow?” Harrison asks looking between you and Tom, as if trying to figure something out.

Me and Tom say yes, if it’s not too much trouble. “It’s no problem, I’ll see y’all in a few hours.” He says as he hugs us and makes his way to his awaiting Uber.

You and Tom make small talk on the way to the hotel, it was nice to talk to Tom and see him so carefree since he didn’t have the pressure that sobriety usually tends to carry. You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, probably drawing attention to y’all as you make your way to the elevator.

Once you get to the floor, y’all hurry to the room, ready to change and sleep after a long day. Tom hurries to find the hoodie he brought specially for you, although he would never admit if, and some sweatpants that wouldn’t fit you too big. At this point Tom just took off his shirt and changed into some sweatpants as well, trying to go to sleep as quickly as possible. Neither of you speaking, at this point it was a comfortable routine, taking you back to the days when you and Tom would have sleepovers at each other’s houses, to when you moved in with Tom in his London flat, you hardly having time to actually go back, but it was still home.

You put an alarm to wake up you at seven before putting your hair into a messy bun and getting into bed, you and Tom get comfortable, he wraps an arm around you and you cuddle into his side. You both quickly give in to the exhaustion.

“Y/N! Tom! I swear to God, y’all both better be up!” Harrison yells from outside the hotel room.

“Shit! Tom! Wake up! I think we slept through the alarm!” You try to shake Tom awake, before giving up and going to open the door for Harrison.

His smile wavers for a second seeing as you’re still wearing Tom’s clothes before you tell him to come inside before you run to the bathroom to put on your dress from the day before. You quickly brush your teeth using the extra toothbrush the hotel thankfully provided, and you throw your hair into a ponytail, your hair looking not as much as a mess due to the bun it had been in. You put on Tom’s hoodie again before exiting the bathroom, thankfully Tom was now awake and in jeans while searching for a shirt.

Harrison standing by the bed, quiet as he waits for you and Tom to finish getting ready.

“Tom, just put on the same shirt as yesterday, it’s not like anyone saw you in it besides us.” You say, frustrated from the possibility of being late.

“No, I have a reputation to maintain, Y/N/N.” Tom jokes.

“Bitch, no one knows you on set.” You say, Tom’s behavior making you calm down for a quick second.

As you help Tom look for another shirt your alarm goes off. You go and turn it off before you realize that you didn’t sleep through your alarm.

“Harrison, what the fuck! It’s not even seven yet, we don’t have to be on set for another hour.” You scream, now slightly mad that you didn’t sleep in as much as you thought you did. But also slightly glad that you weren’t going to be late.

“Look, in my defense I’m driving y’all so I got up early so we could get some quick breakfast, so I’m not going to apologize for looking out for your health.” Harrison states while trying not to laugh at you and Tom’s look of betrayal.

“Alright, I guess.” You mumble, feeling bad that you got mad at a nice gesture.

Tom finally finishes getting dressed. You swear you were ready to murder him, he’s not even the star of the show and he took longer than you did. You all make your way downstairs and into Harrison’s car to drive to a nearby diner.

The diner is thankfully not that busy and you are quickly seated at a booth, you and Tom sitting together while Harrison sits on the opposite side. You all quickly look at the menu and proceed to order as soon as you can, hoping the food won’t take that long so you can still make it to set on time.

As you wait for your food, you start some small talk, thankfully it was less tense than yesterday but this time you didn’t even have alcohol to ease the tension.

“So are we not going to talk about it?” Harrison asks not looking at Tom or you.

“About what?” You ask, looking at Tom, trying to figure out if he knew what Harrison was asking about but he gave you the same questioning look.

“You two.”

“What about us? You’re being vague.” You state, not seeing where he was going with this.

“Y’all are dating.”

[cliquestitsandicks]

Tracking Kat

Episode 1: Kat is mourning the end of her relationship with Adena. It has been 5 weeks since the breakup in Paris. She's still looking at old pictures of them and posted one. She still hasn't sent Adena's equipment to her, even though Adena has been texting her asking for it. By the end of the episode, she's admitted to (in order) Alex, Patrick, and Jane & Sutton that she is not okay. She is still sad about the end of her relationship. Alex tells her "you're so hard on yourself. You got your heart broken. There's no expiration date on heartbreak. You move on when you're ready to move on and when you *are* ready, you will find someone amazing. Someone who will never leave." Then Patrick is an entitled, invasive dick. She told her girls she wasn't ready for it to be real yet and that's why she hadn't told them... but she broke down in front of them. She'd finally accepted it was over. End of the episode, she makes an instagram post exposing her vulnerability to the world and packs up Adena's things for good.

Episode 2: Kat injects Jane for fertility treatment. She is very familiar with Jane's reproductive system at this point - best friends. She learns the Wild Susan, a club Adena took her to that became a safe space she frequents and which happens to be 1 of only TWO lesbian bars in the city, is closing. She learns the only reason it's happening is because developers want to gentrify the neighborhood. We learn Kat has a lawyer (not sure how that may come up later) that she met through the #BeReal campaign. Anyway, Kat throws a queer prom as a fundraiser to help save the Wild Susan. It ultimately fails because $42,000 in one night from poor people is a bit much. But it was a valiant effort and, as Kat learns, the gentrifiers were well aware of its impossibility. This episode is leading up to her political career. "I've been so into my feelings lately, it feels really good to challenge my energy into something that really matters". I am so proud of Kat. In Season 1, I would have worried she was avoiding her feelings, but the writers made a big deal of showing she's done the exact opposite of that in the prior episode.

Episode 3: Kat has been researching councilman Reynolds and he's a total piece of shit - helping gentrifiers, cutting funding to parks, and voting against paid maternity leave. She's fired up. Our girl is P A S S I O N A T E & informed! We meet the councilwoman for whom she plans to volunteer and her campaign manager, Tia. Tia's a tiny, bubbly boss with natural hair and a bright smile and we see Kat brighten up. We later learn she and Kat have more in common, both being NYU grads (actually overlapping while there) and both brilliant. Tia, however, is not from a wealthy and connected background. In their initial meeting, Kat tells Tia "I'm just looking for something to channel my rage and depression". Kat enlists her besties to help get the councilwoman to unseat problematic Reynolds. Sutton clearly sees something between Kat and Tia because she does a friend's background check (checking the social media) and tells Kat she looks very single to which Kat responds "it really doesn't matter because I'm still getting over Adena" and Jane seems skeptical of Kat's protestations with her silent smirk. We learn Kat has really soft lips. Kat is the voice of reason for Alex, being the first one to acknowledge the hypersexual "dangerous" Black man depiction that will likely be projected onto him if he admits he is the man in his friend's story. Then we see her naturally command the crowd at the rally. Again, I am so proud of Kat. She isn't holding back when she knows she should speak up. She's taking control of her narrative. She's fighting for what's right in a constructive manner. And now Tia, who has way more experience with this than Kat, is recommending she run for office.

Episode 4: We start the episode with Kat describing what would be her district and job description to her best friends. She's looking excited about the potential to do something that matters and really help people. In her conversation with the Toby (?. don't know, don't care), we get to see more of Tia being supportive of Kat and Kat being confronted with whether she's motivated to actually run or just wants someone to beat Reynolds. We learn Kat had an abortion in 2013 when she was 20 AS IS HER GOTDAMN RIGHT BECAUSE IT'S HER BODY, but it's something she's felt some sort of shame/concern over seeing as nobody close to her knew about it. Then, and this is so great, after telling her friends she has the conversation with Tia. Tia shares that she's had one as well and completely understands not wanting it to be public knowledge, but in sharing her experience educates Kat on yet another way vulnerable people are having their rights stripped, this time through manipulation and "crisis centers" that shouldn't exist. Tia remains supportive and doesn't pressure Kat at all with her decision. "I am by your side if they come for you, but you gotta do what's right for you". When we get that great speech from Jacqueline we see Kat being moved my the statement that you'll never know what you're capable of if you don't take a leap faith to face challenges that frighten you, then you'll never know what you're capable of. [i'd like to pause right now to say Jacqueline is fucking wonderful and i love her like my white auntie. also Sutton needed to hear that again just as much as Kat and i really appreciate this entire moment.] When Kat leaves Jacqueline's celebration, she passes by one of those "crisis centers" Tia told her about and decides to use her voice to help others. "I like to think of myself as a pretty strong, empowered, forward-thinking, open-minded woman. But, up until now, I haven't been able to talk about my abortion. If me putting myself out there helps even one woman to feel less alone, less ashamed, and less guilty then it's worth it." And just like us, dear Tia is blown away. She actually exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding and biiiiiiiitch (!!!! excitedly). and then they're dancing! This is the episode, upon rewatch, when i recognize how often Tia touches Kat unnecessarily.

Episode 5: Kat's entire recap includes Tia, ending with Sutton saying "she seems to be very single". Her very first scene, Tia is complimenting her walking out of some campaigning event we later learn was a Town Hall. Can we just talk about Kat's blazer for a second? First of all, i want it. Second, how did they find something so perfectly her? It's colorful but still semi-professional, fun, but still about her business. Heart-eye inducing. ok. So the next time we see Kat, she and Tia (whose last name they finally mention as Clayton) are reviewing campaign platform and doing debate prep at Kat's apartment. Tia's complimenting Kat almost continuously at this point. Clearly she's impressed, borderline gushing. and Kat tries to brush it off. Tia's not letting her. And there's this moment when Tia forces herself to break eye contact with her (around 5:40 of the episode). The show tells us Kat still hasn't dated since Adena, but Sutton brings up the "stupid smile" she gets whenever Tia's mentioned. She's making better decisions than Patrick and her being compared to Patrick is lowkey happening a lot. I'm starting to wonder if they're setting up Kat taking over digital if she doesn't win the campaign. Ok, the song choice as they pan to Kat and Tia... "I never normally check my phone 10 times in a minute. I'm not the girl to be kept on hold 10 miles from the finish." Again, Tia is very touchy with Kat, never anything inappropriate of course, but the hand is always on the back or the arm. and their interaction is just.. lovely. I squeal. it's so cute. they're so comfortable. Kat invites Tia to the dinner BEFORE (i got the timing on that mixed up before) Tia says she's "a boring straight girl" [the test determined that was a LIE... nah, my good sis Tia is dealing with some internalized homophobia which is no joking matter, but we don't learn that until the next episode]. Apparently, Kat can cook now? So she just liked Adena's food better i guess? idk... anyway. I get why some of the things Tia said can be taken as flirting, but i still believe that you accept what someone says is their sexuality until they say otherwise. yes, that's even when they're saying things like "when i see what i want, i go for it" and "Annndd she can cook. it's hot" and looking at you like that. Kat telling Jane to apologize because he's her boss and she got suuuper disrespectful and would absolutely deserve getting fired makes me proud. She's the mature friend now. She's the one with a level head on her shoulders. Kat finally makes her feelings known to Tia, but this is after Tia has already stated she's straight. Tia reiterates that this is a professional relationship and apologizes for Kat getting the wrong idea. I'm reminded of when Alex Danvers told Maggie Sawyer she was into her and she was rejected... but in that example i was floored and heartbroken for Alex because ugh, i just didn't see that coming. With this, however, it felt like Tia was clear in her words even if it shocked the hell out of me what the words were. So i didn't feel heartbroken for Kat. I thought... tbh... she brought it on herself for refusing to respect Tia's "no", however soft it was. But the writers did let us know it wasn't over with the music selection... Kat looking at "You and Tia make a great team :)" as "I'll go to war for you" plays.

Episode 6: All the emails have been released and Kat has no worries at all about that because she's a professional. And we get to see her be a boss addressing the entire group. Patrick isn't there this episode (YAY for our sanity!) and i think Kat being a boss so often when Patrick isn't around is intentional. When we see Tia, she says last night is forgotten but she thinks it's a bad idea to remain Kat's campaign manager... which is clearly a hard rejection. One can argue that it's too harsh for someone merely admitting they were into you. But it's just as easy to argue that it's appropriate after telling someone, very clearly, that you are not into them romantically and them ignoring that and saying that you were flirting with them on this date they never called a date before you were already there?? so i'm not mad at it. At the end of the episode, we find out that Tia was rejecting herself, not Kat. Turns out, Ms. Tia Clayton has known she's attracted to women since she was in high school, but she "didn't want to want it". Tia is so TINY AND ANXIOUS ABOUT HER SEXUALITY AND MANY OF US HAVE BEEN THERE. But... and i say this in jest... for someone who is really trying not to be out in the open with her gay, she sure was comfortable kissing Kat all outdoors for anyone to see. My good sis is smitten. I'm excited for the story. Again with the music during their scenes though... "I cannot fallll in love with youuuuu. I cannot feeeeel this way so soon, so soon." Also, my girlfriend and I have watched the gifset of the kiss over the phone and swooned (we live in different states for now). This episode, we also got the flashbacks (i missed Lauren so much). Kat's got red streaks in her hair, is a friend to strangers, has regrettable sex with men who taste like pickles, and is cute as a button. She also called Jacqueline "Mama Jackie" and that's it; that's her name now.

[your-iron-lung]

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 10

aka ‘The House That Dripped Blood’; available to read on AO3 HERE

Story Synopsis:  Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.

Chapter Word Count: 7927

Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington

Genre: Supernatural/Drama/Horror-ish

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Next Chapter: 11

Notes: if you follow me you may have noticed i havent posted in a while- this is bc i spend all my time playing ffxiv instead of setting aside determined amounts of time to spend on writing/drawing and i have a bunch of artist alleys coming up that im ill prepared for and im terrible at budgeting UH YEP bad excuse but WHAT CAN YA DO here we are

(ive also set up a ko-fi account if you want to give drop me some tippy tips if u enjoy the word things i do) ((no pressure tho))

"Bigfoot."

Hopper leaned back in his chair; let it creak and groan under his weight until he knew it was at its limit, and then pushed it a little more. He studied the no-nonsense expression on the hunter before him, and intrinsically knew that the man was speaking truth.

"Bigfoot," the old man said again, speaking a little sterner than he had before once he recognized Hopper's amiable expression of disbelief. "I seen't him out in the woods just the other day."

The aging man had lumbered into the police station almost immediately after Hopper came in, bundled in some worn hunting gear that looked almost as old as he was. The deputies had offered to speak with him after hearing his initial claim, but they'd been refused when Callahan couldn't stop smirking. The old hunter had insisted on speaking with Hopper, who leaned forward now, taking the stress off of his chair to take a sip of the coffee Florence had brought in for him. He didn't look at the old man as he drank.

"So let me get this straight," Hopper began, setting his coffee aside to rub at his forehead, "you came in first thing in the morning worried about a missing friend of yours, but now you're telling me you're worried about Bigfoot."

"You know me, Jim," the hunter said, a slight hint of pleading desperation edging out of his voice. "You know I ain't some crazy old coot. I ain't seen Lamm in a long while, and yessir I'm worried 'bout him, but when I went out to his cabin to check on him I seen it: I seen Bigfoot!"

As incredulous as the claim was, Hopper believed him- not about it being Bigfoot, exactly, but he believed that the man had seen something out there in the woods, and it had the possibility of being that something he'd spent the last two weeks fruitlessly searching for.

Regardless, he didn't want to let the old hunter know he was taking him seriously. The last thing he needed was for his community to think he believed in this sort of nonsense, but people in town were going missing, and people he knew were getting hurt: if his only lead should turn up in the form of an old man believing he'd caught sight of an urban legend, then so be it. He'd follow it through, but he'd be subtle about it.

"You sure it wasn't just a trick of the light or something, Wes? You know your eyes aren't what they used to be," Hopper remarked casually, softening his voice to let him down easy. "And this isn't the first time Lamm's gone missing; you know he's one of those types of shut ins. Remember those weeks he was gone hunting 'vampires'? He's the kind of guy who lives in his own head more than he lives out here, he'll turn up again on his own time."

The hunter's lips twitched into a frown. "Alright, maybe Lamm is a little off kilter," he relented, averting his eyes for a second, "and maybe it weren't Bigfoot, but the tracks it left were huge 'n mighty, by God, and I ain't seen nothin' else like it before. If it weren't Bigfoot, then at the very least it had big feet, Jim, and I ain't never seen feet quite like 'em."

Interest piqued, Hopper became more attentive. "How's that?"

"Well, they was stretched out lookin', for one." The hunter paused, tilting his head slightly as he tried to recall the details of what he'd seen out in the woods. He held his hands up, spaced apart in an approximation of how long the prints he'd found had been. "Human lookin', almost, which is what had me thinkin' it coulda been Bigfoot. They weren't the tracks of somethin' native 'round here, and I only caught but the barest glimpse of it, but it was tall, Jim; taller'n you or I."

That sounded right; the prints he'd found and unsuccessfully tracked were, as the hunter said, 'huge 'n mighty' and matched the description of what he'd just been told. It didn't take an expert's opinion (though he had consulted one) to discern that the markings just weren't natural. Hopper set his mug of coffee aside and pulled out a notepad from one of his desk drawers. He uncapped a pen and held it to the page for a moment before writing down a few preliminary notes for himself on the top line.

The hunter cocked his head and leaned forward to look at what he was writing and said, "That don't look official."

"Because it's not; this one's just gonna be between us, alright?" Hopper said, looking up to meet Wesley's blue, watery eyes. He held the stare long enough to get his point across, waiting for a sign of affirmation before looking back to the notepad and pressing the tip of the pen to the paper. "Tell me where and when exactly you saw this 'Bigfoot' of yours."

The day was cold and grey at its start, with harsh, biting winds ushering in thick clouds that blocked out any hope of the sun ever making an appearance. Steve eyed the sky apprehensively as he made his way back to his car, wary of the way the clouds looked as though they might start dropping hail on him at a moment's notice. Billy feigned disinterest as Steve opened the rear passenger door and leaned in to shove the box of things he'd bought at the Hunting & Camping store into the backseat. Even with his vision obscured in part by the sunglasses he'd elected to wear, he didn't miss the strong look of annoyance that graced Steve's features when he came around to the driver's seat and entered the car with a pout.

"That guy give you a hard time or something?" Billy asked as Steve buckled in and put the BMW into reverse, turning in his seat to hastily jerk the car out of the parking lot. "Why do you look like someone shit in your cereal?"

Steve clicked his tongue. "He just kept asking what a 'kid like me' needed with a bunch of chains and rope and shit. My god, he just would not let it go, like he thought I was trying to build my own sex dungeon or something. Fucking annoying."

"You mean that's not what we're doing?" Billy asked, grinning a bit at the way Steve's face pinched up in disgust. "What'd you say?"

"I told him the truth; said it was to tie up a werewolf. 'It's a full moon tonight, y'know? Gotta tie 'em down or they go all crazy on you', I said to him, and you know what he said to me then?" Steve asked, speeding out of the little downtown shopping area Hawkins played host to and sounding every bit as gossipy as Carol did when she caught wind of a scandal.

"How the fuck would I?" Billy drawled, turning away from the conversation to watch the scenery pass by disinterestedly.

"He said, 'Damn fool kids will never learn'," Steve said, ignoring him. "'Damn fool kids will never learn', like, what the hell does that mean?"

Billy shrugged. "Who knows? As long as he accepted daddy's plastic then what does it matter?"

Steve clicked his tongue again in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Fuck you."

Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Billy declined to retort. They rode on in silence, the chains in the box Steve had bought clinking together softly in the backseat before the radio was finally turned on to mask the sound.

Regardless of whether or not Steve actually believed something was going to happen to Billy that night, he couldn't deny that the whole day leading up to that evening just felt… off. From meeting up with Billy earlier that afternoon to go by the camping store, to grabbing lunch together before heading over to the Henderson's house, it all felt wrong.

It was something Steve had difficulty pinpointing the origins of, but as they began work on clearing out enough space in the cellar for Billy to do whatever it was he thought he was going to do, he soon came to realize that the feeling of wrongness seemed to stem from Billy himself.

Few words could better describe Billy than 'annoying' or 'smart-mouthed', but he'd been uncharacteristically tight-lipped all day. He'd become a remarkably dull version of himself, and Steve wasn't sure quite how to handle that.

Usually one to argue and bite back at everything Steve said, when he'd begun dishing out instructions on how best to clear out some floor space in the cellar, Billy hadn't talked back to him a single time; merely lit a cigarette and blinked at him slowly, silently acknowledging what had been asked of him before getting on with it.

It was unsettling. Steve could almost say that he hated how submissive Billy was because of how used he'd gotten to the back-talk and smart-ass remarks Billy usually had ready for him, and though, yes, there were times he had wished for this kind of attitude from him, the silence and absolute subordination coupled with all of the other behavioral changes Billy was exhibiting were enough to set Steve on edge.

Billy kept tonguing the gaps in his teeth where they'd fallen out over the course of the week, and he never seemed to realize he wasn't alone. Sometimes he'd jump at the sound of Steve's voice, or shake his head and crease his brow in confusion when he turned around to see Steve moving stuff somewhere behind him, but arguably the worst part of it all was that he stank.

He'd tried to mask it with an overabundance of cologne that had nearly suffocated Steve when they began working in closer quarters, but buried beneath that was a hint of something that smelled awfully rotten. If he had to, Steve could liken it to the stench of the monster they'd encountered in the woods, but he chose not to, instead chalking it up to a severe case of nervous b.o. or something. The implications that the scents could be related bothered him too deeply to believe, and even then he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what the source of the smell was.

The stench of decay emanating from Billy's person was worrisome enough on its own, but with so much to do in order to get ready before sunset, Steve had a hard time figuring out where to primarily apply his focus: there were simply too many things going on for him to worry about one thing more than another.

The giant hole in the wall that Dart made to tunnel out of the cellar was his immediate concern, but Dustin had done a good job of hiding it from his mother by placing a tall shelf in front of it, essentially blocking it off. That didn't mean it wasn't entirely inaccessible, but Steve wasn't sure what more he could do about it. In all honesty, he'd forgotten about it until he'd tried to move the shelf aside and then found himself peeking into the eerie tunnel. He'd knocked over several things in his haste to put the shelf back in place, but Billy hadn't seemed to notice it, and if he didn't, maybe he wouldn't think to use it if- or when- he lost himself to whatever supernatural effects he was experiencing.

"Big if, though," Steve muttered aloud to himself. Turning away from the shelf, he looked over to where Billy was inspecting some old power tools, turning a nail gun over in his hands before setting it back in the box he'd pulled it out of. "So, are we good or what? This baby-proofed enough for you?" Steve asked, startling Billy out of whatever ruminations he'd been lost to.

Billy looked at Steve blankly, face impassive and emotionless. He frowned, and then looked around himself as though he'd forgotten where he was. When he spoke, his voice was monotone and devoid of his usual arrogance as he said, "I don't know, Harrington; is it?"

"You tell me, man, this was your idea." Steve watched as Billy returned his focus on the box of tools he'd originally been rummaging through. Picking up a hammer, Billy balanced its weight in his hands before gripping the handle tightly. Steve distrusted the look in Billy's eye as he held it. "What are you, a child? Quit rifling through their shit, put it back," he said.

Billy didn't reply or even acknowledge that he'd heard him. Ignoring Steve's demand, he stepped up to the abandoned work bench to splay his left hand out over the wood and lifted the ballpeen up.

"What the fuck are you doing? Put it down," Steve said again, his voice rising slightly in pitch when he understood what Billy was doing. He started towards him in an effort to stop him, but halted when the hammer was brought crashing down.

It missed his hand, but the force of the impact splintered the wooden table's surface. Steve gaped as Billy turned around, a cocky little smile turning up his lips.

"Someone could get hurt real bad down here if they weren't careful, huh, Harrington?" he said, a fierceness that Steve hated to admit he'd missed charging his voice. "But we've been real careful cleaning this shithole out, haven't we, pally?"

"You sick piece of shit, give me that," Steve snapped, snatching the hammer away from Billy's pliant grip. "Fuck you, Hargrove; you could've just said you wanted to move this shit out of here."

"Had you pegged as being more of a visual learner," Billy sneered as Steve threw the hammer back into the box of tools. "Your concern was touching, though, really."

"You're the one who came asking me for help, fuckface. Begged me, almost, if I'm remembering right. 'Oh, Steve, help me, I'm so scared of fake movie monsters!'"

Steve hadn't meant to rise to the taunt, but Billy's insufferable attitude had him stooping to his level as he hoisted the hefty box of tools in his arms and lugged them over to the stairway. Billy laughed dryly at Steve's mocking tone.

"We both wish that fucking thing had been fake," he said as Steve placed the box on the ground at the foot of the stairs beside the box of supplies he'd bought earlier. They were both quiet for a moment, their attempt at a conversation dying as quickly as it had been brought on.

"Only one thing left to do then," Steve said morosely.

Billy blinked and turned to face the stairway, eyes rising slowly up to where the cellar doors were propped open wide. Steve felt the guilt of having to lock him in prematurely and had to remind himself that he wanted to be locked in.

"Better hop to it then, Harrington," Billy said lowly, lips curling back into a familiar grin, but without all his teeth in place to flesh it out, Steve found the display to be more unsettling than annoying. "Let's get this sex dungeon set up."

Steve grimaced. "Not even in your wildest dreams, Hargrove."

"Nothing's off the table in my dreams, pretty boy." Billy breathed out a small laugh at the disgusted look on Steve's face, but the grin he'd been displaying slowly fell away. "Is it getting dark yet?"

"Uh, kind of, but the sun hasn't set yet," Steve replied, stepping up into the stairwell to check the status of the sky. It was as dull and grey as it had been all day, the overcast weather acting as a harbinger for the snowfall the local meteorologist had foretold was coming. "If you took off those fucking sunglasses you'd be able to tell."

"These are for your benefit as much as mine," Billy snapped, frowning suddenly.

"Yeah, okay, whatever that means," Steve said dismissively as he began to fish out the cords of rope from the box, letting them spool out onto the ground before gathering them into his hands. "How do you uh, how do you want to do this?"

"Aw, is this kitten's first time tying someone up?" Billy purred, not moving from where he stood in the middle of the cellar, directly under the light. "Who knew 'King' Steve's favourite flavor was vanilla."

Steve rolled his eyes as he brought the ropes over, wrinkling his nose at the mixed smell of rot and cologne that got stronger with proximity. "I've dated girls kinkier than you'd know what to do with," he retorted as he gestured for Billy to hold out his hands.

"Oh please," Billy said with a snort, "there are no kinky girls in Hawkins or I would've found them by now."

"You're obviously not looking hard enough," Steve muttered in response, gesturing again for Billy to hold out his hands.

Shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it over the work table he'd splintered, Billy held his hands up obediently and watched stoically as Steve wound the rope around his wrists, binding his hands together roughly.

"What's should our safe word be?" Billy teased, smirking as Steve wound another, longer length of rope over the original knot.

"There is no safe word because this isn't a sex thing!" Steve insisted angrily.

Flustered, he sighed irritably as he wound the long part of the rope around Billy's waist, hating how close he had to get in order to make sure the rope was tight enough, though Billy seemed to be enjoying how close he'd gotten. He kept shifting his weight around, trying, it seemed, to get Steve into a more compromising position. Annoyed, but determined to finish, Steve did his best to ignore Billy's constant movement and the disgusting, rotten musk that was wafting off of his person to finish tying him up.

"Why do you fucking stink so goddamn badly?" Steve finally asked with a scowl, repressing the urge to gag as he tied the ropes off into a clumsy knot. He stumbled away from Billy, reaching up to pinch his nostrils shut so he wouldn't have to smell the rot anymore, but the rancid scent seemed to have lodged itself deep into his nose. "You smell like a dead Calvin Klein model or something, holy shit, did you use a whole fucking bottle?"

The amusement Billy had held while taunting Steve left his face. His smirk shrunk into an awkward grimace as he looked away in embarrassment.

"I don't know, alright?" he admitted bitterly. "It doesn't matter how much I bathe, and between that and my eyes I have no idea what the fuck's going on with me."

"What about your eyes?" Steve asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know the reasoning behind why Billy had insisted on wearing sunglasses all day.

Billy faltered for a moment, hesitating briefly before reaching up and plucking the sunglasses off his face. With both hands bound together, he awkwardly folded the legs against the lenses and tucked them into the collar of his button up. He turned his gaze to Steve, who couldn't help but suck in a slight breath of surprise.

His eyes were so bloodshot they looked ready to start bleeding straight out of the sockets. There were hardly any whites left in the sclera to be seen as Billy winked at him, looking immensely uncomfortable at the way Steve was gaping openly at him.

"Do they- hurt? Or whatever?" Steve asked, unconsciously taking a few steps forward to get a better look. In the dim lighting of the basement, even the blues of Billy's eyes looked reddish.

"What's it to you if they do?" Billy snapped, suddenly irritable. He squared his jaw and looked away, unable to face the amount of concern Steve was showing him.

The worry Steve felt for the both of them in that moment grew stronger as he backed off, letting the matter of the changes in Billy's physicality drop, despite how alarming they were. "If I don't hear anything an hour after the sun goes down, I'll let you out," Steve said abruptly as he walked backwards towards the stairwell, grasping for the hand rail behind him blindly, unsure why he was so reluctant now to let Billy out of his sight. It was what they'd agreed upon earlier, and he said it meaning for it to sound reassuring, but the way Billy's lips twitched made it apparent he didn't interpret it that way.

Billy didn't respond.

"Well, uh, I guess that's it then," Steve said as he bent down, placing his box of chains atop the box of tools Billy had been messing around with before lifting them up together to carry them up and out of their man-made dungeon.

The cellar doors shrieked loudly as they were closed, a high pitched agony that erupted when the metal grinded against itself uncooperatively. Steve didn't mind that so much as he hated the sound the chains made as he wove them through the door handles, reminding him of what he was doing and who he was imprisoning as the steel rattled sharply against the doors. He winced at the commotion, but continued to loop them through the small door handles until no more could be fit between them. He tested their sturdiness by attempting to pull them open, and to his pleasure, they remained shut. The doors were secured; the cellar, as far as he was concerned, was now a suitable prison. All that was left of him now was to play the role of the jailor appropriately.

He stared down at his handiwork for a moment before the cold, blowing winds prompted him to seek shelter. Already a few snowflakes were fluttering out of the sky, flying into his cheeks as he turned away, re-gathering the box of tools in his arms and headed for the door Dustin promised he'd leave a key for.

Searching under the backdoor mat, Steve found the promised key, and true to the rest of Dustin's word, the entire home was empty, save for the cat that chirped a greeting for him from atop the kitchen counter. With a deep intake of breath Steve glanced at his watch, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him, wondering if he really was prepared for the worst. In the trunk of his car his bat waited for him, ready to be put to use just in case shit really did hit the fan, but he found himself questioning if he'd really be able to use it; bludgeoning monsters to death was one thing, but turning it on a boy he knew was only a monster figuratively was something else entirely.

For both his and Billy's sakes, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Shrugging out of his thick coat, Steve set it down beside him as he took a seat on the Henderson's couch. He glanced at his watch again, dismayed by the fact that time wasn't progressing as fast as he wished it was and sat in anxious worry about what the rest of the night might have in store.

But at least he was comfortable and warm.

The cellar was not.

It wasn't the cold that Billy minded, so much as it was the anticipation: when would the transformation start? Exactly at sundown? A little before? A little after? Would he actually end up transforming? And why the fuck did the word 'transform' make him so damn uncomfortable? The unknown factors surrounding his circumstances were almost worse than any of the physical symptoms he'd been experiencing as of late, and he'd been experiencing a lot.

Anxiety wasn't something Billy had a lot of experience with, but it was the only thing he could think of that explained why his heart had been beating oddly all day. It was running at a notably higher rate, as though he'd been playing basketball or working out extraneously, and brought on palpitations he wasn't used to dealing with at the elevated speed.

In short he felt terrible. His whole body ached like it was going through puberty again. Both his arms and legs were sore in ways that mimicked the aches that came with growing pains when he'd had them, but he couldn't understand why he would begin to hurt in that way again. He hadn't had the energy to work out in two days despite eating practically anything he could get his hands on, so the soreness in his limbs was unwarranted. Either his body was preparing itself for the coming night, or he was having an incredibly drawn-out heart attack.

Standing at the foot of the stairwell, Billy felt the cold permeating in through the closed opening and moved away to find a better spot to wait. He wanted rub his arms to bring some warmth into them, but couldn't with the way they were bound. Already the ropes were beginning to dig into his wrists, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin as he realized he wasn't actually that cold anyway, despite the frigid weather; his body temperature had been on a steady incline leading up to now, leaving him with a rosy complexion and a near constant fever, the long-term effects of which left him feeling severely disoriented.

He could barely remember meeting up at Steve's house only a few hours ago to carpool to his kid friend's house, riding with the windows down in spite of the severe wind-chill as they went into town to get lunch and buy rope. Even though they'd ridden together, he couldn't remember now if they'd actually talked about anything or not. All he could remember were the low tones of the radio and the resonating throbs of the wind as it swooped in through the open windows, rushing to fill the audial space between them. It was as though his mind had been steeped in a fog, and he couldn't accurately think through it: everything was clouded over, incomprehensible, like waking up the morning after a bender and being unable to remember everything he'd done the night before, but knowing all the same that he'd taken part in some memorable shit.

Would there be pain, he wondered, and would it come on as suddenly as it had to the character in the movie he'd made Steve watch? Even though 'American Werewolf' was just a movie, stories like that had to spawn from some sort of truth, didn't they?

The dim little lightbulb that hung overhead flickered briefly, drawing Billy's attention to it as he took a seat at the work table's bench, wishing his eyes weren't a dry and sore as they were.

Coming from above, he could hear the muffled sounds of a TV show permeating through the cellar's ceiling. He couldn't help but think ill of Steve in that moment, but if their situations had been reversed, he probably would have been doing the same thing; he couldn't fault Harrington for finding a way to pass the time, though he wished he had something similar to do for himself. There was nothing interesting to hold his attention, and time passed at a dreadfully slow rate.

Stretching out on the bench, he laid himself down slowly, mindful of which parts of his back hurt the most, and gazed up at the cement overhead disinterestedly. He listened to the muffled sounds of the distant television, trying to conjure an image in his mind that corresponded with what little dialogue he could hear, but the rapid beating of his heart overpowered the noises coming from the TV. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing in an attempt to lower his heart rate, but it just kept going, pounding in a determined rhythm that seemed to be quickening with each passing minute. A bead of sweat trickled down from his scalp and over his ear as he wondered if the tingling he felt in the tips of his fingers was because of the cold or from the ropes being tied too tight.

He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his hands into a fist to try and bring sensation back into his fingertips, but to no avail. They remained numb, and the cause of which eluded him.

Frowning, Billy stiffly sat up and began to pinch at his skin, belatedly realizing that the numbness was spreading slowly down the lengths of his fingers, a sensation that sent a chill running down the length of his spine.

"Oh," he said. "Oh shit."

The pain, when he finally did begin to feel it, started in his feet. There were still thirty minutes before the sun went down.

Billy licked his lips nervously as he tried to get his boots off, his numb fingers and bound hands fumbling uselessly with the laces as the pain centralized in his toes and grew in sudden intensity. He was no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything he'd ever felt before: it was sharp and stabbing, with each throb of pain stemming from the bones in his toes, as though they were growing more pointed in an attempt to pierce their way through his skin as they elongated. He could feel them cracking; each joint slowly popping free of itself as the bones began to push themselves forward.

"Oh, shit," he repeated, and could hear the muffled sounds of a laugh track from whatever sitcom Steve had turned on upstairs roaring in delight as he struggled to finally pull his boots off.

The stabbing sensation didn't relent, even once his shoes lay discarded by his feet. He peeled away his socks with shaking hands and stared down at his toes.

They'd turned a bright, beet red and were bulging like they might burst apart, his skin bubbling up around toenails that were already starting to peel off. He couldn't help the whimper as he tentatively felt them, a pain like touching a freshly popped, skinless blister causing him to draw his fingers back.

It was real. It was happening.

Sweating freely now, he reached away from his feet to brush his dampened hair away from his forehead as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. He paused when he felt his hair pull free from his scalp, clinging to the back of his hand stubbornly. Billy stared at the loose, curly strands with a horrified expression and reached up with a shaking hand to grab more. When he pulled, a handful of his hair came away easily, eliciting another whimper from deep within his throat. Disgusted and frightened, he threw his hair away to the floor.

Breathing quickly, he hastily rubbed his hands free of the loose strands in a panic and tried to calm himself. His whole body trembled as he breathed in deeply through his nose, wondering if he should try to call out to Steve to alert him that the worst case scenario was indeed unfolding. Another laugh track from upstairs came through the ceiling as he felt a sharp, sudden stab of pain in his ribs, prompting him to gasp loudly and curl forward over himself. He could actually feel some part of his ribcage shifting inside his torso as he tucked his arms in to his sides. Any lingering thoughts of trying to remain calm left him as he transitioned from panic to full on fear.

He stood up not knowing what he was going to do, but regretted it instantly: as soon as he put weight on his foot, his ankle collapsed in on itself and brought him to the floor. A shout almost came out with his fall, but he managed to internalize the pain as he was used to doing and grit his teeth as his foot essentially broke itself in half.

The central part of his foot that arched snapped without warning. Billy swore loudly and reached for his foot instinctively, wanting to hold the break in place, but he couldn't bear the agony that came with the contact. Warm tears leaked from his eyes, and when his other lateral arch also split in half, he couldn't help but cry out.

From up above, the noises coming from the television ceased. Steve must have heard him and was listening for him now, trying to gauge whether or not he should intervene. Billy clenched his jaw tighter, determined to keep quiet, but gasped loudly when two of his molars gave out under the pressure, snapping to the side and coming loose of his gumline. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth as he spat the teeth out, shuddering uncontrollably when he felt the vertebrae in his spine begin to pop, one by one, pushing up against his skin that was quickly beginning to feel too tight.

Huffing in great breaths of air, he panted heavily as the bones of his tones finally pierced through his skin, causing most of the flesh surrounding them to burst open like little balloons. Blood splattered across the floor in gruesome, miniature arcs and Billy finally, finally became undone. He shrieked, unable to keep silent any longer as new appendages could be seen inside the flayed bits of bloody skin, slowly growing outward, already a part of him.

Warm tears of pain streaked down his face in thick lines as the skin of his feet continued to be ripped apart, making way for more muscle, new flesh. He wiped at his eyes helplessly and thought he could hear Steve's voice distantly calling out his name, asking if everything was alright.

He blinked, his vision blurred by the tears that would not clear away as he pulled himself over to the stairway.

Shaking wildly all over, Billy stretched out on the floor, realizing belatedly that the waistband of his jeans was growing tighter and tighter. Hissing sharply, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to undress himself as he hastily tried to undo his belt. A pain similar to the initial agony he'd felt in his toes was beginning to manifest itself in his fingers as both of his hands slowly began to turn red, swelling up under the bonds of the rope as he fumbled with the buckle, desperately trying to get it to come free.

"Fuck!" he shouted in frustration, his clothing growing ever tighter as his body continued to bloat. He felt like he was being pinched in half with his belt acting as an unneeded tourniquet. "Fuck! Fuck!"

"Hey! Talk to me Hargrove, what's going on?"

Steve's worried voice trilled down through the cellar doors as he continued vocalizing his frustrations. Billy felt an organ in his abdomen shift out of place before popping, prompting him to groan and curl in on himself before he threw up. His couldn't undo his belt as his vision began to darken.

"Hargrove!" Steve shouted, banging a fist against the steel door. "What the hell's going on? Talk to me!"

"Fuck you!" Billy screamed, unable to articulate anything else as he tried to rub the blackness out of his eyes, but the more he pressed his fingers to them, they more they began to hurt.

A pressure was building up behind them the more he rubbed, and as it increased, his vision grew ever darker. He kept blinking, over and over, feeling his eyes bulge out of their sockets and against his eyelids, trying now to keep his eyeballs in place. He was hyperventilating when he finally went blind, the pressure behind his eyes becoming intolerable eyes before it finally came too much, and his eyes popped free.

He felt them slide out onto over his checks and onto the floor, the slimy, blood-slick nerves leaving tracks of blood on his face as he became totally and completely blind.

"No," he whispered to himself, retching again on the floor as he scrambled across the cement, trying to find the stairs, unable to see. "No, no! This isn't real!"

Beyond the cellar doors, Steve had his ear pressed against the slight crack between the panels, desperately trying to understand what was going on. He wasn't sure what to make of the noises he was hearing, unable to determine if Billy was just trying to mess with him or if he was in actual distress.

"Hargrove," he said impatiently, turning his head to try and peak in through the crack to get a glimpse of what was going on, "you gotta start talking to me, man; what the hell's going on down there?"

"I'm fucking blind," he heard Billy shout, his voice rife with fear. "I can't see anything!"

His voice was shaking as he spoke, and Steve knew then that whatever was happening was legitimate; Billy wasn't one to openly show weakness.

"Okay, stay calm," Steve stammered, but he wasn't sure if that was actually sound advice or not. "It's- it's going to be okay, okay?"

Billy howled, and Steve understood that the pain that carried with his voice must have been terrible to get him to shriek like that. He licked his lips anxiously, not knowing what support he could possibly offer him. He continuously opened and shut his mouth, words of encouragement dying on his tongue before he could manage to speak them.

And then, all at once, the cacophony of agony ceased.

Steve couldn't hear anything over the rapid sound of his breathing for a moment before he finally spoke: "Hargrove? Is… are you okay?"

"Hurts." Billy's voice, quiet, strained, and barely audible over the sounds of things (flesh, fabric) slowly tearing, sounded disconcertingly like he was speaking with a throat full of water. It was gargling and grotesque; completely unlike the smooth, honeyed voice he'd become known for.

"Okay, what, uh, what… what hurts?" Steve whispered in response, fear quieting his previously urgent tone.

"Everything."

"Shit," Steve said to himself, backing away from the cellar door panels as the sounds of something large and heavy being knocked over made him jump. "Just, uh, stay calm," he said, though he wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or Billy. From down below, he heard Billy groan loudly before going silent again.

Steve's heart was pounding as he hesitated, unsure of what to do. All the details of Billy's haphazardly concocted plan fled his mind as he tried to think back on what they'd agreed to do if something ended up happening, and his first instinct was to open the doors to go down and check on him. He looked at the chains wrapped tightly around the door handles and bit his lip before crouching down and pressing his eye to the crack.

The overhead light wasn't bright enough to reveal much, but at the base of the stairwell there was a small circle of illumination. Steve squinted, ignoring the cold of the steel as he pressed his face against the door, trying to see all that he could.

Blood stains. Torn bits of… something he couldn't quite make out. Dark masses on the stairwell; lots of evidence that pointed towards Billy transforming, but no trace of Billy himself.

"Hargrove," Steve whispered, and then shook his head to clear himself of his cowardice. "Hargrove," he said again, louder and with more emphasis, "dude, you have to talk me through what's happening down there."

He waited, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for a reply. It was steadily growing darker as the sun slowly sank, making it all the harder to see into the cellar from the tiny slit. Frowning and unable to see anything, Steve turned his head and pressed his ear against the door. From somewhere in the depths of the cellar he could hear something breathing heavily. It was moving, too; he could hear something shuffling, moving around the floor space cautiously.

When he turned his head again to see through the crack, he caught a glimpse of... something large and hulking cross under the light, tall enough to set the lightbulb swinging. He couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath of air, his lungs and throat burning with the sting of the cold weather. The thing- whatever Billy had become- halted just outside the rim of light. Entranced, Steve found he couldn't move as it emitted a low, threatening growl that sounded more like a man impersonating a dog than an actual beast.

From his limited viewpoint, he couldn't see the way the muscles in its legs were tightening, or how it had begun to crouch; he didn't have time to react as it sprang forward, jumping up the stairs in a single leap to ram itself against the doors.

The chains held the doors shut, but the sudden impact smashed the metal against Steve's nose and soon all he could smell was blood as it drained out of his nostrils. He fell backwards, holding his nose as the Billy-creature growled again. Horrified, Steve could only sit in the snow and watch as the doors lurched forward when Billy rammed against them again, trying to escape. The second impact loosened the restraints, and all Steve could do in that moment was watch as they rattled uselessly in place, beginning to slip through the handles as they hadn't been properly locked into place.

Cursing to himself, staggered to his feet and rushed to grab the chains, but as Billy threw his body against the doors again it soon became obvious that even if the doors stayed shut, they were about to pop free of their hinges entirely. Blood dripped down over his lips and onto the metal panels as he tried to think of what he could possibly do to counteract the damage Billy had done. In an act of desperation, he threw himself against the steel and hoped that his added bodyweight would be enough to keep them in place.

If it managed to do anything, he couldn't tell. Almost immediately Billy was throwing himself against the doors again, nearly bucking Steve off.

"Stop!" Steve cried out, grasping for the chains to hold them in place. His fingers scrabbled against the cold steel links even as Billy let out another deep, throaty growl. With the doors as loose as they were, Steve was almost certain the doors wouldn't survive another body-slam. "Give it up, Hargrove!" Steve said again, desperately. "Just- fuck, Billy, stop!"

He braced himself for another impact, but it never came. Eyes closed in anticipation, Steve blinked them open and exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling as he let the chains go. Crystalized air puffed out in front of his face over and over as he rolled off the doors and stood up unsteadily, trying to wipe away the blood that had already frozen over and turned to crust on his upper lip. Somehow, miraculously, his pleading had worked, but before he could take comfort in that fact, other disturbing sounds began to creep back up to him from down below.

Things were being tossed around; the metallic clang of old paint cans being bounced off the floors and walls mixed with the hoarse, angry vocalizations of the creature Billy had become made his blood run colder than the air currently was. The noises Billy was making were at once both animalistic and human, deep and throaty and more akin to the bellows of a moose than a man or wolf.

Steve stood in front of the cellar doors not knowing what to do. Already their plan was falling apart, and he was quickly becoming aware of how vastly unprepared he was to handle the situation. He wanted the security of the bat in his trunk, but didn't trust himself to leave the doors unattended for the length of time it would take him to run back inside and grab his keys to get it, but he felt so weak without it.

Another loud, crashing noise came from within and Steve stilled, listening intently. Faintly, he could hear Billy snuffling about, and after the sun finally completely descended, all was quiet. His nose was throbbing as he stood attentively, but when nothing more could be heard, his stomach sank.

With trembling hands and his mind screaming at him to stop, he knelt by the doors and slowly unwound the chains from the handles. The fact that he couldn't hear anything coming from within didn't sit well with him; he had to make sure Billy was still down there.

He tried to shift the chains as quietly as possible, but with how nervous he was, he had a hard time keeping his hands steady. They rattled noisily against the door, grating on his already frazzled nerves as they slid free. Heart pounding madly, Steve carefully pulled the doors open and took the first step down into the cellar.

It was silent. He couldn't hear anything as he hesitantly took a second step, mentally berating himself over and over for being stupid enough to walk defenseless into the lion's mouth. He had no idea what Billy was capable of now, or if he'd even recognize him enough to (hopefully) have enough sense to not harm him. The lightbulb that dangled freely from the ceiling was swaying, throwing its light around erratically, showing him glimpses of the gore that lined the steps.

Eyes wide, Steve gagged at the sight of the flayed strips of bloodied skin that were splattered near everywhere. He had to avert his eyes as he took another step, making slow progress as he was careful not to step in any of the mess. At the bottom of the stairs he warily peered around the walls, hoping he'd only stuck his head into the lion's mouth figuratively. To his immediate relief, but long-term dismay, there was no trace of Billy to be seen in the space of the cellar.

Exhaling deeply, Steve tried to even out his breathing as he came to stand in the middle of the room, looking around to assess the damage. As the swinging lightbulb steadied, he turned towards where the shelf that was hiding the tunnel had been and found it on the ground, knocked to its side and several feet away from where it had originally been positioned. His shoulders drooped at the realization of Billy's escape.

He went and stood before the opening of the tunnel and felt all hope of remedying the situation vanish. A numbness overtook him as he recognized his responsibilities of keeping Billy captive had changed; he was the only one who knew about Billy's circumstances, and he was the only one who could do anything about it now. Distantly, and much further away then he would've liked, he could hear the muted, labored sounds of Billy's breathing as he escaped confinement through the underground system.

The burden of his responsibilities threatened to overwhelm him in that instant, but instead of letting himself be overtaken by despair, Steve took a deep, steadying breath and rolled his shoulders back. He hesitated for only a minute before he took charge and ran in after him, disregarding his urgent need to turn back and get his bat out of the car. There was no time, he thought; no time to get a weapon, no time to get a flashlight. If Billy was now as the werewolf in the woods was, then he was capable of speeds greater than Steve could muster, and every second mattered. If he lost his trail now, then it would be lost to him entirely. There was no time; he had to go now or he wouldn't go at all.

Alone and unarmed Steve ran, chasing after Billy into the dark, cold tunnel, hoping he would be able to catch him in time, and dreading the repercussions that would come if he couldn't.

[bakusquadup]

Scenario where reader comes home early from work or she forgot something and comes back home and walks in on Bakugou cheating on her.... ANGST ANGST ANGST you can decide how it ends but thank you for reading my request ❤️❤️❤️

Hello love! How could I possibly reject a good opportunity for angst? Be warned: because I don’t condone cheating, this will absolutely not have a happy ending. Just be ready. (Also, I don’t think Bakugou as a character would do this unless he changed a lot in the future, but still fun to write!)

-Shelley

Warning: brief descriptions of sex and LOTS of swearing

Bakugou Katsuki

Tap, tap, tap, tap. Your heels clicked on the tiled floor as you walked to your apartment. It was late, so the hallway was mostly deserted, the only other person in sight being an inebriated young man stumbling out of a room. You nodded to him as you passed, but he ignored you. That was to be expected, no one in the building was particularly friendly – it was a city thing – and that characteristic just became more pronounced at night. No harm done.

Your suitcase rolled along the floor behind you, clicking as it caught on the edges of the tiles every now and again. You’d been gone for almost two weeks, sent to the United States to attend a conference for your company. It was a nightmare. It had been dominated by arrogant men all convinced that they knew more than you about topics you were researching. So, when the opportunity arose to leave early, you grabbed it. Nothing sounded better than going home and spend some much-needed time relaxing with your boyfriend. You had opted not to tell him you were coming, wanting to leave it a surprise.

Once you found yourself in front of your apartment, you fumbled around in your purse, trying to find your keys. They jingled faintly, taunting you as they lay just out of reach.

“There we go,” you muttered to yourself as you freed your keychain from the purse, the metal clinking together. Unlocking the door and throwing it open, your lips pulled back into a bright grin as you prepared to greet Bakugou.

Except, he wasn’t in the living room. You wheeled the suitcase ahead of you, letting the heavy door fall closed. He might be asleep. As much as he liked to get any and all work done the night before, he also liked to get his beauty rest.

Prying off your heels, so as not to disturb Bakugou, you tiptoed toward the bedroom. You expected complete silence – Bakugou was a heavy sleeper after all and didn’t snore – but to your surprise, could hear some heavy breathing. Was he okay?

“Hah… Mmm… Bakugou-san…” An unfamiliar voice. An unfamiliar female voice. An unfamiliar female voice making sex noises.

You threw open the door and hit the light switch. In the instant before the lights came on, you prayed that it wasn’t what you feared it was, that you had somehow misunderstood the situation, that there was another explanation. Bakugou wasn’t the type. He wasn’t.

But you must not have known him as well as you thought you did because with the lights on and the moment of hopefulness passed, you found yourself staring at a stranger’s naked back while she rode your boyfriend. For a moment, you found yourself unable to move, simply transfixed on the horrific repetitive movement, each thrust sending another brick crumbling down from your perfect life. You were disgusted. You just wanted to be gone, anywhere but there. Maybe even back to that god-forsaken conference.

“[Y/N]?!” The voice snapped you out of your daze. Bakugou had pushed the woman away from him and was fumbling to cover himself with anything within arm’s reach.

“Don’t bother,” you spat. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.” He threw the blanket over himself anyway. The stranger was fumbling around on the ground for her clothes, sheet draped haphazardly around her torso. “And you.” She scrambled to look back at you, mortification painted across her face. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Um, I- just a mome-” She fumbled about with the clothes, struggling to get anything on while still keep herself a little bit.

“Just take the fucking sheet with you. God knows I’m going to have to burn the thing anyway.” The woman looked over at Bakugou, terrified and seeking any sort of assistance, but he was too focused on you. “I said get the fuck out of my house.” Your teeth were clenched, jaw growing sore from the pressure. “Now.”

“Um, yes, right.” She scooped up an armful of her clothes – possibly getting some of Bakugou’s in the process – and rushed to the door, accidentally bumping into you on the way out. “I’m- I’m so sorry.” You didn’t acknowledge her.

Once you heard the front door slam shut and were sure she was gone, you turned to your boyfriend – well, soon to be ex-boyfriend – ready to yell your lungs out. Bakugou was stumbling around in his underwear, trying to find more clothes to put on, but he froze when he noticed you looking at him.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking?” you practically screamed. “Please enlighten me because this is not the kind of shit that I thought you would stoop to.”

“I can explain.”

“Oh, can you now? Please do.” He stopped tripping around for clothes and stood up with perfect posture, pausing to choose his words carefully.

“I didn’t go out with the intention of sleeping with someone else.”

“Well, that makes me feel loads better.”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“You don’t get to be making demands in this situation.” You gave him a blank, hardened stare and he furrowed his brow in response, but didn’t protest.

“I didn’t go out with the intention of sleeping with someone else,” he repeated. “I just wanted to go drink at a bar by myself for a while, so I went out to our usual place. But, after about an hour there, that chick recognized me.” He motioned to the door, as if it were unclear what “chick” he was referring to. “She kept pestering me, asking for autographs and to drink with her. It was fucking annoying, but I don’t know…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “She kinda looked like you and you’d be gone for a long time, I was fucking- I was fucking lonely.” He was being more sentimental than usual, up-front about his feelings. Probably because he realized that was the only way he had a chance of getting you to listen. “So, I agreed to drink with her for a bit, but I’d already had a lot to drink and I started to lose track of time. The bartender gave last call and I don’t fucking know… She asked to come here, I don’t know why I said okay.”

“You knew what would happen if you invited her over.”

“Maybe some part of me did, but I didn’t think about it.”

“Not thinking about it is just as bad,” you snapped. He didn’t respond, so you prompted him. “Explain how it happened.”

“I don’t think…”

“Explain how it happened.”

“We came here once the bar closed and we drank some more. She just helped herself to some of our wine and I didn’t stop her. After a while, she started coming onto me.” He paused to read your expression, but continued when he came up with nothing. “I should have refused. God, I should have fucking refused, but her kisses were warm and I was drunk and I stopped thinking and just accepted it.”

“You don’t seem super drunk now, how long ago was this?”

He bit his lip, looking to the ground.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, realization washing over you. “How many times did you do it?”

He didn’t answer.

“Four? Five?”

Still no answer.

“What the fuck? Six? Seven? Jesus Christ, Katsuki, you and I haven’t done it that many times in a row.”

“It wasn’t fucking seven times,” he retorted. Bakugou was growing more and more heated the longer you two argued and from your perspective, that was just hurting his case. It did make yelling a little easier, though.

“Well, then, how many?”

“[Y/N], can we not focus on that? I’m sorry.” To his credit, he did sound genuinely upset and regretful, but the didn’t necessarily make a difference in this scenario.

“Just tell me.”

“I don’t thin-”

“Tell me.”

“Five.”

You didn’t know what to do with that information. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, all it did was hurt more and you were hurting enough as-is. You stood silent.

“Wow,” you managed. “That’s a lot, huh?” You chuckled to yourself. Your anger was fading, leaving a heavy, growing pain in your chest that refused to back down. Something about the situation felt like a sick joke. “She must’ve been good.”

“[Y/N], I told you, it’s not like that.”

“No, no, really. Was she good? Was she better than me?” You didn’t want to know the answer to that. Why did you ask that? “I bet she got down on her knees and sucked your dick for you, let you fuck her into the mattress, let you throw her around. Made you feel like the goddamn king of the fucking world. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Huh, King Explosion Murder.” You said the fake hero name tauntingly, enunciating each word separately. Bakugou opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he could answer. “Sorry, sorry, it’s Ground Zero, isn’t it? Ground Zero the great, amazing top-ten hero that every girl out there wants to fuck.”

“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you were gone so fucking much!”

“Oh, this is my fault? I walk in here to find you cheating on me and you have the gall to blame me for it?” You felt your eyes starting to sting, but fought off the incoming tears. “What’s it like being an arrogant bastard?”

“I’m not being arrogant, you’re not fucking listening to me!”

“Well, I was listening earlier when you were panting for her like a fucking dog.”

“Good because maybe then you could learn a thing or two from her technique.” You froze.

“Get out of my home.” You threw an arm out, pointing to the open bedroom door. Words weren’t coming easily anymore and you could feel yourself approaching a full-blown meltdown, but you refused for Bakugou to be around when that happened.

“Wait, no, [Y/N], I didn’t mean that.”

“I don’t care. Get out.” You yelled internally, urging yourself not to cry. Now is not the time. Don’t cry. “Go to Kirishima’s house or a hotel or your office or anywhere but here, I don’t fucking care. Just leave.” Don’t cry. The words were getting caught in your throat as you crept closer and closer to sobbing. “Tomorrow morning, you can come pack up your stuff.” Don’t cry. God dammit, [Y/N], do not cry.

“[Y/N], I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear.”

“I don’t care that you weren’t trying to.” Your voice cracked halfway through the sentence. Oh no, here come the tears. “You still did.” Once the dam broke, you couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears that went streaming down your face. “Sometimes intentions don’t matter, Katsuki. You may not have been trying to hurt me, but I’m still standing here with my heart on the floor and your boot-prints all over it.” You pressed the heel of one hand against your eye in a vain attempt to stop crying. Your voice when quiet, weak. “Please, just go.”

“[Y/N]…” He took a step toward you. You took a step back.

“Please.” The word was tiny and broken, the spoken epitome of everything you felt at the time, everything you were.

Bakugou didn’t respond, instead pulling on a pair of pants and the nearest shirt as well as grabbing his keys on the dresser. You closed your eyes and drew in a sharp breath. Once he’d gathered his things, he stepped next to you, ready to leave on your order.

“I still love you,” he whispered. You gasped out a puff of air, resisting the urge to hug him, and turned your head down away from him. He sighed. “I’m sorry.” Two dozen paces and the door’s click. He was gone.

[thebrochtuarachs]

To Begin Again: Chapter 5

Jamie passes through the stones on Beltane to 1968.

A/N: This scene was suppose to go another way, maybe a little further in the timeline but in honour of Father’s Day, I jumbled the story a bit - hopefully, it fits and still works! (Let me know!) As always, comments and suggestions are always welcome!

CH: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 AO3

“It’s just like a carriage” Claire explained as Jamie eyed the car intently wondering how such a contraption works.

Jamie was hesitant to even enter the car. Naturally, everything is strange to him. Thank God Claire was there because for sure he would have died trying to avoid the damn thing if he was on his own.

“How does it move then?” He asked back.

“Well, in this century, they have already invented what they call a motor. It’s a machine that makes everything run like it’s the horse that pulls a carriage. You put fuel in the car then the motor uses it to move it forward” Claire tried to explain with as much analogy and understanding as she could.

Jamie couldn’t do anything but nod and agree. It’s not as if he has much choice. Though Claire has told him stories of how the 20th century was, it was different being able to see it in person. He decided then that he would have to learn the basics of this century as quickly as possible – just had Claire did when she stumbled to their century. It will be difficult but he will do it for her.

She was observing him – he was thinking too deep, the lines on his face in discussion then it relaxed as if reaching a decision. It’s the same face he had when he brought her to the stones the first time. No,Claire panicked and yanked him out of his head with a tug on his arm before he got any funny ideas.

“The car will be loud and the the city will be loud. You might get too overwhelmed but it’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here.” Claire warned and assured Jamie in the event the bustle of the city overstimulates his senses too much too fast. One way or another, he was going home with her even if it meant that they had to walk.

Bree and Roger already took their seats in the front and Jamie motioned for her to lead the way to the back of the car.

Roger warned Jamie when he was about to start the car just to be on the safe side. True enough, when the engine roared to life, Jamie squeezed Claire’s hand, first in shock and then in control. As the car began to move and the scenery changed, Jamie, slowly, relaxed in his seat.

“Come lay your head man.” Claire said to Jamie, who, again, smiled at memories of the past. “We’ve got a bit of a drive and I think you’ll be feeling the same here as you do in a boat.”

Jamie trusted Claire’s word and did as he was told. This was her world and her time, he knew nothing and would have to follow her instructions for the time being until he learned to adapt here in this century. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on her shoulder and unexpectedly drifted off to to a light sleep.

Claire couldn’t stop touching or looking at him. She’d never felt happier in her life since she gave birth to Bree. She loves her daughter but this miracle might even just trump that. She looked down at him – god, he was still beautiful - and their intertwined fingers and smiled a little bit more. Then, in a moment of unutterable tenderness and love, she leaned down and gave him a light, lingering kiss in the forehead and settled to lean against his frame and try to get some rest too.

As she drifted to to her own slumber, her mind seemed to wander on its own to a place she didn’t want to but need to confront soon. She knew that this blissful feeling is fleeting and temporary. The surprise of Jamie’s arrival will waive down soon enough and they will need to talk about the realstuff. They were parted for 20 years and as sure as she was of Jamie, change was inevitable and they have a few more scars since they last saw each other. They would have to deal with what they have done in their lives at some point and not all of it would be pretty. But she had faith in them and they will come through this no matter what, that much she knows is a fact.

-

Bree couldn’t help but glance every now and then in the rearview mirror. Seeing her mother really happy was a sight to behold. Seeing her real father in the flesh was beyond a dream. But if she was really being honest with herself, both those people at the back were strangers to her.

It has only been a week since the truth of Bree’s paternity came out and she spent more than half of it screaming false at her mother. It was only today that she told her she believed her, minutes later she sees a red-headed man slumped on the ground, who turned out to be James Fraser, the man in question, now sitting at the back of a car with them in the 20thcentury.

She glanced again and saw her mother smile and place a small kiss on Jamie’s forehead. It was both terrifying and exhilarating seeing her like this - this new side of her Claire she’s seeing was a sight to behold. She’s more bold, more loving, more caring, just…more. This is the part of herself she’s kept for 20 years and surprisingly, Bree really likes it.

And then there’s Jamie. Her real father. The 6’3, red-headed, highlander her mother’s been in love with, the hidden secret, the unspoken name, for the past two decades. She wasn’t sure how to open up to him, after all, she’d just accepted him not long before they met. What would she call him? Not Jamie, that was too formal and almost disrespectful. Not Father, that’s too distant and stern. Not Daddy, that’s what she’s called Frank Randall all her life and she’ll not dishonor his memory by giving that name to anyone else, even if it was Jamie. Not Dad,that seemed too English and doesn’t suit him in her tongue. She sighed deeply, maybe she’ll just ask him what he wants to be called.

Maybe it wouldn’t be bad to get to know them. After which, she can just decide whether to accept them or not – but she’ll make it clear that it will be her decision and in her own terms. It would take a lot of courage from everyone to make them tell their stories and hear out the truth. Bree needs to hear them and she needs to get to know them.

But did she want all these? Did she want to get to know these people? Did she want a new father? Did she want the burden of keeping this secret?That was not negotiable. She had no one else but her mother, now, her fatherand this was her family, time-travelers and all.

Brianna was so deep in thought that she hadn’t realized that they’ve already arrived at the manse. If only she wasn’t startled when Roger touched her knee, it would’ve taken her a while to get a hold of their surroundings.

Fiona greeted them by the door and despite the early morning, she had breakfast prepared for them.

“I didn’t know when you’d be back but I prepared a small breakfast for you all and coffee.” She looked at everyone and raised her eyebrows to Roger in question as to the new guest they brought home.

“Thank you, Fiona. Uhm, could ye also prepare another bedroom, some towels and soap for our new guest?” Roger began to diffuse the situation. “Fiona, this is Jamie. Jamie, this is Fiona Graham”

Jamie and Fiona gave a friendly and respectful nod in acknowledgement of each other. Fiona went back inside the manse, followed by Roger, leaving the Fraser’s yet, again, on their own. Claire and Jamie went out on their respective sides of the car, both stretching as soon as their feet can elongate to their full height.

“I’ll just settle Jamie up in our bedroom, he could really use a little bit more rest but you three can enjoy your breakfast.” Claire requested as she rubbed her eyes and try to put some spirit in her still sleepy haze.

The changes in the room arrangements in the manse was obvious – she’ll be the one moving to the new room - but it didn’t stop Bree from at least, assuming things, making her look a little bit red. “Alright, I’ll catch you and…uhm…” she waved her hand around, still debating on what to call Jamie in her head, like quickly calculating some math problem in all possible angles, hoping to choose the best outcome. “…you guyslater.” Bree immediately regretted her choice and quickly turned around to walk to the house. First, it was not even in the choices and second, calling them collectively like that will almost seem that she didn’t care or understand the gravity of the impossibility of her father being in the present time or that she didn’t care enough about him at all to not even recognize him. Whatever he was – he will be – in her life, he deserved something better than “you guys”.

“You can…” she heard Jamie call and she stopped. Did he notice her hesitate and flush? Did he recognize her trouble? Did he understand that the problem is only a simple matter of finding the proper semantics and not some ruse to push him away?

Mama, did always say that Jamie always knew more than he let on - but mama always had a glass face. Add to the fact that, apparently, again, according to her mother, she inherited her father’s talent of masking emotions.Did he see all past that in the short amount of time they’ve spent these last hours?

Maybe, she thought first.  Oh, I hope he did, she thought second.

“You can call me…Da” Jamie said, his voice still husky with sleep. “If ye want to, I mean” he added for measure, sensing the pressure and position she suddenly put his daughter in.

All three of them stood frozen in their spot, not wanting to push the moment too much, but at the same time, not wanting to ruin it. This was a major step in the building of their family and right now, it was up to Bree to decide if they were moving forward.

Slowly, their daughter turned around and looked at Jamie. “Da,” she said softly, trying to roll the word off her tongue, then a smile easily crept up her face. “Da. Is that gaelic?” she followed, putting the sudden tears that rose at bay.

Both Claire and Jamie relaxed at her acceptance, the latter being more affected than he thought he would be. Da – the only name and title, besides being Claire’s husband, he wished to have in his life. Da – a name he wished all his life to be called, Da– hearing it from the child of his and Claire’s blood and bones made him almost weak in the knees.

“No, it’s just…simple” he finally said, the smile on his face unwavering. Bree smiled and turned back to the house.

Claire went to Jamie’s side and he opened his arm to snuggle her close. He tugged at his shirt to pull him close, “Let’s get you inside, getwarmer” she said with a slight suggestive tone.

The beamed at each other, offering a small laugh at what just happened and together, they walked through the manse’s door.