#rose pretends she can write about stranger things

[wanderingpages]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾Gentle Sins AU☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Are you going to help me take my clothes off too?” I meant it to sound teasing – I wanted to show him I could play his game too – but I was breathless, I was buzzing with anticipation.

“You know it wouldn’t end there, Jude,” he gave me a wry look. “It's a shame,” he rose and ruffled my hair, “It's a shame you’re my sister,” he murmured, needlessly reminding me. “Because that was some damn fine pussy, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Jude and Cardan do things step-siblings shouldn't do.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Allusions to Drugs/Alcohol, Debauching Catholicism/Religious Metaphors, Taboo Sex.

Only God and @headcannonxgalore knows how many times I rewrote this one.

Jude's POV

I stand on my tiptoes, both feet perched on the back of my armchair, strategically positioned against the wall closest to the doorway. Holding my breath, I delicately place the wire right above the door frame. "Uh huh," I mumble in response to Fand's voice emanating from the speakerphone, feeling beads of sweat forming at the back of my neck. A sigh of relief escapes when the fairy lights finally find their place on the nail I had carefully tacked there earlier. Stepping down, I survey the room, content with the new decor I've added today. Admittedly, it was done as a way to create an excuse to stay in my room and avoid the rest of my family, but as  I take in the rest of the scene, I can't help but feel pretty accomplished. 

Suddenly, there’s a tap on my window. My brows furrow when I turn and spot Cardan standing on the roof, waiting patiently for me. He breathes against the glass before writing “Hi” and drawing a little smiley face in the fog. I let out a snort, despite myself, forgetting about my cell still running a call on my dresser. 

“Jude?” Fand questions.

“Um, Fand, I’ll call you back in a bit, okay?” I hardly hear her answer as I end the call, tossing the phone on the bed. I walk over to the window and pull it up. I rest my elbows on the sill, watching amused as Cardan squats down to be leveled with me.

He tugs the end of my braid, grinning, “Can I come in?”

I pretend to think, “What’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want, princess.” His eyes glimmer in the moonlight. He leans in closer and I can smell cinnamon gum on his breath. “Please,” he pleads, “It’s cold out here, Jude.” My mouth tingles at the barely there brush of his against mine. My tongue darts out, wetting my lips and I take a tentative step back for him to maneuver in. The chilled air also seems to follow him in, making goosebumps prick at my skin. I resist the urge to cover myself and take a few steps back until the back of my knees hit my bed. I take a seat, finding the koala I had thrown from my chair and bring it onto my lap, digging my fingers into its fur. 

He sits on the ledge, obscuring most of the cool air from directly hitting me. He nods his head to my phone, curiously, “Who was that?”

I shrug, following his line of sight in time to see a message come through from Fand. I swipe it away, glancing at the time reading well after midnight. “A friend.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that song before,” Cardan teases. He brings his tongue to the back of his teeth, and to my annoyance, begins a series of ‘la-la-la’s’ in tune with the chorus of Biz Markie’s “Just a Friend.”

“She is,” I insist. Contrary to what my stepmother may think of me being this lonesome child, I did have a few friends in high school and Fand was by far the closest. We kept in touch throughout our first semester, and met up a handful of times since I’ve been back. But, despite that, despite the hour long conversation I just ended with her, I’ve been feeling like a stranger. 

I give my stepbrother an inquiring look, wondering why he’s so far away and why we’re both acting so coy. I run the nail of my forefinger over my thumb, jolting when I snag a scabbed over bruise. Absently, I bring the scored finger to my mouth as I take him in. He looks flushed, undoing the scarf around his neck before running his fingers through his dark, windblown tresses. A silver pendant glints against his black shirt –  a small double cross pendant on a roll chain. I rub my hand over my cheek and raise my brow in question. He grins when he catches my eyes and asks, “How was your run this morning?”

“My run?” I repeat, miffed. I’m partially dazed, entranced by how stark he looks against the backdrop of my very bright room; donned with a dark pair of jeans, laced up boots and what looks like a dark sherpa lined coat only enhanced by the crème colored walls and fairy lights strewn up – along with fake greenery and miscellaneous photos hooked in between – at the far corner of my room.

He turns, taking in the new decor and taps a photo closest to him, musing lightly, “When did you put this up?”

 “A few hours ago,” I admit. “Have you always been partial to the color black?”

“I’m more of a gold guy,” he says, scrunching his nose in a way I can’t help but find almost cute. His nose ring shines when he tilts his head just right, and for the first time since I’ve known Cardan Greenbriar, I feel quite shabby in comparison. My pajama pants are fuzzy and juvenile with its cow printed pattern,  and the large gray shirt I have on does nothing to help accentuate my body. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye,” he brings back the conversation, almost pouting at me.

“Kiss you goodbye,” I repeat dryly. I grip the koala a little tighter. “Sorry?” I offer, a moment later and he shrugs absently. “Where’d you go? Today, I mean. You were gone when I came back,” I point out, aware of how suddenly I'm the one with the accusatory tone.

He looks at me carefully when he answers, “A friend asked for some help. She’s moving furniture around.”

“She?” It comes out before I can stop myself. Him asking about Fand felt so light compared to the dread I feel asking about his friend.

He rests his head back against the window and watches me, slightly amused. “Mmhmm,” he hums and assures me, “no one to be worried about though, little sister.” His lips tilt up and I throw the teddy at him. He catches it in one hand, then brings it close to him for a cuddle. I'm all too aware of how empty and exposed I feel without it as armor. 

“That’s not what I was getting at,” I mumble. My stomach churns, feeling a rush of complicated emotions twisting deep within me. Jealousy, I can admit to myself, and a pitiful type of envy as I watch the beady eyes of my stuffed animal he holds so tenderly. I play with the tips of my hair, fiddling with the elastic that holds the tight braid together. It’s a little too tight, and maybe that’s why my skull is pounding right now. “Why did you come through the window, by the way? I’m sure our parents don’t care about a curfew for you.” If I sound bitter about that, he decidedly ignores it.  

"Have you considered that maybe, I just like the thrill of things," he says playfully, his eyes holding something daring and challenging within them. A wicked grin curls onto his lips and I let out a huff of air, trying not to think back on all his thrilling ideas before. A tingle crawls up my spine, unpleasantly. This time I don’t ignore the shiver and I cross my arms over my chest.

I roll my eyes, “Okay, you adrenaline junkie, can you close the window now? Pneumonia isn’t very thrilling, so to speak.” 

He instead places the koala on the bookshelf and moves to come closer to me, though he pauses when I give his boots a pointed look. He retracts, settling back against the window, instead of undoing his laces like I thought he would. “Come here, first,” he barters. I blink in hesitation, and while I try to remain seated, my feet lead me to him anyway. I roll my eyes, annoyed with myself, wondering if I’d bark, too, if he told me to get on all fours for him. 

I toe at his boot when we’re close together, staring down at the chipped polish on my nails against his scuffed leather. I’m avoiding his gaze because it’s so damn bright in my room that I know if I meet his eyes, I’ll find that his dark irises are not black as midnight, but a deep brown with tiny, lighter flecks of amber around the edges. I’ll get lost in them like I shouldn’t, fall just a little deeper, maybe, forget that this is a game and fold. He tilts my chin up and my heart’s nearly steady rhythm skyrockets as soon as my gaze falls on his lips. “Hi,” I say, quietly.

“Jude,” Cardan says just as breathlessly, and it catches me off guard at first. My name sounds like sin…like desire, when he says it, and as I place my fingers over his chest, I wonder if the devil has ever called out a saint’s name so enticingly. ‘Eve,’ the snake whispered, ‘bite the apple’ must be tantamount to ‘Jude, ride my fingers.’ His lips twitch, a lone finger tracing pink in my cheek, and he asks, “What are you thinking?”

I don't answer. I reach for the cross dangling from his neck, testing the weight on the tip of my finger. It’s heavier than most pendants its size, and when I flip it over, I’m not surprised to see the letters ‘c’ and ‘h’ embossed on it. I want to twist the chain around my fingers until it purples my skin, until it embeds in his flesh, until he struggles for breath – maybe then he’ll feel an ounce of what I feel when I'm this close to him. I trace up the chain, following it to where his skin is flushed from the weather. I find a bruising mark along the juncture of his neck. I bite my tongue, embarrassed to know that I was the one who left it there. I finger it lightly and he shudders, to my surprise. His lashes flutter and his lips part. 

Astounded, I trace the mark again and watch, enthralled as he sucks in a breath. His heated hand grasps my iced one, removing it from his skin. He squeezes it lightly, thawing my fingers before letting them go. My hands then move to his hips, creeping towards his back, sneaking into the warmth of his jacket. Cardan’s hand against my face splays, fingers reaching to my neck, his other hand goes to my hair, curling it like a rope around his wrist and bending my head back. He leans closer, cinnamon wafting over my cheeks. I want to kiss him, I realize. Not in the throws of passion or under the guise of secrecy, I just want to kiss him soft and sweet; press our lips together for just a second. Perhaps, I had done myself a disservice, not kissing him goodbye this morning. Lost a chance of daylight reaching our sins. 

His eyes search mine, he’s annoyed, I think drably, but he holds me in place with no malice touching his features. His thumb traces the darkness under my eye, indication of my lack of sleep. “Is it me?” His question confuses me for a moment, and I grip his shirt just a bit tighter. “Something else? Daddy?” I frown at that when I follow his thought process. Dad, guilt, Asha… I try to turn my face but he doesn’t let me cower. His eyes search mine, then he offers, “Do you want to get out of here?”

I hesitate to answer, only because I’m not quite sure of how grand of a scope his question entails. Get out of my room, or get out of this life? “It’s past my curfew,” I finally murmur stupidly, my breath hitching when our lips meet briefly.

His lips stretch against mine. “Go find a jacket,” He turns me to face my closet and I stumble towards it, colder the further I move away from him.

“Should I change?” I ask, looking down at my sleepwear.

“What’s the point, if I'm going to get you out of them, anyways?” I scowl and turn my head to him. His smile is boyish as he surrenders, “Joking – I would dare not corrupt my darling little sister, of course.”

“You’re sick,” I tell him, now deciding on remaining in my frumpy attire out of spite. He laughs out a stupid childish phrase, implying I was the sick one, not him. I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at him and head to my closet, finding the only coat not currently hanging downstairs in the foyer. I grab a pair of thick socks from a drawer and then proceed to slip on sneakers that have seen better days. They’re no pristine, white high tops like Vivienne's but they do the trick all the same. “How do I look?”

I give him a turn, not really expecting a response as I walk up to him – I’m sure I resemble a clown school drop out – but I let out a startled noise when he pulls the scarf from his neck and wraps it around my own. “It’s cold,” he explains. It’s a soft cashmere and smells just like him. He climbs out the window first, not giving me a chance to respond, then holds out a hand to help me out. I keep my mouth closed, nuzzling deeper into his scarf as he explains how to get down. I’m only half hearing his words as the thrill of sneaking out starts to surface by the tremble of my body. He navigates his way down first, making sure I'm closely following behind. I feel a little giddy, and perhaps it shows on my face when Cardan glances at me. His soft smile seems responsive to my mood. He throws an arm over my shoulder and quietly leads us past his car and towards the sidewalk, then a little ways down.

He finally pauses far enough away, under the shelter of trees at the dead end of the cul-de-sac where not even the neighboring houses’ security lights can touch us. We’re in front of a pick-up truck, old and rusted and not at all something I’d ever picture Cardan driving; seemingly out of place even in my neighborhood. My eyebrows shoot up when he opens the door and gestures me in. “This is humbling,” I finally manage, laughing at the absurdity of it all. He holds a hand out to me and I take it, letting him help me into the cab. It’s a little shabby, but I feel more comfortable than I did in his car. Maybe it’s because the truck holds no awkward memories I constantly have to face in it.

He jogs over to the other side, quickly turning dials to blast the heat. He keeps the windows down only a crack to diminish any fog on the glass, then pulls on to the road. My fingers wiggle in front of the vents, warming them up, humming to the low music his radio plays. His lips tilt in a small smile, “I told you, I was helping a friend.”

My eyebrows shoot up, “So you rented this?

“Baby, I own this,” he says almost proudly. “None of Daddy’s money and all.” He shrugs and turns the music up, “Have you ever seen Insmire during the holidays? We missed the Halloween decorations, but Christmas is something else.”

“No,” I shake my head and lean back, tucking my chin to snuggle into his scarf. I wonder idly when the warm musky scent of him has turned into something comforting for me. “I never really had a reason to go to Insmire.”

He glances at me then nods to the canvas bag by my feet, “You cold? There’s a blanket in there.” I reach down and pull out a thick beige knitted throw with gold sequins scattered here and there. Before I can mention anything Cardan says, “Nicasia didn’t want it, said you’d probably like it.”

I tuck it back into the bag, “Nicasia?” it takes me a minute to realize that she’s the friend he’d been helping. Something sours knots in my stomach and I try to ignore it. Had he driven that far to see her, or did she also live much closer than I knew? “From the party? She… knows about us?” It’s stupid to ask, I know before he answers. I think about Ghost and what he asked me that night, if I wanted them to watch – wanted my stepbrother to watch. He knew, so of course she knew, too. 

“Jude,” Cardan laughs, “She got her rocks off watching me watch you; I’m sure she might have an inkling of how constantly I think about fucking my stepsister.” 

“Oh,” I mumble, wryly, “Is that how her rocks got off?”

“I might have helped some,” He laughs, turning the radio up. “I think she likes you,” he offers and I squirm.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you.”

“Little liar. I think you like me a lot. And it’s more than just the dirty shit I do to you; you like me as a person and all that.” In another world, I’d agree and we’d call this our third date.

I grind my molars, staring out the window, watching the lights pass us by. “I don't even think I know you as a person, really. Like, what do you even major in?”

“Psychology,” he says, not missing a beat.

“Really?” I ask, surprised. “Why that?”

“Wish I had a better therapist when I was 7,” he drops on me. “What better way to fix the system than from within?”

I look at him with high brows, “Really? I mean- I… I’m so sorry, Cardan -”

“I am pretty exceptional at coloring within the lines, though,” he smiles almost indifferently. “I think that's really all I did in her office - color worksheets she’d give me.” I part my lips, but he changes the subject, “You ever been ice skating?”

“No…” I say, slowly, accepting the new information and trying not to pry where he doesn't want me to. “I’m not really into sports - I never even learned how to ride a bike.”

“You run,” he points out, to which I shrug as this was something new to me too. “Wait, you don't know how to ride a bike?” I let out a startled laugh because yeah, that does seem incredulous. 

“He may not seem like it, but Dad worries a lot. He’s never let me experience scraped knees. I don’t even have my ears pierced.” I give him a grin but he doesn't reciprocate. His eyes are trained in front of him, glancing up at street signs so my eyebrows furrow when Cardan reaches blindly, fingers touching my ear, thumbing where a first piercing would be. “Oh,” I say, “I guess it’s weird that I took your earrings then - do you want them back?”

He rolls his eyes, making a turn as his fingers glide down to my shoulder, then lower to my hand, encasing it in his. “Don’t be stupid, Jude.”

We talk casually, asking and answering more asinine questions – whatever we must have missed on our road-trip home. I give his fingers a squeeze when I get more comfortable, giggling a bit as Cardan sings off-key to the Christmas song playing on the radio. I turn my head to the window, watching as gradually, bare houses with some fairy lights slowly transcend into houses adorned with strings of multicolored lights blinking in harmony. Every single tree we pass by has an array of lights shining brightly. Inflatable Santas and reindeers sway in the winter breeze. It’s almost whimsical. I lean closer to the window, aware of Cardan slowing down for me to see. Sure, Insmoor had their fair share of décor, but Insmire felt like being inside a snow globe.

“This doesn't feel real,” I whisper in wonder. I roll down the window halfway, sticking my head out the car to get a better look. Cardan’s hand holds mine a bit tighter, as if he’s scared I'd fall out. The decorations become more intricate, with some houses featuring life-sized nutcrackers and snowmen. Strings of lights with snowflakes and baubles at the end hang from bare trees, looking like giant ornaments floating in the air. Even the towering Christmas trees are visible through the windows. One house even has a Grinch placed by their chimney. They all look like different scenes from different Christmas movies.“Cardan - look!” The air carries the familiar scent of winter pine, and for a moment, the festive atmosphere transports me back in time.

The memories flood, foggy, but still there, and suddenly, the smile on my face feels like it’s worth too much effort. I recall silver thistle wrapped around a small tree, baubles with our names on it. Jude, Eva, Madoc. “It’s so pretty, Mommy!” I said as dad lifted me on his shoulders, letting me place an angel on the top of the tree, followed by a distant response of,“Just like you my baby.” A scene so warm makes me feel so cold now. When did I stop believing in Santa? It had to have been after Mom left - but had Dad ever attempted to keep up pretenses after that year? I can't remember a happy holiday with just my father and I. Even with Asha's added presence, we never went for usual Christmas traditions, though it was probably the only time I ever received a wrapped gift or Christmas cookies - albeit store bought, it still embraced the holiday that in a way, my dad had halted.

“Jude?” Cardan's voice breaks through my reverie, calling my name with concern. I don't answer immediately; the emotions threaten to overwhelm me. I wipe my eyes, taking a moment to center myself. My hand feels cold in his. 

“Even your house is decorated,” I point out, trying to mask the sudden croak in my voice. The truck rolls to a stop in front of someone’s lawn. His front lawn might be the most tame, though still painting a picture of a snow-family opening presents by a large Christmas tree.

I see Cardan run a hand through his hair from my window’s reflection. The cheery glow seems to turn into an uncomfortable spotlight. He looks torn on whether to answer me or offer me comfort. “Yeah, we…pay people to do that for us.” He’s concerned when he asks, “Jude, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I wipe at my nose and turn to give him a smile. It wavers and feels forced, not fooling either of us. “I just remembered… I just… I haven’t had homemade hot chocolate until your mom showed up.” I feel like I’m somehow betraying him by telling him this. “I didn’t even know what Elf on a Shelf was until she started living with us.”

His eyes flash; he looks almost… defeated. “Yeah?” he tugs my hand, and I let him pull me closer, let him turn me and guide me on to his lap. He shifts us down to the center, making sure the steering wheel wouldn’t dig into me. I place my palms on his chest as he undoes the scarf, letting it hang around my neck, then works on my zipper, smoothly sliding it down and unhooking it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I lower my head to his. Sorry I fell for Asha - wish I fell for you, first.

He seems to hesitate, his gaze lingering not exactly on me, but at me. "She’s not my favorite person, but if she’s yours, then..." he shrugs, and pulls me closer, his hands coming to my hips, sliding beneath my shirt to the small of my back. “It's a little funny,” he smirks with no mirth, “She never even knew how to make hot chocolate when I used to visit. She burned chocolate in the microwave once. Unrelated, but I never went back after that year.” 

I frown, tracing the curve of his lips with my thumbs. “What did she do?” I ask, before I can stop myself. My eyes grow wide, “Don’t answer that, sorry -”

He cuts me off, giving me a dry smile, “It’s all water under the bridge, don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

“Cardan…”

As if it explains anything, he says, “My mother is a devout catholic now, repenting and all that,” his droll is sardonic. “Maybe she’d be proud of how biblically I want you.”  his fingers creep higher, thumbs maneuvering over my breasts making me suck in breath when he caresses my peaked nipples. I bite down on my lip; I think I know him well enough to know he’s deflecting, but I don't mind. His hands are so, so, so warm. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't think I could handle it. Don't worry, little sister.” He trails off quietly, a far off look on his face. His thumbs are absently rubbing over me in small circles. My knees twitch and I feel the shake in my thighs as I grind down on his lap, reaching for some type of friction. He sucks in a breath, fingers digging into my skin. His lips twitch, eyes gleaming when he meets mine, “Anyways, you can tell Daddy that I think you ride just fine, baby sister.” 

I grit my teeth, sliding my hands to cup the back of his neck. I grip at the hair at his nape, moving my hips a little harder. “Fuck you,” I manage, and he just smiles, so awfully, holding on to me as I continue to take what I can from him, like a damned hypocrite. My nails dig into his scalp and my head falls back. I feel warm and flushed and lightheaded. His nail scrapes against my nerves, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip. Heat pools between my legs the more he circles my nipples. They get so sensitive so fast that it starts to feel like torment. “Ah,” I whisper, my nails on the brink of breaking his skin.

There’s a rush in my ears and it takes me some time to realize Cardan is speaking to me, whispering to me, praising me, taking nonsense,“...good… you look so fucking good…so pretty…riding this dick…” I let out a moan when he shifts his hips and we align perfectly. “I wonder,” he breathes, “how often you hump your pillows… like this… ride your stuffed toys… wishing it was me….” I’m too gone to be embarrassed. I want to undo his pants but I don't want to let go of him, I don't want him to let go of me, either. He reaches down, biting me over my shirt and I let out a cry when he tugs at the peaked tips of my breasts, one after the other.

Cardan’s fingers are bruising into my skin and when I glance down, he’s already looking up at me. The lights flicker against his necklace, taunting me, and for a moment, I imagine it dangling off his bare neck, teasing my skin as he hovers over me. I lean down until my lips are by his ear and bite down on his earlobe. He pinches me under my shirt, in retaliation, before rubbing his fingers over the soreness. I suck in a breath, feeling hot and heady, rubbing harder on him until the ache in my clit is satiated. 

“Which one was it,” he whispers. “The snake?”

“No,” I manage.

“Koala? Cat…?” His grunts are labored, I shake my head against him, and I lift my hips just a bit to bounce on him. “A pillow?”

I whimper and his hands slide down to my hips, kneading at my flesh guiding me roughly. My eyes screw tight, as heat erupts inside of me. I pull his chain from the back, letting the cross dagger into his skin, press into the hollow of his neck, while I ride the last of the euphoric wave. My lips move against his skin, “no… I have a different toy. One that vibrates. I’ll let you watch one day.”

His eyes are lidded, when I pull away to look at him. His breaths come out shallow as I slow to a stop. He brings a hand to my hair, winding my braid until my neck pulls back. He bites down right under my chin, pulling away with a harsh suck of skin. “I’ll hold you to it.”

He slowly unravels my hair and my fingers shake as I hold on to him, trying to catch my breath. “Do you…” I can't find my words, falling forward to place my head against his. My hands slowly lets go of him, falling from his neck and down to his chest. I go lower, reaching the button on his jeans, “You didn’t…”

He closes his eyes, taking in a breath, “Just stay still for a moment.” He gives me a dry laugh, “It’s not so easy to clean up come in my current position, as it is for you to hide how wet your panties are.” I roll my eyes, but heed his request. Finally, he opens his eyes and searches mine. “You look tired.”

I snort, “no kidding.”

He grins, “I should get you back home now. You’re due for a run in a few hours then I'm sure you’ll follow Asha to mass later, right?” I grimace at that but nod anyway, feeling a little more than anxious about Sunday service.

“I feel another sleepless night coming,” I admit. He slowly moves his other hand from under my shirt to hold my face, and I tell him, “It’s not you, by the way.” He gives me a questioning look and I smile as much as I can for him. “The longest I’ve slept since we’ve been back was last night, in your arms.” I lean in to give him the kiss we’d missed out on before. He grabs my chin, not letting me fully pull away, and presses his lips to mine again, turning the soft peck into something more, parting my lips with his own, coating my tongue with cinnamon. 

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Masterlist

Gentle Sins Masterlist

[underoossss]

So This Is Love - S.H

pairing: Cinderella!steve harrington x f!reader

warnings: some angst at some point (also the gif has nothing to do with the story lol)

word count: 5k+

an: i had a dream where steve harrington was cinderella and i obviously had to write it down. i loved playing with the story and changing many things to fit steve’s background that we know from the series. i hope you enjoy this! Let me know💘

Masterlist

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Birdsong drifts into the bedroom through the open window and a cool spring breeze accompanies it. The telltale sign that it’s time for Steve to wake up and seize the day. The routine is simple, wake up and stretch, make the bed, look out the window and down to the garden before going to the bathing chamber to get ready for a long day ahead. There are two canaries perched on Steve’s open window when he approaches; they don’t even move when he sits on the windowsill next to them. Call Steve out of his mind but he feels as if those birds know him, they come to visit him every single day after all. Besides, Steve doesn’t have many friends, if these two birds want to befriend him who is he to deny them.

“Hey guys.” Steve says as he sits, looking out to the garden below. The sun has barely risen in the distance and the sky is blue with a yellowish sunbeam trying to peak through the horizon. The flowers below seem to sleep still, the roses closed up until later when the sunlight hits them. A quick glance up confirms a cloudless day. “I don’t think there’ll be any rain today, what do you think?”

One bird chirps, but it doesn’t sound like an affirmation or denial so Steve shrugs. “I guess you don’t really know.” He stands up and stretches his arms above his head, followed by a yawn. “Well, I gotta get going. See you later!”

Steve grabs some clothes from his closet and takes them with him to the bathing chamber –trousers, shirt, and vest over his forearm. Closing the door behind him, he sets about undressing and bathing, making sure his hair and body are clean before towelling himself dry. Clean and dressed up for the day ahead, Steve steps in front of the mirror and pats his hair down with a towel. He makes sure most of it is dry before combing through it and setting it in place with hair cream. He takes a good look at himself in the mirror, tries to give himself a pep-talk but finds that he can’t; he can only sigh and head downstairs. What use is it to lie to himself anyways? You got this, it’s going to be a great day, you’ll see! You won’t even disappoint your parents! Lies. It’s better to treat himself with honesty.

As usual, no one greets him good day when he goes downstairs; his father too busy pretending he doesn’t exist and his mother busying herself with a magazine while she drinks her morning coffee. Still, he says good morning and heads into the kitchen. They might not love or want anything to do with him, but he’s still polite. The deal is, Steve didn’t qualify to join the knighthood by 5 points. Everyone in his family has done it, his father, both grandfathers did too, all of his friends from school, but not him. A real shame for the Harrington name, his father had said when he found out, from this day on you stop being a Harrington to both of us. His mother had agreed and that’s that. Steve is a stranger in his own home, banned from attending any events or showing his face around the nobility. As far as people know, Lord Harrington has no children.

Two years is enough time to put all these things to the back of his mind, but Steve’s self-esteem… well it suffered a tough blow. He focuses on his breakfast and early morning chores to ignore his parents’ judgemental presence. Steve mops the big and cold house, dusts the pictures and portraits hanging from the wall and takes out the trash. By the time he’s done, he’s itching to leave the house; he wonders how it’s possible for a manor to feel like a matchbox –it’s walls moving inward until Steve feels claustrophobic enough to scream. He grabs his coat and keys and walks out of the house as fast as his feet can take him, only slowing down when he’s down the gravel road that leads into the village.

It's a short 20-minute walk that Steve doesn’t mind, it’s enough time to forget about what he left behind at home and focus on the workday ahead.

Lady Francis, Steve’s neighbor owns a store in the village’s centre. Her son, who ran the store with her, passed away three years ago and Steve’s been helping her out ever since. He tries to use as little family money as possible and Lady Francis pays him well, it’s mutually beneficial. She gets help, he saves money up for the day he can leave his house. The store’s a two-story building made out of brick and painted cream and blue. Inside, there are fruits, flowers, herbs, candles, and porcelain tea sets; all Lady Francis’ except for the porcelain sets, which are antiquities she brings from her travels.

Steve opens the door, flips the store’s sign to open and hangs his coat in the backroom. He takes a small clipboard from the office’s desk and starts running inventory of the various items in the store. He stops as soon as he starts though, because right that second there’s a commotion in the village. Steve puts the clipboard down and steps out of the store, trying to catch a glimpse at what’s happening down the road.  

----

“We already discussed this last week. There are better ways to use the palace’s money than to throw a ball, you Majesty.” Shiny silk fabric wrinkles as you cross your arms across your chest and look at the King sitting on his throne in front of you. All around the palace, people are cleaning and decorating every hallway and the main ballroom with a large assortment of flowers. “I specifically said I did not want this, father, and you went ahead and invited people to come tonight. Without telling me, might I add.”

“You have to see it from your stepmother’s point of view.” The King tells you on the brink of exasperation. “Whether you like it or not, you must marry, and this ball will bring potential suitors from neighboring Kingdoms as well as our own.”

“I am 23 years old!” You exclaim and throw your hands up. “Why do you want me to marry?”  

“Your sisters married at 19.” A squeaky voice says to your right, and you glance in that direction with a glare. Your stepmother gives you the fake smile she uses with your father, a stark contrast to the deathly looks she sends your way whenever you’re alone. “I’d say your opportunity is slipping away from you, dear.”

“Just because my stepsisters did, doesn’t mean I should be married too.” You shift your glare into a sweet smile, even faker than hers. “I said I don’t want a ball. It’s a waste of resources, there are other things we can do for our people.”

“Everyone has already been invited.” The King shrugs. “Your stepmother is right, my darling. I’m getting older and you need someone to take care of you when I’m gone, to be by your side when you take my place.”

You hear two huffs come from the throne room’s doorway behind you, which can only mean two things, two horrible things. Your stepsisters Linda and Vilma arrived. Great.

“As if someone would want such a piece of work.” Vilma snorts unkindly, moving past you to stand next to their mother.

“I’d start adopting cats if I were you.” Linda says next when she joins her twin sister.

Leave it to them to make spinster jokes at your expense only because they’re married and you’re not. Their envy makes them act that way, is what you remind yourself every time they say something cruel or side with their mother to convince your father to do something you don’t agree with. They resent you, that much you know, for even though they’re older than you, they are not princesses and won’t ever be. A stepchild doesn’t receive a title or anything for that matter. You wish you could say you’re sorry for them but given how brutally unkind the two of them are to you… you’re not. As if the world taking your mother away from you wasn’t enough, your father had to become infatuated and marry a despicable woman.

It takes great effort, but you hold back an eyeroll, choosing to smile at them instead. “I think there are good odds that I’ll find someone. The two of you got married after all.”

Your stepfamily sneers at the same time and it’s so comical you bite your tongue to avoid laughing. “You little–” Linda starts to say but your father, tired of your bickering, speaks up.

“Enough!” His voice echoes around the room. “The ball will take place, and as the princess of this kingdom you’re to find a husband. That’s my final word.” The King’s eyes look at you seriously, but you can see that his decision comes from the fear shining in his eyes.

“As you wish.” You nod and put your hands on your hips in defeat before an idea sparks your mind. “However, I have my own request if I’m to be forced to attend this ball.”

“Alright.” Your father nods, urging you to go on.

“I want to invite the village so they can enjoy it as well. And…” You smile as you pause for some dramatic tension. “I want to go to the village to invite them myself.”

“Invite them? Absolutely not.” Your stepmother huffs with an eyeroll.

“You’re not to go to the village.” The King reminds you with the raise of an eyebrow, ignoring your stepmother’s words. “We’ve spoken about this.”

“It’s my ball, no?” You raise your own eyebrow, a perfect mirror to his. “I can invite whoever I want, and I want to do it personally. If I can’t do that then you won’t see me tonight, it is a big palace after all.”

Your father drags a hand over his face as he sighs. Stubborn, just like your mother, he always says when you don’t see eye to eye. You’ve proved him right yet again. “Alright, go to the village. But just this once!”

The smile that takes over your face is triumphant as you glance over at your stepmother and raise your chin.

----

 “Steve!” His friend and co-worker Robin –who’s late as always– emerges from the crowd and runs towards him. “The princess is going to have a ball! She’s coming this way and she’s inviting everyone.”

“How do you know?” Steve asks, skeptical. He’s never seen the princess before. Not in town because she never walks around the village, and not at any event because he is never allowed to attend.

“That’s what the commotion is about!” Robin throws her stuff inside the store, behind the front door and stands by the window with Steve. Her feet bounce eagerly in place as she strains her neck to look down the road. “I can’t wait to see her. She’s so pretty, Steve.”

Steve nods and shrugs. “So you’ve told me. You know I’ve never got the chance to meet her.”

“As if I could talk to her, dingus.” Robin rolls her eyes, eyes still trained on the road. “I just stare dreamily from a distance. You’ll get it when you see her.”

Just then, as if summoned by Robin’s words, you walk down the road. The crowd that’s gathered by each side makes way for you and two guards who walk some feet behind you. You’re smiling and greeting everyone as you walk by, stopping every now and then to ask a question or make short conversation with someone. There are flowers gathered in the crook of your arm, red roses and some pink ones Steve doesn’t know the name of. Steve can’t even hear what you’re saying, too focused on standing upright as his world seems to turn upside down. Robin’s words don’t come close to describe you, he thinks, because you look as if you’ve walked straight out of his dreams. Everything about you looks ethereal to him, from your hair to your smile; the way your purplish-blue dress fits you and highlights your beautiful complexion leaves him breathless.

“Of course, you’re all invited!” You’re saying your voice a beautiful melody to Steve’s ears. “Wear your best garments and be ready to dance.”

He's sure he looks just as foolish as he feels when you walk by Lady Francis’ store and he has to shake himself out of his trance. A second later you turn your head and meet his eyes and Steve’s stomach feels like a wasp’s nest.

“Hi.” You smile after a moment, stepping closer to the store. “Those periwinkles in your window are beautiful.”

Steve glances at the flowers and then at you as he fumbles for an answer. “H–Hi! I, uhh, I didn’t know they were periwinkles. The owner of the store put them there… I think?”

“They are beautiful aren’t they, your highness?” Robin is quick to intervene. She gestures at your dress with one hand while elbowing Steve’s arm with the other. “They also match your dress perfectly.”

Steve is quick to turn around and pluck out a few flowers before handing them to you. “Yeah, they match your dress.” He says, feeling his cheeks warm up when he steps closer to you. “A–A gift for you.”

Your eyes light up and a soft smile takes over your features. “Thank you… I didn’t catch your name, sorry.”

“Steve.” He says, then motions towards his friend. “This is Robin.”

You give the two of them your name before your eyes drift to your flowers, then down the road. “Well, thank you Steve and enjoy the rest of the day. I hope to see you at the ball tonight, you too Robin.”

Steve smiles and nods his head. “Yeah, for sure. Bye!”

“Bye!” Robin says too and you walk away continuing your visit down the street. A few seconds later you spare Steve one last glance he’s sure he’ll never forget.

Steve spends the rest of the day on edge; his mind goes over the different ways he can ask his parents for permission to attend the ball. Maybe he can offer to do the cooking in the house, or the ironing. Either way there has to be something he can bargain for this one chance to see you again. It’s stupid to hold out hope, after all Steve knows his parents and their feelings towards him, but it’s impossible to put of the spark that’s been lit inside his chest.

He goes over his words as he makes his way home at the end of the day, rehearsing everything from tone to delivery so he has a better chance of going. His hands are sweaty and his chest constricts with nerves at what he’s going to do, but it’s what it’ll take to attend –and Steve wishes for nothing more. His parents are making their way upstairs when he arrives home. He rushes towards them and stand at the bottom of the staircase when he calls for them.

“Mother, Father… may I speak with you?” He keeps his voice from faltering and tightens his hands into fists behind his back. He can’t lose his nerve, not even when his father looks down at him with his classic cold stare.

“Go on.” His father tells him, looking away bored already.

“There’s going to be a ball tonight; the princess came into the village today and invited everyone.” He starts, concealing his enthusiasm the right amount. “I wanted to–”

“Yes, the palace sent an invitation two weeks ago.” His father interrupts him and raises one eyebrow in curiosity. “Surely you’re not going to waste my time and ask for permission to go?”

“Father, the princess asked–”

With one raised hand Steve’s father interrupts again. “You already know the answer but I’ll repeat myself so we’re clear.”

Steve’s shoulders deflate and there’s a growing tightness in his throat all of a sudden.

“You’re not going to this or any ball.” His father speaks lowly, and his words feel like a slap across Steve’s face. “You’re forbidden, you hear me? I don’t want people asking questions. Don’t waste my time again.”

“If people see you there, Steve,” His mother speaks up, a worried tone in her voice, “We’ll be forced to talk about your failures. Don’t embarrass us further.”

With that the two of them continue their ascend upstairs and go to their respective rooms, leaving a defeated Steve behind.

He makes his way to his room shortly after, with a flurry of emotions stirring up in his chest at the unfairness of it all. A groan leaves his lips as he slams the door to his room with enough force to shake the lamp hanging from the ceiling. It is so unfair. Steve’s done nothing but try to prove himself to his parents but it’s like he’s invisible to them. Worse, they want to make him invisible for everyone else. He tries to take deep breaths but struggles to do so, a mixture of anger and frustration making his breaths catch. It takes three steps for him to reach the window and pull it open. He takes another breath then, of the fresh air flowing into the room, and looks down at the garden below. That’s where he spots them, periwinkles. He would have never recognized them or know their name if it wasn’t for today. Or you.

And just like that his mind goes back to you, and your encounter in the morning. She’s so pretty, Robin had said. Pretty hadn’t even come close to describe you, it’s not the word he’d use but he’s also not very good with words, so he’ll settle for beautiful. Steve grins like a fool at the memory, even if he made himself a fool in front of you. You’d invited him to the ball –the whole town really– but you’d smiled that dreamy smile of your and said ‘I hope to see you there.’ Steve feels like it was a personal invitation to him, there had been something between the two of you, otherwise his chest wouldn’t flutter at the memory of it all. But now… well it’s almost impossible for him to see you again, no matter how much he wants to.

Steve grunts and falls back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. He can’t even sneak out of the house to talk to you just for a moment. His parents are going to the ball and would spot him immediately if he showed his face, no matter how short a time it is. What is the point of Steve going if he has to hide all the time?

“There has to be a way.” He mumbles to himself, hands moving from his face to his hair. “I just wish it could be easy… I wish I could just go.”

Something begins to tickle his nose then, like dust falling on him, and Steve is sure he hears the whisper of his name from somewhere near him. It startles him in the quiet room making him sit up quickly and grab whatever is near him –in this case an empty water carafe from his nightstand. It takes him a moment, but Steve spots a tiny creature in front of him. Is that a fairy? He thinks. He thought they weren’t real, but here she is, tiny and shining in periwinkle light.

“Don’t hurt me! I’m here to help you!” The small fairy exclaims, voice squeaky and almost imperceptible as she holds her hands up.

Once Steve knows he’s not in fact losing his mind, and that the fairy in front of him is actually talking to him, his emotions shift towards confusion. “Help me?”

The fairy smiles, revealing lilac-coloured teeth that seem to shiny as much as her exterior. “Yes, so you can go to the ball and see the princess.”

Steve is incredulous; this fairy wants to help him attend the ball? Why?  “Why?”

“You gave her periwinkles today.” The fairy explains with a smile, as if her answer makes everything clear.

It doesn’t, not really. So Steve furrows his brows —confused.

“I’m the periwinkle fairy?” The small creature explains again, gesturing towards the color of her shining light. “I saw that you really like this girl, and if the princess is going to be in a courtship, it should be with a nice young man like you.”

Steve’s mouth opens and falls closed a couple of times. What are the odds that there’s a fairy tied to the flowers he gave you, the flowers you like. Could it be possible that Steve’s luck is turning around? “So, when I wished…”

“I heard you.” The fairy nods and smiles once more, procuring a wand. “Now…. you’re already late, so do you want my help or not?”

“Yes!” He nods his head enthusiastically and stands up. “But how can you help me?”

“You won’t be recognized by anyone else but the princess with a very special spell,” The fairy says and flies closer to his face. “Close your eyes.”

Steve does and feels the tickling sensation on his nose as the fairy taps her wand against it to give him some of her magic. When he opens them again, he sees she’s taken his nicest white-tie clothes and magically changed them to look polished and regal. The once faded grey now seems to shine like velvet, with tiny embroideries along the neckline and sleeves. The black pants are perfectly ironed, without a lint in sight, and his boots are clean and polished. Steve can’t remember the last time he wore clothes these nice.  

Steve’s voice is soft when he speaks, wonder shining in his eyes. He feels grateful beyond words. “Thank you. Thank you for this.”

“You can go until 12am.” The fairy tells him as she lays the clothes on his bed. “The spell will wear off them, and your parents will recognize you, Lord Steve.”

Steve holds up his hand. “Please, Steve is fine.”

The fairy laughs softly and nods. “Alright Steve, now hurry!”

Right! He’s already late. Steve grabs the clothes and changes in the bathing chamber quickly after brushing his teeth and combing his hair. He slips his boots on and runs down the stairs and out of the house faster than he’s ever done, until he’s at the stables. Once there he takes his saddle and his horse –Beam– and races out of the front gates towards the castle.

 Even though Steve took a shortcut to get to the palace, there’s no one else outside when he runs to the door. They open for him and he steps inside in a rush, where he takes a second to catch his breath before continuing down the hall. Steve gives himself a peptalk as he looks around the room, he is dressed his best, he is at the ball, and he’ll get to talk to you soon.

He’s too distracted by the shining chandeliers hanging from the hallway’s ceiling that he doesn’t realize he’s going to run into someone until it happens.

“I’m so sorry.” Steve begins to say, steadying the person in front of him until he realizes it’s you. “Your highness.”

You keep him from bowing with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a smile. There it is, that smile. “Hi Steve.”

“H-Hi!” He runs a hand through his hair, looking for the right words to compliment you as his eyes take you in. “You look really beautiful.”

Beautiful. There it is, the only word that comes to Steve mind but doesn’t begin to cover your beauty. You’re in a deep blue gown, its big skirt flowing around you like the ocean and shimmering like the night sky. It’s got beautiful tiny jewels scattered all around the bodice and skirt, and Steve thinks you’re a work of art standing in front of him. Surely you can’t be real?

“Thank you.” You smile, looking down. “You look very handsome yourself.

Steve can’t help but smile at your compliment, before he remembers the ball. “Thank you, I hope I’m not too late?”

Your laugh follows his question, and it’s not unkind, it’s amused. “Not at all, I’m running late myself. My stepsister ruined my other dress.”

“I can’t help but be glad they did.” Steve says, surprising himself.

You smile at him shyly but meet his eyes nonetheless. “I guess you’re right.”

“If Robin is here.” Steve whispers conspiratorially with a step closer to you, “I’m sure we can take some light revenge on them.”

Steve’s heart soars when you giggle and nod. “I think we should.”

A door opens suddenly, not too far away from the top of you and two men step outside. “There you are princess, everyone is waiting for you.”

You nod at them before you look at Steve nervously, face loosing its natural color. “Would you like to dance the first song with me? I’d feel much better walking in there with someone I know.”

Steve is speechless for a moment but he nods, with your pretty eyes looking up at him how can he say no. He’s not much of a dancer but he’d make a fool of himself over and over again if it meant more time with you. He smiles, trying to ease your nerves. “Of course.”

You take Steve’s outstretched hand into yours, relishing in the comfort it brings once he squeezes it in reassurance. A feeling of breathlessness settles over you and not as a result of the nerves you feel. It seems to happen every time you look at Steve; it’s like his heart is reflected in his eyes, a quick glimpse at it if you know where to look. The only thing that snaps you out of your trance is the sparks that fly when you step closer to him on your way to the ballroom. Sparks that make your fingers tingle, the sensation travelling all the way up you arm and down to your stomach.

Everyone bows in front of you when you step into the ballroom, a sea of people that keep their eyes trained on your every move. It’s overwhelming, it always is, and your grip on Steve’s hand tightens as the two of you descend the stairs.  

“I won’t let you fall.” Steve whispers next to your ear. “I promise.”

You chuckle and feel your shoulders relax, you’re not sure why but you trust Steve. More than you trust most people. He leads you to the middle of the ballroom, every step controlled and known by heart. His mother must have taken him to dance lessons, you presume as you offer him a courtesy when he bows in front of you. Steve asks for your permission to hold your waist with a glance down with his eyes. You nod your head and let him pull you closer by the waist, a shaky breath escaping you at the proximity.

Everyone is looking at the two of you, but for once you don’t mind. Not one bit. If it were another time, if you were accompanied by someone else, you’d feel the weight of every pair of eyes. It would be suffocating, but you look at the brown eyes in front of you and find that breathing has never been easier.

“I must warn you.” You smile as you gaze up at him. “I’m not that good of a dancer.”

Steve chuckles at your words, his hand a comforting weight on your waist. “Good, because I’m not very good either.”

“Lord help us.” You giggle and it makes Steve smile.

It turns out, that the two of you are perfect together.

The moment the music starts your steps synchronize perfectly, with Steve leading the waltz and your body following the path he traces for both of you. When the melody from the violins and cellos swells around you, Steve twirls you around, his fingers hanging on to yours as he holds you hand over your head. You spin and smile, always going back to his arms that are ready to hold you —your faces remain close together, noses close to brushing, and eyes never straying from the other’s. Even as you turn and the music envelops you, your eyes remain fixed on Steve’s brown ones and the warmth in them.

Guests join you on the dance floor but it’s like they’re not there, only you and Steve moving to the rhythm of the music as if you’ve done it thousands of times. Steve’s hands are gentle but secure on your waist, especially when you jump and he lifts you briefly in the air. The two of you smile incredulously at each other. How is it possible to be so incredibly connected to someone else just hours after you first meeting?

“Princess.” Steve says over the music, his eyes showing you his heart once again.

The smile that’s already on your face only grows. “Yes?”

The handsome man in front of you shakes his head. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

The chandeliers in the ceiling paint constellations in his brown eyes, make his brown waves shine, and cause your heart to flutter in your chest. You squeeze the hand that holds yours as the music comes to an end. “Me too, Steve.”

Everyone applauds the band, and it brings you back to the present and the ball around you. You can feel the King’s gaze on you, as well as your stepmother’s and stepsisters. It creates an immediate urge for you to get away, and lead Steve far away from your stepfamily’s unkind looks. He’s in your orbit now, whatever hatred they have over you falls on him as well; Steve doesn’t deserve it. Not after the wonderful dance you’ve just hand.

“Would you like to see the gardens?” You ask him.

Your question brings a smile to his face as he gives you a nod and offers his arm. “Won’t they miss you?”

You look at the dancing folk, all of them entertained by the music and the array of food on the sides of the room. You sigh happily, glad that the villagers are enjoying themselves. “I’m sure they’ll be more than fine without me.”

The two of you walk side by side as you guide Steve to the garden, your hand over his arm where it’s linked to yours. Once you step outside you can’t help but smile at the beautiful night that greets you. The roses are blooming under the moonlight, their white petals glowing with its light. You point to different flowers around the garden as you stroll around the gravel path, answering Steve’s questions about your favourite ones. You walk around the fountain in the middle garden, listening to the trickling water as you get to know each other more.

At some point, you hear music playing again, from inside the palace, and Steve offers you his hand to lead another waltz. A laugh bubbles up from within you as you give him your hand and begin to dance with him, feeling silly but also very young and alive. When was the last time you felt like that?  The conversation continues between the two of you as you dance, words joining your steps. You learn that Steve is an only child and one year older than you; he doesn’t live in the village but it’s where he works. You share with him too, mentioning how it’s just you and your dad in the castle since your mother passed. You comment on your father remarrying years ago and you being unsure of your feelings about that it.  

“I haven’t seen you at any other events at the palace.” You tell Steve, linking your arm with his when the song is over.

Steve sighs and scratches his chin with his free hand. “I know, it’s just my parents… we quarrel often, and I end up suffering the consequences.”

“They don’t let you attend?” You turn your face to glance at him.

“Nope,” Steve smiles; it’s not the happy one you’ve seen all night, this one’s sad almost disappointed. “I’m not deserving of the Harrington name apparently.”

You furrow your eyebrows while you go over his words. You’ve seen Lord Harrington before, and you see the resemblance in Steve’s face, but it’s impossible to believe that such a cold man could have such a wonderful son. It’s not impossible though, to believe that they’re as cruel as Steve paints them to be. You’ve experienced many of your own quarrels with you stepmother.

“I don’t think it’s the same, but if it’s any consolation…” You tell him with what you hope is a comforting look. “My stepmother and stepsisters convinced my father not to let me visit the village.”

Steve’s face whips towards you. “What? Why?”

You shrug, trying to dismiss the hurt that comes from the thought of them. “I think they just want to make my life miserable, but I don’t think they’re succeeding.” A smile makes its way to your face as you glance a Steve.  

“Oh really?” Steve smiles back, looking at you. “Why is that?”  

You smile at him and look away feeling sheepish before you even speak. “The one day I finally convince my father to let me visit the village, I meet you. Then at the ball they forced me to attend, I get to see you again.”

Steve shakes his head, and scratches his chin flustered. It makes you smile, knowing you’re not the only one nervous tonight. “How do you know it’s not bad luck?” He chuckles, then looks up, eyes wide, like he wasn’t supposed to say it out loud.

“I think it’s quite the opposite.” You shrug and move your hold from his arm to his hand, hoping to give him comfort. It’s hard to fight the frown that wants to take over your face, what has he been told by his family? “Don’t think lowly of yourself only because other people think so, Steve. We are all more than other people’s opinions you know.”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you, before you spot the path ahead and show it to Steve. Your eyes light up even as your stomach flips when you look at the boy next to you. “Come on, you have to see this!”

Steve watches you go down a hidden path between some trees; it’s barely visible, he wouldn’t have known it was there if you hadn’t just disappeared through it. He is quick to follow, worried you’ll hurt yourself, or sprain your ankle as you run over the grass. As he passes in between the trees, he finds an even bigger one right in front of him. It must be 200 years old with how much it’s grown but there’s a low branch that you’ve just reached. You hold yourself up with one hand as you take of your shoes –they’re covered in jewels, just like your dress and they glint in the moonlight that sneaks through the tree’s leaves.

“I can take those for you.” Steve offers with a smile, which you return. He leaves the shoes on the ground and kneels down so you can use his knee as a step to climb the tree. By the dexterity with which you get on the branch and then another, Steve knows you must do this every day. It makes him smile, yet another thing he now knows about you, something to like you even more.

“Come on, Steve!” You call for him and he chuckles.

Steve grabs your shoes and begins to climb after you, wanting to stay close to you in case something happens. “Be careful, you can trip on your dress!” He tells you as he makes his way to you.

There is a small tree house two branches off the ground, hidden perfectly from view from the castle and the grass below. In front of him there’s a small balcony, where you stand, overlooking the countryside and the small village below. It’s breathtaking, and Steve knows right away this must be where you escape to in the castle.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it!” You smile, voice bringing Steve’s gaze back to you where it stays.

Steve feels speechless once again, looking at you so close to him, your eyes reflecting the small light coming from the village. “Yes.” He says, but his eyes are scanning your face instead of the view. Beautiful not only on the outside but on the inside as well. He still can’t forget your words from earlier, they resonate inside his mind like a foreign reminder that he shouldn’t be so hard on himself.

“You’ve worked with Lady Francis for long?” You ask him after a few moments of comfortable silence

“Yeah,” Steve nods, placing his hands on the wooden handrail in front of him. “I mean a couple of years; She’s needed the help since she lost her boy.”

You nod your head as he speaks, moving so you’re looking at him directly. “That’s very kind of you. She’s a lovely person, I’ve met her a couple of times.”

Steve shrugs, he’s never considered it something to call attention to. To him it’s… “Tt’s the right thing to do.” He says, then decides to ask you something too –more than eager to know you more. “What about you? Do you know when your next visit to the village will be?”

You frown and Steve feels the urge to do whatever is necessary to make you happy.  “I’m not sure, my stepmother and sisters…they convinced my father to give me an ultimatum a few months ago.”

“Ultimatum?” Steve furrows his brows, whatever you’re about to say next doesn’t sound good.

“My father claims he is getting older and worries about me being alone.” You sigh and turn back to look down at the village. Steve doesn’t miss the longing in your eyes. “He says I need someone to take care of me, even though I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

Steve puts two and two together right away. “So he wants you to…”

“To get married, yes.” You nod, swallowing hard and shaking your head. “Right away, and I’m truly afraid I’ll be forced to be with someone that’s not right for me instead of someone I know or someone I like.” Your eyes meet his and for a moment he feels like you’re talking about him –it makes his next breath catch on his throat. Would they really make you marry someone you don’t even know?

Indignation floods Steve in the blink of an eye, at your agency being stripped away from you and the fact you worry about this at all.

“I–” Steve begins to say but voices coming from the garden make the two of you quiet down.

“Guards.” You whisper, standing behind Steve to keep yourself out of sight should they find the path.

“I can’t believe we lost the princess, AGAIN!” One voice says, clearly frustrated.

“Well, keep looking. The King wants to see her back at the ballroom at once.” Another one replies, and a moment later only the sound of retreating footsteps can be heard.

You frown, voice soft but forlorn. “They’ll come again, maybe we should be getting back.”

Steve only nods and climbs down the tree first, so he can help you descend the last branch safely. Once back on the grass, Steve puts your shoes on the ground and holds out his arms for you. “Jump,” He says, “I’ll catch you.”

You don’t hesitate, jumping into his arms a second later. Steve is swift to catch you; you’re safe and unscathed, making Steve’s worry of you falling fade away.

It is then he notices your faces are barely 3 inches apart –Steve can even feel your breath mingling with his, just as it did when you waltzed in the palace. His heart hammers like crazy on his chest, he’s sure you feel it.

“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper, and he nods putting you back down on the ground.

“Here, I’ll help you.” Steve offers, kneeling on the grass to help you with your shoes.

He’s glad you can’t see his face, which feels scalding hot as you lift part of your dress’ skirt so he can tie your shoes back into place. It’s just an ankle, Steve reminds himself, calm down. He moves to tie the second shoes for you, but just then the palace’s clock strikes the last minute till midnight.

Steve stands up quickly. “Oh no.”

Your face is nothing but confusion as you look at him. “What?”

“I have to go right now. But I’ll find a way to see you again.” Steve says in a rush as reaches for both your hands. “There has to be a way.”

You nod, pretty eyes looking worriedly at him and still confused. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes.” Steve is quick to reassure you. “Thank you, for everything tonight.”

Before he can overthink it, he leans in and kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, princess.”  Then he kisses your right hand and starts to run. He needs to find his horse so he can be home before his parents, he can’t imagine the mess he’d be in if they found out.  Steve risks one glance over his shoulder and sees you stand there, bathed in moonlight. There has to be a way.

----

Steve sleeps like a baby all night; he hid his clothes back in his closet, sure that the magic would disappear from them eventually, and went straight to bed. He woke up in a good mood, better than any other day just from the memory of the night before. He is sure not to show it around the house though, the last thing he needs is his parents suspecting something. Steve acts downright miserable as he descends the stairs and grabs some breakfast from the kitchen. His frown remains on his face until he’s put enough distance between himself and the house to smile freely, a skip to his step as he walks down the road to the village. He forgets his umbrella, having looked at the grey sky in the morning, but he doesn’t dare return to the house. He can’t hide his smile again, even though there’s one nagging thought in the back of his mind.

Was all of it real? Would he even see you again? Should he forget about it, save himself the disappointment?

For once, Robin is at the store before him. She smiles knowingly when she spots his happy demeanour. “You little shit.” She says, with a shake of her head. “You little shit!”

“What?” Steve asks, side stepping her to go through the store’s front door.

“You were there last night!” Robin lowers her voice to a whisper. “You were the mysterious man that danced with the princess.”

Steve is so surprised he can’t hide the surprise on his face; he imagined Robin was giving him shit for something else he did. Never this.

“I fucking knew it!” She grabs his shirt sleeve and drags him to the backroom. “How did you do it?”

“How did you know!” Steve asks instead. Did the spell wear off at some point? Did the fairy lie to him?

“The princess, obviously.” Robin tells him with an eyeroll, sitting on the desk nearby. “She came up to me last night. She told me you said I could help with a little revenge, and I said, ‘Steve said that?’ Then she said ‘yes, I told him earlier how my stepsisters ruined my other dress’ Which by the way I’m thankful for, did you see that navy dress on her?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and begins to speak in between a smile. “Of course, I did, I–” He stops when his mind catches up to Robin’s words.

Fuck, he forgot to tell you he wasn’t supposed to be there. On the other hand, how weird would that have been? I got my face magic-ed so no one recognizes me. Yeah, no, Steve knows you’re an intelligent woman, so you probably figured it out on your own.

“What did you do?” He asks, shaking his thoughts away.

“Oh!” Robin’s eyes light up. “We accidentally knocked some punch over; I think you can imagine the rest.”

Steve laughs, imagining the two of you pulling a prank on your stepsisters. From what Steve heard about them from you, they had it coming. His laughter though, stops as soon as it starts and his stomach drops. What if… “Did you see my parents talk to the Princess?” He asks Robin.

“What?” Robin’s own giggles are cut short by the random question, then her eyebrows furrow as she tries to recall the night before. “No, I don’t think so. She danced a couple of songs with her father and swerved every prince that came to Indiana to dance with her.”

Steve lets out a breath. “Okay that’s good. They can’t know I was there.”

“You’re really going to make me ask.”

“Ask what?” Steve shrugs, knowing exactly what she means but stalling for time. There is no sane way to tell her about the fairy’s visit.

Robin groans, looking up at the ceiling before meeting Steve’s eyes with a curious gaze. “How did you manage to go and not be recognized?”

“You won’t believe me.” He shakes his head and looks away as his hands settle on his hips. Up until he talked to Robin, he was going to convince himself he dreamed all of it. The fairy, the ball, you, your conversation. Everything. But knowing Robin saw the two of you dance and hear about him from you, is all he needs to know that it was real. If it was real, he can’t forget it. He got really lucky last night, for some unknown reason.

“’Course I’ll believe you, try me.” Robin pushes her chin up, daring Steve to tell her the truth.

Steve does. He tells her about asking for permission but being forbidden from attending the ball. How he locked himself in his room, wished he could go, and a fairy appeared out of nowhere. Steve explains how the fairy gave him some of her magic to make him unrecognizable to everyone except the princess, which of course makes Robin laugh out loud.

He rolls his eyes, even though this is the reaction he expected her to have. Robin laughs for another minute before she puts her hands up, claiming she believes him.

“I do!” She says. “It sounds more possible than what I had in mind?”

“Which was?” Steve asks curiously.

“A very realistic mask.” Robin shrugs, and Steve shakes his head with a chuckle.

After a moment of silence, Steve speaks up again. “Robin, she’s…”

“Perfect?” His friend prompts, batting her eyelashes mockingly.

“Yes.” Steve sighs, wishing she wouldn’t interrupt so much. “But–”

“And you’re crushing hard on her, I saw the two of you dance, I’d say go for it.”

“What?” Now Steve is really lost. He was going to tell her about the predicament you’re in; being forced to marry thank to your stepmother’s manipulation. Just thinking about it makes Steve clench his hands into fists. And he thought his life was unfair.

“Ask her out and court her dingus!” Robin flicks him on the nose, bringing him back to the present. “You didn’t see the way she looked at you, but I did.”

“I can’t.” Steve shakes his head in frustration, pressing his fists on the wooden table in front of him.

“Why?” Robin looks at him as if he grew another head. “Of course, you can.”

“Don’t you remember? My father is head of the house and has to make the courtship official.” Steve can’t keep the defeat out of his voice. “You know he’d never approve.”

His friend shrugs and offers a quick solution. “Forge his approval then!”

Robin’s answer catches Steve by surprise and shocked laughter bursts out of him. He shakes his head after a moment, back to reality. “Forge it so when I court the princess and he finds out he can go to the palace and say it’s all a fraud? The King could ban me from seeing his daughter because I’m a liar apart from a disappointment!”

“Steve.” Robin sighs, a frown pulls her lips downwards. “You’re overthinking this too much. How about we wait until the princess comes back to town and ask her personally.”

Steve groans and throws his hands up in exasperation before turning around and walking towards the backroom where he will stay until the end of the shift. It’s not like what Robin said isn’t feasible, he can do it –he’d love to offer you his hand in courtship really. But you’re not coming to town any time soon, the only time your family allowed it was before the ball. With no other event in sight, the chances of Steve seeing you again are close to zero. The worst part, and what’s eating at Steve inside, is that he promised to see you again; he was so full of fondness and adoration, so completely gone for you that he didn’t think past that moment. All he had known was that he hated to leave you in the garden and wanted to see you again as soon as possible. He didn’t realize he’d need an invitation to the palace to see you, too caught up in the moment to think that you visiting the town would be difficult to the say the least. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Steve’s sour mood follows him all afternoon –he manages a small smile towards Robin when he says goodbye but that’s all. Grey clouds still loom overhead while he walks home, taking the long way back to avoid walking in on dinner time. The last thing he needs is to sit through unbearable silence and disappointed staring from his parents across the table. But as Steve’s luck usually goes, things don’t go as he planned them to. Even the sky seems to foresee what’s in store, as droplets of rainwater begin falling down onto Steve like tears coming from the clouds above.

The house is quiet when he arrives and only a couple of candles have been lit in the hallway leading to the staircase. It’s odd and it’s a bit worrying, and that is saying something in Steve’s house. Foolishly, he grabs the umbrella he forgot that morning and goes up the stairs to his room –call him paranoid, but he’d rather have something in hand if necessary. There is no one in the upstairs hall, or the library, but two frightening figures stand by the window in his room. His mother and father, look out the window silently and don’t turn around until he speaks up.

“Mom?” Steve is more than confused as he furrows his eyebrows and looks between the two of them. “Is something wrong?”

“Can you explain why you had this in your closet?” His mother replies, pointing a finger at his bed.

His clothes from last night, exactly as they were when the fairy changed them. They never changed back as he hoped they would, and now his parents know.

“Uh… I don’t… I mean–” Steve fumbles for an excuse.

“I thought I was clear when I said you couldn’t go to the ball.” His father speaks up, turning around slowly and pinning him down with a cold stare. “You disobeyed my direct order and danced with the princess risking embarrassing us further. I don’t even want to know how you fooled us.”

Steve feels unable to speak as he stares into his father’s eyes; a kind of darkness makes a fleeting appearance in them, and it makes Steve fear the worst. “Very well, you give me no choice.” His father’s eyes leave him for a moment as he scans the room with distaste. “You’re forbidden to leave the house… no, your room, except for chores.”

“What?” Steve drops the umbrella he was holding, and it clatters on the ground. He can’t even remember to control his reaction in front of his parents as his eyebrows furrow in anger. “You can’t do that! I have a job; I need to go to town!”

“I can and I will.” His father’s voice echoes in room as it increases in volume; his eyes burn with disappointment and annoyance. “Forget your mediocre job, forget about the princess. You’re not leaving this house again until I send you away for good. You hear me?”

Steve’s mother remains silent and doesn’t spare him much of a glance as she follows her husband out of the room. The door closes with a loud slam and the doorknob moves briefly as the lock is put in place from the outside. Thunder booms in the sky and Steve flinches; his entire body shakes in anger. He clenches his fists by his sides but just as quickly as the anger enters his body, it leaves. Steve’s shoulders hunch in defeat and soon begin to shake, he can’t help it anymore, he allows himself to cry.

----

You knew that Steve’s promise would be hard to keep. It was a given that considering you’re not allowed into town; he would have to be the one to visit you at the palace. But without an invitation, that was near impossible to happen. From that knowledge, you’ve sent many –to his home and Lady Francis’ store– but there’s been no answer. The ones sent to Lord Harrington’s house have been returned, unopened and with a note claiming there is no Steve Harrington living with them. The same didn’t happen with the ones sent to his workplace —those never returned. You hoped Robin would give them to Steve and that he’d come to the palace the next day, with that smile of his –the one you can’t stop thinking about– fully in display as he goes through the gates.

No such luck.

With no response from Steve and refusing your father’s attempts to marry you off to some of the princes that attended the ball… life at the palace had become almost unbearable. It was full of fighting, spinster jokes from your stepsisters and threats from your stepmother. You’d resorted to avoiding the family altogether, spending your time alone remembering the night of the ball and regretting it soon after.

How is it that you can miss someone so much after seeing them in two separate occasions? You imagine because this someone is Steve, and you’re convinced he’s the person you’ve always dreamed of finding. He’s kind, funny, gentle, caring, not to mention how handsome he it. You can’t stop thinking about him, no matter how much you try. It's been that way for two weeks, with him invading your mind and you trying to avoid it to spare yourself the pain.

Something must have happened. You’re sure of it. Steve wouldn’t leave you hanging, he’d at least try to send a response out for you. It unsettles something in your stomach to think about him in trouble for attending the ball. What if his father, Lord Harrington Senior, did something to him. Did he realize Steve went to the ball? What if Steve’s hurt? Or worse, just as lonely as you are right now.

If this is about the ball and the magical moments you shared together, you had to do something and try to fix it. You refuse to let that night become a bad memory for both of you, a what if that never came to be. You both deserve more, you want more, and if it’s in your hands to propose it then you will.

You take determined steps towards the King’s meeting chamber, accepting his latest invitation to dialogue, and ready to fight for what you want. The guards open the chamber’s door for you, revealing the room’s white marbled floor and the paintings of past Kings and Queens that hang from the wall. Your father sits on his chair, your stepmother stands by the right-side window and several of the King’s advisors talk quietly in different corners. You walk until you stand in front of him, a big oak table between the two of you.

“Father.” You greet him as a start, staring into his eyes that are a mirror to yours. “I’m here to speak on the matter your insistence of me marrying.”

“You’ve accepted Prince Reese’s proposal then.” He smiles happily, motioning you to sit down in front of him. You don’t.

“I haven’t accepted anyone’s proposal.” You say firmly. “I refuse any further attempt to marry me off to any of these Princes.”

The King raises an eyebrow, a mannerism the two of you got from your mother. “I was very clear when we spoke about this last time, my darling.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t agree to anything last time, father. You imposed something onto me without asking for my opinion first.”

“There will be no more discussion about this.” Your father stands up, disgruntled with your continuous debate.

“Yes there will be.” You raise your chin with determination. “I’m going to court Lord Steve Harrington. I wish to get to know him.”

The king shakes his head, eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Regardless of his title, his father hasn’t been around to announce any proposal.”

“I’m asking him.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes and remain serene instead.

“You can’t.” Your father clutches his chair’s headrest, patience growing thin.

“I have agency!”

“No, you don’t!” His words make you flinch, but you refuse to take a step back, you won’t give him any more ground to stand on. “You need to get married, as soon as possible.”

You take a deep breath willing yourself to keep a calm posture, but a single voice speaks up and throws that willingness out of the window.

“Listen to your father, my dear.” Your stepmother says with a condescending look and a fake sweet voice.

Your gaze moves to hers with a glare before you close your eyes and scream. “OUT! EVERYONE OUT, PLEASE. RIGHT NOW!”

You look around the room, daring your father’s loathsome advisors to question you but they soon scatter out of the room. “I wish to speak to my father alone.” You say, looking into the King’s eyes but clearly addressing your stepmother that still lingers to your left.

A huff and the clicking of heels soon follow, until it’s only you and the man in front of you in the room. The King and the Princess. One sad and scared since the Queen he loved so dearly passed, the other scared the opportunity for a love like her parents’ is slipping through her fingers.

You walk around the table with a sigh and approach your father until you take his hands into yours. “Father, weren’t you and mother best friends before you married?”

“That’s different my dear.” He sighs, a frown tugging at his lips as it always does at the memory of the person he loved most in the world. “We knew each other for a long time; it was natural for us to fall in love and get married.”

You sigh just like him and squeeze his hands. “I would already know Steve, father, had the circumstances been different. He’s worked at Lady Francis’ for 3 years, but I haven’t seen him because I haven’t been allowed into town.”

Your gaze moves back to your father’s eyes, hoping he can see your feelings in them. “I ask you, please father, I beg you to see things my way. I’m scared you’ll marry me off to some stranger when I want to get to know Steve. I really think he’s the one. You saw me that night, when was the last time I smiled so much?”

The King lets go of your hands and puts them behind his back; he turns and takes a few steps, deep in thought. “Too long.” He says finally, eyebrows meeting in the middle of his face, the crease that’s already there getting deeper. “Go to town and bring him to the palace so I can meet him properly.”

A gasp escapes you just as a smile takes over your face. You walk towards your father and hug him tightly, feeling a weigh lift off your shoulders. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Is all you say before turning around and running out of the room, your dress floating behind you as you do.

You’re at the palace’s gates in no time, out of breath but beaming as the guards open the metal doors for you. Two others trail behind you, struggling to catch up as you make a run for it to town. You can tell the villagers are surprised to see you –their princess running through the streets is not a common sight for them. “Good morning!” You tell the people you pass. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

They don’t have time to answer as you rush past them and keep running until you spot Lady Francis’ shop, its cream and blue exterior a welcoming sight. Your smile is beaming as you walk through the open door and look around the shop. “Hello?”

There’s rustling coming from the second floor followed by hurried steps and a familiar voice. “Princess Y/N?” Robin’s head pops up from the second-floor railing. You strain your neck to look up at her, and smile.

“Hi Robin.” Your hand comes up in a small wave. “Is Steve around?”

Robin’s surprised look turns sad, it’s confirmation enough that something had indeed happened just like you imagined. How bad, you’re still unsure. “What happened to him? Is he okay?”

“I– I don’t know, he hasn’t been back in two weeks.” Robin descends the stairs until she’s standing in front of you, she tries to bow but you stop her with a shake of your head. “His parents have trapped him in his own house. I tried to give him the invitations you sent here but Lord Harrington –Steve’s dad– only yelled at me.”

“No.” You whisper and shake your head. Bringing a hand up to your hair you go over Robin’s words, your gaze down at the ground as you pace. “Did you tell him the invitations were from the Palace?”

Robin nods enthusiastically, her short hair bouncing as she does. “Yes, but he didn’t care!”

“Hm… We must help him, there’s got to be something we can do. My father wants to meet him.” You talk both to yourself and to Robin, hoping that voicing your thoughts will help you come up with something when suddenly, just like lightning, your eyes widen with clarity. “My father wants to meet him.”

Robin looks at you blankly for a moment, “I don’t think the King does house calls though?”

You keep your gaze on her, urging her to catch on to what you have in mind. “But they don’t have to know it’s not the real King, that’s visiting them… do they?”

Robin’s face lights up, a smile taking over her features, making her freckles stand out. “We bring a fake King! Demand to see Steve and the two of you live happily ever after”

You laugh and nod at her enthusiasm, feeling it cursing though your own body as well.  “We’ll need to raid my father’s closet and convince a few guards.” You tell Robin who matches your mischievous smile just like she did at the ball. “Are you in?”

---

Steve is tired when he walks back to his room –or prison, depending on your perspective– after a long day of chores around the house. He doesn’t complain about doing work around the house, not usually, but it seems as if his parents are taking all their frustrations out on him. His chores have doubled, the house seems to become a mess overnight, and every day without fail, someone yells at him for whatever mistake he makes. It’s exhausting, and it’s got no end in sight. Steve doesn’t know how much more he’ll be able to take.

His only refuge is going back to his room at the end of the day. He takes long baths after dinner where tries to forget each day so that by the time he’s in the safe comfort of his bed he can sleep peacefully. Thinking about the ball helps; Steve remembers the way he danced with you, the smile in both of your faces, and how right it felt. But sometimes, when Steve’s had a really bad day, he chastises himself for attending. If he hadn’t, well he wouldn’t be thinking of you day and night. He wouldn’t make up stupid scenarios in his head where he’s able to leave the house, ask to be your boyfriend, and keep you safe from anything or anyone that tries to hurt you. He wouldn’t be in this mess.

But as things usually go for him, he is in the middle of a mess of his own doing –no freedom, no princess, nothing.

Steve thinks he hears horses galloping in the distance as he makes his way to his bed, ready to lie down for a while before he takes a bath. It’s probably a caller for my father, he thinks as he sinks into the mattress and closes his eyes at the comfort. He lets out a long exhale and tries to release the tension on his shoulders when an incessant tapping comes from the window. Peeking one eye open, Steve looks to his right to find his two small canary friends — they stopped visiting since he got grounded as his window was locked that very same night. To say Steve is happy to see them would be understating the truth, so he gets off the bed as fast as he can and rushes to where they peck the window.

“Hey, you two.” Steve smiles despite the long and hard day he had. “How have you been?”

The canaries keep tapping the window with their small beaks, and Steve furrows his brows. They’re holding something, and they want Steve to see it. Crouching so that his eyes are levelled with the window’s lower edge, Steve catches a glimpse of periwinkle lilies clutched in their feet. “Those look like the ones I gave the princess.” Steve tells them, standing back up.

The birds begin flying around the window excitedly, their winds flapping as fast as they can manage. When Steve keeps standing there, confused, they tap the window again right in front of his face. Are they pointing at me? Steve wonders before his mind catches up to what they’re trying to say.

The horses he heard, the lilies and Steve. The princess is here to see Steve. “The princess is here to see me!” Steve exclaims and the birds fly again, chirping happily.

He laughs, and looks around the room, looking for a way to open the window –he has a very good reason to wreck it if needed. But before he can do any damage, he remembers the small window in the bathing chamber. It’s a tight fit but he can manage. “I know what to do.” He tells the canaries and takes off to the adjacent room.

Once in the bathing chamber, Steve moves the furniture around and begins to climb onto the dresser until he’s able to look out the small window. He is very high up from the ground, but hopefully, the vines covering the back of the house are sturdy enough to handle his weigh. He tries to be careful, but his priority is speed; there’s no way he’s going to risk missing you after his father tells you whatever lie he’s come up with. So Steve squeezes out of the window, facing upwards so that his hands can grab onto the vines and he can pull the rest of his body out. He begins to climb down as fast as he can, getting leaves and green stains on his clothes but he doesn’t mind. He jumps once he’s closer to the ground and runs towards the house’s main entrance, hiding behind some bushes when he hears his father’s voice.

“I don’t know a Steve Harrington.” His father says haltingly, probably looking down his nose as he speaks. “You’re in the wrong house.”

“I’ve talked to the villagers, and close friends of yours.” Your voice is calm but confident when you speak up; it soothes Steve like a healing balm. You’re here. “My father and I have been assured he lives here, and I doubt everyone decided to lie us.”

“Call the boy!” A strange voice says next, confusing Steve. Did the King come to see him too?

“My apologies.” Steve’s father says, not meaning it from the tone of his voice. “What I meant to say was, there’s no Steve Harrington living here anymore.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief and stands up; passing on an opportunity to expose his father as a liar? Not a chance. He steps out of his hiding place and walk to the front entrance where everyone has gathered.

You notice the movement right away and Steve feels all the air leave his lungs when your eyes meet his. It’s like the sky knows what’s happening right away, for the clouds part and a single ray of sunshine bathes you in light. The lavender coloured dress you wear looks beautiful on you, its embroidered sleeves and hem shimmering with the light. You look ethereal as you smile at him, and Steve is speechless. How did he become this lucky? To have met you, to see you again when it seemed more than unlikely, to have your affection.

If he’s this lucky, there’s no way he’s going to let this chance go. Before he knows it, his feet move him towards you, and he takes your hands once he’s close enough.

“Princess.” Steve says, sounding as breathless as he feels. He bows his head briefly before his eyes return to yours. “Hi.”

“Hi, Steve.” You smile, face instantly lighting up. You take a step closer to him, until your faces are inches apart, and you lean up to press your forehead against his. “I found you.”

Steve closes his eyes and sighs; he leans down and moves his face slightly to brush his nose against yours. “Yes, I’m here.”

“I summon you to the castle young man!” The strange voice speaks up once more, making Steve take a step back and look at its source.

Behind the princess stand six horses, all of them with riders except for yours that remains empty; next to it is a weird-looking man, with a slightly skewed mustache, big hat, and a turquoise coat that looks too big for him. That’s the King? He doesn’t look like he did at the night of the ball. Steve looks at him quizzically before looking back at you, ready to ask a question. You smile at him again though and raise your eyebrows subtly enough for him to know that this is your doing.

“Don’t you dare go without my permission, Steve Harrington!” Steve’s father warns, voice booming across the front yard. Steve finds that it doesn’t make him flinch like it used to, and he is able to turn around and face his father with confidence and no fear.

“You’re not even properly dressed!” His mother exclaims a second later, glancing down at his stained clothing.

Steve looks down too, assessing the dirt marks and splashes of green the vines left behind. He couldn’t go to meet your father like this, could he? He looks nothing like the man he danced with you two weeks ago, at least not with the clothes he’s currently wearing. He’s about to speak up, tell you he’s not properly dressed and look for a solution when the solution presents itself.

A twinkling periwinkle light floats out from the garden and circles Steve twice; it leaves sparkling dust behind, and in a matter of seconds Steve’s clothes change. You gasp as you see the magical transformation. Steve’s work trousers have changed into well-tailored dark grey ones and his stained shirt has been replaced for a crisp and clean white one and a navy blue embroidered coat. Even his boots have been shined and his hair combed back into place, just like the night of the ball. He’ll be sure to have lots of periwinkle flowers at lady Francis’ shop from now on, as a thank you.

“Actually, father.” Steve smiles, looking into his father’s eyes. “I can leave without your permission, and I don’t think I’m coming back.”

“We don’t want your things here either!” His father says, turning around and heading back to the house, completely unfazed by Steve’s words.

“I’ll be back for them.” Steve calls out as he shrugs. “Right now, the King wants to talk to me.”

The front door closes with a loud slam and with it a big weight lifts from Steve’s shoulders; he finds that even breathing feels easier out of the house.

You take his hand a moment later, your fingers fitting perfectly intertwined with his as you look up at him softly. “What you just did was very brave, Steve. Are you okay?”

“More than okay, my Princess.” Steve smiles and presses his forehead against yours briefly. “Let’s go.”

You smile and nod before you get on your horse and wait for Steve to retrieve his. Once everyone is ready, all seven horses leave the Harrington residence, their footfalls leaving a trail of dust behind them. The King reveals himself then, taking off his moustache and hat to show that it was Robin on the horse all along. The three of you laugh with disbelief but most of all, with pure happiness. Steve catches your eyes a moment later, feeling his cheeks and hurt from the emotion that is consumes him from within. Never in a million years he would have believed this could happen to him, that the girl of his dreams would come to rescue him. Still, there’s something in the back of his mind that he needs to address.

“Can I talk to you alone?” Steve asks you, hating the open-ended question that makes your smile falter —no wonder imagining the worst. “It’s nothing bad I promise!”

You nod your head and gallop ahead to talk to one of the guards leading the way back to the palace. Soon enough, all of you are stopping near a clear water spring by the edge of the forest. The horses drink, the guards rest and Robin sits by the edge of the spring while the two of you move further away.

“I’m sorry.” Steve says, once you’re alone. Looking at you with the remorse he feels. “I’m so sorry. I told you I’d look for a way, but I wasn’t able to leave the house.” He sees the way you smile softly, the small breath you let out as you look at him with so much care, he can barely bare it.

Steve moves closer to you and gently holds your face in his hands, your skin is soft beneath his touch. “I’m very sorry, Y/N.” He whispers.

Your hands move to cover his, much smaller and gentle in their touch. Steve feels your thumbs caress the back of his hands as you speak softly. “Don’t be sorry, Steve.” You whisper, “I understand. I’ve been doing some work on my side too.”

Steve furrows his brows. “What kind of work?”

“You’re the kindest, most wonderful, caring and unbearably attractive person I know. I can’t even find the words that’ll do you justice.” Your smile is blinding as you beam up at him and take his hands into yours. “If your dad won’t allow you to propose a courtship, then I will propose it to you Steve Harrington. I’d love nothing more than get to know you, and let you get to know me. So, um.. w-what do you say?”

Steve feels his eyes roam your face as his mind catches up and makes sense of your words and what you’re proposing. You look up at him, pretty eyes shining with expectation and worry as you hold his hand between the two of you. Steve smiles. As if him saying no could be possible. With a soft shake of his head, Steve leans in and kisses you, letting out a low sound of content and melting with a single kiss. He feels you sigh against his lips and lets go of your hands to hold you face instead; his face moves to the right, allowing for a more comfortable angle as his lips slowly brush against yours until you’re too breathless to continue.

“Yes.” Steve says, his forehead pressing against yours. He’s pretty sure you’re not allowed to kiss, but none of you seem to care. “Of course I accept, princess. I’ll prove myself worthy of you.”

Steve feels the moment you shake your head. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me Steve.” You whisper.

Overwhelmed with your words, Steve ducks his head and brushes his nose against the side of yours. He places a kiss to the corner of your mouth and whispers your name. “I really, really like you. You don’t know how much.”

You move to look up into Steve’s eyes and place a hand on his cheek. “I really like you too, Steve.”

Steve smiles, and you do too, both of you feeling immersed in your own little world; basking in the happiness the day has brought. It is only when one of your horses whines in the distance that Steve speaks up. “We should get going, you said your father is waiting.”

You look around you before smiling at Steve again. “Just one more.” You tell him, bringing his face closer to yours and kissing him again.

Steve can’t help but smile against your lips as he places his hands on your waist and kisses you back. This is all he ever wanted but never thought he could have —his princess, happiness, his freedom. Both of your eyes are closed, completely absorbed in the moment, and too focused on each other to notice the way the breeze picks up and plucks periwinkle leaves from their flowers; they swirl around you as you let your affection take over for just a moment. A moment that unbeknownst to you, will turn into another, and another, until the happily ever after both you and Steve have longed for finally arrives. The two of you hand in hand, living a loving, happy, and fulfilling life the kingdom will remember for centuries to come.

[vulpes-fennec]

Sandcastles in the Sky

Summary: When Elain borrows her best friend's beach house after a tough breakup, she's ready for nothing but peace and quiet. What she doesn't expect is for her new neighbor to be such a giant pain in her ass.

Part 2 of ACOTAR Writing Circle organized by @azrielshadowssing! You can read Part 1 by @kingofsummer93 here

Oh god, it was Graysen, no doubt about it. How the hell did he manage to find Vassa’s beach house? The man couldn’t even find the clit on a good day. 

“Elain? I know you’re in there. Can we just talk? Please? The storm is getting crazy out here.” That grating voice was begging loudly on the porch. 

God, Elain hated being such a pushover. But better to deal with it now before Graysen became more desperate, right? Elain wrapped her cardigan around her shoulders tightly as she made her way through the door. Sure enough, Elain could make out her ex-fiance’s face in the twilight. 

“What do you want?” she asked, opening the door just enough to let her face peek out.

He was a relic from another era of her life, so out of place in his gray suit on a rotting wood porch. Graysen breathed out a sigh of relief. “You’re safe.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Elain’s annoyance rose a smidge higher.

He gestured down the street of beach shacks. “You’re practically in the middle of nowhere, Elain. Something could have happened to you.” There was a vague undercurrent of patronizing in his tone, as if he didn’t quite believe in her ability to take care of herself. 

“How did you find me?” Elain demanded, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. God, she should’ve just pretended she wasn’t home. 

Graysen gave her a pointed look. “I still have your location on my phone.” Ah, shit. She forgot to get rid of that, too. 

“Look, I know things haven’t been great between us these last few months. I shouldn’t have kicked you out, shouldn’t have been more focused on the wedding than on you. If you need to take a break, just tell me.” 

“Graysen,” Elain sighed, feeling like she was trying to explain simple addition to a child. “I’m not trying to take a break.”

“Well, we should at least talk about what went wrong, Lainey,” Graysen protested. 

“It’s just not going to work out,” Elain cried, exasperated. “We outgrew each other, okay? Our friends don’t align, our families don’t align, our values don’t align…it’s not going to happen. It’s over.” 

Graysen’s face twisted in barely suppressed anger. How could she have once thought him handsome? It had only been a few weeks, but the man was a complete stranger to her now. He had been, for quite some time. “Something’s wrong, Lainey,” he gritted out. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

Elain’s mind flicked towards Lucien. So what if she already found other people attractive? She’d only met him today, so it was simply preposterous for Graysen to suggest she was cheating on him. 

“There is no one else,” she snapped. “It’s over, Graysen. We. Are. Done. And stop calling me Lainey. I’m sick of it.” She pried off the diamond engagement ring, giving it back to him as an added measure. 

Elain was expecting Graysen to yell, to beg on his knees, or to snatch the ring away and drive off. Elain did not expect Graysen to grab her wrist when she extended the ring out. And for him to yank her down the steps of the front porch, attempting to drag her back to his car. 

Her scream was drowned out by the clap of thunder. Elain scrambled for a hold on the porch column, on the ground, anything to keep Graysen from hauling her into his car. 

A wayward brick, spillover from Lucien’s messy front yard, was her salvation. It was heavy with the weight of the wasted years and countless memories as she swung it clumsily at the side of Graysen’s head. His eyes crossed as he slumped to the ground, iron fist loosening around her wrist. 

The rain soaked into her hair, running down her face in little streams. Elain’s jeans had ripped at the knee, and there was even mud staining the front of her shirt.

Elain swore loudly when she noticed the red blood leaking down his temple. Fuck, what if she’d killed him? Her adrenaline abated slightly when her fingers found a fluttering pulse on the side of his neck. He was simply knocked out.

The rain stopped. No, it didn’t stop—it was being kept at bay thanks to Lucien holding a large umbrella over her. His red hair had been pulled back from his handsome face in a low ponytail, and his brows were creased with concern. 

“That’s a strong arm you’ve got there, Elain,” he observed. “Are you alright?” 

***Lucien***

Turns out the asshole who had practically tried to kidnap Elain Archeron was her ex-fiance, Graysen Nolan. With his gray suit and neatly trimmed hair, Graysen looked just like one of his half-brother Eris’s arrogant big-law coworkers.

While Elain was more than happy to leave Graysen lying there, Lucien had opted to call the ambulance. That would leave the prick several thousand dollars lighter and free of any liabilities. The paramedics checked Graysen’s vitals, strapped his still-unconscious form to the gurney, and drove away in a matter of minutes. 

Elain was shivering as the frigid wind chilled her already dampened clothes. “What if Graysen tries to press charges when he wakes up?” she fretted through chattering teeth. 

“Don’t worry, I was able to capture a video of him trying to drag you to his car,” Lucien assured Elain. “I can send them to Vassa—and you—once I have reception again.” He offered his phone to her.

“You’re telling me that you just stood there filming me and my ex in an argument?” Elain raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You seem like a lady who can take care of herself.” Lucien rebutted smoothly, pointing to the very brick Elain had used to strike Graysen with. “My brother’s a lawyer, and he’s always emphasized the power of evidence in a case. Besides, if he managed to get you into his car, I would have hopped on my bike and chased him down for you.” 

Like a modern day knight in shining armor. Lucien gave her a crooked smile and wink that hopefully softened Elain’s skepticism. His gleaming motorcycle was safely covered in the shed, but it had been proudly displayed when Elain pulled up to Vassa’s house. 

“Alright then.” Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she added her number to Lucien’s contacts. Lucien’s heart was pitter-pattering like the rain on the ground, for once Elain finished typing her phone number, she would surely turn and leave. 

“Say, how about you chill at my place until the power comes back on?” Lucien suggested, before she could say goodbye. “You can dry off and I can cook you dinner.” 

Elain blinked. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly bother you,” she tried to say, but then stopped. “I suppose I didn’t have a chance to purchase many groceries…I can stay for a snack and then be out of your hair?”

“Nonsense,” Lucien chuckled. “Vassa would give me an earful if I offered you unhealthy snacks for dinner.”

“She would,” Elain smiled. “Alright, I’ll come over.”

“Any dietary restrictions?” Lucien asked as they started up the short path to his house next door. Elain shook her head. “Home sweet home.” Lucien flicked on the light. Oh god, he’d forgotten how much of a mess his house was. He had not expected Elain to come over so quickly. 

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Elain exclaimed as she took in the warm lighting in Lucien’s living room. “Vassa said you had a generator.” 

Lucien gestured to the ceiling. “Solar panels and a battery, actually.” he replied.

“Very sustainable of you,” Elain observed appreciatively. Lucien’s sharp eyes noticed the small, satisfied smile she tried to hide from him. He suppressed the urge to point it out, and directed Elain to the upstairs bathroom, providing her with a hair dryer, fresh towels, and a soft baggy shirt and clean sweatpants instead. 

Lucien did some hasty cleaning while Elain was freshening up: shelving books, rearranging cushions, and wiping down surfaces. He was almost done remodeling his beach house: two bedrooms, with wooden refurbished furniture; a spacious kitchen, complete with the latest gadgets; bathroom, with restored vintage hardware; a cozy living room; and a mini basement that had been converted into a wine cellar. The only thing left was the yard, which was in desperate need of a garden. 

Mushrooms, garlic, and bell peppers were expertly chopped before sauteed on the stove. The vegetables would go nicely with the leftover cilantro-lime rice from last night. And Lucien had gone to the fishmonger today, purchasing fresh cod filets that would pair well with lemon and dijon mustard flavors.

Earlier that day, he had been organizing the bedroom on his second floor when a rental car rolled into Vassa’s driveway with a stunning woman in the driver’s seat. One of Vassa’s distant cousins, perhaps? 

Lucien was nosy, so he’d turned off his music and listened to her hash it out with “Graysen” over the phone. Watched her struggle up the steps of Vassa’s beach house with a large pink suitcase. The lady was even more beautiful once she’d stepped out into the sun, with her golden brown loose curls fluttering in the wind, big brown eyes, and perfectly kissable mouth. 

And then he’d promptly gotten a call from Vassa, saying her friend Elain Archeron had broken up with her good-for-nothing fiance three weeks ago. “She’s going to stay at the cottage for a few weeks. I think the two of you would get along very well,” Vassa had chirped. “And…if you want to take things a bit further, you have my approval!”

He could practically see Vassa kicking her feet and giggling once she’d hung up. Despite rolling his eyes, Lucien couldn’t help but grin. He’d just finished plating the food when Elain came down the stairs. 

“That smells amazing,” she called out appreciatively. 

Lucien turned around and immediately felt breathless. Elain looked positively beautiful with her hair freshly dry and loose. And though the shirt and sweatpants were far too baggy for her lithe form, seeing her wear his old clothes satisfied that primal male pride. 

“I figured a hot meal on a cold night would be better than processed food. Please, have a seat.” Lucien watched anxiously as Elain took her first bite.

“Oh, it’s delicious,” she sighed. “Really, I didn’t even know how hungry I was until I started eating. Do you like to cook?” 

“I do,” he replied, his heart swelling with pride at her praise. 

“Do you bake?” she pressed.

“I don’t,” Lucien confessed. “Do you?” 

“I like to bake.” Elain’s face brightened visibly. “Vassa failed to mention that her house didn’t have an oven. Can you believe it? No oven? I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful. But I just can’t believe a family could live without an oven!” 

Lucien laughed. “You’re free to use my oven anytime,” he offered. “As long as I get to take a 25 percent cut of whatever you make.” 

“Of course. Baked goods are always meant to be shared.” Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, causing some of the cutlery to rattle. The two shared a surprisingly comfortable silence for a couple bites. “What brings you to Long Island?” 

“Soul-searching.” Lucien shrugged. “I’m from Montreal, actually. Last summer, I learned that my mom had an affair with her college sweetheart…and he’s my real father.” 

“Oh my god. How do you feel about it? Are you okay?” 

“Overall, it’s a good thing? The man who raised me was pretty abusive, and he passed away last year. And my mom got back together with Helion.” Lucien didn’t always dwell on the horrors Beron inflicted on him. On his family. He didn’t realize his hand was trembling until Elain laid her hand over it.

The softness of her hands grounded him, drawing away his fears. Elain’s brown eyes were wide, but she did not look at him with pity like so many others did.

“Helion treats her well, thankfully. But it’s been hard for me to wrap my mind around it…to view this stranger as my father. And to finally work through all the trauma. So I quit my corporate job, bought this place with the money Beron had left us, and took up contracting full time. Therapy, self-care, all that jazz.” 

“That must be incredibly difficult.” Elain withdrew her hand, and Lucien’s fingers twitched slightly at the sudden emptiness. “I hope Long Island is to your liking?” 

“I’ll be okay,” Lucien assured her. “Plenty of work to be found here, decent weather…comparatively,” he added with a smile, seeing the disbelieving look Elain gave at the storm lashing outside. “It’s a quaint town. Great people, though.” 

“Yeah,” Elain smiled. “Are you remodeling this house for…?”

“Maybe a vacation home,” Lucien shrugged. “If I ever have a family of my own, it could be a nice place to stay at during the summer.”

“Oh? Are you...dating anybody?” Elain asked. Her voice was neutral, but there was an apprehensive look in her eyes. Like she was at the edge of her seat waiting for his answer.

“Nope,” Lucien leaned back in his chair. “Single for three years and counting.” 

Elain’s jaw dropped. “No way,” she blurted out. “A guy like you?” 

“Just waiting for the right lady to come around,” Lucien chuckled. He tilted his head slightly, regarding Elain with a level gaze that made her blush. It wasn’t like him to be so forward with a woman who had just gotten out of a long-term relationship, but there was something so undeniably compatible between him and Elain, he couldn’t help it. She seemed delicate at first glance with her soft smiles and blushing cheeks, but Elain clearly had some fire to her. And Lucien liked that. 

“And you?” he asked. “What brings you here?”

“I’m sure Vassa already told you.” Elain grinned. 

Lucien held his hands up in the air. “Guilty,” he laughed. “She said you’d be here after breaking off your engagement. But of all the places to go, why Long Island?” 

“Graysen and I were living together, so of course when I broke up with him, he kicked me out,” Elain answered ruefully. “Vassa was probably too nice to sexile me, but Jurian’s roommates probably need a break.”

Lucien laughed. “Those two are definitely a handful whenever they’re together.” 

“Yeah. My parents have passed away, so no family home to return to. My older sister is in law school in California. My younger sister is working in London right now.” 

“Damn,” Lucien whistled. “How are you doing after the breakup?” 

“Relieved, actually,” Elain confessed. “It’s one of those relationships where everything seemed perfect in the beginning, but it became clear Graysen didn’t truly see me…as me. I think having a girlfriend elevated his status, and he didn’t care enough to keep the relationship alive after the honeymoon phase was over.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Lucien grimaced. “He sounds like a real ass.” 

Elain sighed and ran her hands through her loose curls. “Yeah, I should’ve left him earlier. But I’ll be here, working remotely for the foreseeable future. It’s nice to have a neighbor like you around.” Again, that delectable tell-tale blush creeping up the side of her neck.

“I can only hope I’m sufficiently good company.” Lucien reined in the urge to lay himself at her feet, to offer more than just friendship. “Well, here’s to new beginnings, for both of us.” 

“To new beginnings,” Elain agreed with a knowing look that made his blood heat, as she clinked her glass against his. Just as he raised the glass to his lips, the light went out. 

“Well, shit. The battery juices have run out,” Lucien groaned. “Sorry about that, Elain.” 

A/N: Yes...the garden is incomplete but symbolically when Elain and Lucien get together, she'll create a lovely garden that completes his--their--home (home is where the heart is, amirite?)

[aemondslefteyeball]

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[Modern!Aemond x Fem!reader]

[Warnings: Creepin, intense ass creepin'. Firearms. Masturbation.]

[Summary: Gather around children, let's play with guns!]

(Whew boy, this one was probably the hardest chapter to write since getting back into the groove. Sorry if this first one isn’t all that great, I'll yeet better ones into the void)

Chapter 4

Aemond looked over at Y/N warily. As they approached the manor, you looked up and around in wide-eyed wonder. Lys never saw snow, but right now there were more important things for you to do than gawk at cold water. He grabbed your wrist lightly and pulled you in, his nose pressing against the mass of curls on your head. “Don’t embarrass me.” He hissed against your earmuff and felt some relief when you nodded before giggling and blushing as if he had whispered something dirty. That seemed to be the exact moment his Mother opened the door, and smiled at the sight of you two. She immediately moved to embrace Y/N, and you returned her embrace warmly. 

“Oh, it’s so wonderful to meet you!” Alicent exclaimed, moving between the two of you. “I always hoped Helaena would have a sister,” Aemond opted to not comment on that one. She sized him up in the way only a mother could and apparently was happy with what she found. “Come.” His Mom said softly, leading the pair inside where the rest of the family was waiting in the hall. He saw her gaze over Y/N intently, doe eyes holding a touch of caution. He had worried that you would freeze up under the pressure of meeting his massive and… complicated family. To the contrary, you were chatting with Helaena when a little voice rang out, running up to grab his sister’s pant leg. 

“You’re too short to be a grown-up!” Jaehaera insisted, grasping her mother’s hand while you grinned. Aemond had let out a bark of a laugh that you ignored. Watching the grin on your face widen, mischief twinkled in your eyes. His stare sharpened, and his fist clenched. He watched you look around conspiratorially before dropping onto your haunches. If you do anything to upset her… You raised your right hand to your mouth as if the entire roomful of adults couldn’t hear you and gestured for his niece to come closer. 

“Between you and me, I’ve been pretending so I can have ice cream whenever I want.” Jaehaera’s eyes widened at your words. Aemond had to hold in a chuckle. Remaining at her level, you smiled warmly at the girl. “I’m Y/N. You must be Jaehaera.” His niece nodded intently at that, a smile on her chubby cheeks. 

“This is my brother, Jaehaerys!” She proudly exclaimed, pulling his much shyer nephew forward to meet the stranger in his home. He watched as you observed him quietly for a moment. When the boy raised his eyes level with yours, you smiled gently. 

“What’s your favorite kind of dinosaur?” You asked as if it were the most casual thing in the world, apparently not knowing that it had triggered a weekend-long class on paleontology. Then again, it’s not like he had told you anything other than names. 

“T Rex!” Jaehaerys blurted out, the shyness started to fade in favor of his special interest. He started listing off facts about T rexes before noticing a look that Helaena gave him. His eyes turned back to you, his expression curious. “What’s your favorite kind of dinosaur?

Helaena gave him an approving smile, and Aemond watched the gears turn in your head for a few seconds. Turning your gaze back to meet his, you smirked before saying “Uncle Aemond.” the boy’s eyes lit up as he giggled, and the twins started pulling at you to follow them excitedly babbling about dinosaurs and trains. He watched as you rose to a level you could still comfortably hold hands with them at, and ran off to wherever they whisked you away to. Aemond knew that he should be annoyed at your stupid little remark, but ignored it. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry about the insult, despite being irritated by the way you breathed sometimes. 

The next time he saw you was when he joined Helaena on the back porch. She stood nursing a cup of matcha, her silver hair pulled back into a messy bun as she turned to meet his gaze. Smiling at him, she turned back to look out at the yard. Aemond’s sole eye followed her trail of sight, and he held back a smirk at the sight of you flinging Jaehaerys to Aegon. When his brother noticed the pair watching, he held Jaehaerys up as if he were Simba. “So what are we supposed to do with these things?” A good-humored smile lit up Aegon’s face as he promptly tossed his nephew into a massive pile of snow. The twins giggled as Jaehaera raised her arms to you, jumping excitedly in anticipation to be tossed the same way her twin had. 

On Saturday night, he spotted you on the balcony pointing to the constellations in the night sky. You and Jaehaerys were so bundled up he could scarcely recognize the two of you, and he watched you from the frost-covered window. You were clearly in the middle of a story, your hand guiding the child’s to align with your target. When he got it, a smile pulled across your face. Your cheeks and nose were flushed from the cold, but your face lit up so warmly. The ghost of a smile wisped across his face, and Aemond stood watching for a few more seconds, reflecting on how natural the pair of you looked. Despite his general distaste for you, he found himself wishing you had this. Not with him, obviously, but after your divorce. At least if then it would be less of a sunk cost. The next day when the two of you left, his hand lingered on your waist for just a second longer after they couldn’t be seen from the windows.

Aemond wasn’t sure whether he was dreaming, or just punishing himself. His eye was closed, but he got the feeling Alys knew he wasn’t sleeping. When he said nothing, she eventually moved to get up, and seeing an easy out Aemond pretended to stir. “Didn’t you say they’re coming today?” She questioned, pulling a tank top over her curvy form. 

“Yeah.” His voice was gravelly, “At noon.” Alys nodded while he rose to sit, before turning to walk towards the adjoining bathroom. He watched her from the reflection in the mirror, cued into the guarded look on her face. 

“Who’s all going to be here?” She asked, raising her brush to run through her raven locks. She observed herself in the mirror, frowning at something briefly. 

“Aegon.” He said unsurely. His brother seemed entirely unaffected by Sara’s disappearance, yet nobody seemed to think he planned her death. Alys’ face remained neutral “My Mom. Helaena.” The brush combed steadily through Alys’ hair, her head making small nods she probably knew he was watching. “Whoever is updating us. The twins. ” Alys’ face stiffened, and she looked down to hide the annoyance that flashed over her. You never had to ask her about it. Alys was ruthless in anything she pursued. If she wanted– or even liked– children she would’ve had them. Cringing for a second longer, Alys dragged the brush down on the other side of her head. 

“I have a busy day ahead of me so I won’t be able to meet up with you until later.” I can’t stand your family and don’t want to show up until they’re gone. Aemond nodded and looked to the other wall. 

“That’s fine.” Aemond didn’t feel relieved to be telling her the truth. They didn’t let it get sentimental, but they had been in their arrangement for a while now. He should care that she didn’t like his family, but as hard as he tried he just couldn’t picture anything further than the next day with her. Helaena was the first to show up, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. She was late to start college because of the twins, but because of that, her schedule was pretty flexible. She was a godsend. After the plane went missing, Aemond called in sick for the first time in his life. Since then, he had started delegating his extra duties to others and taking half days. It’s not like he would ever be fired from the company, and despite his general callousness, his Grandfather nodded at him the first time he told him he would be leaving early. He didn’t say anything beyond that, but the look shared between them was one of empathy uncharacteristic of the man. The twins ran around the house in the meantime, no doubt coating everything in a fine layer of boogers and mysterious goo. 

“How are you holding up?” She asked, setting down a bag full of takeout. Ripping it open, she set aside two containers before pulling one out with an “A-ha!” and placing it before him. Blueberry waffles with an extra side of syrup. Digging into his meal before waiting for Helaena and the kids, he shrugged off the look his sister gave him before taking another bite. That’s when the knock sounded at the door. 

“Is that Mom?” He inquired after swallowing a mouthful of waffle. 

Helaena pulled out her phone before frowning and shaking her head. He knew it wasn’t Aegon because Aegon had never shown up early to anything in his life. Shrugging, Aemond rose to his feet and walked towards the door, grimacing when he saw a familiar car in the driveway. Emerson. Impatiently knocking again, Aemond opened the door with a flat expression. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Emerson simply pushed past him with an eye-roll at his wry tone. His remaining eye widening in surprise as another girl followed after the brunette. Closing the door after them, he gave your girlfriend the most judgmental look he could muster. “I see you’re taking her absence particularly hard.” He derided. Emerson’s eyes widened in anger, her mouth moving wordlessly before she finally spoke. 

“Taenys is my friend. She’s here to support me because the woman I love is…” her voice trailed off. The implication awoke anger within him, a sneer pulling across his chiseled features. Perhaps it was to assuage his guilt, but he had determined to not treat you like you were dead until SAR had a body. Taenys put her hand up and soothed the brunette, her coos soft. Despite the platonic touch, Aemond could spot something deeper lurking in her eyes. It figured. Here Emerson was cozying up to another woman days after you had gone missing, yet he was the bad guy. Aemond’s gaze burned into the joined hands of Taenys and Emerson as the private investigator his mother had hired briefed them. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Baela slid onto your cot as soon as she noticed you sitting. Slouched over, you stared at the ladder leading into the attic. A thousand thoughts buzzed through your head like worker bees until your best friend’s voice cut through it. “It’s okay.” She whispered quietly enough to not wake those around you. “They’re gone, remember?” Her hand moved down your arm, her fingers lacing through yours before squeezing your hand reassuringly. “We buried them.” 

Shifting your gaze to the mounted head of a stag on the wall, you leaned into your best friend’s side. Letting the fear show through you, you finally spoke. “I think something really bad happened here.” Your eyes met hers as you swallowed. “The entire area. The forest. I’m really scared, Bae.” She wrapped her arm around you tenderly, taking care to not press on your injured shoulder too hard. The two of you sat like that until her rhythmic breathing lulled you to sleep. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aemond felt hollow after everybody left. He went through the motions of readying himself for work, telling himself it's what was expected of him. The only thing he felt like doing was sitting and sipping at a glass of scotch until he could picture your face in his mind’s eye. But that wasn’t him, he wasn’t Aegon. He couldn’t dump all his shit onto everybody else. Aemond’s body was on autopilot as he turned on the car and started driving. The familiar lines of the familiar roads drifted together and the blonde found himself pulled back into his memories. 

You had entered the grand doorway of the mansion excitedly holding out a kit. “Guess what I got for us!” His Mother met his gaze and smiled. Her eyes shifted to Y/N with the twins before meeting Aemond’s again, her expression conveying an ambition that he would never grant her. After dinner the lot of you sat on the floor of the living room, giggling at inside jokes. The fireplace roared behind the trio as he watched them weave together friendship bracelets. “There you go.” You finally said before having Jaehaera tie the bracelet around your wrist, having finished with theirs. “Since the green-eyed monster visits whenever Aunty Baela is here, now she can see that you two are my beeessst friends.” Your tone was teasing, but not malicious. He got the impression you understood the turbulent emotions childhood brought and didn’t begrudge them for it. Aemond kept his face neutral, grabbing his glass of water and taking a sip before he turned away and went back to the kitchen. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey!” Sara’s voice rang out. 

Sabitha immediately rushed to where Jace sat, putting her hand on the barrel of the dead man’s rifle and pushing it down. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing with that!” 

“He’s being fucking stupid.” Sara quipped. 

“No. what’s fucking stupid is that we have a gun and we’re not using it.” He retorted. Jacaerys fired off an unsuccessful shot at the squirrel he had been aiming for. Sabitha recoiled at the noise and raised her hands up, her breathing quickened. 

Aly’s eyes lit up in worry as she ran to Sabitha’s side. “Oh shit.” Criston Cole emerged as quickly as he could on his crutches. 

“Hey.” He called out assertively, his angered look coming to rest on the boy. “Give me that.” He commanded as if he could hold himself against Jace now. “Jacaerys, give me the gun.” When the brunette finally followed his orders, he shifted his weight to one side, grabbing it with his left hand and discharging the shell. “This is a dangerous weapon, and we will handle it as such. We understand? That being said, Jacaerys is right. We’re out of food. We’re all feeling it. The good news is my father used to take me deer hunting every year as a kid.” The man continued on, looking displeased at the memory. “The bad news…yeah, I am down to one fucking leg. Which means that if we wanna eat, one of you is gonna have to learn how to use this thing.” You looked over to Baela, her face contorted in panic. Never pressing her for the details, you knew there was a gun involved in her Mom’s death. You moved past Jace, finally stopping at Baela’s side and shooting her an empathetic look. Baela stood next to you in the group, with you glancing at her every few seconds. “Slow breath in…” Alysanne stood with the rifle pointed at the tree. Sabitha stood behind her, watching for… scientific reasons. Rhaena placed a coin on the end of the barrel. “Then full exhale, then go.” The rifle clicked as Aly fired the unloaded gun and the coin dropped to the dirt beneath it. “It’s okay, you guys. Hey. It’s not a competition.” 

“Uh, but there is gonna be a winner, right? Sara peacocked over to Aly’s side, her gaze pointed at Aly as she held out her hand expectantly.

“Alright Sara, you’re up.” 

“Yeah, Sara.” Myrielle clapped, sitting on the stair of the porch. 

Before Sara could even fire it, the coin fell to the ground. Baela started laughing and the blonde grasped the rifle vertically in one hand. Holding it so that the barrel was pointed upwards in her obliviousness. “Okay, this is literally impossible.” Jace joined in the snickering, his gaze falling onto your best friend. 

“Alright. Come on, let’s keep it moving.” Ser Criston insisted, waving his hand to Jace. “Velaryon. Let’s go.” 

“Uh, yo. Luke, come try this.” He held out the rifle towards his little brother, only for the younger boy to shake his mop of curls.

“Fuck you.” He retorted, gazing down at the ground as he walked off into the treeline. 

“Oooh.” Came the jape from Myrielle, “Nice going, Strong.” 

“Let’s go.” The brunette raised the rifle parallel to the ground. Gesturing towards Rhaena to hurry up and place the coin on the barrel, she complied with a glance towards Ser Cole that lingered too long for your comfort. Apparently Ser Criston’s too. When he pulled the trigger, the coin stayed put. Claps rang out across the clearing, Criston nodding his head at Jace. “See, that ladies, is how it’s done.” He peacocked, looking suddenly ashamed as Baela rolled her eyes. 

“Nice, Velaryon.” Criston praised. Turning his gaze and gesture towards Baela, he nodded to her. “You’re up.” When she stepped forward, you could see the reluctance splayed across her face. 

“Come on, nice and easy, just like the man said,” Jace whispered, his gaze focused on Bae. You could see the distance in her eyes, and the coin fell to the ground unceremoniously. 

“That’s a shame.” Jace insisted with an eye roll. “Now, you know what? Next time we can just stick to something you’re good at. Like writing papers, or sucking dick.” 

“Hey.” You immediately interjected, held back by Barba from approaching the moody boy.

“I’m going again.” Baela insisted, leveling the gun back up as Sara gestured angrily.

“Can she do that?” She demanded, locking eyes with Ser Cole as you shot a glare in her direction. 

“I’ll allow it.” He insisted, his gaze hard on Sara. Jace argued against it, only to be given a long-suffering look from Criston. “That’s enough.” 

“Back off.” Sabitha spat.

“Leave her alone.” You snarled at him, your attention drawn back to the source of the issue. Pure spite was visible on Baela’s face as she raised the firearm. When she pulled the trigger, the coin lay flat on the barrel. You were the first to clap, a toothy smile pulling across your face as your best friend basked in the attention. Despite your inability to shoot the rifle due to the sling on your arm, you still deemed this a net victory Honestly, anything that pissed Jace off counted as a W right now. 

“Now that we’ve narrowed down the field, here’s how this is gonna go down. One final round for all of the marbles. You got five targets, five shots each. Myrielle, can you start us off?” 

“Um, just a thought.” Barba raised her hands up. “Shouldn’t we be saving bullets, you know?” 

“Uh, yeah, in theory. But lucky for us, the nutjob who lived here before was apparently hoarding for the apocalypse.” Myrielle fired off her first shot, hitting the log. 

“The cans.” Jace prodded. “You’re aiming for the cans.” 

“Shut up!.” Myrielle turned with a glare, but you couldn't feel too sympathetic. Those two were always dishing it out. 

“Do you like being this way?” Baela’s hands rested on her hips, a sardonic look on her face. 

“If you shit the bed again, are you gonna ask for another do-over? Baela rolled her eyes as Myrielle fired off her second shot and her third, expelling the shell before firing the rest. The first can finally fell, and Myrielle grinned smugly. 

“Good job, Myrielle.” Ser Cole praised, his eyes falling on Jace next. 

“Okay.” Jostling the rifle, Jacaerys aimed for the first can and knocked it off the log on the first try. Three more followed in quick succession until the fourth missed.

“So close, Strong.” Bae mocked him from behind. Jace wheeled around and pointed the gun at her, his face contorted in rage.

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Jacaerys!” Criston barked. “Put the gun down.” Jace lowered the barrel, and you grabbed Baela’s arm, pulling her behind you in case anything his temper flared again. Adjusting the rifle so the sights aimed at the can, Jacaerys fired his last shot, successfully knocking it over. “Alright. That’s, uh… yeah. Good shooting Velaryon. But don’t ever do that again.” 

Jace handed the rifle over to Baela with a sneer. “Don’t choke. Again.” Rhaena covered her ears, and her twin fired off the first shot. The can flew off the log with a loud ting. The other four followed in quick succession. You clapped for your best friend as hard as you comfortably could, a smug expression on your face as you glanced over at the seething Jacaerys. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

At work, Aemond buried himself as far into menial tasks as he could. He took the time to sift through every CC of every email. When he was busy his mind didn’t drift. When he was busy he didn’t think about you. Suddenly cursing himself for allowing his mind to wander, his fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. The blonde typed your name into the search bar methodically, sifting through articles about the disappearance until he found one that offered a short biography of everybody onboard. There was a brief introduction he skimmed over, followed by photos of people on the flight. When a shot of you and some raven-haired woman he didn’t recognize popped up, he felt a pang in his gut. Her arm was wrapped around you, and he swore she pulled you in just a bit too close. His eye shifted laterally to the curve of your bust, barely contained by the bikini you wore. Your lips were pushed into an adorable pout, with aviator shades sitting across the bridge of your nose. He didn’t think that he had ever seen you quite like that. Playful. He supposed that he had nobody but himself to blame for that one, and he examined your carefree expression once more before he continued scrolling. As he got down lower, he eventually reached videos of the group. Clicking on one, his eye widened in immediate shock. ‘Now from the top’ your leg kicked up as you came down into a spread squat. ‘Make it drop’ you shot a smoldering look to the camera that quickly faded into giggles. His pupil dilated as blood rushed to his hardening cock. You, Baela, and three other girls he didn’t recognize came down into something akin to doggystyle ‘That’s some wet…’ Who would’ve thought the churchmouse was capable of this. ‘Macaroni in a pot,’ continued on, and he watched in sheer wonder as you brought your leg over from a downward-facing dog to a split, bouncing back up to the beat before dropping down again. Aemond held a breath, he was not into this. Despite his insistence his cock throbbed in his pants, and he found himself rewinding the video to watch the bounce of your ass as you landed in that split with a peeled eye. His tongue probed out to wet his lips. He was just curious, he told himself, his right hand venturing from his keyboard down to his belt. Replaying the video yet again, he was in the process of undoing his belt when a knock disrupted him from his thoughts. Aemond moved his hands back to the keyboard, closing out the tab he was on before composing himself. “Come in.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t eat that kind!” Nettles rushed to Rhaena and slapped the berries out of her hand, expression calm. 

“Okay. but will we trip our balls off or die?” You pursed your lips curiously as Sab teased her, Nettles smirked for a moment before shrugging in response. 

“The Girl Scout troop leader didn’t get all that specific about it.” 

“Nettles.” You gestured to a bush near you.

“Okay. Now those, I know for sure will make you puke. Don’t touch it.” You stepped back from the bush, before walking around the clearing and squatting down near another plant.

“Well, could you just show us something that’s actually edible so we can get going?” Surprise gripped you when Rhaena spoke up, her mood annoyed. Unattainable dick got a girl acting wild, knowing that it wasn’t entirely fair to make jokes at Criston’s expense. After all, he seemed even more disturbed by her affections than the rest of you. 

“What’s the hurry?” You snickered. “Ser Criston need a sponge bath?” Rhaena walked off, and Baela shot you a look while simultaneously holding in a laugh. Sabitha let out a deep belly laugh. 

Aly reached out to smack your arm, chuckling while doing so. “That’s-that’s mean.” 

“I’m sorry!” You shouted after her, before raising your hand in resignation. You would find her and apologize later. A tree called out to you, the triangular symbol embossed into the bark. Your hand raised to touch it, but Sara’s voice pulled you out of it before you could. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Aemond arrived home he almost made an immediate beeline to your room. He couldn’t– rather he refused to– acknowledge the process behind his compulsion. All he knew was that he had unfinished business. He stood in your room, trying to think in your shoes. Where would you put anything you really valued? His hands reached under the mattress, before opening the drawer to your nightstand. The former turned up empty, but the latter yielded results. The top drawer contained polaroids in it. You stood with Baela and Aly, the three of you posed in front of Taerax’s Fountain in Volantis. You all beamed, and your hand had lifted to shield your eyes from the sun. Moving before he could second-guess the action, Aemond swiped the photograph. You had multiple others, and none of them were just of you. You wouldn’t notice a random one going missing. Increasingly frustrated, Aemond found a journal that was entirely full up to the last two pages. Setting it aside, he decided that was too personal for him to read through. He moved through cases, opening them and groaning in frustration to find lip balm and pens. The blonde abandoned the top drawer after finding nothing else. He craved evidence of the girl he saw in that video, expression confident and body fluid. Opening the bottom drawer, he pulled out the first box he saw, unlatching the lid and popping it open. Jackpot. He grasped the vibrator before he could think about it. Inspecting it thoroughly as if it would contain some lingering trace of Y/N, he lowered it back into the box. Aemond left the satin bags that were tied close. He figured that those were obviously hidden, it would cross boundaries to rummage through them. He chuckled darkly as he pulled out a half-burnt candle, wondering exactly which one of you had it dripped on them. He thought back to that picture of you in the bikini, the soft mounds of flesh that would jiggle under the hardening wax. Taking a sharp breath in, the candle was dropped into the box. Aemond’s gaze shifted, and suppressing his better judgment he stood up. He crossed the room to where your closet door had been propped open by Vhagar, no doubt.

Eyeing the navy blue hamper, he looked to the bottom of it. You had obviously done your laundry shortly before the trip. But he still found what he wouldn’t acknowledge he had been looking for. Aemond’s hands snatched the violet lace panties out of the plastic bin, bringing them to his face and inhaling your scent deeply as possible. His mouth watered, and his cock ached from neglect, having been hard since the moment he opened that box. Taking another breath in through his nose, he thanked the gods that he had changed into a pair of sweatpants and lowered them enough to free his twitching manhood. Slapping against his stomach, he let out a primal groan at the scant contact it provided, His left hand white-knuckled the thong as a trail of saliva dribbled onto the head of his member. With that, he gave it a long stroke from tip to base. Pulling the panties back up to his face and moaning at the scent, his hand pumped harder. It wasn’t warm enough, and he suspected his grip was nowhere near tight enough, but it would have to do. Throwing his head back, flashes of you stretching in those tight little shorts flashed through his mind. They left next to nothing to the imagination, and the sight of where your thighs met your pelvis was burned into his mind. The jiggle of your ass as your hips met with the ground in a split again. With a primal growl releasing from his throat, he tightened his grip on his cock, his hips involuntarily bucking into his hands. He thought of bending you over the table, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises, and fucking you senseless until you forgot all about your attempts to give him the cold shoulder. Heat began to build in his stones, desperate grunts falling from his lips as he closed his eyes, taking another deep whiff of Y/N’s panties. A darkened eye half-opened again. As the tension building in his groin released, he squeezed the head of his cock, pressing his fingers into the bundle of nerves underneath the head. His deep moans echoed through the empty room. Ropes of cum shot out into the air as he desperately fucked into his hand for the remainder of his orgasm, breathing heavily. Closing his eye for a few brief moments and resting his head against the closet door, clarity hit him like a fucking train. Globs of his seed pooled onto two of your dresses, and he made a note to have the maid clean them. Disgust finally flowed through him, and he tucked his cock back into his pants quickly. He threw the panties back into the hamper, suddenly recoiling. They would be cleaned. You would never know, and he could pretend it never happened. And it would never happen again. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh, guys?” 

“What?” 

“Come here! Look!” 

Feet planted on the ground with shock twisting in you, your eyes met with a dilapidated airplane. It was a shitty little Cessna, and the sight of it drove a spike of fear into you. “Holy shit.” The foliage grew over the plane and Sara climbed closer into the brush near it. “I don’t think it still works,” You said absentmindedly as Barba crawled into it. “Dude, what the fuck?” Despite yelling out at her, she started the engine up with Sabitha and Sara still in front of it. Dread twisted in your gut. 

“Guys this is it,” Sabitha looked dumbstruck at the two blades slowly spinning in front of her, her hands raising suddenly. “Get out of the way!” Sara yelled, pushing her to the side before finding herself in front of the plane’s path. 

“Turn it the fuck off, Barba!” The plane eventually sputtered to a stop six inches away from Sara’s face. The blonde breathed heavily as the blades spun a few more times, coming to an eventual stop. She and Sabitha locked eyes for a few seconds. Your gaze felt vacant, and the wind whispered through the treetops. Staring at the vines wrapped around the wheels of the plane again, you murmured “It didn’t want him to leave.” Aly shot a glare in your direction. 

You sat back at the firepit in front of the cabin, rinsing off laundry while avoiding eye contact with Aly. Her gaze had been fixed on you since you had all foraged earlier and found the plane. As always, Baela swooped in with the assist. You thanked R’hllor for her return, and your eyes widened at the wooden stick bearing a dead deer. “You did it!” Beaming at Bae, you immediately rushed over to the body of the animal they set on the ground. 

“It was all Baela.” Jace blurted out.

“So, what do we do with it now?” Baela looked to Criston, who crutched closer over to the deer. 

“Well, first thing we got to do is bleed it out.” By now you weren't eeked out by the idea. There’s no room to be prissy out here. Ser Criston held up the knife by the flat of the blade. “Who wants to try?” He ignored Rhaena, who looked way too into cutting open a dead body. You would have volunteered if your other arm was functional right now, but you promised you’d help whoever did it as soon as you healed. Floris raised her hand hesitantly, stepping forward to take the knife.

“I’ll give it a try.” 

“Just right across the throat.” Floris squatted down, bracing one hand on the jaw before inhaling deeply and digging the blade into the animal’s throat. Wincing, you reflected on all the times you bought saran wrapped meat. 

Your hesitation eventually gave way to hunger at the scent of deer meat roasting over the fire. Sticking the skewer into the flames once more, you moaned as you ripped into the roasted meat. It had been over a week since you last felt full, and you tore into the venison with a ferocity that laid dormant. You looked at Floris, and noticing her hacking away more slices, you grabbed another skewer, ignoring the look from Sabitha and Myrielle. Placing a few chunks of meat onto it, you smiled softly and handed it to her “Gotta look after yourself too, you know.” Floris offered a tight smile before taking a bite and licking the juice off her fingers. Your attention was snapped elsewhere when Ser Criston toppled over, both crutches clattering into the dirt. 

“Whoa! Are you okay?” Her voice sweet as an angel’s, Rhaena crouched in front of Ser Criston. “Whoa, hey. You need to be more careful,” she lectured, “You could get even more hurt.” Something about her tone was cloying. Too sweet, hiding something underneath. You lowered your gaze to the fire, taking your wary eyes off of Baela’s twin. The group around the fire dwindled until you were the only person left there. You fiddled with the bracelet on your left hand, and wondered how long the deer meat would last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I wish I could be as devoted to anything as Aemond is to his sense of denial lmao)

Taglist: @chainsawsangel

[thornofthelily]

I wanted some writing practice and to break myself out of my rut, so I tried writing an audio RP using one of my old OCs! I doubt anyone will see this random script but if you want to use it, ask first. This is an old dear OC of mine and I'm not sure I'd continue writing his story like this or want to have someone else read him out, but it is a fun exercise. Info and script below the cut!

[M4A / M4M / M4F ] Chatting with a brooding stranger at a bar [Alcohol] [Mysterious past] [More mysterious job] [Tattooed speaker] [Melancholic meetcute]

[Distant thumping music, loud chattering voices. One distinct voice calls out clearly through the din]

Bartender? One beer, please. [Beat] Huh? [Exasperated] I don't know what kind. Just, whatever the cheapest one is. [Beat] Actually, wait, no, scratch that. Get me whichever one doesn't taste like shit. The least shit beer, please. [Barstool scraping, settling down] 

[Quietly, to himself] I mean, they all taste like shit, why bother… [finally, to listener] Oh, hey there. [Beat] What? I mean, yeah it's probably expensive, but it's not like I'm gonna drink that much. I doubt I'll even finish the first bottle. I don't really like beer. Or bars. Or alcohol, really. 

[Beat]

[Soft chuckle] Yeah, pretty bad place for me to be then, I know. It wasn't exactly my choice, but I'm supposed to [massive sarcasm] "have fun", so that's what I'm gonna do. Or at least pretend to do. Mostly for appearances.

[Bottle clicks on the table] Ah, right from the bottle, huh? Cool. [Takes a sip, swallows.] Bleugh. Yeah, no, this one's shit too. Why is all beer so shitty? Tastes like someone blended up old stale bread with some ditch water and artificial flavor then foamed it up for maximum mouth feel horror. [Sound of bottle sliding across the bar] I'll pass. But hey, at least I can say I tried. Went to the bar, had an expensive beer, hated it. Maybe I won't get asked to do this again. 

[Beat] Nah, I'm here alone. [Beat] Friends? I don't - well, I was going to say I don't have friends, which would sound pretty fucking pathetic. How about we say I'm not here with friends right now. [Beat] Actually, no. I'm here because my boss told me to. 

See, I just got this new job. I had my first day a few weeks ago, things were going fine, but Boss said I need to chill out. I'm too uptight, can't relax, I'm not "being a team player." Says I need to go out and mingle, have a few drinks, talk to some people. [Beat. Snorts in contempt] No, she isn't cool. Trust me. She's one of the most terrifying women I think I've ever met. I bet she has someone watching me right now just to see if I did what she asked. 

Seriously. I wouldn't put it past her. It always seems like she knows what I'm going to say before I say it, but she's asking me just to test me, see if I'll fuck up or try to lie. So I'm making the bare minimum effort to do what she asked. I'm sure if I just tried to lie she'd figure me out and… do something about it. Give me a hard time at work or something. 

[Beat]

I can't… ugh, I probably shouldn't tell you what I do. I might have said too much already. [Beat] No, no, it's… it's not like that. What, do I look like some kind of government black ops guy? [Beat] The neck tattoo…? Yeah, what about it? [Beat. Soft chuckle] What, so having a neck tattoo suddenly makes me look like a scary guy? Nah. Trust me, I'm a softie. This is the only tattoo I have. These thorns I have around my neck might look intense, but they're actually rose thorns. 

[Beat]

Where's the rose… heh. Well, it's somewhere I don't usually show people, let's say that. Ah, and no, I will not tell you where. Let a guy have his privacy. 

[Beat]

… what is that you're drinking? Looks cute. Gotta be better than that beer. Mind if I try a sip…?

[Beat. Glass tinkling, small sip. Contemplative hum]

…mmm. Not bad. Too sweet for my liking, but at least I can't taste the alcohol. Maybe I'll have one of those next time. 

[Beat]

[Amused, a little sardonic]… yeah, yeah, next time. Fine, maybe I will head out a little more often. And maybe it's not so terrible, being out in a place like this. Sure, it's too loud and the beer sucks and I can't even smoke in here, but maybe I can try one of these and find more cool people to talk to. [Soft chuckle] Yes, I do mean you. You seem cool. Thanks for the drink, by the way. What was it called again? [Beat] Right. I'll remember that.  

[Beat]

Really? That much? What, is that your way of telling me I need to pay you back for the sip I took? [Soft chuckle] I'm joking. I mean, I would if you asked, even if it is expensive. I kind of like that, actually. Keeps you from drinking too much. Unless you have deep enough pockets not to care, which I don't. 

[Beat] Yeah, why do you think I took the job with that scary woman? Because I have money to burn? No, I'm not… well. Again, I was going to say I'm not desperate, but I guess I kinda was, when I ended up on her doorstep. Now I'm doing stuff I'd rather not be doing, but at least the pay is good and it's not technically illegal. [Beat] Yes, technically. And again, no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. I don't wanna ruin whatever good will keeps you talking to me. It's not illegal and it doesn't hurt anyone, and it will make me good money. It's just… not what I imagined I'd be doing, I guess. 

[Beat]

… I don't know what I'd be doing instead, actually. I've been in survival mode so long, I never considered what I really want. I feel like this is the first breath I've been able to take in years. Even if I'm not totally happy with where I'm at, it's better than where I've been, which is saying something. [Pause] Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need some time out to chill. Maybe I'm not being tested and she was genuinely worried I was burning out already. 

[Laughs] Yeah, no I don't think so. [Beat] It's not that she's mean, she's just fucking intense. I don't think she has ever relaxed a day in her life, so I don't expect she actually wants me too, either. This whole thing, it's probably just something she considers part of my job. So I guess it's fine. [Beat] Yeah, it is. I'm fine with it. If this is all she asks of me, I'm fine with it. 

[Beat]

But I'm not finishing that beer. If she wants me to like beer, she can get over it. You can have it, if you want. [Money, coins and paper, rattle on the table] I've done my job for the night. Thanks for making it a little less miserable. 

[Beat]

… call me Briar. [Beat] No, it's not my real name. [Beat] If you want to think it's a code name, I won't stop you, but that's the name I'm going by now. I'm sure that'll make her happy to know I'm using it. [Beat] Yeah, no, not getting into that, either. 

[Beat] … I have a business card that has my number on it, but I don't think we're there yet. Maybe if you hang around the bar sometimes, I'll catch you next time I'm… "working." [Beat] Yeah. I hope I see you around too. Have a good night. Enjoy your drinks.

[its-monster-mash]

This has been sitting in my drafts for 1000 years oops Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

Thank you so much for tagging me @venus-haze!! I am also excited to participate in the self-callout lol

I don’t actually have a “WIP Folder”, I just have. A lot of WIPs. About to expose myself on a lot of different fandoms lol(I have a million different sideblogs that I organize a lot of the things I like by)

• Didn’t Your Momma Ever Tell You Not to Talk to Strangers? — Bo Sinclair x Reader (House of Wax) *I am also converting this one to an "Original" piece so I can publish it as a serial, so if you see the other version on Amazon under the pen name "M.E. Roselli" that's me. I'm still going to keep writing it as this fanfic, but there IS an alternate version. The other version is about a cult instead of Wax; instead of Vincent, Bo("Buck" in the alternate version) has a twin sister who was raised to be the cult's messiah. The cult is dead and gone along with their parents, but she's still living it. I just know that a lot of people's fanfics are being stolen, so I wanted to clear up that that is NOT the case with mine.

• Holmes and Dracula VS. Jack the Ripper — Original Work (Sherlock Holmes and Dracula team up to stop Jack the Ripper from bringing about the Apocalypse)

• Tides of Lust — Original Work (Meliora, a traveling bard with demonic blood, goes on a pirate adventure with a feared disciple of Davy Jones and also meets a Vampiric Warlord)

• What The Dead Men Say — Original Work (Ivar Ragnarsson ends up in Victorian England, where he has little choice but to team up with an archeologist; was technically an ACV fic originally, but I hate the ISU stuff and refuse to include it so really it’s just a history fic tbh)

• Playing House with Private X — Original Work (A cryogenically frozen super soldier navigates the modern world with the help of a would-be super soldier who slipped through the cracks. Very slice of life; it started as a Soldier Boy fic—American Pie, but I scrubbed it of IP so I can continue it as an original work and publish it as erotic shorts)

• ‘Til Death Do Us Part — Original Work (Would-be Murder victim Judith “Jude” Carpenter tries to start a new life in a small town…where her would have been killer has taken up residence as the priest. The two must work together to survive the town’s dark secret.)

• Careful What you Wish For — Original Work (Janie, a serial killer hitchhiking to avoid capture, ends up being held prisoner by Levi, a recluse out in the middle of nowhere, and she pretends to be a helpless victim in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep. The story focuses on her disturbing inner monologue through her act.)

• Lord of Roses, Master of Thorns — Original Work (Ancient Vampiric King Alistair Val Mirron must fall in love to end his curse of immortality; Myrinthe, an odd Peasant introduced to him by and old flame, seeks to remain in the castle at all costs to avoid being forced to marry the annoying rich boy in town.)

• Taken From the Ren Faire — Original Work (This was meant to be a cheesy erotica short but I accidentally gave it a plot. Oops. Fantasy Author Vera Fox is spirited away into a fantasy world after drinking some strange mead from an interesting new vendor. She ends up in a fake relationship with a former bandit while he tries to help get her home; when they get separated, she questions if she even wants to go back to her old life, and this is only compounded when she finds her Ren Faire lover is trapped there too. This one is full of tropes because I'll be honest, I'm "Writing to Market" here, but I love the characters anyway. Owen-her Ren Faire lover- has a huge Clydesdale named Stormbreaker that he rescued from a roadside medieval themed attraction, and I love him.)

• A Marriage of Inconvenience — Homelander x Reader (The Boys; Amazon Show)

• Woven Sagas — Eivor Wolfkissed x Ivar Ragnarsson (Assassin’s Creed Valhalla)

• Mother — Skyrim Fic about my Dragonborn raising Aventus

• Critical Darling — Homelander x OC(Darcy Hayes, Dreamweaver) (The Boys; Amazon Show)

• In All My Dreams I Drown — Reaver x Sparrow (Fable 2)

Tags: I am abysmal at remembering URLs off the top of my head, but I will try. @sketchy-rosewitch @visceravalentines @rottent33th @ventiswampwater

[cryptixani]

Heyo! I'd like a romantic Sonic matchup if you don't mind ^-^

 Name: Walela Rose!

Pronouns: She/they

Sexuality and preferences: Bisexual, and my big crushes are Shadow, Sonic and Knuckles (am major Shadow simp) but I’m cool with any match. If you’re focusing on my big 3, I mostly crush on modern and Boom Sonic, movie Knuckles and any freaking iteration of Shadow (except IDW, they did him so dirty ;--;) smaller crush on movie Sonic and Blaze, but again I’m good with any matchup so no pressure!

Personality: where do I freaking start. I am more or less a huge anxious shut in. I have pretty bad anxiety and am scared to be outside by myself. I am a little socially anxious and am awkward, whether I’m confident about it or not. Whenever I try to talk to someone new, I tend to open up with a joke or meme that they end up not understanding and the convo usually ends there. Otherwise, I tend to not talk around strangers. However, when I get close to someone, they can’t shut me up. I get clingy, really affectionate and maybe annoying idk. I tend to crack myself up with puns that everyone else facepalms over. Sometimes I overshare my thoughts. I can be loud when I get excited. My sleep schedule is fricked up lol and I am a bit chubby. I also have a lot of low iq moments lmao and I need a lot of reassurance to know somebody isn’t going to leave me or replace me with someone else. I like sharing the things I obsess about with the ones close to me. I’m an age regressor, but even when I’m not regressing I tend to act a bit like a kid. I’m also lazy af and I blush easily. (Sorry if this was super long) Likes and dislikes: I like singing and playing video games and drawing too! I don’t like pickles, or coffee, and I don’t like hard thunderstorms or people angry yelling at me bc those scare me a lot. I really like Kingdom Hearts and My Little Pony and, of course, the Sonic franchise! My favorite colors are pastels and black. Although I like fireworks, I have to plug my ears when watching them bc I’m a highly sensitive person and those big loud babies hurt my ears. I like childlike things, like those stupid pretend cash register toys.

Relationship type: Something intimate, someone who likes taking care of me but tries to help me grow as a person as well. A relationship where they'll just suddenly remind me that they love me (that makes me swoon) and say sweet things in my ear first thing in the morning (more swooning). Perhaps someone just a little bit possessive, like they get a little jealous or pull me close when they feel like there's competition nearby. Someone who likes to gently brush my hair and doesn't call me cringe if I write them a super cheesy love poem. Someone who will love my body regardless of its shape, but still encourage me to be healthy. And someone who will be understanding and caring when I regress.

NSFW: My top 3 kinks are yandere, DDLG (as in calling someone Daddy and they take on a dilf-like role) and praise kink. I'm a switch, but mostly submissive.

hello lovely, thank you for submitting! i hope you like your matchup!

i match you with...

knuckles the echidna

• this is honestly just a gut feeling but i think knuckles would be a really good match for you!!

• he would definitely help you come out of your shell a bit, at least if you're only around him, to help you overcome your social anxiety. even if it's just baby steps.

• definitely loves taking care of you, making sure you're okay in any given situation, keeping an eye on you when you're around others in case your social battery runs dry

• his love language is acts of service so i think he'd overall just enjoy having someone that lets him convey that

• i don't think he'd be too into pda or anything like that, i headcanon him as pretty reserved, but when it's just the two of you he loves to murmur his affections by your ear while he keeps you close

• won't get most of the memes you reference but will still appreciate it anyway <3 he will enjoy your silly jokes and puns though

• knuckles is very protective over what he loves and what he considers his so rest assured you are in very safe hands, not to mention he won't hesitate to assert himself as your s/o if anyone else tries anything funny

• enjoys your affectionate, clingy nature, would never find it annoying.

• honestly if you gave him a cheesey love poem, he'd be more flustered than anything. he's not used to receiving such affection so it takes him off guard!

hope you enjoyed your matchup!!

[juniperhillpatient]

Summary: Nancy and Mike actually interact are there for each other in the difficult times between seasons 1 and 2 - trigger warning for mentions of parental neglect (I really hate Ted and Karen) 

*********

"Mike, what were you thinking?"

Nancy glanced up from her chemistry homework, and down the hall. Karen Wheeler was almost in tears, and Mike was sitting on the couch with a rather dull expression.

Nancy went back to focusing on the periodic table on the page before her, pretending to ignore her mother's near mental breakdown over the horrific crime written in black sharpie on the plastic of a urine-stained bathroom stall. She was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to enjoy the thud of rain against the roof and ignore her parent's lecture in the next room which was now going on ten minutes. She glanced at the clock over the stove. Eleven minutes. Nancy sighed, slamming her textbook shut and gathering her things before heading up the stairs in a huff.

Of course, no one even glanced at her as she passed.

She hurried to her room, slamming the door behind her. She doubted anyone heard. Tossing her homework on the desk in a pile she fell onto her bed and let the tears come. She buried her face in her pillow and stuffed the cotton of the pillowcase in her mouth to silence a sob.

A few moments later she heard footsteps heading upstairs and past her room. She sat up, wiping her eyes. If she was feeling so desperately alone and ignored, how must he be feeling?

She thought back to telling the police officers about Barb being missing and how all they had been interested in was what exactly she had been doing in the room alone with Steve anyway as if that were somehow the most important part of the story. This was a little like that, wasn't it? Eleven was missing and Will was suffering and Mike didn't have any adults to help him deal with any of this and what did they choose to focus on? The smear of a marker on a wall, as if that mattered in the scheme of things.

Grown-ups, Nancy thought, rarely know what the right things to focus on, the important things, really are. Of course, she was almost a grown up though, wasn't she? She shivered, but not because of the cool draft.  

Nancy had only met Eleven once, and only in a brief moment, but Mike's connection with the strange little girl had been obvious. Despite knowing her for only a week, Nancy had an odd notion that Mike had been as close to Eleven as she had to Barb.

And our parents could care less about either loss, she thought. She told herself that wasn't fair. They didn't know about Eleven and Mike's friendship, about Mike watching Eleven disappear. They didn't know about her search for Barb or her fight to the death with a monster from another world. How could they be expected to sympathize with things they had no idea about?

"Well they could at least try," she muttered aloud.

She climbed out of bed and peeked out of her room, hoping to avoid any contact with her parents. She didn't want to talk to them. She rarely wanted to talk to them though, and maybe, a tiny, obnoxious voice in her head told her, that was part of the problem.

She walked down the hall to Mike's door, which was closed. She knocked. No answer. She knocked again.

"God I said I was sorry," Mike said. "What else do you want?" His voice cracked, so he was crying. Nancy considered walking away and leaving him alone.

How often had she sat in her own room, alone, crying her eyes out as terrifying images of the monster almost killing her and Steve and Jonathan flashed before her eyes? As horrible fantasies which she couldn't control played out about just how gruesome Barb's death might have been? No. Crying alone was rarely desirable. She knocked again.

"Mike, it's just me," she said.

"Can't you leave me alone," Mike asked, sounding tired.

"No," she said. "I'm going to keep knocking and annoying you until you open the door."

She began knocking in a pattern: Three, pause, one, pause another one. Obnoxious. Repetitive. She only had to repeat the pattern three times before he opened the door. She gave him a small smile which he did not return before following him into the room. He flopped down on his bed and she sat cross-legged on the floor, picking up and looking at his dinosaur. She smiled, remembering its name. Roary. Because it roared. Oh sweet, innocent Mike. He was playing with his Atari now, but he looked zoned out like he wasn't really paying attention. She thought that maybe he wasn't so innocent anymore.

"So...What'd you write?" she asked.

"Huh?" he asked.

"On the bathroom stall. What'd you write?"

"Nothing," he said, but now she noticed that his face was a little flushed.

"Oh c'mon," she said. "I'm just going to ask Steve to look in the stalls and tell me if you don't. It can't be too embarrassing if you wrote it there for everyone to see."

"It's not...embarassing," Mike said. "It's...Mean." Mike put down his Atari and looked at her and now he was smiling a little.

"Now I have to know," Nancy said.

Mike paused overdramatically. "I wrote Troy Wich sucks dick, okay. Happy?"

Nancy laughed. Troy Wich was, for lack of a better word, a complete and utter asshole. She wasn't a fan of calling little children assholes but if any kid fit the bill it had to be the homophobic, violent, and idiotic Troy Wich. Before she had entered ninth grade, when she and Mike both went to school in the same building, Nancy had many times shoved Troy into lockers, kicked him in the crotch, and on one occasion which she was very proud of, shoved him into the dumpster behind the school. Back then she had told herself she was just helping Mike, Will, and Lucas avoid the humiliation Troy attempted to bestow on them almost daily, but now she wasn't so sure. Maybe she had always sort of had a thing for exacting justice.

It had been around Mike's fourth-grade year, the same time Dustin entered the group when she had to move to the high school building. Maybe that was why Dustin hero-worshipped her so much - she could only imagine (and maybe secretly hope a little) that the other boys had warped her stories of big sister protectiveness into something like a knight in shining armor or whatever nerd stuff they talked about in their long nerdy game sessions.

Of course, she had also once been a little closer to her little brother, and maybe a little more fun to be around for both him and his friends, hadn't she? Her laughter faded.

"Mike," she said, looking at him carefully. "As funny as that would be I thought we agreed no more lies."

"I'm not lying," Mike insisted.

"Alright," Nancy said. "So when Steve looks tomorrow at school-"

"Fine," he interrupted. "Fine, okay I wrote a number. I wrote the number eleven. Happy?"

Nancy frowned. "Not really," she admitted. "What good did you think that was going to do, Mike? What could that have accomplished? Other than getting you in trouble?"

"I don't know," he said, and he wouldn't look at her. "What good does having dinner with the Hollands once a week do you?"

Nancy didn't have an answer to that. She just sighed and shook her head. The rain was pounding heavily outside, and it was cold in the Wheeler house. Nancy pulled her sweater tightly around herself. She leaned against Mike's bed.

"Think it'll ever get easier?" she asked in a soft voice.

At first, she wasn't sure if he could hear her over the rain.

"You're the older sibling, shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Nancy laughed humorlessly. "Yeah," she said. "I guess so."

They sat in silence for a bit after that, and it definitely didn't feel easy, but Nancy couldn't help but think it felt a little easier than when she was alone, and she wondered if Mike felt that way too.

********* A/N: I’m tagging some people but don’t feel any pressure to read if you don’t feel like it - and let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in stuff - I’ll understand! I tried to tag anyone who either asked to be tagged in this or my other stuff or who liked some of the posts I made about how we needed more Nancy x Mike interactions! 

@hair-fiber @womanaction @willbylers @nooowestayandgetcaught @sarcasm-and-spice @sweet-but-mostly-sour @0firebrand0 

[dasy002]

SHUTTERED HEART 2

Main masterlist| Actor masterlist

Past Scarlett Johansson x fem!reader

Present Elizabeth Olsen x fem!reader

Warnings: angst (?), some bad words, I pretended reader wrote some famous songs but all the rights go to the real authors!!

Songs: "Happier than ever" Billie Eilish | "Cherophobia" Martina Antilli | "Lost cause" Billie Eilish

This is a part two of the previous story. The idea was given to me by an amazing girl on wattpad!

Love ya all

Daisy 💜

It’s been years since the day Scarlett left your house stepping on your heart. And you haven’t been doing well.

If earlier going out drinking and fucking random girls in bars was a once a week thing, now it became a routine. Going to clubs, getting drunk as fuck, having sex with some chicks, sleeping till noon and then starting over again. 

That’s when the press started to notice, and that’s why you hate being a famous singer. Everyone always finds out what you’re doing, no secrets. The first pics started to appear on the cover pages of the magazines, they pictured you smoking weed, drinking and making out with strangers. They started calling you whore, slut, drug addict and more. At that point you had hit rock bottom, you weren’t even able to do music anymore. 

That’s when your mother suggested you go away for a while. “Knowing she’s far away from you, will make you feel better (y/n/n).” she said as you walked past the airport’s gate. 

Everyone says new home, new life. Well that didn’t apply to you, at least not in the first few months. Your routine didn’t change at all, until one day walking down Sunset Boulevard you saw a young boy sitting on a paper box while playing the guitar. At this point, while the music flies in the hot hair of Los Angeles,you feel a void start growing inside of you. You missed singing, the hard wood of the guitar under your fingers, the vibrations of the strings as you pinch them. 

That’s when you decided you wanted to change and you were ready to ask for help. You wanted your life back 

In the meantime Scarlett went on with her life, or at least that’s what she told herself. For how much she tried she couldn’t take you out of her mind. The pain in your eyes, the tears and your outburst still hunted her dreams after years. How did she end up hurting you so much when avoiding it was all she cared about and the reason why she ended things between you two? She couldn’t find an answer.

When your not so healthy lifestyle appeared all over the internet and magazines things started getting worse, cause she knew it was all her fault. She wanted to go visit you and try to help you move on, but then she would find herself wondering ‘Is it really a good idea or will I make her suffer more?’ 

Well by the time she decided you had already flown all the way to sunny California. 

Then there was Rose. Gosh this little girl missed you like crazy, but her mom had not the guts to tell her you were gone forever. So her answers were always the same “(y/n) is really busy little bean. I’m sorry.” or “She’s not in town right now Rosie.”

Anyway, whatever excuses Scarlett puts up for her daughter she couldn’t bear the sadness in the kids eyes. It broke her heart day after day, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell her the truth , cause Rose would have ended up hating her for sending her ‘mama’ away.

In the end it was her fault.

TIME SKIP 4 MONTHS LATER (Cause I can)

Therapy isn’t as stupid as you’ve thought, it’s actually bringing you somewhere. It’s still too early to say you’re as good as new and ready to start again, but you’re working on it.

You’ve started understanding that you live for no one, but for yourself. That’s what you and Scarlett had was amazing, yeah, but you can’t go on remaining clinging to the past cause you’re afraid of what will happen in the future

And with that said you’ve started writing songs again. Addison (not me in love with Addison Montgomery in grey’s), your therapist, told you that expressing everything you’ve felt and are still feeling, in the form of music, helps to metabolize everything. 

And she was right. The more songs you write the more you can look back at things in an objective way and let them go.

“When I’m away from you

I’m happier than ever

Wish I could explain it better.”

It took you time to admit it, and probably this is the hardest song you ever wrote, but as soon as you said it out loud for the first time you felt like a huge weight had been lifted from your chest. 

You’re better without her, You’re happy away from her. And you don’t know why it took you so long to admit it. 

TIME SKIP 2 MONTHS LATER (Cause I can)

So everything was going good, you were writing music again, you were clean both from alcohol and from weed. You even met a cute redhead (I’m obsessed with red haired girls) on the beach and went on a few dates with her.

So yeah, everything was going good until it wasn’t.

You don’t even know when it started to go south again. It happened so quickly that you didn’t even have time to realize it. One day you were happy, the next one you were afraid of this happiness.

“Come te la spiego la paura di essere felici

Quando non l’hanno capita nemmeno i miei amici”

(How do I explain you the fear of being happy

When not even my friends have understood it)

“It's hard to explain!” That's what you say to Addison when she asks you what’s wrong. And you’re not lying. You don’t know how to explain it , cause it doesn’t even make sense to you. It’s like a voice inside of your brain, everytime you almost reach happiness, whisper “You don’t deserve it.” and you believe it.

“Come te la spiego la spiego tutta la pazienza 

Che ci metto ma non riesco a vivere senza

Qualcosa che mi opprime 

Che mi indichi la fine

Perchè ho un cervello che è strafatto di spine."

(How do I explain to you all the patience 

That I put into it but I can’t live without

Something that oppresses me

That shows me the end

Cause my brain is stoned with thorns)

And you tried, God knows how much you tried to fight it in the beginning. But then you start growing tired and this feeling of constant fear of being happy starts to feel good. ‘If I’m not happy, I can’t get hurt again.’ that’s what you say to yourself every time a part of you try to look for an ounce of happiness.

“Questa è la mia Cherofobia

No, non è negatività

Questa è la mia Cherofobia

Fa paura la felicità 

Questa è la mia Cherofobia 

Ma tu, resta…”

(This is my Cherophobia 

No, it’s not negativity

This is my Cherophobia

Happiness scares me 

This is my Cherophobia

But you, stay…)

All of your friends, old or new, it doesn't matter, start to leave. They don’t understand you, for them you’re just being exaggerated, fake. And they don’t want a friend that would slow them or stop them from doing what they want. So one by one starts to leave you behind.

Only one sticks by your side, Elizabeth Olsen. She’s such a sweetheart, she never leaves your side and helps you fight the voices in your head. 

And the rest is history.

TIME SKIP 1 YEAR LATER (Cause I can)

“You ain’t nothin’ but a lost cause

And this ain’t nothin’ like it once was”

That’s the lyric of your last song that keeps repeating in your mind, as you walk hand in hand with your girlfriend Lizzie in Central Park.

Yes, you’re back in New York, but only for a couple of weeks. You accompanied Elizabeth on her press tour for her new movie ''Doctor Strange 2” (I’m in love with villain Wanda guys).

And yes, you and Lizzie got together in the end. It took you a while to definitely get over Scarlett, Elizabeth was there by your side and in the end you find yourself being madly in love with her. 

You two are chatting about where to go for dinner tonight when you see a very familiar face sitting on a bench. You look at Lizzie strangely calm and point to her where Scarlett was sitting, she looks at you and asks “You wanna go talk to her or we run away like two crazy girls?”. You love how she always tries to make you laugh when you have to face something that freaks you out. You found it cute. You shake your head smiling and answer “I guess we can just walk away like two normal people, Liz.” “But we aren’t normal, kitten…” she adds while smirking at you, and in that moment you know something crazy has just come up to her mind. She grabs your hand and starts running round the park dragging you behind her, as she giggles so loud that all the pigeons fly away and half of the park turns to look at you. But you don’t care as you pull her arm lightly, making her almost fall over you before connecting your lips in a messy kiss.

At the hearing of loud giggles and the rustle of wings, she takes her eyes away from her book and starts looking for the source of all this mess. And that’s when she sees you, lips locked with her ex co star Elizabeth and a dumb smile on your face. She remembers that smile, it’s the one you make whenever you are truly happy, and seeing you smiling for something that it wasn’t her hurt. But she doesn’t have the right to feel betrayed, in the end it was all her fault.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a lost cause

And this ain’t notin’ like it once was.”  

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[deepdarkdelights]

Run Little Red (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Werewolf Namjoon, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of discovering dead bodies, People going missing, Devious Intentions, Depictions of Guns, Mourning, Wolf Courtship Rituals

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

<<Forbidden Fables Masterlist>>

Preview:  A calm life in a small village was all you ever knew, your days spent in the bakery and keeping to yourself. You liked the quiet and gentle nature of your life, but one day a wolf stands outside of your window, a stranger arrives, and people begin to go missing. Do you dare don your red coat and enter the forest?

A/N: Hello babes! My fellow authors and myself decided to change up the order of our release dates for our Forbidden Fables Collab! And, since I recently finished this little beauty, I get to release it first. yay! Now I can sit back and savor the delectable writings of my fellow authors 💜 I hope you enjoy Run Little Red it was fun to make! I can’t wait to read the comments and asks 💜

There was a wolf outside your window. 

It’s eyes gleaming in the early morning light like molten gold with silver fur that melted into the snow. 

You sat up in bed, wrapping your patchwork quilt around your shoulders as you scooted to the foot of the bed. It was staring at you, that much you were sure of. And that startled you, the almost human like appearance to its gaze was intense and unsettling. It was an animal, but it appeared to be far more intelligent than you had first anticipated. 

Maybe it was hungry, perhaps that was why it was so intent on peering through your window.

No, it certainly wasn’t, that was evident. What you had missed before was glaringly obvious now, its silver muzzle was stained in red. It had made a fresh kill before it had wandered over to your cottage mere feet from the woods. 

So, if it wasn’t hungry, why was it here?

You watched in morbid fascination as its tongue slipped out of its mouth and laved over the fresh, thick, crimson blood that decorated its muzzle. You could see the rows of sharp canines hidden within its maw for mere seconds before the wolf clenched its jaw shut and settled on its hindlegs in the drift of snow.

“My, what big teeth you have.” You whispered to yourself, your voice seemingly louder in the empty room.  

You couldn’t help but wonder what it had made it’s meal. Perhaps a deer, or a squirrel, maybe a bird, or even a small, innocent, little rabbit. 

That would have been ideal. But, you knew it was most likely one of the poor farmer’s livestock. Your village was small and self sufficient, rarely reaching out to its neighboring villages and rarely receiving visitors of its own. So, when the cattle and the goats began to disappear, only their entrails remaining, the town quickly became suspicious. 

It was either one of two things, rebellious teenagers making a hassle for everyone, or a wolf amongst you.   

If only you had known what was to come. 

You stared back warily out the window at the creature, suddenly realizing just how easily it could bust through your flimsy window if it wanted to. This wolf was probably the largest you had ever seen, it was almost the size of a pony, with long limbs that held thick muscle from the time it spent chasing down its prey. You were certain a simple snap of its jaws would kill you in an instant if it desired to do so. 

It’s gaze had not left you, petrifying you to your very spot. You felt like the two of you were playing a game, waiting to see who would be the one to make the first move. 

The call of your mother’s voice was the tie breaker. 

You rose to your feet, your bare skin brushing over the cool wood of the floor as you retreated through your door, back first. 

“Yes?” You replied, angling your neck to the hallway for a moment. 

“Hurry, sweetheart! You’re going to be late!” She called back from the kitchen. 

The bakery had been in your family for the past three generations now, starting with your grandfather, then your mother, and now you. Your mother was showing signs of her age now, her hands were unsteady and unreliable creating more of a mess than a sellable meal. So, it was your turn now. It was the only thing you could do for her, besides be married off and you weren’t quite ready for that. No one was. 

At least that was the gentle way of putting it, in reality you had made yourself quite the social pariah. You were a determined woman, one who liked to keep to herself, one who liked owning the bakery and not having to sign over the ownership to a husband. You had your mother to care for, a business to run, and a grandmother that lived deep in the woods to fret over. 

It didn’t really matter what you wanted, you did what was necessary to stay afloat. 

“Just a minute!” You called once more before slinking back into your room. 

There was a noticeable difference about the space now, the wolf was gone. The only sign he had ever been there being the large dip in the snow that his form had disrupted and a track of paw prints headed into the forest. How strange. 

You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts, you didn’t want to think about what you would have to do if the creature returned. The shotgun looming over you from above the front door said enough.

You couldn’t allow a predator to get comfy around your home, that would only invite trouble into your life.

You dressed yourself quickly that morning in as many layers as you could. The walk to the bakery wasn’t a far one, but it was a frigid one. You made sure to wear your wool stockings and your leather boots, the snow looked to be thick and you didn’t fancy the idea of wet feet all day while you worked. 

You leaned over the side of your bed, scooping up your bag and throwing the keys inside of it in one motion. The extra sleep you had gotten the night before had cost you the time you needed in the morning to ready yourself. 

Once you gave yourself a quick look over and ran through your mental checklist, you rushed out of your room and into the main room of the house. Your house was more like a cottage, it was incredibly small. With only your mother’s room, your room, and the kitchen in one corner with the fireplace in the other it made for a quaint and cozy home. Albeit a cramped one. 

“Your breakfast is on the table.” Your mother said, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear with trembling hands. 

You could see her cleaning up the mess she had made that morning in an attempt to show you kindness. Normally, you were the one to wake early and prepare the both of you for the day ahead. But she had also told you many times before that she was your mother and she was supposed to take care of you as well. 

You eyed the bowl of steaming porridge that sat upon the rickety table. “I don’t think I’ll have the time to eat it.”

“Then you’ll make the time.” She huffed, wiping a wet rag over the counter in two swipes. 

“I shouldn’t have overslept.” You sighed, resting your bag on the floor as you took a seat. 

“You needed the rest, dear. You’re up every morning at the crack of dawn and you don’t come home until nightfall. You don’t need to work that much.” She chided you, smoothing her hands over your hair in a fond manner. 

“I do, for you and for Grandmother.” You reminded her. The cost of living was not cheap. 

“And what about you? You should be spending time with people your age, not working yourself to the bone.”

“I don’t need anyone but you, and Grandmother.” You smiled before sipping at your spoon quickly, hissing as you burned the tip of your tongue in your haste. 

“Youth is wasted on the young.” She chided under her breath, spurring a giggle from your throat. 

You finished your food as quickly as you could before excusing yourself from the table and heading for the door. 

“Your cloak, dear!” Your mother called as you pulled the door open, the chill of the snow seeping into your bones. 

“Yes, mother!” You chirped with an amused roll of your eyes as you curled your fingers around the crimson fabric of the cloak. Your grandmother had made it herself two winters ago, as much as you loved it and her you had to admit it was a tad ostentatious and you weren’t exactly one for attention. But it was warm and it served its purpose well. 

The door creaked shut behind you, squeaking softly as it settled back into the frame. The snow had fallen much higher than you had previously anticipated. You tightened the ties of your cloak and delicately flipped the large hood over your head before gripping your layers of skirts and hiking them up as you began your journey. 

It was rather slippery that day, you couldn’t restrain the slight squeals that fell from your parted lips each time the heel of your boot found a patch of ice and sent you sliding. You were certain you should have caught the attention of a few passerbys, but to your surprise a large group of them had become preoccupied. 

There were about fourteen of them, all in one great circle fervently discussing something. They seemed to be worried, panicked even. It had caught your attention now that the group was made up mostly of men excluding the butcher’s wife and daughter. Both’s cheeks were stained red, their eyes brimming with unshed tears as they held onto each other tight in the crisp air. 

Your face tensed in confusion as you approached the bakery, the group not too far away from you. 

“Oh, poor Sarah.” A tender voice cooed worriedly from next door. It was the tailor, she and her apprentice were stood outside, thick shawls wrapped around the both of them. 

You occupied yourself by rifling through your leather satchel, pretending to look for the shop keys you held in that very hand. You knew that eavesdropping wasn’t very polite, but you also were the curious sort, and that curiosity demanded to be satiated. 

“Don’t worry, miss. I’m sure they’ll find him soon, you know how the young ones are.” The apprentice said, her hand resting on the tailor’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. 

“It’s not like William though, he’s a sweet boy. It doesn’t make any sense for him to go up and missing at the crack of dawn.” She replied, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I just find it funny is all, that a stranger shows up here the same day that Sarah’s boy disappears.”

“Coincidence isn’t evidence.” The apprentice hummed, pulling her shawl tighter around herself  as she began to back up against the shop door, aggravated by the chilly air. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, with a search party that size he’ll be back home in no time.”

With that, you finally retrieved your “missing” keys and unlocked the door, sliding into the safety of the bakery. You knew William as well, he really was a sweet kid...to most. Your heart did go out to Sarah though, you didn’t know the pain of a missing child but you could empathize. The sight of her broken face remained burned into your mind as you readied the shop, lighting the hearth and preparing your materials to start your first batch of bread for the day. Your late start was going to nip you in the behind, most of the women arrived by noon to get their first pick of goods and the two hours it would take to make your batches was going to loom over your head the entire time. 

You were mid kneading your dough when the familiar tinkle of the bell above the shop door demanded your attention. You paused for a moment, your aching arms thanking you for the short reprieve. Almost immediately your breath was caught in your throat. You had been expecting one of the regular mothers wandering their way in, or perhaps even one of their children running errands. Not this man that stood before you. 

This was most obviously the stranger the tailor had been referring to moments earlier, there was no mistake. Your village was small, everyone knew everyone and this stranger looked nothing like any of the people in your town. 

He was so much taller than anybody else, broader too. But most astonishing was his pure silver hair and the deep honey shade of his eyes. You had never seen anyone as young as him with hair that light, it surely wasn’t grey, the shade far too bright to be mistaken with something that dull. He was damn near ethereal and unfairly attractive. His looks had almost distracted you from his attire but now that you were paying attention, he was severely underdressed for the weather. He had to be freezing cold. 

“Hello, can I help you?” You asked softly, patting your hands against your apron to remove the excess flour from your skin. 

He had a rather confident stance, like he was the owner of the shop instead of you, you who was slightly cowering and thrumming with anxiety. 

He sent you a wide grin, his teeth were pearly white and for some unknown reason that sent your heart crashing into your stomach. You could have sworn they even looked slightly pointy at the ends, not unlike those of the creature you had seen outside your window that morning. You had almost been distracted by the sweet dimples that rested in his cheeks. What duality he had. 

He tilted his head back slightly, peering down at you from above, “Hm, I’m looking for something sweet.” He hummed. 

“Sweet?” You mumbled to yourself, resting your hand on your hip in thought.

“Oh! I made some sweet rolls yesterday, how about that?” You said with a snap of your fingers, retreating further into the shop without a response from him. 

Now in work mode you busied yourself with preparing the stranger’s order. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had arrived, what his reason for being there was. Barely anybody passed through your village, and they certainly didn’t stay as long as he had. 

Once you had retrieved the tray of rolls you set them on the counter before grabbing a pot of freshly warmed icing and gently drizzling it over top. Once each roll had been thoroughly coated, you set the pot aside and headed to the cupboard to retrieve a bag for them.  

“Perfect.” You sighed in irritation, craning your neck back to see the top of the shelf. 

Normally, you had endless amounts of bags and never needed the ones stored on the top shelf. But this winter had been far more difficult than past ones and your stock had not been refilled in quite a while. 

Desperately not wanting to search for your wooden stool, you stubbornly resorted to balancing on the tips of your toes, your fingers just barely brushing against the material of the bags. You groaned in frustration, bouncing up slightly only to knock the bags back further on the shelf and worsen the ache in your shoulder. 

Just as you were about to give up and resort to looking for your rickety stool, you felt a hand settle on your waist and a chest press against your back as the stranger reached up and grabbed the bags for you. He was incredibly warm, so warm you thought he may even be sick. He felt as warm as the heat emanating from a fire of fresh coals and that was incredibly alarming, but also explained his state of dress.

You flinched in surprise as you felt him set the bags aside and settle his other hand on your shoulder. It was deathly quiet, the only sounds being his slow, steady breaths underlying your panicked ones accompanied by the calm rise and fall of his chest against your back. You had never been this close to anyone before, it was incredibly uncomfortable. 

You felt much like a rabbit, cornered, panicking, and believing that if you stayed still enough he wouldn’t see you and would go away. 

He gently rested his forehead against your hair, nuzzling from side to side before reaching up and playing with a stray strand. You could feel him taking a deeper breath this time, humming softly like he was pleased. 

“Sweet.” He mumbled to himself. 

Oh. Oh, no. Who did this man think he was? You were not on the menu. You shuddered in fear before jerking away, smacking his hands off of you. 

You turned on your heel, backing away from him as you fixed him with an annoyed glare. The look he gave you was one of clear confusion, a layer of hurt and frustration buried beneath. 

“I’m not sure how things work where you come from, but normally you ask for permission before you go touching someone you don’t know.” You huffed, slamming the empty bag on the counter as you began to package the rolls. 

It didn’t matter if he was attractive or not, you were not going to let him touch you as he pleased or get the wrong message that you weren’t even conveying in the first place. 

The stranger rounded the counter, the block of wood effectively separating the two of you, making you feel a little safer. His eyes looked darker than before, less like honey and more like amber. 

His confident demeanor had returned, effectively confusing you even more. 

“Forgive me,” He said, another smile gracing his lips as he rested his forearms on the countertop, “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot? My name is Namjoon, and yours?” 

So, he did have the capability to be somewhat of a gentleman. He was rather well spoken, and his strange mannerisms and quiet demeanor had all but disappeared in a flash. 

So, begrudgingly, you replied with your name. 

He repeated it after you, his tongue swiping over the full flesh of his lower lip like he was tasting it, sending a chill down your spine. 

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, you were correct in assuming where I come from we do greetings a little differently.” He said with a soft chuckle, his amber eyes tracing every movement you made. 

You did feel a little bad now for how you had lashed out at him. Normally, you weren’t one who was quick to anger, but that still didn’t excuse what he had done. 

“It’s alright,” You said, slowly, “You need to be more careful though, if that had been anyone else I don’t think you would have gone unscathed.” 

“Are most of your people so quick to violence?” He asked, titling his head slowly, a strong sense of intrigue exuding from his form. 

“I wouldn’t say so normally, but we’re all a little on edge as of late. Our livestock has been attacked and just this morning one of us went missing.”

“Missing?” He asked, a new glow to eyes. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so. The butcher’s son hasn’t been seen all day, it’s very unlike him.” You said, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, unsure if you should tell him more. But, considering it concerned him you felt maybe it was in his best interest to tell him. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t stick around for too long. Some find it suspicious you turned up the same day that William went missing.” 

“And what if I don’t feel like leaving just yet?” He asked, disregarding the information you had just given him as if he had no reason to be worried. 

You had no answer for him, truly you didn’t. The packaged rolls sat between the two of you and a long stretch of silence as he stared at you and waited for a response that didn’t come. And, without another word, he dropped a few too many coins on the counter, gathered up the bag, and headed for the front door. 

He stopped for only a moment, his fingers gently stroking at your red cloak you had hung up beside the door. His amber gaze trailed over each stitch as he lightly grazed the material a few more times. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, little red.” 

~~~~~~~

After he had left, your day had not gotten any easier. Just as you had expected, it had been another busy day. You had managed to satisfy all of your customers, despite that late start you had made. 

There were a few upsides to the job you had, one being that it allowed you to tune into any gossip you would normally miss out on. You were more of a hit with the older women of the village, the people your age finding you to be a tad strange and off putting. 

That day your shop had been filled with hushed whispers of what had come to pass, the search party still had not returned from their trip to recover William. The outlook was not in the boy’s favor, not with the increase in predator activity you had been receiving as of late. You weren’t so sure you would be seeing William walking back into town any time soon. 

Once the day had come to an end, the sun dipping just below the tree line and casting shades of red over the snow, you had extinguished the lights of your shop and were locking up, your hood drawn over your head. That was when you found out the horrible truth. 

As you slid the shop keys into your bag and turned on your heel, you saw the search party emerging from the woods. And with them, you could see a blanketed form lying in the snow, the sheet swaddling the body slowing turning red. 

You swallowed harshly, turning as quickly as you could and beginning to make your way through the snow and away from what you knew was coming. You didn’t want to see the look on Sarah’s face, you didn’t want to watch her go boneless in the arms of her husband. But it didn’t matter what you saw or didn’t see, you would never forget the sound of her screams piercing the crisp, snowy air.

Your breath was visible in hot puffs in front of your face as you felt the burn of tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. It didn’t matter if you didn’t care for William, it didn’t matter if you knew what he was really like, there was nothing quite like the sound of a mother’s heartbreak. It was enough to send anybody down to their knees. 

Your numb fingers wiped away the warm tears rushing down your cheeks, and amidst your blurry vision you could have sworn you saw a familiar figure slinking off into the woods, a flash of silver hair that just barely materialized. You could have sworn that that was Namjoon disappearing like a ghost into the frigid depths of the forest. 

You shook your head, you shouldn’t bother yourself with what he was doing, your main goal should be getting home before the sun completely dips below the horizon and plunges you into darkness. So, with that thought, you rushed home. 

Once you entered the cottage, things didn’t get any better. Your mother was stood there, waiting anxiously for your arrival. As soon as you had stepped foot inside she whipped the door shut and helped you remove your cloak as you toed your boots off. 

“No more working late, do you hear me?” She said, gripping your shoulders to get you to look at her. “It’s not safe out there.”

“Word travels fast then?” You asked humorlessly. 

“It’s a shame what happened to that boy, and I’ll be damned if that happens to you.” She replied sternly. 

“And what about Grandmother then? What do we do about her? She’s out there, all alone, with no one to protect her.”

“She has the lumberjack-”

“And he only checks on her every two weeks.” You interrupted, “Let me go out tomorrow and bring her back to us. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

Your mother bit her lip, her hands shakily settling on her hips as she thought to herself. “I’ll go with you then.”

“No, you can’t possibly think you’ll be able to make the trip. The snow is thick and it’s a long walk there, you’ll exhaust yourself. It’ll be better if I go, faster too.” You said as you approached the fireplace, raising your hands to the flames to warm them. 

“And your grandmother, you think she’ll be able to make it back through the snow?” She probed, raising her eyebrow. 

She had a point, if you were saying she wouldn’t be able to make it there how would you expect your grandmother to make it back with you? 

You rested your hand on the back of your neck, pacing the floor and causing your layers of skirts to swirl around your ankles. You came to a sudden stop, your eyes settling on the shotgun that was mounted above your front door. Idea.

You didn’t like the thought of her being out there all alone, but if you knew she had something to protect her from the wild animals that would make you feel much better. 

“Alright, what if I bring her some supplies instead? I’ll grab some things that’ll last her a good while and I’ll show her how to use the shotgun. I’ve saved up some money of my own, I could purchase us a new one.” You mused out loud.

You loved your grandmother, she was the last living member of your father’s side of the family, she was the only connection you had to him at this point. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing her just yet, not when you could prevent it from those creatures that were beginning to terrorize your people. 

Your mother was silent once more, her thumb settled between her lips as she nervously chewed at the nail. She didn’t like the idea of you headed out into the woods alone, but she was comforted by the thought of you taking the shotgun with you, that much you were certain of. 

“We don’t know when the next storm will hit, and the last thing we need is for her to be stuck out there, all alone, with no food, surrounded by the wild. Let me go.”

And that was enough to break her resilience. 

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll come back.” She whispered, her body visibly sagging as those words left her lips. 

“It goes without saying.” You murmured, wrapping her up in your embrace. 

It was easier this way, you didn’t want to make a promise you had no certainty in keeping. 

The air in the cottage had lost all tension, everything was much calmer than before. But your peace could only last for so long. It was when you entered your bedroom that you realized something else was wrong.

The room was positively frigid, and upon further inspection you realized that your window had been pried open, the cold winter air surging forth and snuffing out any traces of heat. 

You surged forward and grasped the window, attempting to swing it shut as quickly as you could to try and insulate whatever warmth was left. But the thick scent of copper quickly stalled your movements. Instead of closing the window, you found yourself leaning forward into the brisk air, sniffing intently as you tried to make out where the scent was emanating from. You didn’t have to look far.

Your hands sealed themselves over your mouth, smothering the scream that threatened to break through them. 

Sitting in the snow where the wolf had once laid, was a human heart. The snow seemed to sizzle around it, the organ still warm and slick with blood that carved rivers and valleys into the pure ice. 

You could feel bile rising up your throat, your vision shaking so violently it made it appear that the heart was vibrating with steady pumps like it was still alive. 

And, to your horror, you could make out a form a few feet back in the snow. The only thing that was visible in the pitch black were it’s molten gold eyes, shining back at you in recognition before it scuttled away into the darkness.

You frantically slammed the window shut and drew the curtains closed tight. 

There was no mistake now, someone or something had been following you. 

~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning from a restless sleep, you elected to keep your discovery to yourself.

Although you were incredibly frightened by what you had seen, the last thing you needed was to scare your already frail mother. Your grandmother was still in need of assistance, and you couldn’t allow your mother to halt your plans. You had a mission to accomplish, and you were set on completing it with a shotgun slung over your arm and a picnic basket on the other. 

So, you shakily grasped your red cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders in haste, your fingers struggling to do up the ties at the base of your throat. Once you had completed the normally easy task, you slipped your basket onto the inside of your elbow and pulled down the shotgun from its resting place above the door. 

You regularly cleaned it, a task your father had enjoyed teaching you at a young age, so you were certain it wouldn’t jam if you needed to use it in a hurry. You slid a box of ammunition into your pocket, one for you, and another box into the picnic basket, one for your grandmother. 

And then you were off, bidding your mother goodbye with a hug and a swift kiss to her cheek, and an unspoken promise tittering on the edges of your lips saying that you would be home for supper. But those words were better left unspoken. 

The sun was just barely peeking through the thick clouds overhead, you were certain a blizzard was brewing. This only urged you to move quicker through the cleared paths. 

But the clouds weren’t the only foreboding message that morning, it was the mother’s wailing in the town square. There were three more now, holding each other in a comforting manner as they wept into each other’s shoulders. 

More children had been snatched from their mothers.

Sarah sat by herself, of her own volition, an obsidian mourning veil obscuring her tear stained features. A chill ran down your back as you urged yourself to walk by them quicker, she looked more like an executioner than she did a mourner, surrounded by a choir of weeping women. 

You could still hear the echoes of her cries in the back of your mind, the raw chords striking your ears once more. 

You tightened your grip on the strap of your shotgun, your pace slowing as you reached the bridge that led you into the forest. You felt like you could breathe now, despite the knowledge that people your own age had lost their lives in the thick overgrowth before you. The relief that you felt from the women in the square outweighed your fear.

The bridge creaked in protest as your boots tapped against the wood. It would need to be repaired come spring. 

“Little red!” A voice called from the treeline causing you to suddenly stop, snow kicking up beneath your boots. 

Moments later, a familiar figure emerged from the frost coated trees, tall, ash hair, and honey eyes. Namjoon. 

“Where are you off to, little red?” He cooed, his voice low with a sultry edge that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t tell if they were delighted or terrified chills. 

“My grandmother’s, what are you doing here?” You asked, your body tense and defensive. 

He drew nearer now, a wide grin gracing his lips with a set of teeth so white they resembled the snow beneath your boots. The closer he got the more you noticed about him. His perfect white teeth seemed a little sharper than most, and the clothes he wore were once more, not suited for the frigid weather. 

“I caught sight of this old thing,” He hummed, his finger tracing over your cloak and the strap of your shotgun as he slowly circled you, “And couldn’t help but see you.”

You stepped back hesitantly, his presence was unnerving. Without saying anything more you pulled away from his reach and began to walk by him briskly, headed into the woods. 

“Leaving so soon? We only just met.” He laughed, it would have been a nice contagious laughter had you not heard the bitter edge to it. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time to dawdle, Namjoon. I need to reach her before the storm hits.”

“Well then, won’t you let me accompany you?”

“I don’t need an escort, I know my way just fine, thank you very much.” 

“And what about the beasts then?” He asked from beside you, sending you halting to a stop. 

“Beasts?” You asked slowly, gazing up at him from beneath the cover of your hood. 

“Well, surely you know?” He asked in a patronizing tone, his honey eyes narrowing. “Four people from your village have gone missing, red. Surely you know that wasn’t an accident. Great beasts have roamed this forest for centuries and they don’t take kindly to intruders. It would be much safer if I came with you.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, contemplating his words. He was not wrong, two people were much safer than just one. 

So, begrudgingly, you accepted his offer. 

His hand quickly captured your own, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed his side tightly to your own with a grin. How bold. You were struck once more by the fact that he was incredibly warm, it was no wonder why he wasn’t bundled up like you were. It felt like he had struck a fever. 

Namjoon filled the silence between the two of you surprisingly well, telling you stories of the great beasts that roamed the woods, effectively scaring you and holding your attention. He had a way of speaking that drew people in, like a siren from the stories your father had read to you. 

It was easy to forget with him, easy to forget why you had been frightened in the first place, easy to sink into his side as his warmth seeped into your flesh, and easy to get lost in his voice. 

That was of course, until you felt him pulling you off of the path. 

You dug your heels into the snow, tugging at his hand violently. “Namjoon!”

“Yes?” He asked.

“What are you doing? Her cottage is this way, we stay on the path, we never leave the path.” You said, gesturing towards the dirt pathway beneath the two of you. 

That was a spoken rule in your village, never go off of the path. 

“That’s ridiculous,” He chuckled, “If we continue the way you were going, that doubles the time it takes to get there, it’s better we take the shortcut.”

“No.” You sternly said. 

“And why not?”

“Because, there’s predators out there! Mountain lions, bears, wolves!”

A mischievous smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, “Are you scared of wolves, little red?”

“I’m scared of anything that wants to eat me.” You replied with a dry tone. 

“Well you do smell very sweet-”

“Namjoon!”

He took a deep breath, his eyes darting between you and the shortcut. “I promise you, nothing will hurt you while I’m here. Besides, did you know some flowers bloom in the winter?”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am, there’s a field of flowers this way, all different breeds that bloom in the dead of winter. Don’t you think your grandmother would enjoy those?” 

You chewed at your lip uneasily. He knew exactly what to say to make you question your own actions. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to see what he was talking about, and you knew that yes, your grandmother would be elated by something so cheery in the bleak winter months. 

So, after a few moments of consideration, you agreed.

And Namjoon had not been lying. After a few minutes of trekking through the deep snow the two of you emerged into a clearing, and just like he said, it was filled with flowers of all different breeds. 

You found yourself crouching down into the field, your fingers trailing over each velvety petal that had somehow found a way to survive in the clutches of an icy death. Your favorites were the deep red roses. They were a dead match for your cloak, a beautiful color that was delicately dusted with soft flakes of snow. 

You couldn’t help but greedily pluck several blossoms from the foliage, slipping them into your basket. 

And, amidst your excitement, you hadn’t noticed just how close your companion had gotten until you felt him. That incredible warmth had returned as he crouched down behind you, and just like he had in the bakery, you felt him lightly nuzzling your head and breathing in your scent as he pressed himself closer to you, his arms winding around your body in an attempt to pull you even tighter to him. 

You froze, your finger mid pull on the rose’s stem causing you to slice the appendage on a stray thorn. You hissed in pain as you watched the blood drip from the tip of your finger before rolling down your wrist and carving a pool into the snow beneath you. 

And, without a thought, Namjoon’s hand encircled your wrist and yanked it up to his face. 

His once honey eyes appeared brighter than before, his long lashes fluttering as his warm breath misted over your skin. And before you could stop him, he licked a line up your wrist, collecting the blood, and pressed your finger to his lips swiping his tongue over the wound. 

You yelped in surprise, wrenching your hand free from his grip as your heart pounded violently. You rose to your feet and stumbled backwards through the snow. 

Namjoon remained where he was crouched, a sudden hunger evident in his honey gaze, a gaze that was not so unfamiliar. 

“We-we need to go!” You stuttered, turning on your heel and retreating from whatever had just happened. 

You held your hand close to your chest as you walked, frightened by what had just transpired. A part of you suddenly wished you had made your journey alone as you had previously intended.

But the harsh crunch of snow behind you reminded you of the choice you made, and the molten glare digging into your back exemplified it. 

~~~~~~~

The rest of your journey was made in complete silence, a new tension had settled between the two of you. And, true to Namjoon’s word, the way he had taken you was indeed a shortcut. So, you felt no remorse as you sprinted toward the cottage ahead of you and threw a weak thank you over your shoulder. 

You couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore, you couldn’t stand being in his presence any longer than you needed to. 

As soon as you approached the front door, you threw it open and let it shut behind you. You leaned against the door for a moment to catch your breath before you shrugged the shotgun off of your shoulder and strung it up on the hook beside the front door. 

“Grandmother!” You called as you began to approach the kitchen door, “I’m here!”

And upon opening it, a blood curdling scream broke free from your lips. 

The sight before you could only be described as a massacre. Your hands desperately tried to cover your eyes, but the damage had already been done. There was blood, so much blood amongst other things laid out atop the counter. 

You fell backwards, your body sliding down the wall as hoarse screams raked through your throat. The unmistakable scent of blood was thick in the kitchen sending your stomach churning in your gut. You knew that scent, it was clear as day whatever had remained in that room had once been human. 

“Sweetheart?” A familiar voice called out to you. 

And upon opening your eyes, you saw your grandmother standing before you. The sudden feeling of elation surging through your body at the sight of her alive quickly died out. She wore a leather apron stained with blood, both fresh and old, and her hands were gloved. You quickly stood and began to back away from her, your sense of self preservation suddenly kicking in, your eyes zeroing in on the meat cleaver she held in her left hand. 

“Sweetheart, calm down.” She whispered softly, carefully setting the blade down on the counter beside the gorey mess. 

Your eyes were darting everywhere but her, panicked breaths leaving your parted lips. Your gaze finally settled in the corner of the room where a pile of clothing sat and a familiar axe. The lumberjack, she had murdered the lumberjack. 

“Why?” You cried, trembling as if you had been drenched to the bone. “Why did you do it?!” 

“I had too sweetie, I have to feed them.”

“Them? Who?” You asked, backing out of the kitchen as she followed your trail, her face soft with sympathy despite the flecks of blood that decorated her cheeks. 

“The wolves, of course. I made a deal with them long ago, if I fed them in the winter I could stay here.” She replied, her voice alarmingly calm. “The lumberjack was a sweet man but this winter was a rough one, not many travelers I’m afraid.”

“You’ve gone mad.” You whispered. 

“I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s best if you listen to me darling. Your grandfather was one of them, he courted me and then we had your father and your uncles. It’s always tricky with litters, you never know who is going to take after who. Your father though, he was the most human out of all of them. Poor thing couldn’t even shift.” She sighed, her eyes glazing over.

“You need help, you’re not well.” You tried again, doing your best to keep distance between the two of you.

“I know you’re a bit shaken up, but you need to listen to me, it’s in your best interest.” She sighed, untying the leather apron from around her waist. 

“That cloak you’re wearing, it’s a symbol that you’ve come of age and Namjoon has had every intention of courting you. He’s been rather obvious really, he’s becoming quite frustrated with you.” 

You suddenly became still, your mind flashing through every time Namjoon had ever touched the very item you were wearing. What she was saying, although deluded, had some semblance of truth. 

“I-I have to go.” You mumbled, your throat tightening from the copper scent and smell of flesh that hung heavily in the air. You needed to get home and far away from her before she killed you too. 

A deep sadness spread over her features as her head hung low, shaking from side to side. “Don’t run,” She breathed, “They find the chase seductive.”

All this time you had been slowly backing away from the person you loved the most, and now you had been stopped by the feeling of a solid form behind you. You quickly spun around, a shriek of horror escaping you as you met the bright, gold eyes of your escort, Namjoon. 

And, without thinking, you ran. 

Your cloak was fluttering behind you rapidly in the harsh, cold winds, the snow coming down thicker than it ever had before. And, to your absolute horror, a loud howl was echoing throughout the trees. 

You peered over your shoulder as you sprinted to the best of your ability through the snow drifts. The wolf that had sat outside your window days before had returned and was chasing you down. Now that there was nothing separating you from the creature you were terrified, it was massive and hunting you down. It had the clear advantage, you were inevitably going to die. You were never going home again, another child was going to be ripped from their mother. 

Tears were pouring down your cheeks like waterfalls as you blindly ran, unsure as to where you were going. You knew that you didn’t have time, four legs were faster than two and you were greatly impaired by the weather. 

With no goal in mind, no destination in sight, you ran in hopes you would be able to live for a little longer. You did your best to weave between the trees, slide down hills of snow, and keep running for your life. Your lungs burned and your legs ached but still you ran, even as you heard the loud steps of the wolf coming nearer and nearer.

And, just as you had lost all hope, an outcropping of rocks became visible at the base of a snowy hill. And with every intention to save your life, you recklessly threw yourself down the hill allowing gravity to take over for you. 

The second you felt yourself cease rolling, you rose to your unsteady legs and dizzily stumbled into the cluster of rocks, pulling yourself into the shelter away from the blizzard.

But your hope was fleeting as you came to a realization. The shelter was a den, one that had clearly been in use. It was littered with furs, blankets, books, and materials for a fire. The creature had been corralling you to this very location. 

You turned as another burst of adrenaline shot through your body only to be stunted by the sight of the silver wolf blocking the exit to the den. 

It’s bright eyes stared back at you with a gleam of satisfaction as it crouched down, shimming it’s way into the den and backing you up further into its depths. 

You watched, horrified, as the wolf began to whimper, it’s body shaking violently as the sound of bones beginning to snap and crunch echoed throughout the space, reforming and distorting themselves into vaguely familiar shapes as it’s fur began to melt away. 

Those bright golden eyes faded to a recognizable honey shade, and the silver fur disappeared and showed itself as ashen hair. On the floor of the den sat Namjoon in the place of where the powerful wolf had once stood. 

He carefully rolled his head from side to side, his neck cracking loudly in response as he rose to his feet. A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips, a triumphant gleam to his eyes as he confidently approached your trembling form. 

A broken cry escaped from your throat as you felt him press his forehead to your own, lightly nuzzling his head against yours. His strange behavior now made sense, he had been courting you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, but natural to him. 

All of the people that had gone missing were male’s your age, he had been wiping out the competition. 

And the bloody organ he had left outside of your window, had been a horrific present. A show of his dominance and his twisted affection. 

You were crying uncontrollably now, everything you had experienced suddenly crashing down on you. You flinched in terror as you felt his fingers grip your jaw, his lips just brushing against your own and he hummed happily.

“You have nowhere left to run, little red.” 

[readingreylo]

This rec list is for my sister, who in a few short weeks days will have a tiny human keeping her up all hours of the night and asked me for "something to read, God knows I will have time for something long"

Long Fics

Honestly, the only thing these fics have in common are their length. I don't know about your definition of a long fic, (in my mind it's usually 90k+) but I included 70k+ here, simply because there were some great fics I wanted to included for my sister lol

We've got some Modern AUs, Fantasy AUs, Historical AUs... Some romantic and light, some dark and tense, some dramatic and angsty, all filled with the beautiful richess that only a longfic can provide!

I also included a few WIPs that I am following that regularly update.

A royal mix-up by AttackoftheDarkCurses | Explicit | 67k | Complete | Modern AU | Royalty | Strangers to lovers | Fake Relationship | Banter | Hair Braiding | Prince!Ben Solo | Journalist!Rey |  Drama | Multi POV | "After hooking up with a stranger on her flight, Rey considers his sudden request that she pretend to be his girlfriend for the holidays. Hotels are expensive, and he seems nice enough. It’s been a while since she’s had a homecooked holiday dinner, and despite what he suggests, how intimidating could his parents really be? Alternatively, Ben Solo conveniently forgets to tell a girl he’s a prince." | Brilliant banter and chemistry between Rey and Ben! Great premise and well written! With a great story! Love all the characterizations (Rey, Ben, Hux, Phasma)! Lots of steamy and satisfying smut.🤤

when the moon met the sun in the sky by RebelRebel | @rebelrebelreylo | Explicit | 71k | Complete | Fantasy AU | Feudal Japan | Ghibli vibes | Samurai | Royalty | Arranged Marriage | Enemies to Lovers | Growing up togther | Childhood Sweethearts | Secrets | Politics | War | Spies/espionage | Sun/Moon Mythology | HEA | Multi POV | Princess to a worthless throne, Rey attempts to assassinate the Evil Emperor only to discover his right hand, Kylo Ren, is her long thought dead betrothed. They tentatively join together to shake their world to its foundations. | At first it's a TFA and TLJ re-write set in a ghibli-esque feudal Japan, but it takes a phenomenally original turn. Movie quality story! Unbelievably cool world building!

Peacock by AttackoftheDarkCurses | Explicit | 72k | Complete | Modern AU | Neighbors | Rivals to lovers | Pranks | Misunderstandings | Fake relationship | Multi POV | Rey and Rose move in nextdoor to Ben and his whole world is turned upside down. A prank war escalates into a fake engagement. Now they are playing chicken with a marriage. Who will back down first? | A perfect rom com. its so many misunderstandings on top of miscommunication on top of them both being idiots. God I love the prank they pull on leia and phasma at the end.

in want of a wife by AquaWolfGirl | @aquawolfgirl | Explicit | 79k | Complete | Histroical AU | Regency | Class difference | marriage of convenience | Strangers to friends to lovers | Friend group dynamic | Weddings | Loss of virginity | Multi POV | Lord Ben Solo has no interest in the ladies of his degree. After years of associating with them and corresponding with even more, he fails to find a potential partner in any of the women he's met. In need of (and desperately wanting for) a wife, someone to care for and adore, he publishes an advertisement in the paper. Miss Rey Jackson, a woman of low social standing and no family of her own, decides to take a chance and inquire. At the very least, if he refuses her for a wife, she can see if there's a scullery maid position, right? | So soft and romantic!

Hanging On A Star by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard | Explicit | 81k | complete | Modern AU | Musicians | Music Industry | eniemes to lovers | non-linear storytelling | angst | falling in love | breakups | mechanic!Rey | viral YouTube sensation Rey | Musician!Ben Solo | minor drug/alchohol use | road trip | minor finn/Rose | HEA | Rey POV | "Today, Rey Johnson is a breakout star with a rising single, a major label contract, and a five-year-old photograph of her kissing the lead singer of the Knights of Ren that she just can't shake. Five years ago, Ben Solo was a lonely American musician on extended holiday in the West Midlands without a working car, new material, or a friend in the world." | Angsty and delicious with a HEA and engaging prose that I had to finished it that night. Just a brilliant story. Emotional and raw with fantastic smut!

baby, it will bury us by diasterisms @kylorenvevo | Explicit | 82k | complete | Modern AU | Paris | Class difference | Sugar Daddy | Daddy kink | Falling in love | Angst/break ups | HEA | Steamy AF smut | Ben POV | Businessman Ben meets waitress/college student Rey, and even though they have very different lives, sparks fly. Despite their powerful chemistry Ben is afraid of getting in too deep so he settles for an arrangement with Rey ... how long he can go without breaking his own rules remains to be seen. | Insanley hot. A wonderful flavour of Paris!

May Divorce Be With You by SpaceWaffleHouse | Explicit | 83k | Complete | Modern AU | Strangers to friends to lovers | Bets and wagers | Wedding planner!Ben Solo | Divorce Lawyer!Rey | Weddings | Romance | Wedding!Porn (think Four Weddings) | Side Rose/Jannah | Rey POV | Drinking buddies Rey and Ben make a wager about whether true love really exists. As Ben takes her to more and more weddings that he has planned Rey's cynical view of love (shaped by being a divorce lawyer)  takes a sharp left turn. She is without-a-doubt going to lose this bet... because she is falling hopelessly in love with Ben Solo. | Fluffy and sweet with great chemistry. Slower paced. Love this characterization of Ben! No angst or pain.

9 pints by tigbit | Explicit | 83k | Complete | Modern AU | Magical Realism | Porn Industy | Supernatural/mythical beings | Vampires | Humor | Sexual Tension | Roommates-vibes | Falling in love | Rey POV | Rey gets suckered into shooting Porn with a vampire for Poe's porn studio | So fucking amazing! So well written! Snappy, delightful dialogue! So many laugh-out-loud moments.  Creative world building and did I mention the dialogue!?

Mitan, Midi by animal | @ao3animal | Explicit | 83k | Complete | Modern AU | French Countryside | Strangers to lovers | Language barrier | Depression | Angst | Rey needs a hug | British!Rey | French!Ben Solo | Rey POV | "After a French notary contacts Rey to inform her she's inherited a house in the Drôme (France), she decides from one day to the next to quit her job and move there. The house is pretty secluded, there's no service, no internet, no way to reach other people aside from the landline in the living-room. Ideal conditions, by her standards, as those theoretically should allow her to be perfectly alone. Theoretically." | Angsty and delicious - Nobody writes quite like Animal!

The Lady and the Devil by TypeSomeSenseToMe | @typesomesensetome | Explict | 86k | Complete | Historic AU | Medieval | Arranged marriage | Lord!Kylo Ren | Slow-ish burn | Blindness | Physical Abuse | Injury Recovery | DRAH-MA | miscommunications | Angst | Plots/Secrets | Pregnancy | HEA | Multi POV | Homely Rey is married off to a fearsome warlord, only to find that his devilish reputation might be a slight exaggeration. Instead she finds a proud and broken man, who she slowly comes to love. | Heavily inspired by 'This Is All I Ask' by Lynn Kurland. I went out of my way to go read the original book this was based on and honestly this fic improves a lot of the side plots and characters. Delicious and angsty!

The Games We Play by CaptainCabinets | @captaincabinetsao3 | Explicit | 89k | Modern AU | Missed connections | the-one-that-got-away | New York City | Infidelity | pining | ANGST | Drah-ma | Guilty conscience | Rey needs a hug | poe/rey | ben/kaydal | Multi POV |  After a chance meeting in college they reunite years later- both married to other people. They start an affair that both destroys and heals their lives. | *snorts this fic like cocaine* So angsty and delicious! I love the angsty/guilty thought process they both go through. And how the author humanizes their spouses. Engaging prose, with a tension that keeps you hooked!

Children and Other Wild Animals by Virginia_Tradescant | @silmarilliant | Explicit | 90k | Complete | Modern AU | Multi POV | FBI | Witness Protection | Bodyguard | Organized Crime | Undercover agen!Ben Solo | Hitman!Kylo Ren | Teacher!Rey | Schools/Children | Forbidden relationship | Pining | Drama | Action/violence | Angst | All-aboard-the-pain-train | HEA | Multi POV | Ben Solo's return to field work should be easy, but a sting operation to draw out a mole within the FBI, disguised as Witness Protection will test his every resolve and push him to his limits. Caught in the crossfire is Rey Niima, a early childhood educator who is just trying to teach children and not fall in love with her very own special agent. | Fucking brilliant. Great chemistry between all characters, engaging prose. Love the multi POV (It really added to the drama/angst). Never have I read a fic, where (almost) every chapter I wanted to comment "it hurts so good!". Defintly a Pain Train, but with a super satisfying HEA that makes it worth it.

Comfort Zones by Emmyjean | @emmyjeanb | Explicit | 101k | Complete | Modern AU | Strangers to friends to lovers | Porn star!Kylo Ren | Awkward!Ben Solo | Anxiety/depression | Dating | The Friend Zone | Drama | Past substance abuse | Angst | Multi POV | Rey finds herself working behind the scenes of a porno - and just her luck to run into one of the main stars at her other job as a bartender. Drawn together over their shared love of literature Ben and Rey embark on a rocky road to happiness. | Some *chef kiss* angst! Really cool exploration of the "friendzone" dynamic. Fascinating charcterization of Rey! Absolutley loved Ben and Luke's history and closure.

I Was Lost (For You To Find) by LadyReylo | Explicit | 90k | Complete | Modern AU | Adoption | Single Parent!Rey | Strangers to friends to lovers | Co-parenting | Angst | Class difference | Rey POV | After unfathomable circumstances bring Ex-marine Ben into Single Mom Rey and her son Rian's lives, Ben and Rey must figure out how to co-parent while dancing around their attraction to each other. | Urgh, so angsty and delicious! Some Marriage Story vibes.

the world shifts (and I am better here) by lachesisgrimm | @lachesisgrimm | Explcit | 102k | Complete | Modern AU | Fantasy AU | Fairy Tale elements | Magic | Prophecy | Quest | Sleeping beauty elements | Devoted Reylo | Action/Drama | HEA | Rey POV | Rey stumbles from the modern world into a fantasy where she must save a sleeping prince and discover her own magic.

Kohelet 3:16 (Call Me A Cab) by LinearA | @linearla | Explicit | 108k | Complete | Modern AU | Politics | Social Justice | Protesting | NYC | Everybody is Jewish | Undocumented!Rey | Cop!Kylo | Secret identity (Jewish!Ben Solo) | Blackmail | Enemies to lovers | Rough Sex | Lawyers/trials | Corruption | Angst | Tragic back story | Falling in love | Bisexual!Rey | Past Rey/Rose | Bisexual!Ben | Bendemption | Multi POV | "Rey and Finn go out on a cold night to participate in the grand New York Jewish tradition of Banging These Bastards A Kettle About It, and the police, they don't like it so much. Caught with a fake ID and no residency papers, Rey is dragged into a scheme to infiltrate and spy on activist groups. Detective Kyle O'Ryan, who would very much prefer you didn't inquire too closely about his legal name or his family background or why he never seems to mind working on Christmas, is supposed to be her police liaison, but his badge is getting heavier every day." | Fucking brilliant. Engrossing story. Heartbreaking. So well written. Main POVs are Kylo, Rey and Finn. Finn has a storyline to himself (and it's heartbreaking and meaningful).

Only If You Want To by Violetwilson | @violetwilson | Mature | 111k | Complete | Modern AU | Modern AU | Bikers |  Drug dealers | Gangs | Crime | Waitress/drug runner!Rey | Private security consultant!Kylo Ren | slow burn |  Drama/violence | Personal healing/growth | drug abuse | Alternating POV | "Personal security expert (and occasional under-the-table hitman) Kylo Ren has a strong feeling about the cute dive bar waitress with the strange bruises and the vicious wit. She's either a victim or the weirdest criminal he's ever met. Possibly both. And yeah, maybe his hands aren't the cleanest, but damn if he isn't tying to help. Now if he could only get her to put down the switchblade..." | Engrossing characterizations with enjoyable prose!

The Heart of Hate by SevenBetter | Explicit | 119k | Complete | Modern AU | Multi POV | Enemies to Lovers | Hate Sex | Neighbors | Small Buisness Owners | Rey owns an Ice Cream Parlor | Ben makes Whiskey | Secret Relationship(s) | Ben is a terrible communicator | Rey is aggressively cheerful  | Family Drama | Angst | Personal Growth | Falling in Love | Dramatic Family Thanksgiving | 80s Prom | Secrets revealed! | HEA | Side pairings: Hux/Phasma, Finn/Rose, Poe/Zorii | "Rey and Ben are each hard-working small business owners in a quiet beach town, determined to succeed, whose feuding and fighting lead to one other F-word that they also do together." | Phenomenal characterizations for Ben and Rey with an great buildup and organic transition from enemies-to-lovers. I love to liken my favourite fics to movies, but this is one story where the written word is absolutley the best medium.

go i know not whither and fetch i know not what by voicedimplosives | @voicedimplosives | Explicit | 119k | Complete | 1990s, | Russia | New York | Russian mafia/organized crime | Strangers to lovers | Roadtrip | Criminal!kylo | Drama |Graphic depiction of violence | Angst | Redemption | Witness Protection | Long-ass chapters | Multi POV | 1994, Rey travels to Russia to learn about her biological mother. She gets tangled up with Russian Mobster Kyril Ren. Sexy roadtrip ensure but ultimately ends in heart break as Rey returns to the US and Kyril and the Russia  mob shorty follow -- to kill Rey's adoptive father Luke. | Engaging prose with dynamic chemistry. Fascinating characterization! Steamy AF. So detailed. Learn from my mistakes: do not binge in one night

we could plant a house, we could build a tree by Like_A_Dove | @likeadove | Explcit | 124k | Complete | Modern AU | Growing up together | Artists | Slow Burn | Ode to 90s music | Drama | Angst | Bendemption | HEA | Rey POV | 7 year old Rey is an orphan taking art lessons at Luke's studio where she become friends with his moody teenage nephew. The story of their lives over the course of 20 years. Friendship, love, loss, consequences and finally redemption and forgiveness. | There is a reason why people rave about this story: Incredible characterization. What a journey of Rey growing up and her complicated relationship with Ben. Fucking incredible.

The Mechanic by DaytonBay | Explicit | 122k | Complete | Modern AU | London | Europe |  One-night-stand | Unexpected Pregnancy | Strangers to lovers | Poverty | Organized Crime | Violence/action | Drama | Mechanic!Rey | Mafioso!Kylo Ren | Rey is a cinnamonbun | Kylo does not nice things to protect Rey | Found family vibes | OC's | Breaking the law has consequences | HEA | Multi POV | After a memorable one-night-stand Rey finds herself in a spot of trouble-- pregnant with the child of the 2nd of command of The First Order, one of the most powerful organized crime syndicates on the continent. Rey's life will never be the same as she's unwittingly pulled into the high stakes world of Kylo Ren. | So. Fucking. Good. Right off the bat the prose grabs you and immerses you in this engrossing story! Brilliant characterization - especially Rey, so heartbreaking and well written! Fascinating story/plot! Great writting! Love Rey and Kylo*cough*Ben*cough*'s chemistry/dynamic! Lots of steamy; satisfying smut. Interesting, fleshed out OC's that enhance and don't detract. Some crazy dramatics that make it an addicting read! The author does a great job of invoking the setting of London/Europe which I really enjoyed! I repeat: So. Fucking. Good. You know what? A testament to how good this fic is, everytime I come across this fic in my bookmarks I want to read it again!

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school by somethingdifferent | Explicit | 130k | complete | Modern AU | Teachers | Co-workers | Enemies-to-lovers | Hate-to-love | slow burn | fuck buddies | idiots in love | Ben POV | Ben Solo is an asshole. A former lawyer, turned high school councilor who works at the prestigious private school that he, himself, was expelled from. Rey is an adorable art teacher who is everything he despises and who does not take his shit. They clash to say the least. He hates her. Then he wants to fuck her. Then he falls in love with her. If he plays his cards right he might get everything he never knew he wanted. | This might be the greatest enemies-to-lovers I have ever read! The prose is top notch, the characterization is fascinating, the slow transition from hate-to-attraction-to-love is so brilliantly done.

The Witch in the Wood by HarpiaHarpyja and Inmyownidiom | @thisgarbagepicker | Explicit | 138k | Complete | Medieval/Fantasy AU | Enemies to Lovers | Knight!Kylo Ren | Witch!Rey | Magic | Witchcraft | Graphic depiction of violence | Animal Sacrifice | Falling in Love | Loss of Virginity | Oh hey some plot | AND WHAT A PLOT IT IS | Demons | Angst | Despair | HEA | Alternating POV | Knight Kylo Ren has spent his life slaying demons and killing witches, now he finds himself at the mercy of Rey, a witch who simply wants to live alone, in her forest at peace. The very foundations of Kylo's world-view are shaken as he falls in love with The Witch in the Wood. | Brilliant. Just brilliant. Gorgeous world building. Gripping plot. Fantastic charcterizstion. Delicious dynamic. Copious amounts of steamy AF smut!

Unravel Me by UnderTheCancerMoon | Explicit | 145k | Complete | Modern AU | Restaurant AU | Chef!Ben Solo | Server/Bartender!Rey | Friendgroup dynamic | Friendship | Friends to Lovers | Secret  Relationship | Casual Relationship | Long Distance | Breakups | Pining | Celebrity Chef!Ben Solo | Angst | Blackmail | Ben and Rey stay friends after they break up | Ben and Rey date other people | Rey x Mitaka | Ben x Bazine | ALL ABOARD THE PAIN TRAIN! | Awkward public love confessions | HEA | Multi POV | Rey starts working at a restaurant and she makes great new friends and finds herself a secret beau in moody chef Ben Solo. Life fic, covering almost 10 years, Ben and Rey's on and off relationship and his rising status as a celebrity chef. Highs and lows as the friend group finds love, loss and sings plenty of karaoke. | Great prose. Love all the details of restaurant life. Loving the friend group dynamic. The characterizations are awesome (especially Finn, Poe, Rose). So many great details that bring the story to life!

Friday Special Comes With Something Sweet by deathbyhumidity | Explicit | 160k | Complete | Modern AU | Small Town | Strangers to friends to lovers | Character study | Angst | Drama. So much drama. Mostly internal | Rey needs a hug | Ben needs a kick in the ass | Ben POV | "Being Chewie’s kitchen assistant at his dad’s diner wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to Ben Solo after he went back home from university with his tail between his legs, but in typical spectacular fashion, he managed to ruin the peace with his runaway mouth just three weeks in. Really, he should have remembered there was a good reason Han kept him out back, but at least now the memory of wide, wet eyes spitting fireballs at him made sure that he won’t likely forget again anytime soon." | Good god this is great. Interesting prose, great charcterization for Ben -- I can so relate to this version of him.  A depth that you only see in a good long fic. Juicy and dramatic. AND ANGSTY 😘👌

The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash | @lyresandlasers | Explict | 160k | Complete | Western AU | Oregon Trail | Strangers to lovers | Marriage of convenience | secrets/lies | outlaws | angst | action/violence/drama | Rey POV | Rey Niima's husband dies on the Oregon Trail. She settles on marrying the mysterious Ben Solo to continue the journey. They might have come togther by chance but their chemistry and devotion are undeniable. But of course Ben has a past - he is not a respectable banker, but the outlaw Kylo Ren and Rey has gotten caught up in one of his schemes. After seemingly freeing him from the First Order Rey must seek out her own happiness -- even if that mean leaving her husband behind. | Its languid place allows for beautiful characterization and build up-- never slowing to point of distraction, peppering teases of future plot to keep you reading. After the "climax" it slows to a snail's pace but ends beautifully. Brilliantly written. Smut as hot as the surface of Venus.

This Mess Is Mine by LyricalRiot | Explicit | 211k | Complete | Modern AU | Friends-with-benefits to lovers | Accidental Pregnancy | Pregnancy/Childbirth | Pining | Fluff | Marriage | Friend group  dynamic  | HEA | reylo baby | Smut | Multi POV | Opps. Friends-with-benefits Ben and Rey make a quarentine baby! Fic follows conception to birth and the romantic journey of the parents as they get their shit togther and get their heads out of their asses and find their HEA. | Okay, this fic is set in an AU where the covid pandemic was WAY less of a big deal than it has been IRL, so there is only a bit of covid/quarantine/pandemic in the beginning. | Ahhhhhh! This is perfection! So well written with brilliant characterization! It's not overly dramatic or angsty but there is a realness in the details that makes it so compelling to read and so enjoyable!

WIPs

It's a Long Way to the Top by mzladybird | @mzladybird | Explicit | 139k | WIP: last updated  2022-02-21 | Modern AU | Musicians | Bandmates | Fame | Drugs, Sex & Rock n Roll | Drummer!Rey | Canon age difference | Mutual Pining | No-strings-attached (Sure Jan) | Falling in love | Size kink | Drama | Angst | Multi POV | Rey's journey drumming with the Tie-Fighters and her tumultuous relationship with guitarist Ben Solo. Fame isnt all it's cut out to be. | Fantastic prose, super interesting characterizations! Love the friendship between the bandmates. Smut as hot as the surface of Venus 🥵

One Above All by AquaWolfGirl | @aquawolfgirl | Explicit | 149k | WIP: Last updated 2022-01-26 | Historical AU | Conquerors/emperors | Forced marriage | Enemies to friends to lovers | Slow burn | Romance | Politics | Action/Drama | Mention of past abuse | no smut yet | Multi POV | Rey didn't expect her arranged union to Emperor Snoke to be happy, considering her parents sold her hand in marriage for a decent sum of gold, but she didn't expect it to end this soon, either. Married to a tyrant, Rey isn't surprised when the people of his empire come to see his blood spilled. But she is surprised when Kylo Ren, named 'king killer', becomes emperor and decides to not only keep her alive, but take her as his own empress. | Phenomenal world building! The slowest of slow burns!

Across Six Septembers by bluetoast | @blue-toast17 | Explicit | 407k | WIP: Last updated 2021- 12-14 | Historic AU | 1860's | American Frontier | Strangers to lovers | Multiple storylines | Many OC's | Weddings | Babies | Drama | Charcter death (multiple) | Fluff | Domesticity | Multi POV | The story of a blacksmith, his mail order bride and the many interweaving stories of their families -- spanning years and continents. | Massive, and detailed with sprawling, interconnecting storylines.

Enjoy!

After telling my sister about this list she was all but I like short ones too! So I guess I'm making a short n sweet rec list too now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[zodiyack]

Rude! (3,000+ Follower Fic Special 1/3)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female!Hopper!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Billy stuff, lyrics, fluff

Song: Rude by Magic!

Words: 1,798

Summary: Billy's love for Hopper's daughter is too strong to be stopped by the tough Chief Jim Hopper. Despite being told "not in a thousand years", he plans to love her regardless.

Note: Thank you so so much! I love you all, and writing your ideas, as well as sharing mine with you, has been so fucking fun and amazing! I'm sorry for my lack of words, I wish being an author came in handy with writing this, however, all I can say is that I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I've seen people do shout-outs, and ask-related stuff with their follower things, and I may do that, I'm not sure. For now, I hope you enjoy this... Thank you all, again!

Also 1/3 means that there will be two other fics released for the 3,000+ follower present!

Taglist: @urie-bowie-mercury, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

"Saturday morning, jumped out of bed and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet all the way to you. Knocked on your door with my heart in my hands, to ask you a question, 'cause I know that you're an old-fashioned man. Yeah."

Billy was freshly graduated, working as a lifeguard whilst his girlfriend worked her own job, both saving up for their chance to ditch Hawkins and move to California. Sweet Cali. Billy was excited to show the love of his life around the place he called home. Though, physically, he left the salty ocean and windy beach behind, the place never truly left him.

You could see it in his eyes. The waves crashing in his blue orbs. He swore the scent had just barely clung to his belongings; the smell of the tangy air that followed a majority of the state. Working at a pool was the closest he got to the memory of California. Chlorine was most certainly not the salted ocean waters, but with the circumstances, he decided it'd do.

The way his face lit up whenever he talked about his home...it made Y/n more and more excited to see it. His girlfriend had grown up in Hawkins, stayed there her whole life. Never once did the Hoppers leave Hawkins.

But the second that was introduced to Billy, he knew it had to change.

Although they were saving for a big move, Billy had...other things in mind with what to do with his first large pay-check (or series, rather. Working as a lifeguard didn't pay well with just one check). He began to work more shifts to make up for the money he'd spent, and one day after calling in for a day off, he decided to put his plan into action.

"Billy, stop messing with the tie."

"It's annoying." Hands slapped away his attempts of adjusting the black silk tie.

"Well it won't stop being annoying if you keep fucking it up."

For the first time in a long time, Neil Hargrove was calm. Not happy, not amused, not pissed off for some unjust reason- just calm. He wasn't wreaking havoc and he wasn't being an asshole to his son. Billy hadn't seen this side of his dad in quite some time, in fact, he thought something important was going on and he was about to fuck it all up. And then, Susan retreated to the living room with a camera and a freshly ironed suit.

"You're not putting me in that."

"And who asked for your opinion?" Neil deflected with a raised brow. One heavy sigh later and Billy was leaving the bathroom, dawning the whole black and white getup.

Susan clasped her hands over her mouth, a tear leaving her eye, "You look so handsome! Just like your dad!"

Billy rolled his eyes, "Great."

However, his careless attitude was swept under the rug when the blue Camaro pulled up to the police station, interrupting a clearly distressed Chief Hopper bickering with his daughter. Billy had to get himself together before stepping out of the car, jaw slack after seeing the beauty he got to call his date.

"Hello Mr-"

"Don't even try play nice with me, Hargrove. She's not going anywhere with you. End of story." Hopper kept his eyes trained on the blond, body tense like a snake preparing to strike it's prey.

Y/n grabbed Billy's arm, slowly directing him to the car, "And in the sequel, we find out I am going with Billy. End of that story."

"There is no 'sequel.' The writer got drunk and lazy." She paused, turning to face her father who stood tall, arms crossed and face unamused.

"So his daughter picked up where her father left off, and then the sequel was published and the two lived happily ever after, the end."

While her dad attempted to search for a line that would better hers and force her to stay, she pushed Billy toward the driver's side and slid into the car as fast as she could, rolling down the window as Billy started it up. "Bye! I'll be back before midnight!"

The two drove off toward the school, leaving behind a trail of dust and very, very, pissed off Hopper.

Prom was better than Billy thought it would be. He didn't want to go at first, but after Max found out and spoke to her mom about it (the little redhead a cupid-in-the-making), Neil pushed him to go (as he was "doing something else besides being a lazy-no-good rebel"). It was then that he called Y/n and asked if she'd be going.

The suit came in handy. Clashing with his rocker aesthetic, he put it back on once more. The once-annoying tie proved to be somewhat okay in the end.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, but the answer is no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude?

With a deep breath, he ran-over the conversation in his head once more. Like a script for an actor, he had thought of every possible outcome and every possible line for him to face it with. He almost chickened out as his fist rose to the door, but it was too late, for his knuckles rapped against it before he realized he was even knocking.

El opened the door, eyes wide when she saw the familiar mullet and button-down. "Papa..." She muttered as she backed away and out of view.

Hopper traded places with her, his lazy expression sobering up instantaneously, replaced with a grumpy scowl. "Hargrove."

"Mr. Hopper, sir."

"What are you doing on my front porch?"

He swallowed roughly, palms sweaty against his sides. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"You seem to be doing just that right now, Hargrove." Hop crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

Well, this was certainly not something Billy had thought of. He was on panic mode internally, attempting to find any response that could save his hide and accomplish what he set out to do. Unfortunately, the word-vomit button seemed to be misplaced under the button labeled "help".

"I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."

Hop's eyes grew just as big in size as El's had when she opened the door. He choked on his own surprise, coughing it off, then glaring at the boy in front of him. "Over my dead body, Hargrove. If that's all, I'd strongly advise you to get off of my fucking porch while you're still alive."

I hate to do this, you leave no choice; can't live without her. Love me or hate me, we will be boys- standing at that alter. And we will fly away, to another galaxy, you know. You know she's in love with me, she will go anywhere I go-

"Billy, he's just stubborn."

"No, no, I don't think he likes me."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her boyfriend's back. He hadn't told her of his proposal plans, only that Hop seemed to have it out for him. "It'll take time, but he'll warm up to you!"

"It's been how many years since he's met me?"

"To be fair, your reputation wasn't doing you any good until now..."

"It's not like that was fucking obvious." He slouched further down in the front seat of his Camaro. To Billy, all hope was lost. If he couldn't get Hopper to give him his blessing, he was sure he'd lose his goddamned mind.

Y/n frowned. Her frown flipped around as an idea popped into her head, her lips finding Billy's knuckles and quirking his attention. "Even if he never likes you, I'm not going anywhere."

Billy laughed softly, "he'll fucking kill me if you go against him."

"Eh, that's only if he can catch us."

"You're out of your fucking mind, Y/n Hopper."

"I know."

The rest of the night was spent in the Camaro, of course, doing one of Billy's favorite pastimes. By the time the sun rose, Billy was sneaking a kiss to a giggling Y/n before dropping from her window in the cabin and running to his car, parked far enough that Hop or El wouldn't notice. He blew her one more kiss, which she pretended to catch, then he broke into a sprint.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe; there was still a chance.

His knuckles hit the door again, shifting on his feet nervously. It swung open to reveal Hopper, an unimpressed look bringing no surprise Billy's way. It was quite expected, honestly.

"What." His tone made it clear he wasn't up for fucking around.

"Mr. Hopper, if you just give me one chance to prove to you that-"

"No, no, no, no, no. Let me make it very clear to you that I want you to have nothing to do with my daughter whatsoever. No marriage, no friendship, I don't even approve of you guys fucking or whatever-"

"We're in a serious relationship, sir. It's nothing like you think it is."

This made Hop laugh. He continued to do so, holding his stomach, until he realized Billy was unamused. "Oh, you're serious?... My answer is still no, Hargrove. My answer will always be no. Go find someone else's daughter's heart to break. You're not hurting mine."

"It's not like-"

Before he could even get the words out, he was met with a door in his face. Turned down, again.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, 'cause the answer's still no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude, rude?

Again, again, and again, Billy incessantly pleaded with Hopper. Different tactics were all met with the same answer; rejection.

He held up a sign outside the cabin, only for Hopper to close the curtain and chuckle as he sipped his coffee.

He asked at the door again, only for Hop to threaten to give him a black eye (which was met with "aren't you the sheriff? Isn't that illegal?").

He raced past the police station, Max leaning out the window with another sign, only for Hop to threaten them with holding cells.

He even went as far as to ask Max and El to help, but Hopper had none of that, and sent Max home with a rant full of nos.

However, if Jim Hopper thought any of it would get it into Billy's head that getting his blessing was just not happening- he was as wrong as Nancy when she claimed not to have feelings for Jonathan.

Billy had another plan in mind, and this one was impossible to say no to.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend- but no still means no!"

"Hopper." Billy stood before his desk, interrupting his nice date with a delicious doughnut, and earning a very annoyed glare. "I got Miss Byer's blessing. Aren't you two a thing?"

"You son of a-"

"I got Eleven's too."

"Hargrove, I'm gonna-"

"Before you cuss me out, I think you should know that I've got a stable job, an interview with a mechanic so I have a job when the pool closes for the winter, and I've got a house on the market I'm looking at. I'm devoted to your daughter and she's devoted to me. You may not like me, but I think you're a great dad, better than the one I was unfortunately stuck with. You raised a strong and amazing woman. She's incredible and I admit, she deserves better than me-"

"You don't have to say that twice." Hopper huffed, crossing his arms.

"I know she deserves so much better than me, I'm surprised she's even with me too. But she loves me, and I think you can see that. I love her too. I would never, in a million years, break her heart."

Jim stayed silent for a few minutes. The silence brought uneasiness to Billy, but that was intentional on Hopper's behalf. He finally piped up with a cough, clearing his throat, before his piercing eyes met Billy's blue orbs.

"I'll hold you to that, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude? Why you gotta be so rude?

Bonus:

(after the wedding)

"What was that about a no?" Billy quipped with his infamous smirk.

"You're lucky I'm sheriff, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude?

[jadequeen88]

Smart Girls Make Fast Learners

NSFW 18+ ONLY. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

My contribution to the BNHarem’s monthly collab. The theme was SEx work. ⛓This piece is a first real deep dive into darker themes and was actually really, really exciting to write. 🖤 A massive thanks to my dear friend @libiraki​ for beta reading this.

TW: yandere behavior, toxic relationship, degradation, non-con, dub-con, degradation/praise kinks, mind break, oral (M and F receiving), over stim, loss of virginity, mentions of physical violence.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone this type of relationship. This is a work of fiction and if this happens IRL please get out of the relationship!

There is a very specific type of dread that occurs when you discover that the person you built your world around has been lying to you. Tamaki Amajiki was experiencing this brand of betrayal for the first time in his twenty-one years on a rainy Tuesday in October in the dim lighting of your dorm room. His grip tightened around the open laptop as he stared at glimpses of flesh in the thumbnails of the many, many videos posted to the site. Previous live streams with thousands of views. He gulped down the bile in his throat as he scrolled through the videos. His shock and disgust morphed into a pure rage as he counted up the live streams that you’d had since first kissing him. 12. There had been twelve. Three times a week for the past four weeks. 

Those big doe eyes that looked into his eyes as you tentatively licked the tip of his cock for the first time… mere hours later they were rolling in the back of your head as you got off for strangers on the internet. He couldn’t take it. You were his first… everything… he knew that you hadn’t been innocent in your past. The way your tongue expertly wound around his when you first kissed him amongst your plush pillows and goose-down comforter reminded him of the fact. The low violet LED lighting of your bedroom made him feel like the two of you were in your own ethereal world. He could forgive you for not waiting for him as he’d waited for you. 

For the past four years, he kept to the shadows. He was there when the football player from freshman year cheated on you with one of your terrible friends (and when it happened the second, third, fourth time). He was there to binge your favorite shows with you (“*insert current guy you were fucking* just doesn’t get it, he’s not into it. I’m so glad I’ve got you to watch it with!”) He bit back the heartache that would wash over him when you’d pet him and coo over him… you didn’t see him as a man. He wanted to bend you over and prove he could fuck your brains out. He KNOWS he’d be perfect for you. But he never rejected the attention. He smiled and accepted whatever crumbs fell from your table. Whether it be helping you study or letting you complain about your shitty friends or your shitty jock boyfriends or your shitty parents… He gave and gave and gave… until that one day, 35 days ago to be exact, a shift in the tide occurred.

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“So why don’t you have a girlfriend, Tama-kun?”

“Wh-wha?”

Tamaki dropped the pencil he’d been using and before he could bend to get it himself, your hand was on his thigh and he was putty in your grasp. You giggled and cooed over him like you always did, but this time you did it while assaulting his mouth and neck with your skilled tongue. This time, for the first time, you made Tamaki feel like a man. Like YOUR man.

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Over the next few weeks, Tamaki had become quite skilled in pleasing a woman. It only took a little guidance to have him sucking at your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He learned on his own how to couple that with his long, delicate fingers twisting and pumping in and out of your slick hole. You’d cling to his silky hair, pulling him closer as a constant stream of praise tumbled from your lips:

“No one has ever made me feel this good.”

“Your fingers are perfect Tama-kun”.

“I love your mouth on me so much, baby.”

The first time you came on his face, Tamaki knew there was a god because he’d found heaven between your thighs.

But that was gone now… ripped away with one mouse click on the night he was going to finally give you his virginity. He had held on to it like it was a treasure. A treasure he’d present to you one day wrapped up in life-long devotion and worship... But Tamaki wasn’t in heaven anymore. He wasn’t going to worship you tonight. For the first time since laying eyes on you, Tamaki wanted to hurt you.

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You turned the shower off and dried yourself. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. You felt like this was going to be the first time giving your body to someone. Tonight was a redo. You were wiping the slate clean. Your first time would no longer be underneath the football captain in the passenger seat of his truck, left feeling sore and unsatisfied. It was going to be with the guy you should have noticed long ago. It would be soft and slow… passionate and filled with sweet words and caresses… limbs tangled in soft sheets that smell like lavender and vanilla. 

You applied your lotion and moisturized your face. The red lace adorning your body was arranged perfectly, accentuating the soft swell of your hips and chest. With one last glance in the mirror and adjustment of your bra, you opened the door to the cool air of your dorm room…

...And saw Tamaki looking murderous. 

His eyes slowly left the screen to meet your gaze. His tear-stained face had never looked this harsh. His normally sweet eyes were narrowed and red from crying. The sweet lips you’d licked and sucked with such tenderness were hard and cold as they pulled upward in a grimace.

The only thing he said before rising from the bed and setting aside your laptop was your camgirl username. Then he was on you before you could draw a breath to explain.

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Tamaki always thought he liked you best on top of him showering him with kisses and threading your fingers through his hair, but he had to admit… having your arms tied to a bed frame with the silky sash of your bathrobe cutting into your skin was doing things to him. When you sniffled, face stained with tears and snot, his dick twitched in his boxers. The whines you were choking back behind the silky red panties stuffed down your throat sent chills up his spine. You had to learn the hard way not to spit them out after a harsh slap echoed against your skin when you fought back the first time.

Tamaki stood back to survey the mess of skin, spit, and tears for a moment. You were a blank canvas for him to mark up with his rage and lust. You tried to hide away your bare pussy by clenching your thighs together. It only spurred him on.

“Do you have any clue what you’ve done?” he hovered over you, sleek muscles rippling over your own soft body, “I waited, and waited, and WAITED,” he bit down on the side of your exposed neck and you screamed behind the silky gag, trying your best not to expel it from your mouth and receive more punishment.

“I want to give you everything, Y/N,” he licks over the bite, almost apologetically, “I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want it to happen like this… FUCK, why?! Why did you ruin this?” his long fingers dug into your cheeks as he forced you to meet his fiery gaze. You couldn’t help whimpering and sniffling back more clear runny snot. You were so humiliated at how disheveled and disgusting you must look. His head ducked into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder and you felt him sob. 

Despite the abuse he’d inflicted upon you in the last ten minutes, you nuzzled your cheek into the top of his head in an attempt to comfort him. And he let you… he hated himself for it and he hated you for making this all so hard for him.

“No… no, no, no,” he rose from the bed to set up your ring-light and laptop, ice running through your veins at the sight. Your mind couldn’t accept what was about to happen.

“I’m... I’m not letting you get away with this,” he shook his head and pulled at his hair as he finished setting everything up, “If you’re insisting on being a slut, you’ll be MY slut. And everyone will know…” he jerked your ankle to force you flat on your back.

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Maybe if he’d let the gag out of your mouth, you’d be able to tell him this was just a job to you. That it was clinical… that he was the only one who had ever been able to get you off, that his face was the only one you’d come on… that you needed the money since your parents had disowned you…

But you only laid there, accepting whatever he was going to dish out. You knew he was hurt. You weren’t stupid. You overlooked him while knowing how he felt about you. It took years of horrible one-night stands and countless frat parties pretending that whatever guy you’d picked that night was interesting for you to come to your senses. You hated yourself for being so blind for so long… You adored Tamaki, truly. And you hated yourself for all the times you’d hurt him… so you swallowed your fear and tried to prepare yourself for whatever came next.

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Any soft parts of Tamaki that you’d grown to love were gone, hardened by heartache and desperation. After angling the laptop to get the perfect shot, he started the live stream countdown. Subscribers started trickling in, commenting on how this was a pleasant surprise since it wasn’t one of your regularly scheduled streams. You shut your eyes to pretend this wasn’t real.

Without fanfare or warning, Tamaki ripped apart your thighs, exposing your bare slit. A raw shrill was pulled from your lungs, your back arching from the sting of an abrupt slap. Neurons fired off in your brain… were you in pain? Was it pleasure?

“Since my girlfriend likes to keep secrets from me, I can’t trust what comes out of her whore mouth,” he emphasized his point by stuffing his fingers past your lips, pushing the soaked silk further into your throat, “So she’s going to keep this gag right here until I can fuck the truth out of her,” he trailed his fingers along your reddened folds. Were you getting wet? Horror and shame blossomed in your chest. The fact that you were growing aroused wasn’t lost on Tamaki. His foreign, sadistic grin was back… aimed directly into your soul.  

“So that’s what you like, huh?” His nails bit into your thighs leaving tiny crescents behind, “I’ve been too nice? Too soft?” He pushed your thighs impossibly wide, the stretch causing you to moan. He hovered over your core, onyx orbs blown wide with a mix of hate and lust. Tamaki looked like the devil himself and you wondered just how fucked up you were for wanting his punishment.

He opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue, never severing the desperate gaze you both shared, his intertwined with hunger, yours with fear. You’d never noticed how long and thick his tongue was and couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel caressing every ridge and crevice of your inner walls. He flattened the warm, wet muscle and pressed it along your slit. As he slowly slid it closer and closer to your burning clit, you whimpered and bucked your hips chasing the pleasure you knew he was capable of giving… but this was not your sweet boy and he wasn’t doing any of this for your pleasure.

He slung his arm over your lower stomach and growled into your drenched lips. You were pinned down, helpless against his torturous tongue. Fresh tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered how he’d let you pet him and buck into his face, how sweetly he’d ease you into a gentle release. Not this time… it was all teeth and sharp sucks, his tongue forcing you open violently. You were being shoved over a cliff and despite the horror and violence of what was happening to you. You were approaching an orgasmic state at record speed. Tamaki caught on and doubled down. The arm that wasn’t pinning you into the mattress pulled your leg down straight, your knee in a death grip. The new angle made the sensations even more intense. His face pressed harder into your core and you noticed that at some point, he’d started weeping, small sobs vibrating against your skin. The overwhelming mix of emotions and the vigor in which he was eating you shoved you over the edge.

He kept going along at the same speed with the same determination through your orgasm until it became painful. You pushed past it as best you could, allowing him to sob into your over-sensitive skin until he had his fill. As the pain started intermingling with pleasure, your legs shook and the gag couldn’t hold your screams back any longer. You released against his tongue once more, both of you sobbing. He laid against your thigh for what felt like an eternity before he lifted himself to lay on top of you, his hip bones digging into your soft thighs. You could feel the bulge through the thin material of his boxer briefs. Your hips rose to meet it, a pleading gesture filled with the desire to comfort and please him. Your eagerness encourages his mercy, there’s a meek cry that leaves your lips when the damp silk slips from between your teeth.

“Please baby… I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you…” your voice was as weak as a kitten’s cry and Tamaki couldn’t deny it made his heart (his dick) clench.

“Say it…” his lips were close enough to kiss, but you resisted… fearful of what he’d do if you did.

“Say what, Tama?” your eyes were wide with concern and confusion. You were desperate to please him.

He turned your face to the camera that you’d forgotten was there and the gravity of the situation crashed around you again. New tears leaked from your stinging eyes as Tamaki whispered into your ear.

“Say that you’re a lying whore…”

“I..I’m a lying whore…”

The last syllable broke as your abused throat grew accustomed to speaking again. He rewarded you with a soft kiss to your cheek and your eyes closed at the tender gesture. The familiar pain in your chest welled to the surface causing even more tears to escape.

“And tell everyone that you’re my own personal slut”

You repeated the phrase to the audience behind the screen and he hummed with approval, trailing one finger along your wet cheek. 

“Good girl…” the praise sent shivers through your wrecked body.

“And tell them from now on, your boyfriend will be the only one making you come… that they only get to see you be HIS slut.”

You noticed the chat going absolutely haywire at your announcement. Before Tamaki shut your laptop, you realized you’d made three times as much as you’d ever made before and a twisted sense of accomplishment filled your cloudy mind.

“Please,” your voice came out in a croak, “Please untie me. I wanna make it up to you,” his clothed bulge was burning into your core and you could tell he was close to breaking.

“Please let me make you feel good. I’m so, so sorry,” the clench of your thighs around his waist made him whimper.

He reluctantly pulled away to sit on the foot of the bed. The way he curled in on himself hugging his knees made him appear so small, so fragile… a complete change from the man who’d just manhandled you into restraints.

“You’re a liar…” you almost didn’t hear the whisper, his face buried into his knees.

“Please!” you were losing feeling in your hands and all you wanted was to be free to comfort him.

His eyes met yours and it was your Tamaki again... Your sweet boy… the snarling, green beast that threatened to devour you was sleeping now after it reached its fill of violence. He crawled over your body and released your restraint. Before you even regained feeling in your hands, you wrapped your arms around him. You littered his collarbone with sweet kisses and apologetic sobs. He began to melt into your affectionate gestures and you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him impossibly close. Wet lips met and your tongues fought against each other for dominance. Hips began to roll against each other, increasing pressure until you both gasped. 

The violence was gone, but this was still not a gentle coupling like you’d been planning. Tamaki pulled away and freed his straining cock from his boxers. The skin-to-skin contact made your eyes roll back into your skull. You felt his long fingers grasp your throat, squeezing to remind you just how powerful they were. You shuddered in response, arching upward into his touch, chasing that high his dominance was giving you.

With one swift motion, Tamaki speared you onto his cock. With the minimal prep he’d given you, the stretch was agonizing. This was by far the largest cock you’d ever taken and it stole your breath from your aching lungs. You moaned earning a visceral reaction from the boy on top of you.  

Tamaki stayed as still as he could. He refused to come so soon… not when he’d waited so long for this. He tightened his grip on your throat and tentatively rocked his hips into yours. It didn’t take long for it to progress into the most frantic love-making you’d ever experienced.

There was no other way to describe it, he was hate fucking you… biting and sucking your chest until blood bloomed under your skin… hammering into your sore, sticky cunt with total abandon… he was using you like a toy, taking out all his frustrations on your body.

It was ecstasy.

When his hips stuttered as he met his release, the spasms of his tip against your gummy walls sent you into a painful orgasm. You were spent and it seemed like he was too. Your fingers twitched over the crown of his head, wanting to run your fingers through his hair but too scared to initiate any contact with him. As if he could read your mind, he grabbed your hand and placed it on his head. You sighed and began carding through the tangles, gently undoing them. You felt a stream of tears running down your chest as you worked your fingers through his strands. Lifting his face gently, you met his teary gaze with your own.

“Don’t…” he drew in a shuddering breath, “ever lie to me like that again…” the monster behind his eyes stirred quietly, a malicious glint in his eye, before shifting back into your gentle boyfriend. 

“Never, I swear to you, baby…” he lets you lift his chin gently to meet your lips. His eyes close and he sighs into your kiss. His muscles relax and when his eyes open again, his warm, adoring expression falls over your face. The hand that wanted to choke the life out of your eyes minutes ago now caresses your jaw tenderly,

“I trust you…” his lips turn up into a grin that’s just a little too wide, “Because you’re a smart girl, aren’t you?” his top lip brushed against your still trembling bottom lip…

“Y-yes…”

You were fucked. This whole situation was fucked up and you weren’t blind to the fact. But as Tamaki nuzzled into your neck placing soft kisses and whispering praises into your skin, you let yourself bask in the gentleness of the moment…

Because you were a smart girl and smart girls learn their lessons quickly... 

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

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You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[razorblade180]

OC test:Confessional pt1

[Warning: It’s depressing]

In the spirit of Mental Health Awareness Month, everyone shall confess a deeply personal thought to one other person not from their universe. It’ll just be those two people in the room.

Veronica:Crap…

xxxx

Mona:Yo.

Lucas:Uhh hey. Color me shocked. Why me?

Mona:I don’t know. Why not? Honestly not quite sure what to say. I’m pretty numb by most things or have aired out my baggage. I was groomed and sexually abused. Big whoop. That’s no secret.

Lucas:…That must’ve been a lot to deal with.

Mona:Not particularly. The only silver lining of it happening so young is most of what happened was too big to really comprehend entirely. It’s fucking awful for sure but better than…hmm. *sits down* …..Heh.

Lucas:*sits* Found something?

Mona:Not many know this but I’m not an only child. I have a little sister. Has to be twelve by now.

Lucas:Why isn’t she here?

Mona:If she was, Ahlai wouldn’t say anything. She’s broken. Like…shattered. Dear old mom just never let up for anything. By the time she turned seven, Ahlai was already gone. Hardly blinked let alone ate. I only remember that because it’s the reason I gave myself to leave her behind when I finally ran away. I was fourteen.

Lucas:…

Mona:…..

Mona:I’ve never pretended or acted like I’m a good person, but every time I think about that, I can’t shrug off how fucked up that was of me. Maybe that’s why I like sticking my neck out for street kids?

Lucas:Not sure how far a fourteen year old girl would’ve gotten if you had grabbed her. Sounds like an un-winnable situation. If it makes you feel better, escaping at all is a feat.

Mona:Heh, I knew I was right to pick you.

xxxxx

Sienna:Hey Frosty.

Summer:That’s…surprisingly a new one. Why me?

Sienna:You’re pretty gentle, like a snow rabbit.

Summer:Thank you? Well, I’m no stranger to therapy. I’ll listen to you.

Sienna:I can’t remember my real name, and that gets to me sometimes.

Summer:…..Sienna isn’t your real name?

Sienna:Hehe, no. It’s what Adam gave me, or…the name I gave myself? My memories are pretty hazy around that time and everything before. Not just my name, but family too. I remember the mines, bits and pieces anyways. I also know…I killed my brother. No face, voice, or even how, but I know it was me.

Summer:That’s…a lot to take in. I’m sorry you went through that.

Sienna:Anytime I try remembering, or even think about asking anyone who does know, my head starts feeling like it’ll split open. My heart races and I can’t stop shaking. Wearing jewelry freaks me out too; my body remembers those days vividly. Just not my brain.

Summer:Our minds can block out traumatic experiences as a way of protecting us. I only recently went back to the lake I nearly died. Immediately had a panic attack, my head remembering the moment I fell in. It was terrifying and I had to leave. There are times our body knows what’s best.

Sienna:Isn’t that just a nice way of saying we’re too weak to handle the truth?

Summer:…Sure feels that way sometimes, doesn’t it?

xxxxx

Canary:I take it you’re no stranger to Ruby drama?

Carmine:I could write a book about it. Rant.

Canary:When I needed a hero, a person who truly understood my sorrow, Ruby Rose wasn’t there. Not only that but she took away other people with her! I didn’t have to be a girl with limited memories of her dad and no scythe knowledge. I don’t even blame her for the death. I just….it would’ve felt like he was still there if she stood by me. *rubs eyes*

Carmine:Mo- Ruby is never at her best when she’s highly emotional. Sadly, being a mother, daughter, niece, anything of the sort is ripe with emotion. Ironically, it makes her the best hero for everyone else because she understands the weight of those familial ties.

Canary:I don’t hate her or anything. It just sucks. They say never meet your heroes. But when your hero is family…

Carmine:Disappointment comes with it. Yeah, it’s the worst. It’s ironic. You would think out of anyone it would be her family that sees her through rose tinted glasses.

xxxxx

Nick:Hi Yujin.

Yujin:What are the odds? I was gonna pick you too. Heh, same brain cell. *smiles*

Nick:Ha, guess so. Honestly I don’t have many things I haven’t aired out before. I’ve actually gone to therapy, so that helped. *lays on his back*

Yujin:I’m sensing a “but” is on its way.

Nick:Heh, but, I’ll admit I’m pretty upset with myself. I wish I could be rude. Like unapologetically rude. It’s annoying how many people look up to me or expect things. I’ve been surrounded by hundreds before but felt completely alone.

Yujin:I get that. *sits* I can’t count how many times someone said “Yang’s daughter” and I wanted to scream. Not our parents fault that they’re amazing, but it can blow.

Nick:How do you deal with it?

Yujin:It helps when my parents are there watching me do something. Yeah, I am Yang’s daughter, and she’s currently losing her mind over it. I love that.

Nick:Hmmm never looked at it quite like that. It is always nice seeing mom and dad cheer. Can’t undo blood. Guess it really is about changing perspective.

Yujin:Also I’m pretty sure anyone who actually cares about you would understand if you asked them to leave you alone. Anybody else are the actual rude people.

Nick:What’s your confession?

Yujin:Truthfully? I feel like a brat. Always have. People try consoling me and I’m aware bigger things in the world take priority, but I still get upset. I feel like I’m making things a hassle a times. What’s worse is when I’m ignorant about information so now I don’t know I’m making things rough. I want to be better than that.

Nick:Unfortunately…I’m just as lost as you are on that front.

Yujin:That’s okay. Thanks for listening to me. I appreciate it.

xxxxx

Aero:Of all the people to call…

Jael:You seem like a straightforward individual. Kinda like my sister.

Aero:Oh. *red* Thank you. Also I’m terrible at advice so…sorry in advance.

She leans forward until her forehead of his chest.

Jael:It’s alright. Neither is she. My sister lives a life of secrecy to the point she doesn’t actually exist, fake name and all. Mom is maiden and her family is gone, so she’s off the grid. Then there’s dear old dad, who officially dead more than two decades ago. The only person who really exists is me, and I’m basically on borrowed time.

Aero:….

Jael:*tearing up* If I don’t make something of myself, it’ll be like my family never existed. The name Taurus will remain infamous. *crying* It’s not fair. Not when so much more has happened.

Aero:*pats head* My mom believes things happen for a reason. If I were to guess, I’d say you’re on borrowed time because the world knows it’s still more than enough to leave your mark. So don’t sweat it. You’re ahead of schedule.

xxxxx

Tenzen:Helping people is hard.

Sparrow:Truer words have never been spoken. I take it you help a lot of people?

Tenzen:I try to, but I never really feel too good at it. I always feel like I don’t really understand their pain and it only makes things worse. I’m always outside looking in.

Sparrow:Kid, you have your entire life ahead of you. You’re not supposed to have all the answers and solve everyone’s problems. If it comes from a place of sincerity and love then you’re doing the best you can. I’m sure Yujin thinks you’re doing just fine.

Tenzen:I didn’t say it was-

Sparrow:Didn’t have to.

xxxxx

Jackie:What’s with the face?

Sparrow:I was just here. I must be popular.

Jackie:I can’t burden kids with my hang ups! You’re the obvious choice.

Sparrow:Do you have hang ups? You seem pretty put together.

Jackie:At my point in life, only one thing troubles me, my family. Each one of them as their own personal demons in one way or another. I’m doing my best to help them. Together we’re pretty happy. But…eventually we’ll all be apart. It scares me to think that if I were to get hurt and go away to soon, they wouldn’t handle it well. I made a home filled with love. What happens when I can’t give them it anymore?

Sparrow:…Well, did you forget your mother’s love?

Jackie:….*tearing up*

Sparrow: *smiles* That’s the thing about parents. Kids never forget them, for better or worse. You built a home with what you remembered love felt like.

Jackie:I’ve made so many mistakes. I wasn’t a good person for awhile. That love she gave didn’t stop the anger. My demons, they’ve done things.

Sparrow:So you’re just like my mom then and if your kids take after you, they’ll find their way eventually. Right back to the love.

Jackie:….Can I cry?

Sparrow:Heh, you need permission?

Jackie:No. Just giving you a heads up.

Sniffles turn into whimpering as Jacquelyn starts crying softly. Sparrow was kind enough to offer her a warm hug in her moment of stress. He really was raised well.