#please consider yourselves all tagged

[sluttery-withoutshame]

Thanks @deeloveskiss

I tag @elrohare and ANYONE else who sees this and wants to do it! I’d love to see what else you’re into. I’d tag you all if I could.

[variousqueerthings]

I was tagged by @oh2e for some books and texts I’ve been reading recently

Before We Were Trans (Kit Heyam): I finished this last night and I am so happy that this exists. A challenge to the existing frameworks of what we call Trans History, purposefully intersectional and broad in its exploration

Brand New Ancients (Kae Tempest): This came out before Kae did, so ignore the name there. A beautiful story in poetic form, you can see it was intended to be read out loud. Reconsidering mythologies and gods

Shikhandi And Other Tales They Don’t Tell You (Devdutt Pattanaik): A queer exploration of Indian mythologies and religious stories. I have a lot to learn here, and I’m so glad this perspective exists

I Sexually Identify As An Attack Helicopter (Isabel Fall): A short story that sparked a lot of conversation about how we forcibly out creatives, genuinely an interesting set of questions about what happens when queer gender rights are appropriated by militaristic society

The Prophets (Robert Jones Jr.): Rethreading queer lines that were broken under slavery, centres two enslaved men on a plantation, while creating queer cultural roots through space and time

Detransition Baby (Torrey Peters): A story about a detransitioned trans woman (now cis man) who accidentally gets a woman pregnant and tries to find a way to queer parenthood. I’m pleased I read it and definitely recommend, but there were elements that I struggled with. The detransitioned character was so worth following

Braiding Sweetgrass (Robin Wall Kimmerer): Recommended to anyone who’s feeling climate doom, especially to get us out of an individualistic headspace and into anti-colonialist allyship with one another. Also plants. Remember to thank them

A Bright Room Called Day (Tony Kushner): Can’t believe I never read (or watched) this play before, considering it’s Kushner and I was a baby theatre gay, but I found it very healing in our times + Kushner’s musings in the 1994 afterword, thank you @mimsyaf

Between The World And Me (Ta-Nehisi Coates): A letter to his son. I don’t even know what else to say, go read it

Thanks again for the tag, I feel like if there’s one thing I actually have had the energy to do it’s read a lot (ngl it’s been a coping mechanism/avoidance tactic at times) and I always want to !!!! about it. I noticed with this list I’m currently drawn to books about creating/recreating threads; historical, mythological, political, communal. I’m very much feeling the potential power of finding similarities, allyship, and family, rather than cutting ourselves off into individual causes and clear-cut hierarchical identities. Some of these books were for me to find myself in and some of them were about listening. I think that’s an important balance too.

hon mention: The Peregrine, JA Baker

tagging (and no pressure whatsoever, I don’t know if you’ve had the spoons for books): @hunkydorkling , @le-red-queen , @an-sceal , @elsonambulo , @pohjanneito , @likethegardensofbabylonn

[formulaa-1]

Soo

A charles leclerc x reader where the reader is the sister of a fellow driver (you pick) and no one knows. and when they do find out the brother loses his shit and then just accepts it

Thx a lot

instagram au🏎️ C.L

Gasly!reader x Charles leclerc

y/n’s older brother Pierre doesn’t know she’s dating his best friend…kind of a soft launch?

-

y/ngasly

y/ngasly: feels like summer☀️👙

liked by pierregasly, yourfriendsuser, charles_leclerc and 21,347 others

view all 47 comments

pierregasly:Qui est sur la 2e photo ?

y/ngasly: ça ne te regarde pas💗

pierregasly: oi

fransisca.cgomes: beau bébé😍💗

y/ngasly: love youuu💗

gaslyfann: their friendship is so cute >>🥹

pg10fann: we wish you was in the paddock more !!

Liked by y/ngasly

lechairfannn16: charles liking🤭

-

-

y/ngasly’s story

caption: breakfast in bed🥐🍓🍉

-

-

charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: feels like summer ;)🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️

Liked by y/ngasly, f1fanzz, arthur_leclerc and 251,467 others

view all 563 comments

pierregasly: ☀️☀️☀️

fan57: either Pierre already knows y/n and charles are OBVIOUSLY dating or he’s really dumb 💀💀

user11: deffo dumb 😭😭

fan8: SECOND PHOTO HELLO?????

scuderiaferrari: ❤️❤️❤️

sainzgirly: HIM USING THE SAME CAPTION AS Y/N👹👹👹

user88: we lost him guys🥹🥲🥲

y/nandcha: Y/N AND CHARLES SOFT LAUNCHING !!!!!!!!!!!

-

y/ngasly and charles_leclerc

y/ngasly and charles_leclerc: mon amour❤️❤️

Liked by lorenzotl, yourbff, scuderiaferrari and 645,291 others

view all 257 comments

pierregasly: wtf seriously.

y/ngasly: please don’t be mad with me 🫤💗

charles_leclerc: we’re sorry for not telling you before!

pierregasly: fuck off charles

user257: THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGGGG

arthur_leclerc: beautiful couple❤️

Liked by y/ngasly and Charles_leclerc

fan279: arthurs comment is so funny to me considering there’s a whole fight going on above it 😭😭😭

pierregaslyyyy: fr💀💀

ferarriboyz: *cries in happiness*

user192: they’re🥹so🥹freaking🥹cute😭😭😭😭

-

y/ngasly

y/ngasly: even tho Pierre was a little pi**ed at first…they’re still besties!!🫶🏼🫶🏼

tagged: pierregasly and charles_leclerc

Liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, gazly10fan and 109,268 others

view all 383 comments

gazly10fan: nah that first pic is a violation 💀💀

charles_leclerc: y/n no!!! you promised you wouldn’t post that first one 🤦🏻‍♂️

y/ngasly: meh you love me anyway 💗

charles_leclerc: that’s true 😚❤️

pierregasly: this is actually vile stop.

y/ngasly: as if I don’t see you doing WAY worse in kikas comments💀💀

Liked by fransisca.cgomes

user19: this comment section is so funny😭😭

CL16_ffan: help the haircuts I can’t -

-

authors note- hope you liked this ,felt a little motivated after my last post so here we go!! I’m so sorry that it took literal months to do this request but I hope this is what you wanted my love ! take care of yourselves ❤️❤️

[hqbaby]

one — rumor has it

tag, ur it! — sakusa ? iwaizumi ? osamu ? 

*ੈ✩‧ love is a losing game your roommate, your ex, or the guy you totally haven’t been seeing—the choice should be simple, right? right?

masterlist — next

word count. 1.3k content. profanity, sexual content (rough sex, unprotected vaginal penetration)

Iwaizumi doesn’t pry.

That’s why he’s such a great roommate. He hogs the bathroom and forgets to take his clothes out of the dryer, but he isn’t nosy. It’s not that he’s cold or distant, he’s just acutely aware of your boundaries and he has no intentions of crossing them.

But when he hears that you’ve been sneaking around with some mystery man… Now, how is he supposed to ignore a rumor like that?

He finds out through Oikawa of course who—despite his insistence that he isn’t—is the world’s biggest gossip.

“You’re lying!” Oikawa whines, on the verge of making another scene over lunch. “You know something. You’re just protecting her.”

Iwaizumi pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “You know that you’re really fucking annoying, right?”

“You’re not denying it though,” Matsukawa chimes in oh so helpfully. “You covering for her, Iwa?”

“Yeah, is there something you’re not telling us?” Hanamaki teases, nudging Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Maybe that you are the mystery man?”

Your roommate makes a face of both disbelief and confusion. “What would fucking give you that impression?"

“Dunno,” Hanamaki says, smirking. “You’re just so obviously flustered by this whole thing.”

“I’m not flustered. Oikawa’s just annoying.”

“Nah, you love me,” his best friend insists. “So? Do you think she’s been seeing someone?”

Iwaizumi considers shutting his friends down right then and there and telling them that you haven’t been seeing anyone and that they’re all delusional, but he can’t seem to bring himself to do it. The truth is, he does think that you’ve been hiding something. He just wasn’t sure what it was—but now that he thinks about it, Oikawa’s suspicions might actually be right.

He offers his friends a feeble shrug. “I don’t know, it’s not like she’s told me anything,” he says. “But she has been acting a little weird recently. Coming home late. Getting distracted… I don’t know. Maybe.”

Matsukawa sighs. “I bet it’s a business major,” he says. “They get all the pretty girls.”

“Or one of those engineering dudes,” Hanamaki suggests. “The art girls always seem to fall for those guys.”

As the two debate about what kind of guy you would go for, Oikawa taps Iwaizumi’s leg with his foot to get his attention.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Are you okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Don’t act dumb, you know what I’m talking about.”

Iwaizumi swallows. Of course he knows what he’s talking about.

“I don’t…” he hesitates, “It’s not like that. It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure,” Oikawa says, unconvinced. “Well, I’m here if you ever decide to stop being in denial.”

Iwaizumi nods. He hates when Oikawa is right. “Thanks.”

“Fuck! Right there!” you grip his back as you find yourself pushed up against the wall, his cock bullying its way into your aching cunt. “Don’t stop! Please, Kiyoomi.”

The tiny storage closet that you’ve somehow found yourselves in shakes as Sakusa pounds into you at an unrelenting pace. He holds you up by your thighs, groaning right into your ear as he continues his assault on your pussy. 

“You feel so fucking good.” He hisses as your walls flutter around his length. “So fucking tight.”

He hits a spot deep inside you that sends shivers down your spine. You drag your nails down the expanse of his skin and throw your head back at the sudden pleasure. “Fuck, I’m close.” You let out a moan. “I’m so fucking close.”

And that’s when you hear it. A chuckle. A fucking chuckle.

“So weak for me, aren’t you?” Sakusa says, his breath hot against your neck. “Who would’ve thought?”

His cock plunges into you, smashing into a spot that makes you writhe in his arms. “Omi!” you scream as your high crashes down on you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and sink your teeth into his skin to hide your moans.

“Fuck!” he exclaims as your cunt squeezes his cock dry. He releases into you, the cum slipping out as he continues to thrust into you through his high.

He stills and slumps against you, slowly lowering the two of you to the floor.

You pull back and hold his head in your hands. His forehead is damp and his curls are a mess and he has that fucked out look on his face that you’ve gotten more than used to. You run your fingers through his hair and start laughing.

“You’re so fucked, man,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t even wait for tonight?”

He shakes his head, smiling as you continue to pepper his face with kisses. “You’re a menace.”

You shrug, grinning at him. “Can’t help it,” you tell him as you run your thumb over his swollen lips. “You look pretty like this.”

Sakusa leans forward and catches your lips in a kiss, slow and sweet. The two of you move against one another like it's second nature. It might as well be, what with how long you’ve been at this.

“We have class,” he mumbles as you press your lips on his. “Wouldn’t wanna be late.”

With one last kiss, you pull back and sigh. You press your forehead against his and stare into his eyes, full of something you can’t quite put a name to yet.  “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Hey,” Iwaizumi greets as you take your seat beside him. “We were looking for you at lunch.”

Your eyes widen and you start your profuse apologies. You’d lost track of time when Sakusa decided to drag you away between classes. You completely forgot that you’d made plans to see your friends.

Iwaizumi just laughs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Oikawa’s not gonna let it go though.”

“I fucking know.” You groan into your hands. Then, you lift your head and take Iwaizumi’s hands in yours. “Be honest though, are you mad?”

His eyes flicker to where your hands meet. He looks back at you and shakes his head. “It’s really fine,” he tells you.

You let out an exhale of relief and pull your hands away. “You’d tell me if I fucked up, right?” you say. “I know I’ve been a shitty friend recently.”

He hums. “I mean, I don’t mind,” he tells you. And, well, he tries, he really tries to be as casual and respectful as he usually is about giving you privacy… but he just can’t take it this time, so he asks, “What were you up to though?”

You’re taken aback by the question. It isn’t anything big, but you know that your roommate’s never asked for information that you didn’t offer willingly. It’s just new.

“Oh, right, I was—” Your mind’s going crazy as it scrambles to come up with an excuse. You’ve never had to make up excuses with Iwaizumi. “—studying for a test.”

For a moment, you’re worried he won’t believe you. Because why would he? You’ve been living with him for two years now, he has your routine down pat. You study for tests in the afternoon and at night if you need to. You’ve never studied over your lunch break. You aren’t a slave to your schoolwork.

But he just nods. “I get it,” he says. “Third year’s rough, isn’t it?”

You let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, yeah, it really is.”

The door opens and you look over to see if the professor’s come early. 

It’s Sakusa.

He walks by you, quickly looking away as soon as he catches your eyes on him.

“What was that all about?” Iwaizumi wonders, catching the exchange between the two of you. 

You’re jolted out of your thoughts. “Sorry, what?”

“What’s his deal?”

You poke at your pencil. “Dunno,” you say. “Dude has some issues.”

You look over your shoulder to find Sakusa staring at you, a smirk on his face. You stick your tongue out at him and turn to look straight ahead of you, trying your best to school the grin that wants to burst across your face. 

Sakusa definitely has some issues. Chief among them being you.

note. let the drama commence ;)

[leclercdream]

tell me who i am pt.3

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

when in austin everything comes crashing down on reader because people on the internet are mean af

author's note: not much going on in this chapter bc of picture limit haha, will probably upload part 4 after the gp so i have more social media content!

tw: slut shaming

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, lilymhe, charles_leclerc and 182,325 others

yourusername: im damned if i do give a damn what people say

tagged: danielricciardo, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, friend1, friend2, friend3

view all 55 comments

danielricciardo: there’s just no reason for you to be this fine

danielricciardo: wow

danielricciardo: marry me

↳ yourusername: brb crying

landonorris: ew

↳ yourusername: shut up this is your fault

lilymhe: you are glowing!!

↳ alexandrasaintmleux: oh trust me, she is being well taken care of, thats why

↳ friend1: yeah we can all hear it

↳ yourusername: jealous bitches

comments in this post have been limited

danielricciardo

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, kellypiquet and 439,234 others

danielricciardo: As many of you know, this is my girlfriend y/n. We have been dating for 3 years now and she is not only my girlfriend but also my best friend, biggest supporter and the love of my life. For some unknown reason many of you have taken upon yourselves to leave hateful comments on her social media, even taken it as far as saying stuff to her face at the GPs she attended. Do not slut shame women for being proud of their bodies and feel comfortable with it. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to look. yourusername happens to be one of the people I know, that being one of the main reasons I fell in love with her. She is passionate, selfless, funny, caring, beautiful. So please, if you consider yourself a fan of mine and have ever treated her like less than any of that, you are not welcome here.

Any hate comments, threats or anything slightly disrepectful will be deleted and blocked. If you treat the people I love like that, you are not my fan.

Thank you for the tattoo baby!

tagged: yourusername

view all 24 comments

landonorris: imagine having a girlfriend that gets a tattoo because of you

↳ yourusername: you will never know ha

↳ landonorris: haha so funny!!

landonorris: jokes aside, hate comments are NOT welcome on my profile either. y/n is my best friend and i love her (dont let this get to your head PLEASE) so i wont tolerate any hate towards her.

liked by danielricciardo and yourusername

maxverstappen1: 🧡

alexandrasaintmleux: love you guys!

charles_leclerc: You guys are amazing, see you in a few days!

yourusername: i love you sososo much 🍯🦡 you are the love of my life!!!

yourusername: how did i get SO lucky

yourusername: thank you so much for this

comments in this post have been limited

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 637,231 others

landonorris: Nothing better than a few days with friends.

tagged: danielricciardo, alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername, maxfewtrell, friend1, friend2, friend3

view all 1,425 comments

yourusername: low quality lando.jpg

↳ landonorris: its because i have a low quality model

↳ yourusername: yourself?

↳ landonorris: shut up

maxfewtrell: bob stop drinking you have media day tomorrow

↳ danielricciardo: time for a break i guess

user1: kinda love this friend group

user2: 8 pretty best friends

user3: the switch all of you had after daniels post lol

↳ user4: i mean it was about time they left the poor girl alone

taglist: @urmotheris @minkyungseokie @dhhdhsiavdhaj @dl-yum @1655clean @skepvids @forevercaffeinated-lee @laneyspaulding19 @dark-night-sky-99 @bibissparkless @crlsummer

[katebishopsbow]

YOU'RE JUST A MAN, IT'S JUST WHAT YOU DO • CARLOS SAINZ

pairing: carlos sainz x reader (18+)

summary: you should have known better than to believe in carlos' loving kisses, sweet lies, and all the times he called you his. because he's just a man, it's just what he does.

(inspired by lana del ray's song, norman fucking rockwell)

tags: explicit sexual content (minors dni), unprotected sex, choking, praise kink, spit, dirty talking, degradation, finger sucking, angst, no mentions of y/n

word count: 2.1k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

You should have known better.

The first time you met Carlos Sainz was the night he had won the Singapore Grand Prix. You were ordering a drink for yourself at the bar when all of a sudden a figure appeared beside you, and you watched with intrigue as he ordered himself a tequila shot before offering to pay for your tab. He turned to look at you, the smile of a winner on his face as he winked not-so-subtly, and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Carlos was taken aback, considering that it was the first time someone laughed at his face at his attempt to flirt. Was his wink that awkward? Shit, maybe he should have practiced his winks more in the mirror because now he had totally embarrassed himself in front of a pretty girl. 

“That was adorable,” you chuckled at the now rosy-cheeked man – who would have thought the confident guy moments ago with the crazy good looks could be so shy and precious? Upon introducing yourselves to each other, you realized that Carlos was way more than just good looks. 

He had a great sense of humor that matched yours surprisingly well, he was respectful and charming, and he had some really interesting stories to tell as a Formula 1 driver. So that night you two talked over drinks, learning about each other while you downed shot after shot to celebrate his pole position, danced a little when one of your favourite songs came on, and drunkenly stumbled back to his hotel room with fervent kisses and desperate touch.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“You’re taking my cock so well… what a good little slut for me…” he whispered into your ears as he pushed himself into you again and again, relishing in the sweet moans that escaped your lips each time his cock touched the deepest parts of your cunt. You were so tight, so perfect for him, and he wished he could stay inside you forever.

You made an almost embarrassing moan when his hand reached down and wrapped his fingers around your throat, restricting your airway just enough to send fireworks of tingles up your veins. “You look so pretty with my hands around you, mi amor. Fuck…” Carlos mumbled against your lips, smirking as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Carlos,” you moaned, “Carlos, please.” He adored the way you say his name, all whiny and breathy and so good for him. He loved it even more when you begged for him to go deeper, to fuck you harder, to claim you as his with every thrust of his hips. “You’re such a good girl for saying please, aren’t you?” he asked as he tightened his grip around your throat, and you had to grapple the sheets from the intense pleasure surging through you.

Carlos leaned down and captured your lips in a feverish kiss, moaning into your mouth as he let his tongue run over your bottom lip. When he finally pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips to his and he couldn’t help the moan that fell from his lips at the lewd sight.

When his thumb pushed against your lips, you eagerly opened up your mouth and welcomed the intrusion, swirling your tongue around his finger before hollowing out your cheek to suck on it. “Fuck… look at you, baby,” Carlos smirked down at you, drinking in how sinful you had looked lying before him. 

Then he pushed his finger further in, pressing on your tongue with a slight pressure that made you gag around his slick digit. “That’s right, choke on it. Deeper, there you go… Good girl.” The praises were never-ending, pouring out of his lips in a way that only seemed to fuel your eagerness to please.

Each movement of his hips was languid and deep, forcing you to feel every inch of his cock snapping into you again and again. “Feels so good…” you drooled on his finger, your words beginning to slur together as you inched closer toward your sweet release. “Yeah? Fucking take it, then,” he moaned shamelessly while his hand dropped to where you two were connected, and began to rub tantalisingly slow circles against your sensitive clit.

The whine you let out was obscene, whispering out a few broken “Mhm… please” was all you could manage from the heavenly sensation that was beginning to crawl up your spine. “Shit… I’m gonna come inside this tight little cunt and you’ll be a good girl and let me, won’t you?” Carlos muttered above you with a knowing grin, pulling out momentarily before fucking back into you just as deep.

The truth was that you would let him do whatever he wanted to you, and you would obey all that he said because you wanted to be such a good fucking girl for him. The movement of his hips gradually became more erratic, fingertips grasping onto your thighs with such pressure that you were certain bruises would form the next day – a sign that you belonged to Carlos.

“I’m close, so fucking close, baby.” He let out a shuddering breath, eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure as he drank in the sight of you sprawled out under him, taking his cock so well. That’s when you lifted up your hips and pushed back into him to meet him halfway, greedily chasing that pleasure that you both craved and needed. 

Carlo’s reaction was instant, letting out a guttural groan desperately, “Oh god, please please please, don’t stop –” You felt yourself fluttering in response to his pleas, such a stark contrast to how dominant he was mere moments ago only seemed to push you teetering over the edge.

“Carlos, I’m coming, please –” The words in your head morphed into broken moans and breathy whines, and you could only squeeze your eyes shut in complete ecstasy while you pulsed around his thick length. “That’s it, baby, ohhh fuck you feel so good,” he groaned loudly as his face contorted in bliss, pounding into you again and again before his hips finally stilled and spilled inside you.

When Carlos leaned forward to drop a soft kiss on your lips, feeling the slowed thrusts of his hips while he fucked his come back into you lazily, you moaned out his name in a way that he wished he could hear forever. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered so tenderly, and when he wrapped his arms around you that night, stroking your hair in a way that felt so domestic and gentle as he lulled you to sleep, you almost believed him.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You didn’t expect to keep in contact with Carlos after that night in Singapore, but neither of you seemed to be able to stay away from each other. And before you even noticed it, the late-night texts and secretive hotel room meetings turned into planned dates and daily messages where he would share with you about his day.

He would send you pictures of his whereabouts throughout the day, update you on his practice schedules, and share with you all the mundane little things that happened to him daily. You found yourself waiting for his texts, missing him whenever he was in training and had to be away from his phone, and you should have known better but you allowed yourself to indulge in whatever this was with Carlos. 

“I miss you, mi amor.” Your heart swelled with adoration at his words on the phone, smiling like an idiot as you replied to him, “I miss you too, Carlos.” Phone calls with Carlos were your favourite part of the day whenever he had to fly halfway across the world for a race, just hearing his voice filled you with so much comfort that the miles of distance between you two became unimportant. 

“I wish I could be with you all the time, baby,” he smiled into his phone, wishing you could abandon everything at home and fly with him to every race weekend. You really should have known better, but how could you not believe him when he said your name with such fondness, held your hands with such certainty, and wrapped his arms around you like he never wanted to let you go?

You thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with Carlos – oh, how naive of you. Because all of a sudden, his texts became less frequent, the calls with him became shorter, and you could feel him slipping away from your fingertips. You asked him why he was being so distant and cold, but he’d always manage to come up with some reasons.

His training went on longer than he expected, he was so exhausted after the race that he immediately went to bed, he accidentally left his phone in his hotel room. You were no idiot, those were all just terrible excuses – and no matter how much you tried to deny it and convince yourself that Carlos wouldn’t do such a thing, you knew what was bound to happen.

Perhaps he had gotten bored of you, or maybe he was intimidated by the thought of committing to a relationship with you – you would never be sure what the reason was behind his sudden change of heart. But all you knew was that one morning when you decided to not text him first and see if he would be the one to send you a message, he never did, and that was the end of it. 

You were almost embarrassed to admit that a part of you expected him to reach out, to maybe send you a simple “good morning” text like you always used to do. Was that really too much to ask for? Perhaps it was the bare minimum for someone who had genuinely cared for you, but it certainly was too much to ask for from Carlos.

When you were tossing and turning in bed one night, your phone screen lit up from a text notification, and your heart almost beat out of your chest when you saw Carlos’ name appear. The frantic beating of your heart slowed, and replacing the excitement was a painful ache that tugged at your heartstrings. 

You up? Need you right now.

Maybe a part of you did want to respond to his late-night texts and dial his number, to hear him moan your name again the way he used to, to relish in the way he called you his beautiful girl, to believe in all the fucking lies of how much he wanted to be with you – but you stopped yourself before you could reply him back, shut off your phone, and feel your tears soaking through your pillow as you tried to drown that pain with sleep.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Carlos Sainz and new girlfriend Rebecca Donaldson spotted on romantic golf date” 

You were lying in bed when you came across the news article, and you forced yourself to click off the page albeit wanting so badly to read the words you knew were going to shatter your heart. This was always how things were going to end, with Carlos’ complete indifference while he left you to wallow in sorrow, picking up and mending the pieces of your broken heart alone.

You should have known better than to believe in the words of Carlos Sainz. You should have known he was lying when he told you that he missed you, that he wanted you, that he wished you two could’ve been more. You should have never allowed yourself to get used to his warmth and kisses and embraces because none of them was real – nothing was ever real when it came to him.

He would never know the way you had to hurt, he would never understand half the shit he put you through even if he had tried. You would never let him know how he completely destroyed you with his sweet lies and feigned affection, and the tears that you shed for him in all the sleepless nights that left you questioning if you were ever worthy of love. 

Wiping off the tears that ran down your cheeks, you reached for your phone to delete his number from your contacts and blocked him on every platform. You hesitated for a second when your finger hovered over the red button, and somewhere deep within you wished things could have been different – but you pressed it anyway because you owed it to yourself to erase someone like him from your life. 

You should have known better.  Carlos Sainz is just a man. It’s just what he does.

[kwanisms]

Monsoon Season — y.jeongin

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ kumiho!Jeongin × f!Reader

wc: 17.4k (all of these are gonna be at least 10k so prepare yourselves for that lol)

summary: Jeongin has always been a bit of an outcast in his village being half fox demon (kumiho) until a kind stranger takes him in during a monsoon and gives him more than a place to stay for a few days.

genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural and demonic themes, historic themes, s2l; non idol au, demon au, historical au (kinda)

warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Jeongin is bullied heavily, physical violence, a building is burned down, Jeongin gets hit over the head with a branch by the reader, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip

Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST!

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: I'm a sucker for Jeongin in general so there's that. He needs more content and I'm happy to provide that. Anitta is just a codename used by Jeongin's mother. it'll make more sense later what I'm talking about. it's a surprise, shhhhh! Thank you for reading and if you liked this, please reblog or comment! Also consider supporting my work through my kofi (link is in my pinned post). As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (it’s a period piece and I’m not looking up ancient contraceptive techniques lol just use protection) first time sex, degradation (m receiving), begging, corruption kink, virgin!Jeongin, use of pet names (baby boy, sweetheart, little fox, etc), Jeongin is a subby whiny baby. Take it or leave it. If I missed anything, just let me know!

dialogue prompt: ❛ Have you never been touched like this before? ❜

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To a kid, the word orphan is often used as an insult from other kids. Jeongin was lucky that he never had to hear that word until he was much older. He was just shy of fifteen years when his father died from pneumonia. Old enough to be considered a man but Jeongin didn’t feel like a man.

He felt like a lost little boy who just lost his father.

His mother had left not long after Jeongin’s birth. His father had tried his best to explain to Jeongin how his mother didn’t love him any less. She just had a different way of doing things. She had things she had to do, tasks to see to and couldn’t take a newborn with her.

That was the nature of a kumiho. Others called her flighty, said she abandoned him but Jeongin knew better. He had her journals, gifted to him on his fifteenth birthday by his father on instruction from his mother. Jeongin had spent his free time reading those journals, getting to know his mother through her words. It was a surreal experience for him.

His father couldn’t tell Jeongin much about his mother other than that she was incredibly cunning, kind, and compassionate. He also spoke of her beauty. Jeongin had never seen a portrait of his mother and had no idea what she looked like.

“I see her in you,” his father often told him. “You have her eyes and her hair.”

Jeongin took solace in the fact that he resembled his mother. It was comforting in a way.

When Jeongin was finally thrust upon the cruel world at a young age, he had luckily learned enough skills from his father to survive. He knew how to hunt small game and fish. He grew a simple garden that was enough for one when he harvested it. He had spent time foraging with his father and knew his way around the forest’s shrubbery and other plants.

He knew which ones were food, which ones healed, and which ones killed.

Jeongin was able to raise himself, growing into a man of limited means and he kept to himself except when he needed to head to the village to trade his furs for other things he could not provide for himself, like clothing. He’d never learned how to sew as he had no mother to teach him and his father also didn’t know how.

So another morning was spent gathering the furs he’d chosen to sell, setting them aside for the ones he wanted to keep. And he packed some food for his trip to the village. His walk through the woods was always quite so early in the morning. The sounds of the forest waking up, birds calling out to say good morning as the sky lightened from deep indigo to a light periwinkle, the sun creeping over the horizon.

The first rays of sunshine had started to break through the trees as Jeongin reached the village which was also bustling, everyone having gotten up around the same time as he. He ignored the stares as he walked through the village towards the market, readjusting his bag as he trodden on.

He could hear murmurs and whispers as he passed but chose to ignore them. Sure, he perhaps didn’t stick out as much as a full blooded fox folk might, but his blond fox ears, hair, and orange eyes gave him away immediately. Folk around these parts didn’t normally sport such a contrasting hair color.

Jeongin’s father had told him he took after his mother after all.

Upon reaching the market, Jeongin looked around, surveying his surroundings and looking for the lady his father had always purchased clothing from. He spotted her and made a beeline as she was folding garments, setting them down on the wooden stall before her.

“Morning,” Jeongin heard her grumble. Unlike the rest of the villagers, this woman had always been kind to him as he accompanied his father, sneaking him sweets and other homemade candies when his father wasn’t looking. The caramels were his favorites.

“Morning,” Jeongin parroted as he looked over the linen tunics. His was starting to fit a little too snugly and the threads were wearing out. His pants would last him another winter at least. As he was looking over the tunics, he heard a voice as sweet as honey call out.

“Granny, I can’t find the skirts!”

Jeongin looked up in time to see probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life appear before him. He stared, awestruck as she walked over to the old woman. She had waist length black hair that fell in soft waves down her back, half of it pulled back and secured with a comb. Her eyes were a chocolate brown, much different than the dark brown or black he’d grown accustomed to.

She was petite, smaller than he was, with a slender frame and a pale complexion. She met his gaze and Jeongin felt as if the world stopped moving. Everything around him seemed to slow, almost as if time was stopping. The sounds around him drowned out as he stared back into those brown eyes.

Her pale, pink lips pulled into a shy smile before she averted her eyes to look at her grandmother. “They’re in the chest, not the sacks, dear,” the old woman replied and waved her hands. “I’ll get them,” she said, brushing past the girl and around the cart.

The girl looked after her grandmother before stepping towards the stall. Jeongin managed to snap himself out of his trance and had looked down to resume inspecting the tunics. “This would look nice on you,” the girl said, brushing her fingers over a black tunic.

Jeongin glanced up, meeting her gaze and quickly looked away as did she. He noticed the blush that crept over her cheeks. “I’ve never seen you before,” she suddenly said, smiling as Jeongin looked up. “Are you new to the village?” Jeongin opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted.

“He lives in the forest,” the grandmother said as she returned, arms loaded with fabric that she dumped onto the stack of boxes next to her. “This is my granddaughter, Haneul,” the old woman said as she started to fold the skirts and place them on the wooden surface of the stall.

Haneul turned to look back at Jeongin. “What’s your name?” she asked. Jeongin was caught off guard and forgot to answer, instead just smiling and nodding at Haneul. She giggled as he realized his error, shaking his head before answering awkwardly. “Uh, I’m Jeongin.”

As the old woman folded the skirts, Haneul reached into a small pouch on her hip, glancing at her grandmother before pulling her hand out and quickly handing something to Jeongin when her grandmother wasn’t watching. Jeongin glanced down at his hand and felt heat spread to his cheeks.

Sitting in his palm were three wrapped caramel candies. The ones the old woman used to give him. He smiled, tucking them away in his bag before clearing his throat. “I need some shirts,” he announced. “Very well,” the old woman said. “What do you have to trade?”

Jeongin ended up trading one of his tanuki furs for three shirts, two light colored linen ones and one black one. He also managed to trade three of his rabbit furs for a new tool set. As he thanked the blacksmith he turned around and bumped into a body.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized profusely, bowing quickly. The woman he’d bumped into patted him on the shoulder and went about her business. Jeongin was about to turn away when he caught Haneul watching him, an amused smile on her face. When their eyes met, Jeongin felt another rush of heat over his cheeks and waved to Haneul who returned the gesture.

Before Jeongin could turn and start making his way home, he felt an arm hook over the back of his neck, draping across his shoulders. “Well, well, well,” said an all-too-familiar voice. “Look what the dog has dragged back to the village!”

The comment was met with a cacophony of laughter as Jeongin held his tongue.

“Hello to you too, Baek-hwa,” he said monotonously. He glanced up at the taller man, noticing he was now surrounded. Baek-hwa’s friends were staring him down and Jeongin felt like this wasn’t going to end well. He felt Baek-hwa’s arm tighten around the back of his neck.

“What are you doing here, thief, I thought I told you to stay away from the village,” Baek-hwa said under his breath so only Jeongin heard him. “I’m not a thief, Baek-hwa,” Jeongin replied softly. “I just came to get some things and I’ll be going back home now. You won’t have to see me again for a long time.”

Baek-hwa clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You really should have stayed away.”

It didn’t take long for Baek-hwa and his friends to drag Jeongin away from the market and behind a hut before they started laying into him. His bag was torn from his grip and tossed aside as they landed blow after blow on him. Jeongin had learned from a young age that if he avoided trouble, he’d be okay but he knew that wasn’t always the case. Regardless if he stayed out of trouble, it always managed to find him.

He leaned against the wall, doubled over in pain as Baek-hwa’s friends goaded him on. “Kick his ass!” one laughed. Jeongin glanced at where his bag sat and then looked up. His assailants were too busy egging their leader on. He had a small window. Mustering his strength and taking a deep breath, Jeongin pushed off the wall, knocking over one of his attackers.

He snatched his bag and took off as they shouted after him. He may not be as strong as they were, but he was definitely faster. He was more agile having spent all his life living in the forest. They had no hope of catching him once he made it into the treeline.

Jeongin didn’t stop as he vaulted over fallen logs and through the underbrush. He made sure to loop around the long way to lose his pursuers if they were even still following him. He didn’t want to take the chance that they would follow him home and come knocking.

It was midday by the time Jeongin finally reached the front door of his father’s cabin, pushing aside the curtain that hung there and stepping over the threshold. He set his bag down and moved to peer out the window. He saw no sign of life and let the curtain fall back in place before he went about his business.

His father had been in charge of keeping up the home but without his help, the cabin was slowly falling apart and Jeongin didn’t know much about building. There were poorly made patches in the roof that barely kept out the rain and more than once, parts of the roof had collapsed. Jeongin did his best to make it work as he had nowhere else to go.

He was sitting by the fire, heating up some stew he’d made the previous night when he heard it.

A distant crash of thunder. Looking up from the fire, he let out a sigh and glanced up at the roof.

“Just hold out for tonight, please,” he begged the thatched hay. “Just one more night.”

The storm blew in quickly after that, dark, thick storm clouds obscuring the sun and bringing with it heavy rains and strong gusts of wind that whipped around the small cabin, making the walls shake and blowing through the cracks Jeongin hadn’t managed to seal properly.

Several times, he was afraid that the roof was going to collapse or a wall was going to cave in and then the entire cabin would crumble around him, trapping him inside.

Rainwater leaked through the shoddy patching, drenching almost everything under it. Jeongin huddled up in the corner as his furniture and almost everything was soaked. The only thing that saved him was the built-in table in the corner.

He had dragged most of his bedding from the bed to the corner, curling up in the only fortified, safe, and dry place in the cabin. It was here that he fell asleep, curled up with his blankets and pillow as well as his bag and the small box his father had left him. The only important possessions in his life.

The storm raged all night and finally blew itself out by dawn, the dark storm clouds retracting as the sun rose, almost as if shooing them away. Jeongin woke as the sun was climbing and crawled out of his cubby, inspecting the damage. His plea to the roof had saved him. The thatching had held up for the most part but it would have to be replaced. Jeongin wasn’t sure who he could even ask.

He headed outside to inspect his garden and was pleased to see that the garden remained safe and untouched as he picked up a few twigs that had blown in and tossed them away. His firewood stores were also surprisingly dry with only the top layer soaked from the rains.

All in all, he’d managed to survive another monsoon storm. As he was cleaning up stray leaves and small branches, Jeongin heard voices and looked up, his stomach dropping as he spotted Baek-hwa and his friends. ‘No,’ he thought. He looked around and darted inside the cabin, starting to grab things, placing them inside his bag as the voices grew louder and louder outside.

“Come on out, thief, we know you’re in there!” came Baek-hwa’s voice. Jeongin swore under his breath, filling his bag with as much as he could but he knew he wouldn’t have time to leave out the front door. He’d be spotted and then they’d follow.

He dropped the bag by the back window before exiting the cabin to face his tormentors. If he was lucky, they’d just beat him up and leave quickly and then he could leave. He didn’t know where he’d go but now that they knew where his home was, they would be back.

“There he is,” Baek-hwa said as he stopped, leaning against the fence Jeongin’s father had built to keep their small homestead separate from the forest around them. “The thief shows his face.”

Jeongin’s fingers curled in against his palms. “I’m not a thief,” he said, a little more forceful than he intended. “Stop calling me that.” The smirk on Baek-hwa’s face dropped instantly. “You raising your voice at me?” he asked, his tone low and dangerously so.

“You think you can just raise your voice and talk back to me and I’ll let it slide?”

Jeongin held his ground. This was his home after all. “We’re outside the village,” Jeongin replied. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore, Baek-hwa.”

The man laughed, looking around at his friends. “This is my world, Jeongin,” he said, actually saying the blond fox folk’s name. “You’re just living in it.”

Jeongin forced a smile. “No it’s not,” he answered, shocking Baek-hwa. Never before has Jeongin acted so defiantly but like Jeongin said, they weren’t in the village. Jeongin wasn’t afraid of them out here. Sure he was dangerously outnumbered but he didn’t have to worry about causing the village trouble out here.

“I’ve had enough of your smart mouth,” Baek-hwa said before nudging the friend standing beside him. “Teach him a lesson, Jae-song.”

The man next to him climbed the fence, landing in the garden and stared Jeongin down before advancing slowly through the small rows of vegetables, making sure to stomp on them as he strode towards Jeongin. “I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born,” he spat, bringing his fists up.

Jeongin didn’t move, standing stoically as he stared back at Jae-song. “Beat you to pulp and leave you for the scavengers,” he added. Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “Your parents must be so proud,” the smaller man retorted, catching Jae-song off guard before Jeongin tilted his head. “Oh wait…” he said with a scoff. “They’re dead.”

Jae-song gritted his teeth and swung at Jeongin who dodged the blow easily. “Picking on smaller people and beating them up for the fun of it. What would your mother think?”

Jae-song let out an angry yell. “Shut the hell up!” he swung again but Jeongin managed to dodge it again, this time pushing Jae-song forward, using the bully’s momentum to send him running face first into the side of the cabin.

“And stay down,” Jeongin added as Jae-song fell to the ground, holding his nose and writhing in pain. “I’m getting sick of this,” Baek-hwa said loudly. “Grab him.”

Jeongin turned as two more of Baek-hwa’s friends hopped the fence and advanced toward him, also kicking and stomping on the vegetable beds as they went. “Two against one?” Jeongin asked, raising a brow. “How noble of you. Or is it pathetic that you need help to take me on?”

Jeongin ducked as two separate fists swung at him before kicking out, knocking one of the assailants down and rolling out of the way as the other aimed a kick at him. Jeongin was back on his feet as the one who tried to kick him, came lumbering forward. As he was about to take another swing, Jeongin dodged around him, kicking him in the backside and sending him toppling over the fence.

“Enough!” Baek-hwa said, climbing the fence himself. “I grow weary of this,” he continued, advancing in Jeongin, stalking forward like a panther stalking its prey. Jeongin kept his eye not only on Baek-hwa but also on his friends who seemed like they were going to sit this one out.

“You sound like some kind of villain, talking like that,” Jeongin noted with a laugh. “I grow weary of your games,” Jeongin mocked, turning as Baek-hwa circled him slowly. “I’m going to end you,” Baek-hwa growled angrily. Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Again with the villain talk. Come on already,” Jeongin said exasperatedly.

Baek-hwa leaned into his punch as he threw his fist forward. Jeongin managed to block the attack before counter attacking with a blow of his own to Baek-hwa’s side. “You little shit,” Baek-hwa grunted, reaching for Jeongin who dodged again, pushing Baek-hwa’s hands aside.

The taller man tried again, aiming a punch that Jeongin deflected before hitting Baek-hwa in the throat with his palm. Immediately Baek-hwa backed off, choking from the sudden impact. “Go home,” Jeongin said as he watched Baek-hwa stumble backwards. “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

As the men helped each other up and staggered out of his garden, Jeongin heard Baek-hwa’s strained voice call out. “We’ll be back, thief. Watch your back!”

Jeongin watched as they disappeared in the forest and breathed a sigh of relief. Never before had he stood his ground against his tormentors. He was grateful for the few self defense lessons his father had given him before he passed.

Jeongin looked down at his mangled vegetable beds and sighed. He would have to go foraging and salvage what he could. He needed to pack up everything and leave tonight. He knew Baek-hwa and his friends would be back.

He entered the cabin, grabbing a basket and heading out into the forest. There was a berry patch not far from his cabin but the terrain made it a longer task of traversing to it. Once there, Jeongin started to gather some of the berries. There he also found wild carrots, chives, cabbage, and potatoes. He gathered what he deemed necessary for tonight as well as some for his trip and started to make his way back.

The sun was starting to set when he reached his cabin and he felt his heart sink and his stomach drop. Baek-hwa and his friends had returned but this time he was really outnumbered. He had half a mind to sneak around to the back of the cabin and grab his bag without being seen but just his luck, one of them turned and spotted him. 

Before he could turn and run, he was grabbed from behind by two sets of hands, the basket knocked from his grip, and dragged over to where Baek-hwa stood. “Not so tough now,” Baek-hwa sneered. Jeongin looked around at the ten or so men Baek-hwa had brought with him. 

“Judging by your entourage, I’d say you aren’t very tough either,” he quipped.

For his comment, Baek-hwa landed a blow, punching Jeongin hard in the stomach and causing him to double over in pain. “That’s for earlier,” he snapped before looking towards one of his friends and nodding. Jeongin looked up in time to see one of the men he’d fought earlier holding a torch. His eyes widened in horror.

“No,” he said, struggling against the two holding him. “Stop!” he shouted as the one with the torch lit the garden on fire before moving towards the cabin. “Stop, please!” Jeongin shouted and continued to struggle. “Everything I own is in there! You can’t do this!”

Baek-hwa smiled smugly as Jeongin’s father’s cabin was set ablaze. “Actually, I can,” Baek-hwa said.

As the cabin caught fire and the flames spread, Baek-hwa stepped back allowing the others to take turns punching and kicking Jeongin. “S-stop,” Jeongin coughed. “Please.”

Baek-hwa laughed cruelly. “That’s what thieves get,” he said as Jeongin collapsed to his knees, only being held up by the two beside him. Jeongin weakly watched as the flames engulfed his home and burned presumably everything inside. Everything was gone. The cabin, the roof, his furniture, his stores… his eyes widened. 

His mothers journals. 

‘No,’ he thought as he stared at the fire.

He hadn’t finished reading them all.

Jeongin struggled against his captors. They held onto him tightly as Baek-hwa watched the inferno with a smirk. With a strength he’d never experienced before, Jeongin managed to pull free from his captors, delivering a punch to each before tackling Baek-hwa to the ground.

His actions were so sudden that everyone was caught off guard as Jeongin grabbed Baek-hwa’s head and slammed it against the ground, dazing the man before he scrambled off him and pushed through the hands that tried to grab at him. He burst into the flaming inferno, shielding his eyes as he looked around. His bag by the window sat untouched.

Before grabbing it, Jeongin darted under the table, tearing through the blankets until he found the bag with his mothers journals. He grabbed it and got up, eyes landing on the trinket box his father had made sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. Jeongin dashed across the room to grab it, stuffing it into the bag with the journals before he moved to the back window, grabbing the bag and heaving it over his shoulder.

Tossed both bags out the window before climbing through. Grabbing the bags, he took off into the forest as the fire consumed his home, the roof finally collapsing. Jeongin turned to look back at the raging inferno as he slung the bags over his back. ‘No going back now,’ he told himself as he watched the flames dance before turning away from the sight and heading further into the woods.

He’d never been this deep before. Glancing skyward, he could see clouds were obscuring the stars and he could only assume another storm was brewing. He made his way through the forest, making his way down embankments and crossing streams as he continued deeper than he’d ever ventured before.

As he stopped to catch his breath, he could hear voices in the distance.

“I think he went this way!” 

Jeongin’s eyes widened. Baek-hwa and his friends had followed him?! Looking around, he saw a small opening under a tree sitting atop the embankment he was currently at the bottom of. He scrambled up, making his way over and peered inside. He couldn’t see much but hoped for the best as he removed his bags and stuffed them through the opening before pulling himself up using the roots of the tree.

He slid into the opening feet first and wiggled into the space. It seemed to be some sort of den. Most likely abandoned but he didn’t dwell on it, instead kept himself hidden as he peered out into the forest. He heard footsteps overhead and ducked back into the safety of the small cave waiting for the pounding of his heart to subside.

He waited as the sounds of feet and voices continued around him. “Did you see which way he went?”

“No.”

“Maybe he’s hiding nearby.”

“Well we’ll never see him in the dark.”

“Maybe we should come back when it’s light out.”

“Enough,” a voice Jeongin recognized to be Baek-hwa’s snapped. “He couldn’t have gotten far,” he continued. “Spread out and find him.”

“How?” another voice asked. “With what light?” Jeongin guessed this voice to be Jae-song’s. It sounded like him anyway. “Here,” another voice said and Jeongin saw light flicker and dance outside the opening of his hiding place. Glancing back, he could barely see that this was indeed a den. He grabbed his things and scooted back further, hoping to stay out of sight.

He waited, listening patiently as footsteps trudged through the forest, twigs snapping underfoot.

He carefully crawled toward the opening and peered out. He could see two of the men standing nearby as they searched the area. “Find anything?” one of them called. “Nothing yet!” another voice called back. “This is so stupid,” one of the men said softly. “There’s no telling which way he went.”

The one that had spoken up before nodded in agreement. “I know,” he answered just as quietly. “But you know how Baek-hwa is. Ever since he saw Jeongin talking to Haneul, he’s just been set on making Jeongin suffer,” he added as he held his torch up, peering around a tree.

“I mean, it’s not like doing all this is going to impress Haneul,” he continued. “She doesn’t even like Baek-hwa.” The second man nodded as well. “I know! It’s like--”

What it was like, Jeongin didn’t get to hear as he watched a shadow cut across the small illuminated circle, passing both men. The second smaller one let out a grunt of pain and Jeongin watched in horror as blood spilled from his mouth, a look of pain crossing his features as he fell to his knees.

“Wonjae!” the first man said in shock as his friend collapsed, blood gurgling from his mouth. “What happened?” Jeongin watched as the shadow passed again, quick as lightning, passing the first guy who let out a choked cry of pain before falling to his knees as well, blood seeping through his shirt and he fell to the ground. Jeongin froze realizing he’d just watched something kill those two men.

‘What the hell?’

“Where are they?” called a voice, drowning out Jeongin’s thoughts. “Over here! Dabin! Wonjae!”

Jeongin watched as two more men entered his field of vision. “Are they okay?” one of them said as the other knelt down to check the bodies of their friends. “They’re… dead,” he said, his voice shaky. “D-dead?” the other stammered, taking a few steps back.

“What happened?” Baek-hwa’s voice called from somewhere above Jeongin’s hiding place. “They’re dead!” the one kneeling beside Wonjae and Dabin’s bodies called back. “Shit,” Baek-hwa cursed. “Get down there and help them get the bodies,” he instructed someone Jeongin presumed was beside him.

Jeongin watched as two more men appeared and helped pick up the bodies of the two men and carry them away. He listened as the footsteps retreated and pulled back as the area was thrown into darkness once more. He listened as the sounds of the forest came back and he could finally rest.

He tried to get some sleep but his mind wouldn’t stop. ‘What was that shadow? Was that what killed those men?’ He tossed and turned until he finally managed to pass out.

The next morning, he awoke to find light creeping into the cave and he could finally see. It wasn’t a huge den, maybe only big enough for a family of foxes or so. He had enough space to sit up. He could tell it wasn’t dug out by whatever previously lived here. Perhaps it was naturally occurring.

He gathered his things and left the safety of the den, squirming his way out of the opening and could see that it had rained the night before. He pulled a flask from his bag, filling it with water before he placed it back and stood up, slinging both bags over his back again. He started the way he’d been going the night prior, moving deeper into the forest.

He continued as the sun rose, stopping briefly to have something to eat before continuing on. He didn’t see Baek-hwa or his assailants again as he continued on. He noticed how the terrain started to slope up and he knew he must have reached the base of the mountain. If he could reach the otherside, maybe he could find another village where he could set up a new homestead.

He continued on, stopping when he heard a twig snap from behind him. Turning quickly, he expected to see Baek-hwa or his men. He was met with nothing. He couldn’t see anyone or anything other than the trees for that matter. Perhaps he was hearing things?

He turned back and continued forward. He’d only gone a few more steps when he heard another snapping twig. He froze again, turning his head around to see what was following him but again, he saw nothing. He turned back forward, but instead of taking another step, he waited. Waited for something else.

Another twig snapped, this time closer but instead of looking, Jeongin stayed still. He kept calm, listening as soft steps carried toward him. He spun quickly, catching sight of what had been following him. His eyes widened as he made eye contact with it.

‘A fox?’ he thought to himself. Looking back at him was a small fox with black fur and golden eyes. He stared back at it, expecting it to run but instead it stared back at him. He watched in awe as it took a tentative step forward, still keeping its eyes on him. Jeongin slowly knelt down as the fox approached, holding out his hand.

The fox looked at his hand and then up at him before its head turned slightly to look at something behind Jeongin. He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He tried to turn to see what was behind him but he felt a blow to the head and everything went black.

You looked down at the man, the branch in your hand as you breathed heavily. “Oh my god,” you whispered as the realization of what you’d done crept over you. You tossed the branch aside and looked back down at him. Looking at Clover who looked up at you, golden eyes judging you. “I’m sorry!” you said holding your hands out. “Look, I panicked! I thought he was going to grab you!”

The fox rolled its eyes and you looked away, back at the man lying unconscious at your feet. “Should we take him?” You looked back at Clover who stared back at you unblinking. You nodded. “Right. Leaving him here would be bad. Got it,” you said as you brushed your hands together to get the dirt from the bark off. Clover watched as you reached down, sliding your hands under the man’s arms and lifted, starting to drag him along the ground.

You heaved and pulled, panting as you did only to receive more judging looks from Clover. “Look,” you panted. “You could help me, you know.” Clover rolled their eyes again before the vision of the fox spun and morphed into a man. “I don’t know what you’d do without me,” he said as he waved his hand, the man’s body lifting from the ground.

You smiled at the wizard and dusted your hands off again. “Thanks, Clover!” you chirped as he shook his head. You led the way, skipping along the path as the man’s body floated behind you with Clover bringing up the rear. 

You skipped faster as the cabin came into view. “Almost there!” you called out to your friend who rolled his eyes as your chipper demeanor. “You know,” he said as you started up the path leading to the door. “For someone who is so violent, you sure don’t act it,” he continued, guiding the man’s body after you.

“I’m not violent!” you called back as you reached the door and unlocked it, pushing it open and holding the door so Clover could guide the man into the room. “Just put him on the bed,” you said softly as Clover guided the man’s body over to the bed where he hovered for a moment before falling haphazardly on the mattress. “Careful!” you chastised, rushing over to sort out the man, moving his head and arms so he wouldn’t be sore when he awoke.

“You hit him over the head with a log and you’re telling me to be careful?” Clover chuckled as he stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest. “What a strange person you are, Y/N,” he added.

You stood up straight and turned towards him. “Well, I must be off,” he said, standing up straight. “Will you be alright, alone here by yourself?” he asked. You shook your head. “Right, just hit him with another log if he gives you trouble,” Clover said with a smirk. Your smile fell. “I. Panicked, okay?”

Clover nodded, waving before exiting the open door. You rushed over to watch as he headed down the path, turning once to look at you waving at him. He raised a hand before turning into a raven and taking flight into the sky. You shut the door and locked it before turning your head to look back at the man on your bed.

“Alright,” you continued, taking a deep breath and walking over, placing your hands on your hips as you took a good look at him.  “Now, just who are you?”

Jeongin woke to the sounds of light clattering and the scrape of metal against metal. His head was throbbing. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust. He turned his head, wincing at the pain that followed. He was inside a cabin of sorts.

He could see shelves with books upon books and a desk that was cluttered and covered with papers, writing implements, and an assortment of herbs and rocks. He tried to sit up but his limbs felt heavy. He looked down and noticed a strange purple aura encasing him.

“What the-”

“Oh, you’re awake. Good,” said a voice and Jeongin looked up, seeing a figure by the hearth where a fire was crackling, heating up a large cast iron pot. The smell of meat and vegetables reached his nostrils and he took a deep inhale. Whatever it was in the obvious cauldron smelled amazing.

“Where am I?” he asked as the figure turned their gaze away from him and stirred the contents of the pot.

“You’re in my cabin, what a silly question to ask,” the figure said with a chuckle. Jeongin watched as they set the spoon aside and moved towards the bed. Jeongin looked up as they approached and took a seat beside the bed. “What have you done to me?” he asked as the person, he could now see was a female, looked over him, gently turning his head and prodding the tender spot.

Jeongin winced and the figure grimaced. “Sorry,” she said. “I hit you over the head.”

Jeongin looked up at her. “You what? Why the hell would you do that?!” he yelled.

You moved your hand, your finger moving in a quick circle and Jeongin felt his jaw snap shut.

“Don’t yell,” you said as you grabbed a basket with some medical supplies in it. “It’s rude.”

‘Well, so is hitting someone over the head,’ Jeongin thought since he couldn’t talk.

“My name is Y/N,” you said as you pulled out a small vial. “And I hit you over the head because I thought you were going to hurt my friend.” You looked down at him and Jeongin felt his heart skip a beat. Your eyes. They were a bright golden yellow. Much like that fox from before.

“Do you remember the fox?” you asked and Jeongin nodded as he watched you pull the cork on the vial. “That’s my friend Clover. I thought you were going to grab him and hurt him. Foxes aren’t exactly revered around these parts,” you explained as you turned the vial over, allowing some to spill onto a cloth.

You set the vial aside and leaned forward, holding out the cloth only for Jeongin to shy away. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “I know your head hurts. This will make it not hurt.” Jeongin hesitated, allowing you to gently press the cloth to his head. He winced but soon, the pain as well as the throbbing went away and he looked up at you in shock.

You winked at him, placing the cork back in the vial and returning the little glass to the basket. You waved your hand and freed his mouth. “Who are you?” he asked softly. You looked down at him unblinkingly. “I’m Y/N,” you said plainly. “I already said that.” Jeongin shook his head.

“I meant like… who are you? Are you like… a witch?” he asked to which you laughed. “I’ve been called that before,” you answered with a nod. “But more importantly,” you said, leaning forward. Jeongin was unable to pull too far away due to whatever spell you had his body under.

“Who are you?”

Jeongin cleared his throat. “I’,m uh… I’m Jeongin.”

You sat back up straight. “Jeongin, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head. He nodded, glancing down at his body still shrouded in the purple aura. “What is this?” he asked, nodding towards the aura. “Oh,” you said suddenly, waving your hand and it disappeared.

“I just did that while you were out and I was busy cooking so you didn’t try to sneak up on me,” you explained as you started to stand. Jeongin moved quickly, sitting up and grabbing your arm but you were quicker. You managed to roll, pulling him off the bed and pinning him against the floor, his arms pinned to his sides by your legs as you straddled him, your forearm pressing against his throat.

“I’m not your enemy,” you explained softly. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try to hurt me.”

Jeongin tapped the back of your calf, surrendering to your power.

Just as quickly as you were on him, you got up and held out a hand, pulling him up when he took it. “Let’s eat,” you chirped and walked over to the fire. Jeongin stood hesitantly. “Sit,” you instructed and he did as you said, moving to take a seat at the table. You grabbed a bowl and picked up the ladle, scooping stew into the bowl before moving to set it on the table.

“It’s hot, so be careful,” you said as you filled another bowl and took a seat across from him.

Jeongin watched as you picked up your spoon and took a bite. “It can’t be that hot,” he noted, to which you looked up. “Want me to throw it in your face and test that theory?” you asked with a smirk, tilting your head. Jeongin’s eyes widened and he quickly picked up his spoon, shaking his head.

“N-no,” he stammered before digging in.

He could tell there was meat and potatoes, maybe some cabbage and rice but it was delicious. He scooped another spoonful into his mouth. “S’good,” he said as he ate and you smiled, turning your attention back to your own bowl.

Jeongin had forgotten the last time he had a proper meal and ended up eating three bowlfuls of stew. You reached to take his empty bowl but he stopped you. “You cooked,” he said before getting up. “Tell me where to go and I’ll clean them.” You smiled but ignored his comment, taking his bowl.

“You’re still injured,” you explained. “Go lay down, let me deal with this and then I’ll look at your wounds.

Jeongin watched as you headed out the door and instead of laying down, he started to poke around the cabin, inspecting your belongings. He was used to the small huts in the village where he lived. Nothing this extravagant. Wooden doors that locked, windows with decorative frames were things he’d never seen in person, only ever heard of.

The cabin was one room, like his had been but it was much cozier. There were no cracks for the wind to sneak into, the roof was sturdy wood and slanted to allow rain to run off. There were four windows, two on the wall by the door, one on the outside window and one on the back wall over the desk, framed by shelving. The fourth wall wasn’t made of wood. It was made of rock.

‘It must be partially built into the mountain,’ Jeongin noted as he stared. The bedroom area was almost entirely encased in rock. It was unlike anything Jeongin had ever seen. It was an extremely clever idea as well. Using a cave as part of your dwelling. If only he had known to do so.

On the other side of the stone hearth was a large wooden cabinet with doors and shelves stocked full of cheeses, sealed bottles, breads, small bowls with salts and other spices. Hanging from an iron circle suspended from the ceiling were various dried herbs and even some small game. Rabbits and birds mostly. He inspected the mantle and noticed a couple portraits and a small trinket box. 

He moved over to the desk, fingers brushing over the papers on the surface as he inspected them. There were a lot of maps. Maps he didn’t recognize, not that he was knowledgeable of maps to begin with. He looked up at the shelving, inspecting the books and their titles. He expected to see this sizable collection in a palace or something, not here in a cabin in the forest, built into the base of a mountain.

Jeongin turned as he heard the door open and you returned with two clean bowls and spoons.

“Having fun snooping?” you asked with a smirk. Jeongin opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water trying to explain but you shook your head. “I saw you through the window,” you explained, pointing to the window opposite the rock wall.

“I’m not mad,” you continued. “But I really do need to inspect your wounds.”

You led him over to the bed and he sat down. “I don’t have any wounds,” he protested but you made him lie down and lifted his shirt. “Your wounds are internal,” you explained as you gently prodded and massaged his side, making him wince. “You’ve got a fair amount of bruising here and here,” you said, also placing your hand over his stomach just over his navel.

“Were you in a fight?” you asked bluntly. Jeongin froze, staring up at the rocky ceiling above. You waited for his answer but when he didn’t answer, you spoke again. “Did you at least get a few punches in?”

Jeongin chuckled, letting out a soft cry when the motion caused his sore muscles to tense him. “You’re asking me about my fight?” he asked. You nodded. “Whoever did this packs a wallop. So I hope you got a few licks in, too.”

Jeongin smiled as you rubbed some kind of ointment and the soreness and tenseness in his muscles dissipated. “You’ll have to apply this until the bruising clears up,” you explained as you rubbed some more on his stomach.

Jeongin held his breath as your hand traveled dangerously close to his waistband. “Two times a day,” you added as you pulled your hand back, wiping it on a cloth and placing the lid back on the small metal tin and handed it to him. Jeongin sat up and took the tin from you. “What is it?” he asked.

“An ointment to help with soreness and bruising,” you explained as you gathered your supplies and set the basket aside. “I made it myself.” Jeongin opened the tin and held it up to his nose, sniffing it. He smelled mint but couldn’t tell what else was in it.

“What’s in it?” he asked, placing the lid back on it and looking up at you.

“Just some herbs,” you replied. “I’ll tell you how I made it tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

You got up and paused when he grabbed your wrist. Looking down at his wrist and then up to meet his gaze, Jeongin managed to blurt out “thank you.” The smile you gave him was one he’d never seen before, not even from the old woman in the village he traded furs for shirts or her granddaughter, Haneul.

“You’re welcome,” you answered and Jeongin let go of your wrist. “What about you?” he asked as you moved over to the desk. “I can sleep on the floor,” you said as Jeongin set the tin of ointment on a small table beside the bed. “What?” he said suddenly. “No,” he continued. “This is your bed. I’ll sleep--”

He didn’t get to finish his words as you turned in your chair and waved your hand at him. “Sleep,” you said sternly and Jeongin passed out, unable to fight the darkness as it passed over him, taking him deep into slumber.

The next morning, Jeongin awoke to find himself in bed but the cabin otherwise empty. He sat up, looking around and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Lifting his shirt, he saw that he indeed had some heavy bruising from Baek-hwa and his friends’ punches.

He dropped his shirt as the door opened and you entered the room, smiling when you saw he was awake. “Morning,” you said as you carried something in your arms. “Or should I say good day,” you continued as you carried the sack over to the table and set it down.

“Let’s have a look at those bruises,” you said as you walked over and took a seat beside him. Jeongin lifted his shirt for you to inspect. “Make sure to apply that ointment,” you said as you gently poked around the edges of the bruising. “It’ll make a huge difference in healing.”

You got back up and headed for the table as Jeongin picked up the tin and opened it. He scooped a small amount and started to rub it into his skin as you opened the sack. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, looking up occasionally as he applied the ointment.

“I went hunting,” you said nonchalantly. Jeongin looked up at the rabbits hanging from the ceiling. “What about those?” he asked, nodding towards the rabbits. “They’re small and we need more meat if you’re going to heal properly. Protein speeds up the healing process,” you explained as you pulled small game from the sack.

Jeongin finished applying the ointment and wiped his hand off on the same cloth you used the night before and got up, walking over to the table. He was surprised to see what you managed to catch. “Hunting and fishing?” he asked as he noticed the fish basket.

“I’ve been gone all morning,” you replied. “Up before the sun, in bed after it sets,” you explained. “Making the most out of every day. That’s what Clover taught me.” Jeongin smiled as you added the rabbits to the iron circle. “The fish has to go outside,” you explained and picked up the basket.

He followed you as you headed outside and over to a wooden rack where you had some fish already hanging. “How does fish tonight sound?” you asked, turning to look at him. Jeongin nodded silently before you turned back to the rack and hung up all the fish.

“I also need to go foraging,” you said as you walked back towards him, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading into the cabin. “Want to come with me?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded. “Sure,” Jeongin said, stepping aside as you entered the cabin.

“Good,” you said and grabbed a sack. “Make yourself useful,” you added as you tossed one to him.

The hike to the spot was a short one and Jeongin was shocked to see the size of it. Not only were there even more berries than at his favorite spot but there were more types as well as all kinds of fungi. He watched as you pulled a small bag from your pocket and moved over to one of the mushrooms.

“These are really good when you fry them,” you explained as you picked them and placed them in the bag. “They’ll need to soak for a few hours but we can have them with our fish.”

Jeongin looked around and moved to one of the bushes. “Are these okay?” he asked, pointing to the berries. You turned to look at him and nodded. “Not too many though,” you instructed. “Maybe a sack,” you added. “There are smaller bags in the large sack I gave you.”

Jeongin dug through the bag and found one before starting to pick berries and fill the bag. Once it was full, he tied it off and picked a few berries to eat. “And those?” he asked, pointing to another bush. You nodded without looking. “All these berries are good to eat,” you replied. “Just a small bag each. I like to make wine with them,” you explained.

Jeongin got to work, collecting berries as you foraged for mushrooms and other plants. When the bags were full, Jeongin insisted on carrying both but you refused, reminding him he was still healing. The walk back, you asked him about his life, where he was from, where he grew up, what his childhood was like.

When you broached the subject of parents, Jeongin shut down as you walked up the path to the cabin. “Touchy subject?” you asked, unlocking the door and letting him in. Jeongin nodded, handing you the bag and watching as you moved to the cabinets. “I lost both my parents,” he finally answered.

“My mother left when I was young and my father died when I was fifteen. I’ve been on my own ever since,” he explained as you started to store the food you both collected together. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I lost my parents to disease when I was young. I was raised by Clover,” you explained, shutting the cabinet doors.

“The fox?” Jeongin asked, making you chuckle. “He’s a wizard,” you reminded him. “He was in fox form while we hunted that day. He’s awfully quiet in that form,” you explained. Jeongin grimaced as you turned to him, setting the bags of berries on the table.

“So he raised you?” he asked and you nodded. “Taught me everything I know. Built this cabin and left it to me when I came of age.” Jeongin looked around. “Makes sense,” he said softly. “I’ve never seen a cabin like this before,” he explained. “That’s because it was built with magic.”

Jeongin smiled as you set the empty bags away, hanging them on hooks.

“I have some work to do in the garden,” you announced. “Would you like to join me?” Jeongin nodded with a smile. 

“I’d love to.”

After a quick lunch of leftover stew, Jeongin helped you in the garden, pulling weeds and pruning the bushes and vines. His garden was small but this garden was twice the size. It had everything from cabbages to potatoes and even pumpkins.

“This is a huge garden,” he noted as he dropped another cabbage in the basket. “Even for two people.” you nodded as you pruned a tomato plant. “I sell whatever I don’t need,” you explained. “Never hurts to have a little extra coin,” you added with a wink.

As the two of you finished up, Jeongin looked at you. “Where do you sell this stuff?” he asked as you gathered one of the baskets. “At a village on the other side of the mountain,” you replied. Jeongin rounded on you, holding the other basket. “On the other side of the mountain?” he asked incredulously. You nodded with a laugh and beckoned him to follow you inside.

Once inside, you stored your harvests away and led Jeongin over to the desk and pulled out a map from under the stacks of paper. “This is a map of this region,” you explained. Jeongin looked over it in awe. He’d never seen more than a map of the village and the forest. Your map had so much more on it.

And it was so detailed.

“Here’s the village you told me about and based on your descriptions, your cabin was around in this area,” you explained, pointing out spaces on the map. “Here’s where we are,” you continued, pointing at a small red x on the map. “The village I sell at is here,” you added, pointing to a black x on the other side of the mountain range.

“How long does it take to get there?” Jeongin asked, looking up at you. “Well, if you go around the mountains, it can take months,” you answered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “But I use the mountain pass so it only takes a few days,” you added, pointing to two lines drawn over the mountain range connecting the two sides. “Who made this map?” Jeongin asked in amazement.

“Clover,” you answered, standing up straight. Jeongin followed your movements, standing upright as you walked over to the hearth and added a couple logs to the dying flames. “He makes maps of all the regions,” you added. “He’s a traveling wizard and cartographer,” you added as Jeongin stared at you.

“He stopped for a while to raise me here,” you explained as you stood up, brushing your hands off. “But now that I can care for myself, he’s back to traveling again, making amendments to his maps.” Jeongin shook his head as you moved over to the bedroom area, grabbing a small basket from the shelf.

Jeongin looked around the cabin. “So, now what?” he asked as you sat down on the armchair. You looked up at him. “Now we rest,” you replied with a smile. “It’s too soon to have dinner and I have some knitting to get done,” you continued, pulling out a project you must have been working on for a while.

“You can read any of the books if you’d like,” you said, nodding towards the shelves. Jeongin shook his head, instead grabbing one of his bags and opening it. He sifted through it until he found what he was looking for. The journal he’d been reading. He settled down on the bed, propping the pillows up against the wall so he could sit up against them.

Jeongin read as much as he could, absorbing his mothers words. He had reached the part of her journals where she had met his father and it was so enchanting to read about his father through his mother’s eyes. He discovered a new side to his father he’d never known. The romantic side.

Their courtship was long according to her and she initially rebuffed him as he was a human but he eventually gained her trust and she warmed up to him. After which, they got married, something Jeongin had never known. He thought it had been a short affair but the time and effort they put into their marriage told him otherwise.

He also learned that his parents had a hard time conceiving a child and that Jeongin was from their sixth attempt. He was the only one that made it full term.

Jeongin dropped his hands into his lap, the journal falling with it as he stared at the wall. You looked up at him. “You alright?” you asked, noticing he seemed catatonic. When he didn’t respond, you set your knitting aside and got up, moving to sit on the bed. “Jeongin?” you asked, waving your hand in front of him. That seemed to snap him out of it and he looked at you.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. He nodded, clearing his throat and looked down at the leatherbound book in his lap. “Yeah, I just uh…” he trailed off before looking back up but not at you. He seemed to be looking past you but not at anything in particular. More like he was staring off into a place you could not see. “Jeongin?”

“I have siblings…” he finally said softly and your brows rose in shock. “What?” you asked.

He turned his head to look at you. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Random thought.”

You glanced at the book. “What are you reading?” you asked. Jeongin glanced at the book and closed it, keeping his thumb between the pages. “It’s private,” he explained. “Sorry,” he added. You shook your head. “No need to apologize,” you replied. “I meant no disrespect nor was I meaning to pry. Simply curious,” you explained.

Jeongin glanced down at the book again before taking a deep breath. “It’s a journal,” he finally sighed. You waited for him to continue. “It’s my mother’s journal,” he clarified. Your eyes widened. “Oh,” you said softly, uncertain of what else to say. “And you’re just now reading it? I’m not judging by the way,” you said quickly. Jeongin simply chuckled before setting the book aside and scooting off the bed.

You watched as he grabbed one of his bags and walked over, opening it for you to see the contents. Inside were a dozen or so leather bound books, all of them identical. You looked up at Jeongin in bewilderment as he set the bag down and joined you on the bed.

“My mother kept extensive journals all throughout her life. She left them with my dad when she left,” he explained. “Dad kept them for me so I could get to know her if she never came back. I think he knew she wouldn’t come back,” he continued sadly. “I’ve been reading them since my dad taught me to read.”

You looked back at the bag. “How many are there?” you asked, looking back at Jeongin. “Around fifty,” he answered, a hand reaching up to scratch his brow. “I’ve read about twenty of them so far.” Your eyes widened as you looked back at the sack lying unassuming on the floor.

“What’s in this one?” you asked, tapping the cover of the one on the bed before you froze. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “That’s none of my business,” you continued. Jeongin shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, grabbing the book and opening it. “In this one, she met my dad,” he explained.

“She details their courtship and marriage,” he continued, flipping through the pages. “She wrote that it was a huge ceremony and that the reception lasted well into the early hours of the next morning and that they were both so exhausted from the party that they never actually consummated their marriage during the ceremony,” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled fondly, watching him look over the words on the page.

“What was your mother’s name?” you asked, drawing his attention. “Well, dad never told me her real name. He knew her as Eun-soo but while she was in Japan, her name was Yuki. So I’m not entirely sure what she was really called,” he continued.

You looked at him again, studying his features. The fox-like eyes, the orange irises, his blond hair. It suddenly made sense to you. He was like you. He was fox-folk.

“Was your mother a kumiho by any chance?”

Jeongin was caught off guard by the question. He’d never been asked so directly about it before and as he looked up, his eyes met your golden ones and he knew instantly why you were asking. It was like a switch went off in his head and suddenly everything made sense. 

Your golden eyes, the magic, being raised by a wizard. Well, maybe the last part wasn’t really all that related but in his mind, it still helped him to put the pieces together. You were like him, too. You were fox-folk.

“A…are you?” he asked softly, holding your gaze. He could tell by the way your eyes widened slightly that he was on the right track. “Or was one of your parents?” he continued, setting the journal aside. You nodded slowly. “Both of my parents were fox-folk,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin leaned forward. “Both?” he asked in amazement. You nodded, shifting to face him. “Yeah,” you replied. “That’s amazing,” he breathed. “So you’re pureblooded?” he asked, to which you nodded. “Wow. I’m only half,” he replied. “Probably why I can’t do any magic,” he added with a chuckle.

You tilted your head at his comment. “All fox-folk can perform magic,” you said, drawing his attention again. “Wait, really?” he asked. You nodded, grabbing the journal from his hands and setting it aside. “Have you ever tried?” you asked. Jeongin shook his head no, watching as you pushed your sleeves up.

“It’s easy,” you explained. Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Oh sure,” he retorted but you pushed him gently. “I promise it is,” you replied. “It’s so simple, really. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Jeongin watched as you scooted onto the bed beside him, crossing your legs and resting your back against the wall. You closed your eyes, adopting a sort of meditation position. Jeongin watched but when you opened one eye to peek at him, you nudged him and he sighed, adopting the same position.

“Deep breath in,” you said. Jeongin followed your lead, breathing in slowly and deeply, filling his lungs. “And out,” you said and the two of you breathed out in unison. “Now, visualize a fire,” you said softly. “A fire? Why a fire?” Jeongin asked. “Ow,” he whined when you lightly slapped his hand.

“Okay, okay. A fire. Got it,” he said. “Wait, what color is it?”

“Whatever color you want it to be.”

Jeongin closed his eyes again, picturing a fire in his mind. Something bright and pink. “Now, imagine how it feels. Is it hot? Is it cold? Does it burn or does it tickle? Does it smell pleasant or is it rancid?” Jeongin imagined the fire was cool to the touch and it felt like the fluttering of wings. It had no smell.

“Okay,” he said. “Now what?” he asked, opening an eye. “Hold your hand out,” you instructed. Jeongin closed his one eye again and raised one of his hands. “Place it in my hand,” you continued and he did as you said, placing his hand in yours, palm up.

“Now imagine your fire and imagine it’s in your hand. Concentrate and picture your fire in your hand.”

Jeongin focused all his energy, holding his breath as he pictured the pink, cool, fire that fluttered. “Don’t forget to breathe evenly,” you reminded him. “Breathing is important.” He resumed breathing as he focused all his mental strength on the fire. He sighed, keeping his eyes closed.

“This is dumb,” he said. “I can’t do magic.”

“Is your fire pink and cool to the touch?” you asked softly and Jeongin hesitated. ‘Wait… is mind reading one of the abilities of a full-blooded kumiho?’ he wondered. “Uh, yeah. But how did you know that?” he asked. “Open your eyes, Jeongin.”

He did as you instructed and was met with your face drenched in the pink glow of a fire in his hand. The pink fire he’d imagined. He looked back up at you and then down to the fire in his hand. It was dancing, fluttering against his hand. “Are you doing that?” he asked and you pulled your hand away, conjuring up a bright blue flame. “I take it that’s a no?”

You laughed and the fires both extinguished as Jeongin lost focus. “I told you that you can do magic!” you said excitedly, slapping his knee and then pushing yourself up and climbing off the bed. Jeongin looked down at his hand, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

“I’ll get dinner started,” you said as you moved towards the door. “Keep practicing,” you said before opening the door and heading outside. Jeongin kept at it, conjuring a pink flame, making it dance and crawl around his hand as you prepared the fish for dinner. While it cooked, you made a side dish with rice and some of the mushrooms you’d picked earlier.

When it was ready, Jeongin joined you at the table and the two of you ate in silence. “Thank you, Jeongin said suddenly, making you look up, eyes wide and bewilderment on your face. “For taking me in after you bashed my head in,” Jeongin continued. “For caring for me and teaching me magic.”

Your expression morphed, a smile spreading across your face. “I couldn’t leave you out there after I hit you with the branch,” you explained. “Clover would have but I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I left you to the elements. And besides,” you continued. “It’s nice having some company that isn’t Clover for once.” 

Jeongin looked down at his food, cheeks growing warm.

“You know,” you said, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “If you want to stay longer, you’re more than welcome to,” you added. “I really enjoy your company.” Jeongin’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited. You nodded, smiling at him. “But you might have to get used to sharing a bed,” you said. “There’s not enough room in here for another bed and I refuse to let you sleep on the floor,” you added.

Jeongin’s cheeks grew even warmer at the thought of sharing a bed with you but he played it off.

“Sure,” he said softly. “No problem.”

It was indeed a problem he later discovered. While the bed was big enough for two bodies, it wasn’t big enough for two bodies and a space between them. Jeongin wanted to respect you and give you as much space as possible but with the size of the bed, it put him right on the edge of the mattress and in danger of falling off.

The next day consisted of about the same routine, some foraging but in a different spot. You taught Jeongin all about the herbs and weeds you used to make ointments and medicines, showing him what cured certain ailments. Afterwards, he helped you on the other side of the garden where the bee boxes were and held the jars for the honey while you handled the bees.

The day after that, you took him fishing with you and he was impressed by the spot you had. No one else was around and as you sailed out on the lake in a boat you proudly told him you helped Clover make, the two of you sat in silence, rods propped up while you knitted and Jeongin read more of his mother’s journal.

He’d made it to the part where she was pregnant with him and close to her due date. She wrote how she knew he was a boy and how she knew he was going to take after her in both looks and mentality. Jeongin checked his fishing rod before returning to his reading. He heard you clear your throat and looked up to meet your gaze.

“So what else does she say?” you asked, nodding towards the journal in his hand. “Oh,” he said softly. “She’s pregnant with me in this part,” he explained. “She wrote about how she knew I was a boy and that I would take after her,” he continued. You smiled at him as you tied off and wove the yarn tails into the scarf you were making. “She also says she got a letter from a woman named… Anitta?” he said and looked up at you.

You merely shrugged and set your knitting needles aside, picking up the scarf and throwing it around his neck. “There,” you said with a smile. “It’s done.” Jeongin’s cheeks burned as he looked down at the soft garment. “It’s nice,” he said softly and started to take it off. “It’s yours,” you said, grabbing it and wrapping it back around his neck.

“I was going to give it to Clover but I figured I can always make him another and you need one now so,” you trailed off, smiling at him. Jeongin toyed with the material, cheeks burning as he tried to think of something to say before finally settling on a simple and soft thank you.

Fishing ended with the two of you catching a small basket of fish and Jeongin managing to catch a little crawfish which he promptly dumped back in the water. Once the boat was pulled ashore, the two of you headed back down from the mountain lake to the cottage to hang up the fish and settle in for the night.

You made roasted rabbit and potatoes and after dinner, you settled down with your knitting to start another scarf for Clover while Jeongin got to the end of his mother’s journal. He closed it, wrapping the twine back around it and got up from the bed, moving over to his bags.

He reached in for another, pulling the trinket box out so he could dig for the right one.

“What’s that?” you asked, looking down at the box. “Oh, just a box my dad made,” Jeongin said as he dug through the bag. “May I?” you asked, setting your things aside. “I’m kind of nosey,” you noted with a laugh. Jeongin chuckled and shook his head. “Go ahead,” he replied.

You grabbed the box and set it on your lap, opening and inspecting the contents.

The box was a beautiful dark wood with a soft lining. It was beautifully crafted and you wondered if Jeongin’s dad knew how much he could have made by making and selling these boxes. Inside the box were a few items, some of great value and others you suspected were more sentimental. There was a silver ring, a loose but rather large gem, some gold coins, and a silver locket. You picked up the stone to inspect and deduced it was a sapphire and was definitely worth a lot.

“This could fetch you a lot of gold,” you noted, holding up the stone for Jeongin to see as he looked up. “Dad found that,” he said, reaching up to rub his eye. “Found it while digging around the outside of our cabin to add to the garden when I was a kid,” he continued and held out his hand.

You placed the gem in his palm and he brought it to his face to look at it. “He thought the same thing,” he continued. “Thought we could sell it for some gold in case we ever needed it. I forgot it was in the box,” he added, handing it back to you to place in the box.

Next you picked up the silver ring. There was nothing of note about it. It was a crudely forged ring made of pure silver. “Oh,” Jeongin said, noticing the ring and grimacing. “Dad made that. Was trying his hand at smithing,” he added. “It’s ugly but he was proud of it. He made it himself without any help. He wasn’t much of a blacksmith. He was more of a carpenter,” he explained.

“Which is why the box is so nice,” he added, gesturing to the box in your lap.

You dropped the ring back into the box and Jeongin returned to his bag, digging for a specific journal as you lifted the silver locket. It was engraved with a simple fox head on both sides. You carefully opened it and smiled at the first portrait. It was of a young child with light hair. There was no mistaking this was Jeongin.

You turned the locket to look at the other portrait as Jeongin pulled the correct journal from his bag and his eyes fell on the locket in your hand. The other portrait was of a woman. An all too familiar woman. She had the same blonde hair Jeongin had, the same fox-like eyes. It was his mother.

“Oh, that’s,” Jeongin darted forward, his hand closing around the locket and closing it before he took it from your hand. “That’s my dad’s. Was my dad’s.” he said softly, looking at the silver locket. You shut the trinket box and handed it back to him. “Sorry for prying,” you said softly as he took the box.

“No, it’s okay,” he said as he brushed the silver surface with the pad of his thumb. “I honestly forgot this was even in there,” he added as he looked up and gave you a sad smile. “She’s very pretty,” you said softly, drawing his attention. “Your mother,” you clarified.

You tilted your head, offering him a playful smile. “I guess you’re pretty, too,” you added, noticing the way he averted his eyes and his cheeks turned peach. He opened the box and placed the locket back inside, closing the lid and setting back with his things.

After he read a bit more and you started to yawn, you called it and set your knitting aside. “It’s going to storm tonight,” you said softly as you got up. “I’m going to put the covers down on the windows so it doesn’t rain in.” Jeongin watched as you exited the door and returned to his book as you disappeared.

Outside you undid the hooks holding the covers up and let them down into place, securing them with the wooden rods that slid through two rings on the side of the cabin as well as a ring on the end of the shutter. 

Clover had done some interesting things when building this cabin but as odd as they were, they worked. You placed the covers for the other three windows down, locking them in place as the wind picked up. 

You also grabbed the cloth Clover had for covering the garden and hooked it in place with the four hooked stakes in the corners of the garden. You repeated the process, covering the bee boxes before gathering all the fish and bringing it inside to hang up by the fire.

As you closed and locked the door, you could hear thunder in the distance and Jeongin looked up from his mother’s journal. “We’re safe here, right?” he asked and you nodded, moving to stoke the fire and then joining him on the bed. “This is probably the most stable building in the region,” you explained as you settled down on the side of the bed you’d claimed and looked up at him.

“You can stay up if you want,” you said, shifting, pulling the covers over you, and getting comfortable. “Just try to keep the noise down,” you added with a wink which made Jeongin crack a smile. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll try.”

You shut your eyes and tried to focus on sleeping.

But you couldn’t. Your mind was full of the portrait in the locket. You rolled onto your back and sighed, opening your eyes and staring at the cave ceiling. Jeongin didn’t seem to notice but when you sighed again, he looked up. “You alright?” he asked and you took a deep breath before sitting up and turning to him. “I need to tell you something,” you said, taking his journal and setting it aside.

Jeongin looked from the journal to you as you took his hands in yours.

“What I’m about to tell you might sound outrageous but keep in mind I’m much older than I look because as you said before, I’m pureblooded fox-folk.,” you started. Jeongin met your gaze and nodded slowly. You took another deep breath before explaining.

“Your mother’s name was Keiko. She was from a small island off the coast of Japan. The locals there called it Fox Island. She came to this land as a child with her mother to live in the palace of the king centuries ago. Her mother was a highly sought after healer and the king’s wife was incredibly sick.”

Jeongin said nothing as you continued.

“When your mother was nearing maturity, her mother overheard a plan to marry her off to the king’s son but her mother had heard that the first prince was a cruel man who abused those around him. She did not want your mother to suffer at his hands so she ran away, taking your mother with her. They left the palace and ran and ran until they reached the coast, hoping it would be far enough away that the king’s men would never find them.”

You cleared your throat and continued the story.

“Your mother continued to live on the coast, in a small fishing village for many many years and eventually, she grew into a great beauty. Many men tried in vain to marry her but her mother drove them all off. When her mother finally passed from old age, your mother left the village and traveled inward, hoping enough time had passed that the king was no longer looking for her and she was right.”

“The king and his son had both since passed and a new ruler was on the throne. Your mother traveled the land until she found this region and moved here, settling down in a cave in the mountains. Rumors circulated of a great beauty that lived in the mountains but some of those rumors painted her out to be an enchantress that devoured the souls of men. It was here my mother met her,” you explained, watching Jeongin’s eyes widened but he said nothing, allowing you to continue.

“Your mother and my mother became good friends and then… I came along and I can remember how your mother doted on me. She wanted a child of her own but she had no luck in finding a husband. It was when she’d given up hope of ever having a child that she met your father. I was a young child by then but I still remember the day she came to us, announcing she had found someone,” you said with a smile, remembering back to that day.

“My mother and father were so thrilled she’d managed to find someone who loved her. Someone she could start a life with. She wrote to my mother, telling her of the ceremony and the time after. She shared her troubles conceiving with my mother in those letters. And then, she got pregnant. And it lasted,” you said softly, looking up from your hands to find Jeongin’s eyes filled with tears.

“She gave birth to a healthy baby boy and she named him Jeongin. She wrote how she was so in love and she’d never known a love like that before. The love of a mother. She loved you so much,” you said softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. This pushed him over the edge and a small sob escaped him, the tears finally falling. You pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Why did she leave?” he whispered into your shoulder. “She had to,” you explained, gently stroking his hair. “The people in the village branded her a witch and she feared if she did not leave, they would come for her. So she left you with your father and she went north,” you continued. “I’m sure it was her intention to come back but I don’t know much else,” you added.

You continued to stroke his hair, rocking him gently as he sniffled. “Sorry I got snot on your shirt,” he said softly. You chuckled, patting his head. “It’s okay,” you replied. “I’ve had worse things on my shirt before,” you added as you pushed him back, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I just needed to tell you because if I didn’t, it would eat me alive.”

You pulled him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You deserved to know the truth about her. She was a remarkable kumiho. I really looked up to her,” you added. Jeongin smiled, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “And who knows,” you said suddenly.

“Maybe she left some clues in her journals as to where she went.” Jeongin looked down at the journal and then back up at you. 

“Then I better get to reading, I guess.”

After the talk, it must not have taken you long to fall asleep because you were woken by the sound of thunder.

Your eyes opened and you noticed that it was mostly dark, save for the fire in the hearth. You peered over your shoulder to find Jeongin had finished his reading and gone to sleep as well. You lay back down, closing your eyes but another clap of thunder sounded and the rain whipping against the side of the rain made you realize what had actually woken you and it wasn’t the storm.

It was the way Jeongin shook each time the thunder clapped or the shutters rattled against the windows.

He’d told you how his home was battered by storms and he wasn’t able to keep up with repairs as he wasn’t a carpenter like his father. He said he’d grown accustomed to the fear that at any moment, the entire hut would collapse, trapping him inside.

‘He’s probably terrified out of his mind right now,’ you told yourself.

You turned over, eyes finding Jeongin curled up in the dark beside you. Sitting up, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” you asked softly over the sound of the rain battering against the roof. Jeongin rolled back to look up at you. “Sorry,” he said just as softly. “It’s just the storm…” he trailed off.

“I have… bad memories.”

Your expression softened as you pulled the covers back and gently grabbed his arm. “Come here,” you whispered, tugging him towards you. Jeongin followed, allowing you to pull him into your space where your arms went around him protectively, his head ducking under your chin and into your chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

You gently stroked his hair, humming softly as you tried to drown out the sounds of the storm. Your humming turned into singing, trying to lull him to sleep. “What is that?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth of your night shirt. “It’s a song my mother used to sing to me,” you replied, continuing to stroke his hair. “It sounds familiar,” he continued.

You nodded silently before speaking. “Your mother probably used to sing it to you when you were a babe,” you answered. “Most fox-folk know the song.”

Jeongin fell silent, tightening his hold on you as he nuzzled further into your warm embrace.

“Do you feel better?” you asked softly, smiling when he nodded. “Good,” you whispered, tilting your head to press a kiss to the top of his head. Jeongin pulled back to look up at you. Neither one of you said anything, staring at one another until he finally made the first move, closing the distance and pressing his lips against yours.

Almost as quickly as it happened, he pulled back, stuttering apologies and trying to explain himself. You cut his words off, taking his face in both your hands and pulling back in for another kiss. He relaxed under your touch, lips pressing more firmly against yours as he leaned into the kiss.

“Don’t apologize,” you said when you pulled back. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Jeongin pulled you back in for another kiss, more hurried and rushed this time. You didn’t fight it when he pushed onto your back or when he climbed over you, never breaking the kiss as he settled between your parted thighs.

You sighed against his lips, almost moaning when you felt his tongue slip into your mouth. He moved his hands, sliding them up to your cheeks and pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly, his eyes looking between yours. “For what?” you whispered, placing one of your hands atop his.

“For saving me,” he continued, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I now know it was you that killed those guys following me.” You stared up at him. “I’ve had time to think about it and it makes sense,” he added.

“So thank you for taking me in and for protecting me.”

You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down into another kiss. “You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured between kisses. “I’m sure you would have done the same in my position,” you added. Jeongin shook his head. “I’m shy and antisocial,” he replied. “I wouldn’t have gotten involved.” You pushed him back slightly so you could see his face.

“You’re not antisocial,” you countered. “You were tormented and abused. There’s a difference.”

Before Jeongin could say anything else, you interrupted with another kiss.

You rolled over, pinning him against the bed as you straddled him, directing his hands to your waist as you continued to kiss him. You felt him tense under you as you rolled your hips, grinding against the growing bulge in his pants. You pulled back to look at him, noticing the look of hesitation on his face.

“Was that too far?” you asked, fearing you may have crossed a line and moved to climb off him but his hold on your waist tightened. “No,” he croaked. “It’s just that…” his voice trailed off as he swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words.

“I’ve never… I’m a…” he was failing to form a complete sentence but you knew what he was saying.

You cupped his cheek tenderly. “You’ve never done this, have you?”

He shook his head and you smiled warmly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Do you want to stop?” you asked and watched as he contemplated it. Just when you thought he was going to say yes, he surprised you by shaking his head. “No,” he finally answered.

“Don’t stop.”

You pressed your lips against his, taking the lead. Your hips rolled slowly, grinding against him, eliciting the sweetest moans you’d ever heard come from a man before. “You sound so sweet,” you whispered, lips brushing against his cheek as you moved to whisper in his ear. “So innocent,” you continued, kissing down the side of his neck.

Jeongin let out a moan as you nipped at his neck, smiling before pulling back to look down at him. “Do you want me to keep going?” you asked, slowing your movements, enjoying the desperate way Jeongin whined and pulled at your hips, urging you to move.

“Y-yes,” he whimpered. “Keep going, please,” he begged. Instead of doing so, you climbed off him, ignoring his protests and pleas as you tore the blankets back. “What are you doing?” Jeongin asked as you nestled beside him. “Just trust me,” you said softly, reaching to turn his head towards you, pulling him into a kiss.

With the distraction of your lips against his and your tongue slipping into his mouth, Jeongin didn’t notice the way your hand moved down his chest, slowly until he felt your palm against the bulge in his pants. Moaning into your mouth, one of his hands moved to grab yours but you pushed it away.

“Are you going to be a good boy or will I have to restrain you?” you asked darkly. Jeongin let out a little whimper and shook his head. “You won’t be good?” you asked, cocking your brow. He shook his head again. “I’ll be good,” he blurted out and you pulled him back in for another kiss, letting your hand wander again.

This time, he didn’t move, only moaning as you started to palm him through his trousers. Considering how hard he already was, it didn’t take you long to get him begging and whining for more, his hips bucking up against your hand.

You made quick work of his pants, untying the string and sliding your hand under the waistband, your palm coming into contact with the hot skin of his dick. Jeongin let out a soft whimper as your fingers wrapped around him. “Have you never been touched like this before?” you asked, watching his face as he shook his head.

“Not even by yourself?” you asked, tilting your head. He hesitated before nodding. “I’ve…” he swallowed thickly. “I’ve touched myself a few times,” he answered. Your smile grew slightly. “Do you want more?” you asked, watching the way his brow furrowed as you stroked him at an even pace.

“P-please,” he murmured, hips bucking into your hand. You removed your hand from his pants, moving and pulling his pants down, throwing them to the floor before climbing over and straddling his hips. Jeongin looked up at you as you leaned over. “Do you want to stop yet?” you whispered, your smirk growing even more when he shook his head.

You toyed with the hem of your night shirt, watching the way his eyes flickered from your face to your hands and back up. Finally, you decided to not tease him any more and lifted the material up over your head, dropping it to the floor and allowing him a moment to adjust to your nakedness.

His eyes were all over your form, taking in every inch of exposed skin. You took his hands and guided him to your waist. “You can touch me, you know,” you said softly, snapping him out of his trance. “O-okay,” he answered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the storm.

“Wait, I can?” he asked as if just registering what you’d said. You nodded instead of replying verbally and waited patiently as his hands moved of their own accord. His eyes followed the movement of his hands up to your chest, hesitating before cupping both your breasts.

His lips parted in awe as he gave a gentle squeeze.

He’d never done anything like this before. He had no idea what was allowed and what wasn’t or what felt good for you. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking up to meet your gaze. You nodded, reaching one hand up to place over his, pushing his palm against your chest more firmly.

Jeongin groaned at the contact, eyes flickering back down to your chest. Without a word, he sat up, his hand under yours moving aside. You pulled your hand back as he leaned in, glancing up at you for permission which you gave in the form of a nod. His eyes fluttered shut as he took your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud.

You let out a sigh, combing your fingers through his hair as his tongue flicked against your skin. You arched your back, pressing your chest into his face as he gently sucked, letting your nipple fall from his mouth before repeating the same process on the other breast, one of his hands moving up to cup your chest. His other hand moved around to your back, hovering just above your ass.

You rolled your hips, brushing your sex against his cock and making him gasp. Your fingers in his hair tugged, tilting his head back to look up at you as you rolled your hips again. “How does that feel, sweetheart?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

“S’good,” he moaned, his hands grabbing your hips, trying to guide your movements but feeling unsure of what he was doing. “You want me to ride you, little fox?” you whispered, leaning in so your lips brushed against his. He gulped loudly. “Y-yes,” he pleaded. “I wanna feel you.”

You took him in a messy kiss, tongue dancing against his. “You wanna feel me? Feel me from the inside?” He nodded quickly, eyes sliding shut as you rocked your hips, grinding against his cock, coating it with your arousal.

“Wanna fill me with your cock?” you purred. Jeongin let out a choked moan as you ground harder against him. “Fuck! Y-yes, please!” he whimpered.

You reached down to grab the bottom of his shirt, tugging it off him and letting it fall to the floor as well before placing your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress. You allowed your eyes to scan his body, taking in his lean frame as you lifted your hips.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” you asked as you reached between your bodies, taking his cock in your hand and giving him a couple of strokes, coating all of his cock with your slick. He nodded urgently, biting into his bottom lip. “I need to hear you say it, Innie,” you cooed, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance. He nodded again. “Yes,” he finally managed to croak out.

“I promise I’ll be good.”

Without another word, you sank down on him, his cock gliding easily as your walls welcomed the intrusion. Jeongin let out a long groan as you enveloped him completely with a sigh. You felt him twitch inside you and you leaned over, placing your hands on the mattress on either side of his head.

“You promised you’d be good,” you said, meeting his gaze. He nodded, blinking slowly as his hands moved to your thighs. “I promise,” he whispered. “Then you can’t cum yet,” you replied, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “You have to wait until I say you can cum,” you continued. “Can you do that for me, baby boy?” He nodded again. “Yes, I c-can,” he answered.

You slowly raised your hips before sinking back down on him, his cock burying into your cunt. Jeongin moaned against your lips, fingers digging into your skin. “Feels s’good,” he muttered as you set a slow, steady pace, hips rising and falling, driving his cock repeatedly into your pussy.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, leaning over to kiss along his jaw, making him tilt his head, giving you more access to his neck. “Letting me fuck you like you deserve.” Jeongin whined in response, his hands moving up to your waist. “Mmore, please,” he begged, gasping when you obliged, your hips bouncing against his. “Shit, shit,” he gasped, fingers tightening around your waist.

“Wait, m’close!” he warned. You immediately stilled, his length buried in your walls. You raised your hand to push his bangs back from his forehead, leaning over to press a kiss against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praised as he came down from the edge.

“Filling me so well. Such a good little fox.”

Jeongin whimpered as you rolled your hips. “Do you want me to keep going?” you asked sweetly. He shook his head. “Give me a moment more,” he murmured. You sat up, moving your hands to his chest, sliding them down to his stomach and back up past his shoulders and onto the mattress.

“Do you want me to stay on top of do you wanna take control, little fox?”

His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours. “I can take control?” he asked softly. You nodded. “You want to try that?” He nodded hesitantly, hissing as his cock slipped out of you.

You pulled him on top as you laid back, your thighs wrapping around his waist. He looked down at you, cheeks burning as he took in your fucked out expression. “Go ahead,” you urged.

Jeongin looked down, eyes widening slightly as they landed on your glistening sex. “It’s okay,” you added, drawing his attention. “Take your time.” Jeongin took himself in his hand, guiding the tip to your slit, watching as the head of his cock slipped past your folds, finding your center easily.

He groaned, watching as your walls sucked him in until his hips met yours. His eyes moved up, meeting yours as he tried to control his breathing. “I don’t…” he trailed off. “Just follow your instincts,” you said gently. He nodded, taking a deep breath before pulling his hips back, watching your face as he snapped forward. You let out a moan, eyes rolling back.

Taking that as his cue to keep going, he repeated the action, quickly setting a steady pace. It was different than when you were in control, he was able to drive his cock deeper into your walls, making you moan louder than when you’d been on top.

“F-feels s-s’good,” he stammered, his head falling into your chest as he continued to thrust into you. “Ah~ fuck, that’s it, Innie,” you encouraged him. “Keep going.” Following his instincts, like you’d suggested, he cupped his hand against the back of your thigh and pushed your leg against your stomach, sinking his length further inside you with a groan.

“S’ so deep,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. Jeongin kept his eyes open, watching to watch your face as he fucked you. He’d never seen someone so beautiful before. “Faster,” you gasped. Jeongin complied, his thrusts gaining speed. “Oh f-fuck,” he groaned. “M’gonna cum.”

You took him by surprise, rolling him onto his back during his momentary lapse in control. Without giving him a chance to regain the upper hand, you took his hands and pinned them against his head. “Gonna cum already, little fox? I thought you’d last longer,” you said with a scoff. Jeongin whimpered, his cock twitching as his orgasm impending as you rocked your hips with renewed vigor.

He tried to pull his wrists from your hands but your grip was too strong. “Don’t fight me for control,” you said, leaning over to kiss him. “You gonna cum for me? Can’t even wait for me to say you can cum. Pathetic,” you scoffed. Jeongin bucked his hips up to meet yours.

“Please,” he begged. “Let me cum.” You shook your head. “Only good boys get to cum,” you retorted. “You haven’t been good.” Jeongin shook his head. “I have been good!” he argued, moaning at the end of his protest. “I’ve been good,” he repeated.

“Please let me cum, Y/N.”

You chuckled, slowing your movements, holding his wrists tighter when he protested.

“Such a greedy little slut. Wanting to cum first,” you snapped, rolling your hips. “F-fuck Y/N, m’gonna cum. Shit, shit, shit,” Jeongin whined, hips bucking up as his orgasm washed over him. You slowed your hips as his cock twitched, Jeongin releasing inside you with a whine.

You sighed, your hips coming to a stop as you looked down at him. “Couldn’t even wait for me to finish with you,” you said softly. Jeongin opened his eyes. “S-sorry,” he stammered. “I tried to stop but it just felt so good.” Your lips twitched into a smirk. “It’s okay,” you replied, releasing one of his wrists to cup his cheek. “But now you’re gonna have to lie there and let me finish,” you continued.

Jeongin looked up at you, leaning into your touch. “That’s okay,” he replied, letting out a gasp as you rolled your hips, his cock still lodged inside you. “You’re in for a long night, little fox,” you said softly, taking his wrist and pinning it again before sliding your hands to lace your fingers with his as you continued to rock your hips, feeling him slowly start to get hard again.

“A really long night.”

Jeongin awoke the next morning to the smell of meat and opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep and allowing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight that filtered into the cottage.

He rolled over, peering at you by the fire, cooking breakfast. He stretched his arms, whining at the soreness in his muscles. You chuckled as he pushed himself up, realizing he was shirtless. You, on the other hand, were fully dressed. “What happened last night?” he asked, reaching up to scratch his head.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten,” you said as you plated breakfast and walked over to the bed. Jeongin felt heat rise in his cheeks. “No,” he answered as you sat on the edge of the bed, presenting him with a plate. “I just forgot how many times,” he murmured, adding a thanks at the end.

You chuckled as you dug into your own food. “More than a few,” you answered. Jeongin looked up and then out the window. “How late is it?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not that late, It’s not even noon,” you replied. The two of you ate in silence, Jeongin thanking you again as you took his dirty plate.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked, noticing they were not on the floor where you’d left them the night before. “I washed them first thing this morning,” you answered. “They’re probably dry by now,” you added and headed out the door to retrieve them.

Upon entering, you handed the clean clothes to Jeongin who dressed himself in silence. “What do you plan to do?” you asked softly as you stoked the fire. Jeongin looked up and then down at his hands. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “I’d like to go find my mother,” he added.

You turned to look at him, a warm smile on your face. He got up and walked over to where you stood, his hands resting on your waist and pulling you closer. “But part of me wants to stay here with you.” You smiled, eyes shutting as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Stay here and maybe build a life with you.” Your heart swelled at the thought but it was quickly deflated by another thought.

“I think you should follow your heart,” you finally said, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead and turn away. Jeongin opened his eyes and sighed. He looked around the cottage and then at his bags on the floor near the table where he could see one of his mother’s journals peeking out at him.

His mind was made up for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Do what you have to do,” you added. Jeongin turned you to face him, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I will come back,” he said softly, eyes flickering between yours. “I promise.”

With his rucksack packed full of supplies you could spare and a map in hand, you pointed him in the right direction. Jeongin pulled you in for one last kiss, resting his forehead against yours for a few moments after. “I mean it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “I will come back. Regardless if I find her or not.” You nodded, smiling and keeping the sad feeling lingering in your stomach at bay.

“Be careful,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. Jeongin pulled away and started through the forest in the direction you’d pointed him. The last place you’d heard his mother had been spotted. North towards Mongol territory. As he reached the edge of your property, he turned to look back at you.

He raised his hand, waving which you returned and watched as he turned back and slowly disappeared from sight. With a sigh, you continued to stare after him. “You better come back,” you whispered to yourself, moving your hand to rest against your stomach.

Smiling to yourself you turned away and headed back into the cottage to tend to your chores, hoping Jeongin found what he was looking for sooner rather than later.

He only had nine months after all.

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[bg-brainrot]

Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.

Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities

A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."

I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!

Word count: ~5.6k

Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.

Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.

But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.

He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.

The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.

This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.

“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”

You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”

It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”

“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.

“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.

Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?

He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.

Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.

The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.

It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.

“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.

“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”

He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”

Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”

You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question. 

What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts. 

He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.

They snuck off to find a lover.

They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.

They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.

They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.

It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?

__

You had concocted a nice, simple plan.

It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.

Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.

After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.

But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.

The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.

Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.

"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”

The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.

You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.

The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.

“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”

Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”

“You know that’s not what I–”

“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”

You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.

The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.

“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”

Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”

Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.

“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.

“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”

You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.

For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.

“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”

“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”

“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”

He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”

“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”

“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”

After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.

The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.

After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.

“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”

Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”

The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”

“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”

“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.

“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”

“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”

You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.

So you had gritted your teeth and said, “Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”

You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.

For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions. 

When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort. 

You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”

You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.

Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.

Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.

Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.

Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.

And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”

As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”

And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.

“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.

“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”

“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”

Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”

“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.

“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”

“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart. 

“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”

“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.

You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.

Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”

“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”

“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.

Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’

“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”

–

They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.

For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.

Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.

Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.

He turns the corner, on high alert.

Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.

That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.

Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…

Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.

If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.

But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.

So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”

Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”

“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”

“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”

Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”

“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.

“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.

“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”

What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.

Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.

“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this? 

More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”

How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”

Then you drop to a knee in front of him.

– 

“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”

“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.

You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.

But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.

It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.

“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.

You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.

“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”

It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.

His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”

The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”

“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”

Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”

You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.

“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.

You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”

His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”

“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”

__

Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.

So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.

You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Gods he would never tire of kissing you.

I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.

Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.

No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.

So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”

You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”

Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”

You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”

The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”

You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”

“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.

“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”

“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”

To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”

“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”

“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.

“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”

Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”

Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”

“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”

“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”

He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”

“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.

“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”

“Oh yes.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”

The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”

He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”

You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”

“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”

“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.

“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.

It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

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[tulipfantasies]

night on the town ✩ n.romanoff

pairing; natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary; a simple night on the town leads to the discoveration of pain and addiction.

characters; (mentions) og 6 and a woman named maria (not hill).

warnings; 16+ (just to be safe), use of alcohol and cigarettes, (mentions) underage smoking, (mentions) addiction, (mentions) natasha's past at the red room, (mild) swearing, (mild) jealous r, nat is ooc again, (minor) angst and fluff. 

my notes;  please, if any of the topics in bold make you uncomfortable or trigger you, do not read onwards. i don't want to upset anyone so consider it your warning. i don't think i like this one. can anyone spot the small pop culture reference??

word count; 2.6k

A ‘simple night on the town’ turns into 1:04 am. 

The entire length of the streets of New York was bathed in a soft amber glow, all thanks to the street lights that were situated on every corner of the Avenues. 

Midtown, or at least the side you all find yourselves on, was eerily calm given the environment (and the atmosphere hidden on the inside) that was nestled amongst the usually busy streets. No car horns were heard for miles on end.

For the middle of spring, the air was bitterly cold yet so freeing. In stark contrast to the air behind the secured doors, which was heavy and suffocating.

Tony, among one of his genius plans, had decided that you all deserved to take a break from your demanding and life-saving lives. He described it as a ‘simple night out on the town’, but we all know that in Tony’s dictionary, that was an excuse for him to get shit-faced. 

So, naturally, you all tagged along to keep him out of trouble and to have a little fun yourselves. Who could pass up a free drink and the chance to unwind anyway?

Now, none of the team members that tagged along were anywhere in sight except for those who were strictly keeping sober or physically couldn’t get drunk. The sensible ones. The only remaining ones were around the table in the VIP booth that Tony rented in the club.

2:45 am.

It’s been 1 hour and 41 minutes since you last saw her dancing with some brunette, who has definitely drunk more than the legal requirement. Desperate. 1 hour and 41 minutes of scanning through the hot and heavy crowd in search of a single sign that she was still dancing with the brunette or getting another drink at the bar.

None. 

“Y/n? Where are you going?” Steve’s voice calls out over the booming music as he watches you snatch your phone from off the table impatiently.

“Need fresh air.” You reply hastily before throwing a small smile over your shoulder and in his direction.

“She’s going to find Nat,” Clint’s voice could just about be heard over the music as he was talking to Steve and you were walking further away. “Like always.”

The music was practically deafening to the ears; the last thing on a drunken mind was the volume of the music. Sex and more alcohol always are. 

You were just silently thanking yourself that you had entered the club with a lot more self-control and had only ended up getting tipsy this time around. Unlike Tony who was completely shit-faced.

Pushing through the thick sea of plastered couples (who were dancing in a way that was even too much for you) was a task in itself but you finally managed to reach the front doors to the club. Soft, yet bright, light was emitted in your direction causing you to wince. 

You let out a large sigh of relief the further away you stumble from the raging nightclub, random shot glass in hand, and into the bitter air that pierced the exposed skin on your arms and legs. A small shiver runs down your spine.

“Fancy seeing you here,” A sultry voice brings your, slightly blurred, attention away from the empty shot glass in your hand and toward the direction where it came from. The dimly lit alleyway. “Got tired of being in there?”

“Nat!” You exclaim in relief as you slowly make your way over toward the alleyway. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you for like the past hour.”

The closer you reach her, the more of her outline you can make out. She’s leaning up against the masonry while nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila (or vodka, it was too dark to make it out) in one hand and a lit cigarette in between her index finger and middle finger on her other.

A dangerous combo for a dangerous woman.

“I’ve been out here the entire time, detka.”

“Oh? With that brunette who was all over you like some desperate-”

“Careful now,” She cuts your words off with a smug grin and a tsk sound. “You had a lot to drink, detka?”

“Uh, yeah, a few but I’m not drunk like Tony.” You reply as you make a move to lean up against the wall opposite to her. No other words were spoken as she raised the cigarette to her lips to take a long drag. 

Drag after drag, she slowly puffs the lethal smoke out towards the right of her while she makes sure that not once does she take her emerald gaze from off of you. It was an intense gaze.

“But that’s beside my point, who the hell was that brunette dancing with you?” You ask abruptly with a raised brow. She chuckles in amusement at your clear jealousy. “Because she was getting way too cosy with you.”

“No one important, just someone who drunkenly came up and started dancing with me,” Natasha replies as if it never bothered her because it didn’t bother her. “Think she said her name was Maria or something.” 

Maria. “Hm, you seemed to get pretty handsy with her, do you like her?”

“Where’s all this jealousy coming from, Y/n/n?” She asks in an amused tone which is followed by a chuckle. Oh, she was enjoying this. “To be fair, it’s amusing seeing you go all green over some random girl, especially one I don’t know or have an interest in.”

“Y’know, I’d rather not discuss it.” You say, brushing off her question and ignoring her comment as you turn to face away from her so she can’t see you roll your eyes.

There’s a pregnant pause before you clear your throat and look back toward her with a slightly softened gaze. The cigarette remains firmly pressed in between her fingers.

“Have you always smoked?” You ask, to change the subject, as you fold your arms over your chest. Natasha doesn't reply straight away but takes another drag.

She drops the remaining bit of her cigarette onto the ground so that she can stamp harshly on it, with the sole of her shoe, just to make sure that it’s out.

“Mhm,” she hums with a shrug of her shoulders. “Just kept it to myself, I guess.”

Taking your bottom lip in between your upper front teeth, you nervously chew on it as she leans forward to slip the shot glass from out of your hand and into hers. Without any sounds, she lets the clear liquid trickle out of the bottle and into the shot glass before gently handing it back to you.

You bring the rim of the shot glass to your lips before knocking it back in one go. Straight tequila. 

“Oh, god, that’s tequila.” You state in a strained voice and with a noticeable grimace as the liquid burns the back of your throat.

Natasha chuckles at the sight of your grimace before smiling softly as you clear your throat. “You okay there, detka?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You reply before sighing and reaching up to give your temple a quick but firm rub. “You know smoking is bad for your lungs, right? And besides, what are you out here drinking tequila straight for?”

With her fingers curled around the neck of the tequila bottle, she brings the rim of the bottle up to her lips intending to tip it back to take another swig. But she doesn’t. 

“You only get one chance in life, detka,” she replies nonchalantly, ignoring your second question, before finally taking a swig of the alcohol. “I’ve learnt that the hard way.”

Given what she was forced to witness and trained into doing while growing up, it made some sense for her to be wishing away her life like this. That amount of trauma is often immovable and can only be numbed by the effects of drugs and alcohol.

The Red Room raised those girls into being their bloodthirsty puppets, the ones who were forced to believe that they had no place in the world and yet here Natasha is, with her foot in the world, throwing it all away just to numb her feelings. You never really know what you’ve got until it's too late.

The thought of going through what she had growing up made your skin crawl.

“How long have you been smoking for?” You ask cautiously as you stare at the redhead who lets out a long sigh. From that sigh alone, you can tell it wasn’t a habit that she had recently picked up. 

“Listen, I didn’t come out to get interrogated about my unhealthy habits, so just drop it, alright?” She defends herself before she extends the neck of the bottle back over to you. You decline with a shake of your head.

One shot of tequila is enough. You can’t stomach anymore tonight.

“How long have you been smoking, Nat?”

She lets out a defeated sigh. “Not sure. Since I was, like, 14 or 15.”

You would say that you’re surprised to hear that she’s been smoking so young but by the looks of it, smoking has become an unhealthy coping mechanism for the shit life she’s got. You just wish it wasn’t her that was suffering like this.

“A cigarette is the least of my worries.” She replies with a shrug before closing her eyes to relive the memory. “They drugged me with all kinds of things in the Red Room so I added to it by stealing a cigarette from a packet in a guard’s pocket. I can still remember getting in trouble now.”

Silence comes from her end as her gaze flickers down to the squashed cigarette on the floor before glancing back up at you, who peacefully analyses her. She can’t stop.

“And it’s turned into a habit that you now can’t break.”

“Yeah, I guess you could put it that way.” 

“Does smoking and drinking like this at least make you feel better?” You ask curiously but cautiously. When it comes to Natasha, you have to choose your words carefully.

Natasha doesn’t let her guard down around anyone yet here she was, in a dingy alleyway, letting you see the regret and pain shining in her eyes. No, it doesn’t.

Your heart aches for her; all the cigarettes and alcohol that she’s taken over the years (outside and inside of you knowing her) haven’t numbed the pain in the way she hoped it would. It just put her at ease for a certain amount of time.

“Oh, Tasha.” 

She doesn’t say anything else but instead, her gaze flickers away from your eyes (which she always finds herself lost in) and down to your soft-shaped lips. So kissable. 

She could practically taste the bitterness and sweetness of the alcohol on the tip of her tongue. At that moment, she knew that she wanted, no, needed to kiss you more than ever. 

Without any hesitation, she takes a step toward you so she can place her hands on your hips (despite still holding onto the bottle) so she can gently tug your back away from the masonry. Her blurry gaze rests on your lips, memorising the shape and softness of them before she dips her head down slightly.

Her lips were inches away from yours. 

“Nat-”

“-Shut up and let me kiss you.” She growled before pulling you in closer so that her hot breath was fanning against your lips. 

The moment her lips crash against yours, your hands instinctively reach up to comb through her soft red locks. She tastes like 5 different alcohols and nicotine all in one go; normally you’re not into that but, right now, you crave her. 

You didn’t want her to break the kiss any time soon but she did and instead of moving away from you, she rested her forehead against hers. The both of you were panting softly.

“Are you addicted to them?” You whisper as your hands drop from her hair and down to cup her rosy cheeks. “The way they make you feel numb or how they make you act?”

Her forehead drops against yours as her head hangs low and the warmth her body was radiating disappears as she takes a step back from you. A small nod confirms everything you need to know.

She’s addicted.

She stares at you as she extends her arm out so that she can carelessly throw the empty bottle of tequila as far away from her as possible. Your grip on your shot glass loosens so the shattering noise rippling through the alleyway increases just like the pile of glass shards.

“I–I don’t know how to stop.” 

The alcohol in her system has weakened the walls she put up for her protection to the point where they were trembling.

“You’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

You take a short step toward her to go back to gently cupping her cheeks in your soft hands. She leans into your touch as a thick singular tear rolls down her cheek. 

Here she was, standing in front of you, looking vulnerable and broken. And boy, did the people of her past break her.

“I want to stop. I do but I can’t.” She admits in a soft tone as if she is worried about other people hearing her. “I’ve tried so many times.”

The glass shards crunch under your footing as you drop your touch on her cheeks to wrap your arms around her torso. She instantly wraps her arms around you in return. 

“I promise you, I am going to help you out of this.” You whisper your promise as she buries her head into the crook of your neck. You’re wearing the perfume that drives her crazy.

It felt as if your promise was empty but the determination flooding through your system tells you that you will not let it be empty. You are going to help her through this, like it or not.

“Let’s go get some water so we can sober up, yeah?” You whisper as she pulls away to give you a nod of agreement. “You’re stuck with me, now, Nat.”

“There’s no one I would rather be stuck with, detka.” She whispers back as she slips her hand in between yours to squeeze it before following as you both sluggishly walk out of the alleyway.

The alleyway that you stood in, kissed in and where she bit the bullet and admitted defeat. 

The streets remain silent as the two of you stumble down them, hand in hand. The bitter air no longer bothered you or the exposed skin that you were showing, not when you were wrapped underneath Natasha’s arm. 

“Thank you,” She says, after silence, as you two stumble onto the corner of the street to call a taxi. Thankfully there was one in the distance. “For not judging me and sticking by me. Even in my darkest times.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Natasha.” You reply as a taxi pulls up in front of you. You both climb in and mutter your destination to the driver before you turn back to look at her. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, because I’d do anything for the people that I love. And it’s safe to say that I’m in love with you.”

She smiles softly at your, slightly drunken, confession before bringing your hand up to her lips so she can press a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist and then against your palm. 

“I love you too, detka,” she whispers as she moves her head to catch your lips in for a sweet but short-lived kiss. “More than anything in this world. I love you.”

[runningfrom2am]

Protective!Rafe with Y/N saves her from her dad

tysm for requesting this!! i hope it’s what you pictured!!

too much to drink - (r.c)

tags/warnings: underage drinking, violence, abuse, drugging (not done by rafe), sexual content (implied, not explicit), strong language, slut-shaming/derogatory term (again, not by rafe)

pairing: rafe x reader

wc: 2.9k

note!!: this is like the darkest thing i’ve probably ever written, please PLEASE read the warnings and look out for yourselves, i know this carries some sensitive topics so if any of those things bother you PLEASE DONT READ THIS!! i care about you all and really want you to stay safe.

Midsummers comes and goes every year, and every year you have the most fun while hiding from the watchful eye of your dad, sneaking in a few (too many) drinks when you can, ever since you were fifteen. You and Sarah Cameron would rotate covering for each other, slipping away from the large groups of adults talking about business and boring nonsense to spend alone time with your boy of the month. You always looked forward to it.

This year, you're finally eighteen. Typically, girls your age would be making their debut with their summer flings, never lasting far into the fall- but since you just graduated, a serious relationship is far from your mind. You're having too much time seizing the day- carpe diem, or whatever that saying is. You've got your flask, and a nifty belt to attach it to your leg under your dress- courtesy of Sarah for your recent birthday. You're more than ready to seize your favourite holiday, the summer solstice.

You walk in with your family, and are almost immediately joined by the Cameron's- your standard routine. Your parents have always been close, your dad's in particular like to spend a lot of time together- allegedly working on some kind of big project, but neither one of them have ever spared a single detail as to what it is, despite it being years in the making.

"Y/N, Darling, you look stunning." Rose greets you with a hug and you smile, politely hugging her back and laughing a little bit as your families make similar greetings to one another.

"You're too kind, Rose. It's lovely to see you again." You grin as you pull away and she looks you over, rubbing your arm gently.

"Oh, nonsense. You look beautiful." She insists. "Rafe, don't you agree? Y/N looks amazing. This dress is something else!" She turns to her stepson, gesturing back at you.

"Mhm. That she does." He agrees flatly, taking a sip of his drink as he looks you up and down. 

You blush only slightly, hoping your makeup covers it. You and Rafe had had a somewhat on-and-off thing going on for some time now, but not something you were ready to admit to either of your families. Occasionally going out for coffee, but mostly you would meet in private. It was awfully convenient for the two of you that your dads did so much work together, you always knew where both of them were, and could more or less run the other way.

"Rafe, take Y/N to grab a drink, yeah?" Rose suggests and he nods, holding his arm out to you. You smile as you take it, trying to avoid leaning too much into him considering your already tipsy state.

"You do look stunning." He leans in to whisper to you, making you blush furiously. 

You lightly smack his chest. "Where are you taking me?" You giggle, following as he leads you past the bar in the crowd, in the general direction of the country clubs locker rooms. 

"There's a bar back here, you didn't know? A private one, kind of a well-kept secret, you know." He smirks, looking down at you only briefly.

"Oh, of course." You agree, gently nudging his shoulder with yours. "Please, lead the way, Mister Cameron."

You make your way through the crowd, blissfully unaware of your father's eyes trailing you the whole way, a scowl on his face as he takes the first sip of his whiskey.

"Come on, we have time for one more- yeah?" Rafe asks against the skin of your neck, kissing it softly while you attempt to get your dress back on.

"We don't and you know that." You chuckle, pointing to the back of your dress where he stands behind you. "Zip?" You ask and he sighs, obliging and pulling the zipper up for you. You adjust the fabric where it sits around your waist, looking in the mirror briefly before turning around to face him. 

Rafe is quick to settle his hands on your hips, pushing you gently back against the counter and pressing his lips to yours. It's gentle, this time, making you ponder the thought of maybe one-day making things official between you two- you'd be a fool to deny the feelings you have for him, and he would admit the same, but right now is just not a good time for either of you. That much goes unspoken.

"You're beautiful, you know." He mumbles, muffled by your lips against his. You giggle, draping your arms over his shoulders and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"So I've been told." You reply quietly, pulling back a little to look him over, eyes inevitably locking with his. "You're not so bad yourself."

"So I've been told." He chuckles, mocking you as he presses another kiss to your lips. 

"Alright, we really gotta go. We've disappeared long enough." You sigh, wiggling out of his grasp and ducking under his arm.

"Come find me later, yeah?" Rafe asks and you nod, humming your agreement as you step out of the locker room, doing your best to look around, feigning confusion in case someone sees you. Not like looking lost will truly work when you spend so much time in this country club recreationally.

You make your way to the bar and grab a soda, careful as you pull the slit of your dress to pour your liquor into it under the counter. You think you've succeeded, lifting the glass up as you turn around, looking to find your family again, or maybe Sarah.

Making small talk with people isn't your favourite thing, but it's always fun to catch up with other kids around your age, who you normally don't see so dressed up. Especially after a few drinks, and especially, kids you don't see so often. This is why your face just lights up with excitement when you see Pope Heyward. He's working the event, as usual, but he's always been kind to you- which you know isn't easy for him considering the treatment him and some of his friends get from other kooks.

"Pope!" You grin as you see him behind a counter in the corner, making him lift his head from what he was doing. 

"Y/N! Hey! How's it going?" He asks, stepping around the counter as you hold out your arms for a hug.

"I'm so good.." You smile, swaying lightly with your arms around each other. "How are you, though? Tell me what's going on in your world!" 

"Not much, just wrangling drunk girls tonight apparently." He chuckles, steadying you as you both let go of each other at the same time.

"Hey! I am not drunk, how dare you." You whisper, laughing and shoving his shoulder playfully.

"Oh, you? Never. Only everyone else." He nods, clearly not believing you anyway.

"I'm glad you agree." You take a step back to take the weight off one of your feet, wearing heels always has been a pain in the ass for you. You're about to say something else when you bump into someone, jumping a little as it startles you and their hand lands on your arm, steadying your glass for you.

"Hey, sweetheart." Your dad chuckles. "Didn't mean to scare you, I've got some friends who'd love to chat with you. Come with me." He says, quickly ushering you away and hardly sparing a glance at Pope. You look back over your shoulder at him, giving him an apologetic smile and a quick wave as your dad pushes you along.

It's not long before you're swaying on your feet, feeling a little lightheaded. You must have put too much vodka in your drink- which is unusual, you have a decently high tolerance.

You politely excuse yourself, making an effort to get to the bathroom. You suddenly really aren’t feeling well- and you need some space away from everybody else. The room spins around you and you hold your arms out to brace yourself on the nearest surface, the mumbling of people around you only echoing in your ears and you can’t make anything out. Your unsteadiness leads you to twisting your ankle in your platform heel, stumbling forward and someone catches you. Strong arms wrap around your back under your arms and hold onto your ribcage, trying to ease you down. They’re talking to you, but you can hardly make it out.

“Woah, woah- Y/N, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice is echoey, distant, even, and you try and nod.

“Yeah, yeah I just don’t feel too hot..” You mumble, tongue too thick for your mouth.

“Let’s get you some fresh air. Water, please.” Rafe snaps at a waiter walking by, lifting you up and getting you back on your feet.

“Rafe..” You try and speak, truly just surprised to see him. You don’t know why- you knew he was there.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He says, taking the glass from the waiter who quickly returned and holding it up to your lips. Rafe knows he has to get you out of the public eye, and quickly- before your dad sees your state. He assumes you’re just way too drunk.

“Y/N, come on- I’ll take you home.” Your father is there suddenly, carefully but firmly taking you from Rafe’s grasp.

“Do you need help, Mr. Y/L/N?” He offers, your arm settling around your dads shoulder as Rafe stands there helplessly with your glass of water.

“I’ve got her, Rafe. You go have fun.” Your dad chuckles, nodding to the younger boy and carrying you toward the exit. Rafe knows there’s something not right about this- something off about the look in your fathers eye.

He lets him take you outside, deciding just to go and get another drink and send you a text. It’s your dad, for gods sake, he wouldn’t hurt you. As he stands by the bar, only for a few moments, he isn’t comfortable with his decision. He quickly abandons his drink, beelining straight for the door in quick strides, shoving it open and jogging out to the parking lot.

“I am sick of you coming to these networking events and embarrassing our family by throwing yourself at any boy who looks your way! Seriously, Y/N, no daughter of mine should be acting like this- like a damn whore!” Your dad is screaming at you now as you lean against the side of his car, holding onto it to stay upright. You’re hardly processing what he’s saying, tears streaming down your face regardless.

“Dad, wait- I didn’t, no, it’s not-“ You stammer, trying desperately to understand what you were trying to say.

“Don’t act like I don’t know! You’re lucky I even let you live under my roof after the rumours I’ve heard! I’m sick of you sneaking off to sleep with every boy on the island! I mean, pogues? Seriously? I’ve had enough.”

“I don’t-“ You try and protest, but your cut off with a hard smack across the face, leaving your ears ringing as your knees give out.

“Hey, hey- hey!” Rafe shouts, running up and shoving your dad back away from you, eyes dark with anger over what he’s just heard and seen. “Don’t touch her!” He stands between you and your dad, pushing him back again.

“Son, mind your business and get back inside. Now.” Your dad glares at him, pointing to the building.

“No. Absolutely not.” Rafe shakes his head in response. “I’m taking her home. You go back in and enjoy your stupid networking party.” He insists, turning to help you up as you reach out for him, still stunned.

“Jesus, Y/N/N..” He mutters, looking you over as he helps you get your bearings against the side of the truck. “What did you do to her?” He asks your father, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Rafe, leave.” Your dad chuckles a little, trying to save face as best he can. “She’s just had too much to drink- I’ll get her home and-“

“Did you drug your own daughter?” Rafe asks him, looking in disbelief between the two of you.

“When you have a daughter of your own you’ll understand. I did what I had to do to-“

“No, no way. That’s beyond fucked up.” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as your dad keeps talking.

“To keep her from embarrassing this family even further.” He finishes saying, committing to the idea that what he did was right.

“Let’s go.. let’s just go…” You slur out, holding onto the side of the truck as you try and walk away.

Rafe shakes his head at your dad, backing away from him to get to you. As much as he wants to pummel him into nothing, it’s more important that he gets you somewhere safe.

“Y/N Y/M/N if you walk away right now don’t bother ever coming home!” Your dad shouts at you as Rafe gets to you, supporting you with an arm around your waist as he stares back at your dad. “You can kiss your trust fund goodbye! If you want to sleep with pogues you can live like one for all I care!”

Rafe bites his tongue as he guides you back to his own car, fishing in his pocket for the keys with his free hand. He gets you in the passengers seat and buckles you in as your head drops back against the headrest, hardly able to support its own weight.

“Y/N/N, hey, can you hear me?” Rafe asks, reaching up and grabbing your head gently to look at your cheek, checking for cuts or bruises. He frowns when he sees your cheek red and feels it burning under his fingers- it’ll have a nasty bruise tomorrow. He pulls out his phone and texts Sarah, telling her they have to go- right now. She had been looking for you most of the night too, surprised when you disappeared more than usual.

You just hum in response. You know you’re safe now, and you don’t have to exert as much energy to say anything at all.

“I’m gonna take you back to my house. We’ll get you cleaned up, and, uh, yeah. We’ll figure shit out.” He nods, more to himself than to you. He gently lets your head rest back and he shuts the door, seeing Sarah running over from the building, a confused and worried look on her face.

“What happened? Is that Y/N?” Sarah asks her brother, looking in the window.

“Yeah, her dad fucking drugged her. I walked out to him hitting her and yelling at her about shit that didn’t even happen.” He explains, opening the drivers side door.

“What? Oh my god.” Sarah replies, opening the back door and climbing in. “Oh my god, should we take her to the hospital?”

“I think she’s fine… Let’s just go back home and figure out what to do.” Rafe says, quickly starting the car and driving out of the lot being careful to avoid any potholes. He’s never driven so carefully.

Sarah helps carry you in, quick to grab water, some towels, and a bucket to place by your side of Rafe’s bed. It’s not likely to be pretty when you wake up. By the time you get back to Tannyhill, you’re hardly conscious, and Sarah has to hold every door for Rafe as he carries you in.

They don’t know what to do besides get you into bed when you get back to their house. Sarah helps you change into some of her pyjamas while Rafe decides to wait outside the door. He wishes he could get you something to eat, watch a movie together, do something normal, but you can hardly keep your eyes open. It would honestly surprise him if you knew where you were.

“What do we do?” Sarah whispers to him as he walks back in, both of them standing over you passed out in his bed.

“I don’t know.” Rafe mumbles, shaking his head. He can’t take his eyes off you.

“Should we call the cops?”

“They wouldn’t do shit. They’re as much in Y/D/N’s pocket as they are dads.”

“Well, we can’t take her home.” Sarah thinks out loud. “I don’t know how long she can stay here, dad will take his side for sure. I could bring her to John B’s tomorrow?”

“No.” Rafe shuts that idea down. “I’ll figure it out… You go to bed, Sare.”

“You can’t protect her here, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then I’ll leave too. Get us our own place, I don’t give a fuck.”

“What? You guys aren’t even official- how do you think she’ll feel about moving in with you?”

“We’ll figure it out, okay? Just leave us alone. Please.” He sighs, rubbing the sides of his head. He doesn’t know what to do. He really doesn’t. All he knows is that he has to keep you safe.

Sarah rolls her eyes at him and leaves, giving you a worried glance over her shoulder before shutting the door quietly behind herself.

Rafe crawls in bed next to you after taking his suit off, watching you sleep and trying to pretend everything is normal; trying to pretend that he was allowed to bring you home after Midsummers because this is where you wanted to be.

You look so peaceful, but as the bruise starts to develop on the normally soft and unscathed skin of your cheek, Rafe dreads having to explain what happened to his parents in the morning. He doubts anyone will even believe him.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie , @mutual-mendes , @slut4drudy , @winterrrnight , @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron , @urfaveluvr , @chenslucy , @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕

Kim Hongjoong X afab!gn!reader

Summary: You and Hongjoong hated each other. At least, that's what you told yourselves, until you ended up in the same bathroom at a party.

WC: 2.1k

Content: Smut, lots of smut, little bit of fluff, little bit of angst

Smut warnings: Dirty talk, kissing, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected PIV sex (this is fairly vanilla)

AN: This is in reference to this post, so those of you who were interested, here you go. ;>

And this was originally written for @malldreamprincess but she gave me permission to edit it and post it. 💜

Tag List (Remember: Please send it through the ask box to be added to any tag lists!): @cherrycel @mxnsxngie

“You’re just a fucking bitch,” you spat, exasperated. Hongjoong laughed as he looked at you through the mirror, still more focused on fixing his stupid lipstick.

“Come on, even I say that. Do better, babydoll.” He puckered his lips and made a pop noise, finally satisfied with his application. He capped the tube and spun around to look at you, leaning back on the basin of the sink. His multitudes of rings clinked against the porcelain, and it was enough to make you want to rip your hair out of your skull. 

You clenched your hands into fists as he stared at you. He tilted his head. A taunt. 

You really had nothing except elementary level insults. “You’re not even pretty,” “you’re mean.” What could you say that someone hadn’t said already, that he didn’t already know, that Hongjoong wouldn’t have a smart, sexy retort to spit back at you with his bright red painted lips? 

“Your ex just fucked you because of your ass” is what came out. You didn’t even think about it, but all of a sudden, the words tumbled out and there they were. 

And to your surprise, the color drained from Hongjoong’s face. His smile dropped instantly and his eyes went wide. You felt pride that you’d finally stunned him, and then you were terrified half a second later by his sudden dead eyes that stared through you as you knew he was thinking about how to kill you. 

“I dare you to say that again,” he said slowly, his eyes still wide, but devoid of any and all emotion except for one: Rage. Unbridled, fiery rage. 

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest like a panicked bird, smacking against the sides of your rib cage. For a moment, you really considered staying quiet. 

“Your ex-” 

He threw you up against the wall and pinned your hands above your head. Your head hit the tiles of the bathroom wall and your vision swam for a second. 

When you could see again, all you were met with were Hongjoong’s eyes, staring into your very soul. Your lungs instantly shrunk and your stomach was in your throat. Your mouth was drier than sand in the Sahara. 

“You have no fucking right to say anything like that,” Hongjoong spat, pressing you against the wall harder. His body wasn’t touching yours, but fuck, it was so close, you could feel the heat coming off of him. 

“And what if I’m right?” You breathed. It was such a cheap line, and you knew there was a high chance he’d slap you for it. 

But he didn’t. And deep in his eyes, you saw it. Hestience. Uncertainty. 

Insecurity. 

I’m right, you thought, but you didn’t dare utter the words. 

Hongjoong finally collected himself and blinked. The insecurity disappeared, and the rage was starting to dissipate too. 

“Why did you say that?” He asked, still holding your hands above your head. 

And it was as if you both had a realization moment: What the fuck were you two doing? 

What were you doing here? In this bathroom, at this house party, arguing about a whole bunch of nothing, when you both could’ve ignored each other? It would've been so easy to ignore each other, to ignore Hongjoong, and stay with your friends and talk about everything and anything. 

You two didn’t like each other. You wanted nothing to do with each other. 

You hated each other. 

Right? 

“Because I hate you,” you breathed. 

And Hongjoong called your bluff. 

“No you don’t,” he whispered, and smashed his lips against yours. 

And it was a fiery kiss, of passion, rage, hidden and complex feelings neither of you wanted to confront. All tongue and teeth and spit. 

Hongjoong moved all over your body, groping at everything, your ass, hips, waist, tits, all of it, moaning into the kisses as he did. You gasped as he kissed down your neck feverishly. 

“Feels so good, Hongjoong,” you slurred, clinging onto him. 

“Yeah?” Hongjoong asked, running one of his hands down between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your pants. “Keep telling me that.” 

And you did, letting out all the whiny, desperate moans trapped inside you that Hongjoong forced out. Fire and desire raced through your body, from your head to your feet, your skin was screaming his name. 

Hongjoong groaned seeing your face, your eyes rolled back, feeling your slick all over his fingers, dripping out of you, it was so much. Everything he ever wanted. 

He leaned in and kissed you again, with the same intensity as before, pushing his tongue inside and fighting with yours, twisting and dancing, moving all over your mouth. 

As he pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips, you looked at him with half closed, dazed eyes as you mumbled: “Fuck me.” 

“Oh, I'll fuck you.”

Hongjoong helped you get your pants and underwear off before making you hold your own leg up to spread you wide for him. 

“Is this good?” You asked as you looked up at him through your lashes. Hongjoong smirked as he ran his fingers over your slit, gathering up some of your arousal. 

“Yeah, good doll,” he ground out as he pushed two fingers inside you. You’d hardly adjusted to the feeling of being stretched out before he was fucking you hard and fast. 

“Fuck, Hongjoong!” You cried out, clenching down on his fingers, rolling your eyes back into your head. 

“That’s it, keep saying my name, gorgeous.” Hongjoong’s forehead was leaned against yours, his nose pressed against yours, his lips a breath away, feeling his heavy breaths on your lips. 

You obeyed, whining and whimpering out his name while his fingers were slamming into you, pounding against your spot, fucking you wide open. Hongjoong smashed his lips on yours again, the kissy messy, his free hand in your hair, holding you in place so you couldn’t pull away. 

Not that you ever wanted to. 

“So perfect,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Feels so fucking good, all of it.” 

His words went straight to your cunt and you clenched down again, feeling your orgasm creeping up. 

“Hongjoong, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered out. 

She immediately pulled back, making you squeal and whine in disappointment. But you rolled your eyes back as he dropped to his knees and pushed back inside you again. 

“Come on my face, baby,” he whispered before he dove in, sucking on your clit and fucking up into you. And how could you deny him when he was fucking you like that? 

It didn’t take long before your thighs were shaking and your head was going light. One of your hands dropped down to grip onto Hongjoong’s hair, holding him as close as you could. She moaned and smothered his face in, putting his free hand on the small of your back to keep you close. 

With one final suck on your clit, you came with a scream of his name, pulling on his hair, trying your hardest to not let your legs buckle underneath you. 

Hongjoong moaned as he drank up everything that spilled out of you, fucking you through it, then licking at your still pulsing hole. His eyes were rolled back as he happily took it all. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” he breathed as he pulled away, leaning back on the floor on his hands. And fuck, he looked irresistible. 

The low lighting of the bathroom barely illuminated the shine of your slick on his face and neck, his hair was a mess, his pupils blown out with that little Cheshire smirk on his lips. 

You dropped to your knees and crawled over, pinning him on his back and kissing him again, and she let you do it. He let you pin him to the floor and kiss him, and have your way with him. 

Your hands went down and struggled with his pants, and he thankfully helped you get them down to give you access to his rock hard cock. You smiled into the kisses as you started stroking him, pulling a gasp out of him. 

“Aww, you’re so hard,” you cooed, sitting up on top of him. Hongjoong’s eyes rolled back as he bit his lip, stifling the noises that were beginning to bubble up in his throat. “I thought you hated me, Hongjoong.” You lined his cock up with your cunt and teased the head, making him buck his hips up and groan. 

“Shut up and fuck me,” he breathed, his nails digging into your hips. You almost wanted to make him beg for everything he ever did to you, but you stopped yourself, and slowly sunk down onto him. 

His mouth dropped open as he gasped, squeezing you tighter, trying to keep his noises quiet. But even as you were struggling to stay composed, you weren’t about to let him stay quiet,oh no. 

Thanks to him fucking you open already, you could set a fast pace from the beginning. Hongjoong let out a choked moan and closed his eyes. He bit down on his lip as a whine slipped out, his eyebrows going together. You were so tight on him, so warm, it was almost burning. His head was already going light from the pleasure in his veins. 

“Come on, Hongjoong, don’t be quiet,” you breathed, putting your hands on his chest, leaning close to his face. “I wanna hear how good it feels.” And at first, nothing changed, and you expected him to stay quiet. He didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t change. So you dropped down on his lap harder than before. 

And after that, all the noises were tumbling from his lips. Whines and whimpers, little broken gasps, all of it. 

“So good,” he whimpered out, his head tilted back against the floor. 

“Yeah?” You couldn’t help but smirk, even when your stomach was churning and twisting, and your thighs were quivering in pleasure. 

“Yeah, don’t stop, baby, please.” 

And you weren’t about to. 

You put your hands on either side of his head, staring down at him as you continued. Your eyes trailed down to his exposed neck, and got an idea. 

You leaned in and bit down, making him yelp in pain, but you began to suck and lick over it, soothing the pain and making a mark where everyone would see it. 

That he was yours now and no one was going to take him from you. 

His thighs began to tremble and his back arched. “I’m close, please don’t stop,” he gasped, his hands going up to grab onto your shoulders, holding you tight against his body. 

You were close too, and it was making it difficult to keep the pace up. But hearing all Hongjoong’s desperate cries and moans gave you the motivation to keep going. 

He could see how you were close, and how you were focusing on him and not yourself. So he took one shaking hand and rubbed your clit to help you along. 

And it was almost instantly that you came all over him, screaming his name, bouncing on him frantically to ride it out. He came when you did, fucking up into you, crying out your name as he dug his nails into your skin. 

“You marked me,” he panted once it was over. You smirked as you crawled up to him and looked at it. A dark mark, right in the middle of his neck, where everyone would see it. 

You looked at him, and he was smiling too. “Good.”

“Good?” You asked, slowly pulling up off of him. 

“Yeah.” He pulled his pants back up and got up off the floor, helping you as well. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but I have to now.” 

You looked at him confused as you began to clean yourself up. He helped you before you got redressed, and he helped you fix your outfit before he continued. 

“I never really hated you. I only ‘hated’ you because I wanted you. But when I did, I was dating my ex. I didn’t know what to do, and it came out at that. I’m sorry.” 

And all the animosity you ever felt towards Hongjoong disappeared, and you threw your arms around him in a tight hug. He froze, not really believing you were hugging him. It took a few seconds before he hugged you back, squeezing you so tightly. 

“You’d really have me?” 

“Yes. Now I know it wasn’t genuine. I’d love to have you.” 

Hongjoong smiled and held you even closer. It wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go at all, but it ended better than he could’ve hoped. 

No matter what happened now, you'd be with him. Everything would be okay because you were with him.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[residenthughes]

starting afresh

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.3K

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, re4r leon with re2r haircut/hairstyle

summary: it's been six years since the raccoon city incident. some things change, and some things stay the same (where re4r leon cuts his hair as short as it was in re2r for the first time)

notes: whoever made the mod(s) for leon to have his re2r hairstyle in re4r, no words. just take my money. I'm begging. but if y'all have seen those screenshots/played with the mod yourself, you just know how good he looks with his hair short :((( makes me so soft! hehe

feel like i kind of stepped up my dialogue here, thanks to all the fics I've been reading as of lately 😈 couldn't be more thankful, haha! hope y'all enjoy this and please feel free to let me know your thoughts on this!

“What do you think?”

You’re at a loss for words. Jaw slack and eyes wide. You’re overreacting, you know you are but this quite literally came out of nowhere. It was an uneventful, slow Sunday. As per yours and Leon’s routine, the leisurely day was spent draped in a citrus scented duvet and immersing yourselves in cosy cuddles to recharge for the long week ahead. It was only when your lips ghosted over the rosewood marks of love peppered across the expanse of Leon’s clavicle, hands feverish and wandering that your actions ceased upon the growl of your stomach.

Leon can only laugh, kissing away the flush of your cheeks as he mumbles against your forehead. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s make some food.”

You pout, wanting to beg for five more minutes (like you hadn’t before), bones aching for the pamper the cloudlike bed provides, but Leon’s already leaving you, arms extending up to the ceiling as he stretches. The sliver of afternoon light peeking through the curtains basks his toned body in all kinds of flattering light, muscles expanding and contracting. 

Leon turns to look at you, lips plump with love as the duvet drapes your body like some fine ballroom gown. He swears his heart beats out of his chest. There really is no one as beautiful as you. 

“Race you to the kitchen?” A teasing eyebrow is raised and even though Leon sets himself in motion to sprint, you don’t budge. Not even an inch. 

He deflates, eyes rolling as he pads over to your side of the bed.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumble as you attempt to bury yourself into the bed, cocooning yourself with the dark shadow grey duvet. “Too lazy.”

Leon sighs. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride?”

Your attention is grabbed. You remove the duvet from your face, sly smirk positioning itself amongst your features.

“I’m listening.”

You cupping behind your ear is what does it for Leon. Dramatic as always.

A huff of amusement sounds from him. Considering the extent as to which the man spoils you rotten, you should be babbling for him to recant his offer, carrying yourself to the kitchen before you two move in a synchronised dance practised all the years you’ve been together as you make food. But Leon’s already perched up on your side of the bed, back towards you with his hands behind him.

“Of course you are,” he beckons for you with the flutter of his fingers, an easy smile sent your way over his shoulder. “Now, hop on before your stomach eats itself.”

You follow his lead, as you always do. Hooking your legs around his waist and circling your arms loosely around his neck. You don’t forget to show your appreciation, peppering his nape with kisses that have laughter pouring out of Leon like honey. Once you’re in the kitchen of your shared apartment, Leon sets you down on the cold countertop with the squeeze of your thighs and opens the fridge.

“Shit,” you crane your neck to look into the fridge too. Much like your stomach, it’s pretty empty. “Need to head to the store if we want something edible for dinner.”

“Is there anything for now at least?” You really can’t be arsed to wait to go get some groceries, make a meal and then eat.

“Kind of, but we definitely need to go shopping after this.” Leon states as he brings out the remnants of the fridge. You go to grab the spices from the cabinet and the last of the eggs and stare at your ingredients.

“Let’s get this party started.” 

You groan. 

Leon can be so lame sometimes. Yet so lovable all the time.

-

Once the appetising brunch made with nothing but the utmost of love settles in your stomach, you reluctantly begin to egg yourself on to completing the rest of your weekend’s work and preparing for your Monday back at the office. Blue light glasses perched against the bridge of your nose, you gnaw at the end of your pencil, legs crossed in the way Leon always jokes in the shape of a pretzel. You’ve left quite a bit of work for yourself to complete tonight, so you don’t see yourself leaving your workspace anytime soon.

Leon understands, he always does. Kisses your forehead delicately and murmurs something about getting some stuff from the grocery store for dinner. He’s out the door before you can get a word in. You now understand why he left in such a hurry, understand why he took longer than usual. 

Before you, your longtime partner, with long dirt blond locks that framed the angles of his cheekbones, sports a new hairstyle. Or should you say old. You haven’t seen him like this since you first started dating - bashful young adults about to embark on their journey into adulthood, sweaty palms linked and heart beats in sync. Ever since the ruinous events of Raccoon City, you noticed that with all the scars and burdens Leon carries with him that he never once looked the same. Face gaunt and eyes sunken in. It took a long while before life returned to his eyes. And though you were beyond ecstatic that Leon was seemingly getting better, you couldn’t help but take note of his hair. He never cut it like before. Never. 

Opting for longer strands of his gorgeous hair, Leon always gave a chuckle and said, “thought you always wanted me to grow my hair out,” whenever you asked. It was sweet of him to do so, sweet of him to say, but you and him both knew that wasn’t entirely true. However, you never pried - that was not in your nature, and certainly not evident in all the years you’ve been with Leon. So, you didn’t ask again and when the time came that Leon’s huffs of annoyance filled your ears as he struggled with keeping the strands out of his face, he departed with a smile and cut a mere two inches off his almost shoulder length hair. It remained that way for the next six years.

Now, having grown into his rugged features, the short hair length from all those years ago conjures something else in you. It feels nostalgic but new -  feels right and looks that way too. But more than anything, you feel proud. Proud of Leon and all that he is, all that he’s become despite everything.

“Barber went a bit crazy, didn’t he?”

Oh, bless him. He’s so awkward, so endearing it hurts. Pools of blue avert your gaze, the floor apparently more interesting, fingertip scratching the surface of his cheeks that burn with ruby red. This is a big moment for Leon, you think, but you know better than anyone that he doesn’t want it to be. Just wants your reassurance and all the calmness that comes with it.

Your hands against Leon’s cheeks shift his eyes to yours, getting an eyeful of the absolute fondness that swims in your eyes. He simply drowns in it - knows the glimmer in your eyes signifies the pride that swells in your chest, the tenderness of your touch loving and reassuring. He did well, has always done so well. Deserves his flowers and the whole damn garden. 

“Maybe,” you giggle and your joy is contagious. Smiling with you, Leon feels you twiddle the strands of his hair between your fingers. Slow and gentle - like your love is. It’s so sweet. “But, I’m not mad at it. Not one bit.”

In all the time you’ve been with Leon, there hasn’t been any more than a handful of times you can recall where he willingly leaned on you for support. Not because you lacked the capacity to do so, but because the solitary nature and secrecy of his job kept him from doing so. Facing his nightmares as much as he could by himself, meeting his new nightmares on missions by himself - everything by himself. But in moments like these, where the significance of his trauma can be lost in translation, he surrenders himself to you. Altogether. Unabashed and brave. He couldn’t be more dashing than he is right now, all versions of himself served to you on a silver platter. 

You fall in love all over again.

[joekeeryswife]

Weeee I’m here to send you a request!

So imagine Eddie as a sort of Rockstar Dad in a similar vein to Ozzy Osbourne, where he’s doing an interview or something and just casually had his and Reader’s baby on his lap and goes “let’s hope [Baby’s Name] doesn’t puke on me again!” And just Eddie being so soft with his kids and balancing work with his home life 🥹

Dad duties - e.m

hey my gorgeous angels! i’m sobbing 🥹 reading these dad! requests always melt my heart omg. this is adorable. i just know rockstardad!eddie would just adore his babies so much omg. set in 1995! anyway, i hope this is okay! enjoy reading 🩷 ⚠️reader is a model and is 24, Eddie is 29⚠️

taglist (feel free to add yourselves🩷) : @eddieamoremio @theshireisonfire @thankingjoe @livsters @sadbitchfangirl @hellfire1986baby @ladyapplejackdnd @alexxavicry @juleshadalittlelamb @hollandweather @lovurry @bibieddiesgf @plk-18 @m-rae23 @sheisjoeschateau @hargrovesswifee (if there’s a line through your name i can’t tag you, make sure your tags are on!! x)

he was in the interview chair with baby Rowan sat on his lap, chewing on her small fist as she looked around the large room. the last time she had been in an interview with him was four months ago, it was very rare that she was with Eddie whilst he was working but today you had to see your manager for a meeting about an upcoming runway show and he had insisted on taking her with him.

Corroded coffin had released a new album which had sold out in minutes, it was incredible how much fame the boys had gotten over the past few years. they had also announced a new tour after their album was released which meant Eddie and the rest of the boys had to do quite a lot of press. he loved being with Rowan, she was just so perfect and he hated being away from her so bringing her to this interview was a must for him.

she was such a character, her little personality just starting to shine through as she grew older and he loved it. the interviewer sat down opposite him, giving Rowan a little wave and a smile before she checked through her queue cards, making sure they were all correct and in order.

"let's hope she doesn't throw up on me this time" he joked to Gareth who was sat next to him who laughed and nodded his head. when she was with him last time she had thrown up all over him just before the interview ended and now that he looked back on it, it was hilarious, but at the time he was not pleased that he had sick all over him.

"i hope she does, it'll be so funny" Gareth looked at Rowan who had been cooing at nothing. Eddie adjusted her in his lap so she was sat sideways. she looked up at Eddie and smiled widely, fist still in her mouth but he could see her two small baby teeth popping through. he bent down, his hair falling all over her face making her giggle and scrunch up her face. he laughed and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before sitting up straight and focusing on the interviewer.

"i see we've been joined by another rockstar" the interviewer joked and Eddie only laughed and nodded. "she is a rockstar, better than me and i've been one for years" Rowan cooed loudly and looked up at her dad, Eddie looked down and smiled at his baby girl. "i didn't realise how much she looks like y/n, from what i've seen she pulls a few faces and they look a bit like you but she just looks so much like her mum" 

"i think the only things she got from me was my eyes and hair, everything else is her mama. i mean i'm not complaining, she's beautiful. even some of the faces she pulls it’s like i’m looking right at y/n, i know it’s because y/n’s her mum but i didn’t expect Rowan to be exactly like her." both Gareth and the interviewer nodded agreeing with what Eddie had said. you were beautiful, considered one of the most beautiful women in then world and Eddie, a "freak" from a small town had not only been able to get on a date with you, but marry you and have a kid.

“what does y/n think of the new album? i know she’s quite invested in your work” Eddie adjusted Rowan on his lap and nodded agreeing. “she’s very invested, always helping out which i’m very grateful for, i think y/n has a good ear for music, she knows what sounds perfect that’s why the album is so good. i mean she doesn’t typically listen to rock music but she always says whatever we make she loves and i think this album is her favourite one so far”

“what do you think fans will love most about this album and what’s different about it compared to your other ones” this time Gareth answered leaving Eddie to focus on a babbling Rowan. “i think there’s a lot more thought in this album and a lot more meaning, not to say we weren’t focusing on the other ones but this one is just different, i think the band agrees that this is definitely our favourite album so far”

“your fans seem to think so as well, everyone has been raving about it. i’ve even listened to it myself and i’ve gotta say it’s incredible” both boys thanked her, it was nice to hear positive feedback from something they worked so hard on. “this isn’t related to the album but the two of you have families, are they going to come on the tour with you? i mean Eddie you’re a dad now will Rowan come watch one of your shows?” you and Eddie had been talking about this since the idea of a tour came about, you wanted to be there and let Rowan watch her dad on stage even though she was only seven months old it was Eddie’s dream for his family to be with him at his shows.

“it was a hard decision because she’s only seven months but it’s important to me for them to be there so we decided they’ll both come to a few shows here and there, Rowan can’t come to them all because-” Eddie was cut off by small coos and babbles coming from Rowan “dadadada” she said grabbing ahold of his hair and tugging it harshly.

“ouch honey, no pulling please” Eddie was still trying to get used to her pulling his hair, even though Eddie was 100% Rowan’s favourite parent (the little girl loved you so much it but it was obvious Eddie was the favourite) she still loved to hurt him, obviously she didn’t know what she was doing (or maybe she did) and her small hands pulled his hair in a way it burned his scalp.

“dadada” Rowan babbled which made his heart swell, even if she was inflicting pain on him he couldn’t get mad at the adorable little girl. the interviewer and Gareth laughed at Rowan and Eddie. he nodded and smiled, luckily he got his finger in between Rowans fingers and his hair. “i know sweetheart but no hair pulling for now please, daddy’s working” he unwrapped her hand from his hair.

his attention then went back onto the interviewer, Rowans hand was now wrapped around Eddie’s finger, chewing on it but Eddie didn’t care. it wasn’t hurting him and it was distracting her from his hair so it was a win win situation. “sorry about that, because obviously she’s still a baby and the music is very loud, she’d be wearing ear protection but it’s still quite loud so if she was at a show every night it would really affect her hearing”

the interviewer nodded and looked down at a distracted Rowan who was now more focused on looking at Eddie’s finger then chewing on it. “don’t apologise, i just have to say you’re a really good dad. Rowan is really well behaved” Eddie nodded and smiled “yeah she is”

a few days after the interview aired, the clips of Eddie being a dad went viral and Rowan was a hit, everyone loved her. newspapers which focused on celebrities and music had photos of Eddie and Rowan all over them and if Eddie was being completely honest the footage and pictures of baby Rowan were adorable and he would definitely be bringing Rowan to a lot more of his interviews.

[tamayakii]

Mare's Milk & Cider

warnings: drinking(reader has no specific age), story takes place in "second of his name" during Aegon's II celebrations, canon events basically. pairings: Otto Hightower x reader(can be seen as platonic/romantic), hotd x reader notes: thank you Aaliah, @genshinluvr, she helped me out with the ending!!! Let me know if you'd like to be in a tag list for this fic :) this fic is also paired up with this drawing i made!

“Then it lies with you, to make him see it.” Hobert advised, stepping closer to his younger brother, “Lord Hand” It did not go under Otto’s nose of what his brother was suggesting, reminding him of his own title.

His eyes never leave Hoberts as he considers his brothers' words, “and speaking of growing,” Otto follows Hoberts's moving gaze to the Princess, Angel of The Red Keep, adorned in a headdress with a long silk veil, dragons and stars embroidered in. Face decorated in Velaryon pearls, neck and fingers embellished with the finest green rubies, jades and agate the Hightowers could find.

“The fine lady y/n has grown to be a wondrous young woman, hasn’t she?” Hobert eyes do not hold simple admiration for a young girl grown, they hold more, and they contain something that Otto wants to snuff out with his bare hands.

“She is betrothed?” Hobert asks, looking back at his brother. “A fine woman like that cannot go un-married for long. With her and Rhaenrya combined, I can imagine the king's chambers are filled with betrothal letters.” Otto looks back at the Princess, watching as she plays with her new baby brother, covering her face and pulling her hands away quickly.

“A fine mother she will make as well, Aegon loves her.” The comment almost makes Otto snap, the thought of anyone being her husband or the father to her children makes a fire burst inside him. One Otto cannot explain reasonably, so he stifles it.

“She.. is not betrothed, Brother, I don’t think the King has any interest in marrying her off,” Otto answers, his lips tightening when his brother looks at him with a smirk. A near-knowing one that always made Otto furious since childhood.

“The king, or you?” Hobert quips, smirk widening when Otto’s face scrunches, nostrils flaring and wrinkles deepening. Hobert pats his shoulder as he begins to walk away, satisfied to get under his brother's skin.

No. Lady y/n shall not betrothed. Otto thinks, especially not to the likes of his brother. He watches as she laughs, throwing her head back and hand over her heart. Nothing, nothing could compare to her.

She steps away as the Lannister boy steps in, talking about the stepstones. She treats herself to the glorious spread on the table, picking out ham and grapes, plate barely complete- Otto steps in.

“Please, My Lady, have more” He helps fill her plate, and she shakes her head,

“You’re so sweet, Ser Otto, but i don’t think i can handle it. I am trying to watch my waist.” She responds, in a honey-sweet voice, one that cradles his entire being but her words make him roll his eyes.

“Treat yourself, My lady, we do not wish you to starve on such a good day. Now go ahead; eat before the long journey” Soon Viserys is at her side, like a dragon protecting its kin. All it takes is one look to make Otto step away,

“Come eat.” The king demands, “Fortify yourselves for the journey.” Otto watches her, keeping by her father’s side; Like a lamb to its mother. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him--

☾

The trip to Kingswood is long and cold. Hand intertwined with Rhaenrya’s as you arrive, the loud crowd applauding for the king and new prince’s arrival but Rhaenrya makes no move to depart from the carriage.

“Rhaenrya?” Whispering as you scooch closer to the princess, “They await to see you” Still unmoving, all she does is blink. “Come.” standing up and pulling her along, “We will go together.” You step out of the carriage, with the princess alongside you.

“The Realms Delight herself; Princess Rhaenrya of Dragonstone! Accompanied by Princess y/n, Angel of The Red Keep!!” You squeeze her hand, looking at her. She looks at you with a somber smile, squeezing your hand back.

The roar of the crowd could blow you back, it will never not be jarring to be reminded of your station. A Princess. Not by blood but by word, and who would tell the king no? Who would dare say to King Viserys that his second daughter, whom his own late lady wife believed she had birthed her, cannot be a princess?

The celebrations are grand, the finest cakes and delights, the meat freshly hunted and prepared before your eyes. At your father's request, you stayed by his side, forcing you to leave Rhaenrya.

The glorious tent is filled with laughter and talk, and the smell of wine and cake fills your nose. Looking over to where the pregnant Queen Alicent sits, you realize she has been staring at you. You offer her a smile and she too offers one back.

Settling back into your chair, crossing your hands on your lap as you look above. Looking into the tiny details of the royal tent, the golden threads woven with black.

“Tired, my dragonling?” Viserys looks at you, reaching his free hand to yours- the other holding a goblet of wine. You reach over and hold his hand, As soon as he questions you, a yawn tries to force its way to your throat.

“The ride was tiring and too long for my tastes but--” you look to your father with a reassuring smile, “I shall be okay, After some food and rest, I'll be okay” he smiles back at you before taking another drink from his goblet.

Soon enough you’re offered your own goblet, filled with mare’s milk and honey. Time passes by slowly, you blink once and your father isn’t by your side anymore, It seems no one has noticed you dozed off. You promise yourself you won’t fall asleep but as you close your eyes and your goblet tips in your weak hand; the promise is broken.

“Is that all I am to you? A prize to be proffer about to the great houses?” Rhaenrya's voice makes you jump out of your short slumber, eyes wide like a deer as you begin to process the situation. As Viserys steps towards Rhaenrya, you push yourself out of your seat, setting your goblet down on the table beside you.

“You’re of age, Rhaenrya,” he points out, “and Jason Lannister is an excellent match,” he adds on. Oh. Oh no. Stepping towards the pair they seem not to notice you, there was no smooth way to stop this bickering. The two argue every day at least ever since Queen Aemma passed and especially since Viserys took Alicent to wife.

“He’s arrogant and self-serious” Rhaenrya argued, You wring your hands together anxiously. Watching the two fight as a bystander was like watching two lions fight, watching them as their family felt like two dragons fighting overhead. All that would follow would be the destruction of varying amounts that was left for you to pick up and fix, being both of their shoulders to lean on.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common” Even Lord Lyonel could feel the suffocating air around the two, taking a third step back. Sending you an apologetic look, the face Rhaenrya has is indescribable. Perhaps she wanted to scream at him, or even shocked that he would say such a thing, or maybe she had been at a loss for words.

Otto stalks closer from the sidelines, watching closely. This catches your eye, you try to breathe; knowing he is here comforts you. For nearly three years now, he has been your aid, your comfort and your closest friend- even despite the large age gap. You realize the tent has now fallen silent, and everyone listening in.

You quickly step to Otto’s side, seeking his silent comfort. You wish you could fix everything, and make everyone happy; even if it left your hands raw and bloody. If you could give your own heart for it; then you’d do it.

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenrya!!” You cover your ears quickly, eyes wide with fear. Turning your body away from them, you began to feel violently aware of everyone's eyes on your family, some on you but mainly on the spectacle; The King and The Heir fighting on Aegon’s second name day.

When Viserys turns to Otto what he sees makes his flesh burn; You. So very close to Otto but turned away from him- Your father. It makes his blood boil, you should seek comfort from him. Not Ser Otto. You are his daughter. Not Otto’s.

Viserys soon leaves after the news of the white hart, but Otto stays, just for a moment. His gloved hand sitting on your shoulder, a reassuring hold. Your breath is shaky and your chest tight but you still manage to look at him through your eyelashes,

“Breathe, Princess.” He insists, and he maneuvers you towards your seat. Hand traversing to your lower back, “Sit and have some milk.” He gently puts your goblet back in your hand as you seat yourself. Feeble hands grip the handle, eyes drawn to the floor.

Otto tries to find the right words, he has never been a man of comfort. His hand hovers over your dropped head, unbeknownst to you. He sighs and takes his leave, passing his goblet to a maiden.

The day gets longer, Rhaenrya has run off with Criston following behind her. You knew it was against your set rules but you sank into your cups, after whispering to the help to fill your cups with cider but to not tell anyone else.

Your eyelids get heavy again, head tipping back. You love your family, you do. They took you in as a child, they gave you everything even despite the tight rules provided, sometimes… sometimes you wish that you took to a dragon and flew. Flew somewhere, to old Valryia or maybe to the free cities.

Then you’d be free.. but never truly free. Your love ties you down to your loved ones but that is the consequence of loving hard. Looking down into your cup, you swirl your drink. Taking a deep breath you look back to Alicent, she is already looking at you.

You wonder how long she has been staring at you and you tilt your head, she gestures for you to sit next to her. Another sigh leaves your mouth, slowly pushing yourself up.

“oh! princess, here allow me to help!” a maiden comes to your side, you wave her off as you give her the empty goblet. You keep your steps slow so as to not wobble, to others; you looked like you were gliding.

“My Queen.” you address as you sit beside her, Alicent quickly holds your hand closest to her. You are surrounded by the lady wives of many different men along with Larys Strong, the son of Lyonel Strong, the brother of Harwin “Breakbones” Strong.

“This is Viserys’s other daughter, Princess y/n” Remembering to keep your eyes open, you look around with a smile. “Dear y/n, how’s your day? you seem awfully tired.” Alicent asks with concern, one hand on her belly and other on your hand as she leans closer.

“I’m quite fine.” you mumble back, fighting your heavy lids as you nod. “The day is long… but soon we shall dine and turn in for the night.”

The conversations bore you, useless politics, rumors, marriages of lower houses. You wave over another servant with a sigh, already they know what you want. They deliver it, you try to hide the contents from Alicent but she notices.

“Cider?” She whispers tightly, holding the wrist that holds your goblet. Your nose flexes, “You know you cannot handle that.” She states, “a maiden your age shouldn’t even be holding a cup of cider.”

The rest of the ladies converse, and you are unbeknownst to another set of eyes on you. “Please. I will be fine.” you whisper, patting her hand and prying her tiny fingers off.

You take another big swig of your cider, almost finishing it all in one go. Looking over to Larys who has nearly burned holes into your head, nodding at him as a greeting.

“La-Larys.” you slur and he smiles at you, and you return it with a half one. The sudden need for fresh air sits in your lungs, eating you like a snake does a vole. Chugging your drink before shoving it in between the cushions of the seat, you stand up.

“I’m.. gonna go get some fresh air.” You announced, trying to make your way out of the once lovely group of women who now seem like a horde of gossiping vultures.

“Oh!” Lady Redwyne pops, “I heard that the hunters found a fat hog, they should be smoking it just now!”

The thought of watching them gut a pig to smoke makes your stomach turn, “thanks.. Lady Redwyne” You hurry out of the tent, the sun shining upon your skin. The pungent smell of burning meat and spices hits you, quickly turning away and scurrying to the back of the tent- where it was closer to the forest edge.

“ugh…. fuck.” You groan, kicking the dirt below you, the cider sticks to your insides like jam to bread. You ache to be in the comforts of the red keep, painting, or perhaps riding on horseback. You ache for a lot of things. Ache for the motherly hands of Aemma, to feel the embrace of someone you refuse to let yourself say. Perhaps you ache for the unmade.

You stand there, for minutes. Just staring into the bushes and trees, the arrival of the hunting party brings you back. Smoothing down the white lace on your dress, gulping down the fresh forest air; you return to the celebrations.

“Princess?” a feeble voice calls out, you look around and are surprised to see Larys.

“O-oh! Larys.. Larys, you surprised me.” You turn to the man hunched over his walking cane, leaning onto it. “How have you enjoyed my brother's second name day?” you ask, almost swallowing your tongue.

“it has been fine.. not that i can enjoy the most of it.” He moves his twisted foot, something that has dubbed him “The clubfoot” among gossipers. “But to be honest, i think i prefer talking with the maidens.” he adds, “they are far more gentler”

You nod along, eyes flickering over to the hunting party. Dogs held right by handlers, horses snorting and throwing their heads back as their riders dismount.

“But you..” he continues on “seem to be left to your own,” You still and wrong your hands together. Adjusting your stance as you feel yourself leaning, telling yourself to keep yourself together.

“Yes.. but it’s okay, I don't… don’t mind.” You reassure,

“I’m sure the cups of cider helped.” he smirks, knowing, your face flushed. How did he know? noticing your red face he chuckles,

“not to worry, Princess. I shall not tell anyone.” His eyes never leave yours, following your finicky gaze. It makes you uncomfortable, like a child being examined.

“I suppose it’s not-“

“You shall not tell anyone, what?”

you almost jump out of your skin, you turn so quickly that your head may have spun all around. Otto stands tall, chin up. Almost looking down upon Larys,

“Ser Otto” Larys addresses, if Larys was scared, he made no effort to show it. Your heart beats against your chest, “She was telling me a story; about Aegon.” You try to catch up to where Larys was, but he seemed to be a whole book ahead.

“ye… yes!” you stammer over words, “i uh, guess you could say i spoiled him despite Alicent request.” Otto's hard eyes soften when they land on you, it was a siren's song to your intoxicated state.

“The princess should be with the king.” Otto says, he offers you his arm and you reach for it.

“I was keeping the Princess company as she enjoyed the fresh air.” Larys explains, “She felt a bit queasy. I guess the mares' milk may have gone bad.” Otto looks down at your averted gaze, examining your state. Shuffling in your stance, flickering eyelids and subtle swaying.

“I see, I will look into that.” Otto puts his hand over yours, a grip to keep you near- not to comfort. “Come on, Princess.” He tries to walk you back, you step on your own foot as he does so.

“I think the princess would like to enjoy the fresh air longer.” Larys turns slowly, looking dead in Otto's eyes.

“The king has requested her presence” Otto's grip tightens, his nostrils flare. “but you can enjoy the air if you wish. I’m sure you won’t be bothered” Larys watches Otto lead you off into the tent, eyes never leaving you.

Entering the red tent filled with dozens of folk and your father right ahead, your sister is nowhere to be seen. You want to go home, you want to lie in your warm bed with Rhaenrya and wake up to braid each other's hair.

Soon you’re back in your chair, holding Viserys’ hand and Otto to your left. You stare off, taking a deep breath.

You would always be in the jaws of someone bigger, the dragons or the hounds. You’d bare your neck like a lamb, and hope for the dark delicate love.

Entwined in other people’s fate, all you can hope is that the fates bring you peace.

[five-rivers]

Bring Your Ghost To School Day

AO3

For @phantomphangphucker

Valerie felt pleased with herself.  Sure she would have preferred to catch the ghost dog, or Phantom (take him down a few pegs), but if she was being honest with herself, showing up to the Paranormal Self Defense class practicum with Phantom in tow would have raised way too many questions.  Most of her classmates would probably come in with blob ghosts.  

Although she has heard a few scheming to get the Box Ghost…

Whatever.  Finally catching that slimy, scaly, slippery giant ghost worm nicely straddled the line between what was feasible for her from an outside perspective and what she, personally, considered an accomplishment.  

She walked into the classroom with her head held high and set her Fenton Thermos mk. 10 (the only containment device approved for the class) squarely in the center of her desk.  

Star twisted in her seat to face her.  "Hey, Val, what didya get?"

"Giant ghost worm."

"Nice.  That'll be pretty unique.  Pauli and I tried to tag-team some ectopuses over the weekend but we were only able to get one.  Good thing I had a backup blob ghost, right?"  She sighed.  "They're so fat and cute.  I wonder if they can be domesticated."

Valerie doubted it, but she shrugged noncommittally.  The rest of the class dribbled in over the next fifteen minutes, with Danny sliding through the door just before the bell rang, as usual.

"Alright class," said Mr. Lancer, wheeling forward the class's Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™.  "As you all should know, today, your practicum is due.  You will be coming up one by one and releasing your ghost into the-" he sighed, then inhaled deeply, "-Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™, whereupon you will explain to the class how you located and captured the ghost in question.  When you are finished, you will recapture the ghost and place your thermoses on that shelf, to be picked up by the Fentons for, yes, Miss Manson, ethical release into the Ghost Zone.  Any questions?"

Dash raised his hand.  "Can I get an extension?"

Mr. Lancer turned his gaze briefly towards the ceiling.  "See me after class, Mr. Baxter.  Any other questions?  No?  Then, do we have any volunteers?"

All hands stayed down.  Hey, Valerie was proud, but not volunteering to present first proud.  That was crazy.

"That's fine, I'll just pick randomly, then.  Mr. Gregor, you're first."

Elliot stood up and made his way to the front of the classroom like a man made to walk the plank.  He stuck his thermos into the socket on top of the Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™ and hit the release button.  Blue-white light briefly filled the space.  When it cleared there was…

Nothing.

"Hey!" shouted Dash.  "It's empty!"

"No, it's not!  It's Youngblood!"

"I must confess," said Mr. Lancer, "it does look empty."

"You just can't see him because all of you are adults already, and I don't turn eighteen until July!"

Danny raised his hand.  "Neither do I."

Elliot looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, but then his shoulders slumped forward.  "Aw, man.  You couldn't let me have this?"

Mr. Lancer tapped a dial on the front of the Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™ with his pen.  "The ecto-detector would have outed you–" 

There were a number of snickers from the jocks' side of the room.  

"--in any case, Mr. Gregor.  You can return to your seat, now."  He made a note on his clip board.  "My homework is invisible to adults is a new excuse for the books, though.  Mr. Fenton, you're next."

"'Kay," said Danny, passing Elliot on his way up.  "Prepare yourselves to be amazed!"  He slotted his thermos into place and hit the release button.  

Valerie shielded her eyes from the light and suppressed a laugh.  She was glad Danny had actually gotten something, considering how skittish he was about ghosts, but that intro was–

"Daniel!  Release me this instant!"

Wait, what the heck?

Valerie looked up to see Vlad Plasmius glaring at Danny through the walls of the Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™.  Vlad Plasmius.  Better known as Vlad Masters.  Mayor of Amity Park.  Richest man in the world.  Scarily powerful ghost with a great disguise.

She felt her jaw drop.

"May I introduce to you, the Wisconsin Ghost!"

"It's Plasmius, you insufferable brat!"

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat.  "Mr. Fenton, did your parents help you catch this… Plasmius?"

"I borrowed some equipment from them, but that's within the rules, right?"

"Let me out!"

"Hey, you heard Mr. Lancer.  You'll be released into the Ghost Zone after school with everyone else."

"Speaking of which, you should start your presentation."

"Oh, right.  So, what happened was that I snuck up on him while he was monologuing in his evil lair and hit him over the head with–"

"You did not!  And I don't have an evil lair!"

"That's debatable, but you know what?  Fine," groaned Danny.  "Spoilsport.  Anyway, I started by baiting my trap with cheese–"

"Daniel!"

"I pretended to be the mayor of Green Bay and called–"

Plasmius hissed at him.  

"Okay, okay, what I really did was tell Mr. Lonely Cat Guy that I'd tell him my mom's number if he helped me with a school project."

"Mr. Fenton," started Mr. Lancer, obviously concerned.

"It was a lie, of course!  Guys and girls, the only ghost you should give digits to is Phantom."

"That is not what happened!"

"My man, I'm trying to make this less embarrassing for you.  Work with me here."

"Mr. Fenton, must I remind you that this practicum is a graduation requirement?"

"No, no, I've got it.  But it is, like, super embarrassing for him."

Honestly, Valerie didn't know why she was surprised at this point.  Danny never had normal presentations.  Not since the gorilla thing.  

“What are you talking about?” snarled Vlad.  

“Aw, it sounds like it was so traumatizing he doesn’t even remember it…”

“Mr. Fenton, please.”

Danny shrugged.  “I told him I’d be more likely to consider letting him adopt me if he could win a fight with Fright Knight, because, like, that’s something I could do in Freshman year, and he’s never beaten him, and when he showed up afterward to gloat I snuck up behind him and souped him.”

“Backstabber!”

“The worst part is that I didn’t even think he’d do it.  Like, I’ve made exactly zero attempt to hide the utter disdain I feel for this man.  It was a joke.  I said I didn’t expect him to do it, but apparently he took that as a taunt or challenge or whatever.  I was just going to bring Wade, but then he showed up this morning, so I was like, why not?”

“Wade?” asked Mr. Lancer.  

Danny reached into his hoodie’s front pocket and pulled out the teeniest tiniest blue-green blob ghost.  “This is Wade.  I call him that because I found him in a pool.”

Wade squirmed out of Danny’s grip and flew up to chew on his hair.  

“You know you aren’t supposed to bring uncaptured ghosts into the school,” said Mr. Lancer tiredly.  

“That’s what your focus on?” ranted Vlad.  “And you call yourself a teacher–” 

“And that’s enough.”  Mr. Lancer reached over to hit the capture button and disengaged the thermos.  “You can go back to your seat now, Mr. Fenton.  Mr. Ishiyama?”

Kwan bounded up to the Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™ and gleefully slammed his thermos down into the socket.  “I caught the Box Ghost!”

“Oh, no,” muttered Danny.  

“BEWARE!  I AM THE BOX GHOST AND– Oh, my, this is a lovely box.  Is it for me?  I ACCEPT THIS TRIBUTE!  FEAR ME!”

The Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™ began to levitate.  Valerie pulled her class-approved ecto-pistol from her bag.  Honestly, in retrospect, something like this was bound to happen.  At least, she noted, seeing all of her classmates pull out their approved ecto-pistols, she wouldn’t be the only one stuck fixing it this time.