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bvidzsoo · 4 days

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Darkness prevails

᯽ Author: bvidzsoo

᯽ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

᯽ Warning: suggestive, cursing, violence (lots of it), maiming/marking, extreme possessiveness, manhandling, blood, beheading, death, dubious consent, morally grey subjects (you'll see what I mean, but I promise nothing like that actually happens), let me know if I forgot something cries

᯽ Word count: 25.6k

᯽ Genre: Fantasy, Royal, Dark Romance, Gore

᯽ Summary: King Jeong Yunho, first of his name, was a ruler everybody feared and nobody dared mess with. Anyone who didn't oblige to his laws, suffered the consequences. Perhaps stealing an apple seemed like a misstep that many would've overlooked, but not Jeong Yunho. Go against the laws: get punished, branded, humiliated, forever outcasted by society, and the King himself. Unfortunately, you were way too familiar with the King's tyranny, having been the subject of his torture more than once. But what happens, when once and for all, Prince San, his brother, finally decides to get rid of the cruel monarch? Will you succeed with your mission? Will you kill King Jeong Yunho? Or will he wrap you up even deeper in his sick web of lies and threats.

᯽ A/N: My wrists are about to fall off and my eyes are dry despite the eye drops I'm using, but here it is my lovelies, the first part of the Beyond the Obscure series! Guys...it's dark, I'm sorry, so yeah, take the warnings seriously, I promise I haven't written them very in detail (imo) but they are there. I think this is my darkest work so far (even worse than San's part in my pirate series) and y'all have no idea what I have planned for Seonghwa and Yeosang's part (clawing at the wall because that one will be even worse NAUR). I'd like to point out a few things before you start reading:

∞ Yunho is continuously mentioned as the King in the story or Your Grace

∞ perhaps keeping in mind the interaction between Mingi and the redhead will come in handy for future purposes *wink wonk*

∞ I hope I did a good job with this story, and I'm sorry if it sucks, I really tried to tackle this beast of a piece...and sorry for any mistakes, I always proofread but some just slip past me *sighs*

Enjoy the story and let me know what you thought of it, I'm always so grateful to all the feedback I get!! Taglist is open, so just comment on the post if you're interested in the future parts (check out the series' masterlist too to understand how the series works, thank you!) (divider)

᯽ Taglist: @seonghwaddict @thunderous-wolf @simpforyunsangho @kitten4sannie

─═☆Series M.list☆═─

At such an ungodly hour no lady was supposed to be roaming the streets alone, unguarded, exposed to the horrors of the slums. But some ladies had no other choice but to do so if they wanted to survive, to see tomorrow’s sunrise. Not that there was anything to anticipate or love in the Kingdom of the Fallen, ruled by a ruthless and malicious King, who slayed his people left and right whenever he pleased to do so. And perhaps that’s what ebbed me on to keep on walking, made me straighten my back to the point my muscles were straining as I made sure to become one with the shadows as I passed by the long fallen asleep households, headed towards the outskirts of our well-guarded burgh of Aurora. Don’t let it fool you, despite its name, there was nothing beautiful nor welcoming to this place, only terror, fear, and darkness. Our King made sure of that.

I tried to ignore the trembling of my fingers, but it became harder and harder to do so the closer I got to the well-concealed mansion. Large trees loomed over the gravel pathway that led to its enormous marble stairs, not one light was on inside. One would think the mansion was abandoned, but as soon as you stepped foot inside, its well-maintained state gave away the truth. Perspiration had started gathering on my brows, and I realized that underneath my pricey leather glove the skin of my right hand had started itching, begging to be scratched, but I knew doing so would cause my freshly healed wound to open up again. That wound was something I would have to live with forever, maimed, tainted for life. Marked for a wrong doing that cost the life of my little brother. It was hard not to blame or hate yourself when your sickly brother died in his sleep after you failed showing up for three days, begging and screaming to be let out of the dungeons of the wretched Castle, but my pleas fell to deaf ears, unsurprisingly.

King Jeong Yunho didn’t care about his people, and he never would. Famish and crime were at its peak despite the harsh punishments and executions. Despite the King having ears and eyes everywhere, some people managed to get away, escape unscathed, and one of those people just so happened to be Choi San, the crown prince. He fled the night his brother killed King Choi, aware that he would be next to suffer the same faith as their beloved father if he stood in his older brother’s way. Nobody really knew where Prince San went, but upon seeing his most trusted servant and Royal Guard, Sir Jung Wooyoung, around town, it became obvious that Prince San and Sir Jung were still lurking around. And despite what it seemed like, despite King Jeong being awful and vicious, Prince Choi wasn’t like him. He loved his people, he mourned with his people, he laughed with his people, and he lived for his people. Many hated him for disappearing, thinking he had abandoned us and was letting his older brother do however he wished, but many failed to understand that Prince San was powerless if it came down to a war between the brothers. Prince San didn’t have enough men to fight back against King Jeong’s tyranny. And that’s when I was summoned. Barely a day ago, a black envelope with a crown stamp on it had been slipped in my pouch without me noticing. Having opened it, I was rather surprised to find myself being summoned to the abandoned mansion, which belonged to the Royal family, on the outskirts of the burgh.

And when a royalty summoned you, you showed up without asking questions or making them wait too long. The roads were drenched in darkness, mist surrounding the narrow cobblestone streets, and smog escaped my mouth as little puffs left through my lips, heart beating even faster now that I stood in front of the dark mansion. I never fully showed my face in public, but being well past midnight without another soul out on the streets of Aurora, I offered myself the luxury of breathing in the chilly air of the night. The moon was in waxing crescent, and averting my eyes from it, I stared up at the massive mansion and steeled my nerves, pushing away all the swirling thoughts threatening to turn me back around just to run off in the night, far away from Aurora. But even if I ran, I had nowhere to go. And even if I ran, the King’s men would find me and bring me back. I never had a choice, nor the freedom to indulge in my dreams and wishes. So, I took a deep breath, fixed the sheer scarf around the lower half of my face, and ascended the marble stairs with chills running down my spine due to the biting cold. It felt like it had seeped through my clothes, nagging at my skin, injected straight into my bones. But if I dwelled more on this feeling, I knew it was mostly the fear spreading through my blood system that made me react so strongly. And there was no place for fear tonight.

When I reached my hand out to push the front door of the mansion open, I found it already slightly ajar, beckoning me inside. My heartbeat was loud in my ears as I cautiously ventured inside, closing the heavy door behind myself, needing a second to take in the majesty of the interior of the mansion. The floor and walls alike were covered in white marble, glinting under the moonlight as the large windows had no curtains in the large entrance hall. A sturdy round table sat in the middle of the chamber, a large vase filled to the brim with flowers of all kinds sat on top of the table, in the center of it. There was a sweet scent wafting through the air, and as I ventured further inside, the cold chill present in the entrance hall slowly turned into blush inducing warmth, making me shiver as I finally started feeling my frozen limbs.

I was wandering around mindlessly, having no idea where I was supposed to go as nobody seemed to be waiting for me, my eyes straying to the walls, admiring all the expensive paintings. They were brought from lands far from ours, from a land where life was easier and happier. The Kingdom of Light, much like its name, was ruled by a Queen that loved her nation and thrived to unite the two Kingdoms. However, as long as King Jeong was our monarch, that would never happen. Faint whispers caught my attention as I came towards the end of the hall, a large door separating me from the next room. A huge painting was hung up on the wall to the left of the black door, and my jaw clenched as my eyes fixated on the family portrait, more specifically, on King Jeong Yunho. Despite him looking a lot younger in the photo, the evil glint was still present in his sharp stare, and suddenly the skin of my right hand itched again, prompting me to mindlessly try and scrape at it through the leather glove. But the whispers coming to a sudden halt from inside the room, and the faint yellow glow coming to life through the little gap under the door ripped my attention away from the young King and made me tense up as footsteps neared the door. And then, there was a click and the door was pulled open, an emotionless man, with asymmetrical eyes, stood in front of me, taking me in just as closely as I took him in.

“Sir Jung Wooyoung.” I bowed my head, keeping my eyes on the marble floor until the man made a sound of approval.

“You have arrived,” He said, voice sharp and impassive, “Come inside.”

The door was further pulled open and as Jung Wooyoung stepped aside, I stepped forward, hands clenching into fists as I tried to fight the desperate need to turn around and just run. Far away from here, from the crown prince and his loyal guard, far from Aurora. But the King would always find me, and he’d bring me back, matter not if dead or alive, he’d bring me back.

As the door slammed heavily shut behind me, I fought the need to jump at the loud sound, and instead made eye contact with the crown prince. He sat in a large chair, straight across from me, at a round table. The table was massive and could fit at least twenty men if gathered around it, but now, it was just Prince Choi, Sir Jung, and myself in the room. The blackout curtains were drawn together, its color a blood red, shutting out the gentle moonlight, masking whatever would go down in this room from the celestial. Nobody had to know what would conspire in this room soon.

“Your Highness,” I bowed forward, keeping my eyes on the carpeted floor as a low hum traveled through the otherwise quiet room, “you have called for me.”

“I have, yes.” Prince San’s voice was low, and quiet, his sharp eyes narrowed as I straightened back up. We made eye contact as there was movement behind me, Sir Jung walked past me and came to a stop behind Prince San, placing a hand on the chair’s back, grip tightening instantly, “Do you have any idea why?”

“I do not have the power to assume anything.” I answered, eyes quickly seizing the room I was in. It wasn’t awfully big, like the rest of the mansion, and it was a lot less warm in here. Bookshelves aligned the tall walls behind the prince and his guard, and a comfortable sofa was pushed up against the left wall, drenched in shadows as the candlelight didn’t reach there.

“You may speak freely with me, Miss Hong, I am not my brother.” Prince San said, teeth gritting at the mention of King Jeong, “And I do not wish to be ever like that, which is why I have called you here.”

“Don’t you deem it dangerous, Your Highness, calling me here?” I quirked an eyebrow and walked further inside, approaching the table, “King Jeong knows you are still residing in Aurora, and now you’ve given your location away to a mere civilian.”

“Are you threating the crown prince right now?” Jung Wooyoung’s voice was rough and words biting as he leashed out, vein close to popping on his forehead, eyes ablaze. He looked menacing, especially with the long sword sheathed at his hip, handle hidden by the red wool jacket decorated with golden accents falling over it.

“Wooyoung,” It was strange how soft the prince’s voice became, eyes finding the guard’s, “she’s not the enemy. You don’t have to be so on edge.”

“How do you know?” Sir Jung hissed back, eyes still on me, glaring me down. I gulped, but didn’t look away. I didn’t want them to think I was scared, even if I was.

“Miss Hong,” The prince’s attention was back on me, expression losing its coldness for a second, “May I ask you show us your hand?”

My jaw clenched as I remained silent, heart thumping fast. I wanted to tell him no, that he had no right asking such thing of me, but I couldn’t deny the crown prince’s request. And despite detesting what I had to do, with shaky fingers, I still ripped the leather glove off my hand, breathing hard as I threw the piece of fabric on the table, letting my arms fall limply next to my body. Nobody said anything nor moved for a few seconds, Sir Jung’s gaze hurriedly falling onto my exposed right hand. The room was poorly lit, yet it wasn’t hard to miss the discoloration on the top of my right hand, the skin raw and burgundy despite the long-healed wound. It was just a scar now, yet it remained fresh looking, forever a reminder of who I belonged to.

“You don’t have to trust me,” I found my voice, and perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear myself sounding so cold and harsh, “but you can trust one thing. I, in no universe, serve King Jeong Yunho. And I never will. If the scar isn’t proof enough, send me out to kill him, and I will do it with a smile on my face.”

I didn’t expect any reaction from the two males across from me, and so it surprised me when the two held matching smirks, sharing a quick look before Jung Wooyoung slowly approached me again. My eyes stayed on him, and I flinched as he gingerly grasped my right hand, raising it up. I couldn’t bear looking at the skin, so I looked at Prince San instead.

“I’m sorry for what my brother has done to you.” And his words were sincere, there was pain in Prince San’s eyes, and I knew he was sincere. I don’t know why, but despite Jung Wooyoung’s calloused hands, the way he traced my scar with the tip of his finger gingerly, made me relax a little. If they wanted me dead, they would have killed me the second I approached the front door of the mansion.

“You shouldn’t apologize for something that’s out of your control, Your Highness.” I muttered, looking at Wooyoung alarmed when he pressed his lips against my scar, the warm and plush skin lingering against mine for a second. Nobody has every touched my scar, let alone kissed it. When Sir Jung looked at me, he held the same guilt and pain in his eyes as Prince San. It was overwhelming, and so I ripped my hand out of Sir Jung’s gentle hold, and scurried to wear my glove again. I didn’t need their pity, what’s done is done.

“How many times has that devil seen you?” It was Sir Jung asking this time as he slowly stalked back towards Prince San, stopping next to his chair this time. I didn’t fail to notice the way the crown prince grabbed onto the back of his royal guard’s thigh, thick fingers digging into Sir Jung’s skin. They seemed used to the contact, both unphased, so I averted my gaze from it.

“Twice.” I answered, lowering the sheer black scarf from the lower half of my face, “I always wear my scarf in public.”

“And do you think he’d recognize you if he were to see you again?” Prince San asked, his hand slowly sneaking up towards Sir Jung’s ass. My eyebrows furrowed before I shook my head.

“No, he never got a good look at my face the second time, and I was branded three years ago.” I answered truthfully, “There’s not a world in which the King remembers the faces of those he torments.”

“You’re underestimating my brother,” Prince San’s lips pulled into a sneer, “he’s a sadistic man, Miss Hong, you’d be horrified to find out just how much he remembers and gets off to.”

I gulped, but remained silent as Sir Jung bit his lower lip when Prince San’s hand traveled even further up. There was movement to my left, but when I looked over to the sofa, I couldn’t see anything, so I focused on the males again.

“Are you willing to kill him?” Jung Wooyoung seemed to have gotten tired of going around and not getting to the point as he spat, eyes watching me closely. I didn’t hesitate with my answer.

“Yes.” I hissed, eyes turning steely as Sir Jung just smirked, leaning forward as he placed his hands on the sturdy table.

“Then I, Jung Wooyoung, Royal Guard of the Crown Prince Choi San, third of his name, task you with killing King Jeong Yunho, and ridding this Kingdom of his cruelty and horrors.” Sir Jung’s voice was laced with passion, eyes burning with an insatiable fire as Prince San rose from his seat, his strong physique making Jung Wooyoung look small for the first time.

“I promise you immunity and a respectable life once you’re done with your task. You won’t be suffering any consequences, and I will fulfill your biggest wish.” I chuckled, but it lacked humor as my eyes bore into the prince’s.

“I doubt you can bring back the dead, Your Highness.” Tense silence fell upon us, both looking like they understood what it meant losing someone dear. And if Prince San was being honest, then this would be my way out of Aurora, out of the Kingdom of the Fallen, “I shall proceed with the task, Your Highness, Sir Jung. Give me at least a month.”

“You can take even a year as long as you do your task.” Prince San said with a chuckle, looking like a stone had been lifted off his chest.

“Don’t fail us, Miss Hong.” Sir Jung didn’t let his guard down as easily as the prince, however, and the subtle look he sent my way was threatening. I understood. Failing meant death. But I wouldn’t let that happen.

“I won’t.” My voice was strong and I bowed, out of respect and a way of letting them know that I would be leaving now, I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.

“Take care, and send us a letter if you need anything,” Prince San smiled, just barely, “I will be keeping an eye on you still, just to make sure you’re safe and everything is working out.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” I bowed my head again, and was slightly startled when a girl, who was smaller than myself and frail looking, emerged from the sofa. How did she manage to conceal herself so well? She looked shy as she avoided looking at me, eyes fixated on Sir Jung as she hurried towards him, “I’ll be on my way.”

“Safe travels.” The prince’s voice carried over the faint whispers of Sir Jung as I turned and stalked towards the door, intrigued by the gasp I heard. I gripped the heavy door and as I went to push it open, I dared a glance backwards, finding the girl seated where Prince San had been previously sat, her eyes round as she stared up at a smirking Jung Wooyoung. And Choi San sported the same expression as he walked behind her, hands slowly slipping over her shoulders, towards her chest. I didn’t want to witness something that wasn’t for my eyes, so I hurriedly fled the room and then the mansion altogether, mind a mess as I tried to work out the best plan to approach the King, and kill him. The waxing crescent moon witness to my new turmoil.

The streets of the burgh of Aurora in the daytime were a big contrast compared to its nighttime shenanigans. It was lively and filled with people going on and about their day, trying to catch the last paper at the printing house, buying resources or selling their best products at the market. Despite the wind being harsh today, it didn’t deter people from coming out to bargain, with the occasional fight breaking out in the square, rowdy men desperate to showcase who was most domineering. I remained inconspicuous as I stood behind the stand of a herbal stall, the vendor a very lovely old lady that would let me work for her while my brother was still alive. I rarely came to the market anymore, having found different ways for survival. Perhaps I was dumb for testing my luck day after day, but three years ago, I lost the reason I had been living for. And on that same day I was branded, forever belonging to King Jeong Yunho. I wasn’t afraid of death anymore; it was only a matter of time until it would catch up to me. Stealing and getting caught only resulted in a severed hand, I would still have my other one if King Jeong felt generous that day. But in order to observe the King and follow through with the task Prince San had tasked me with, I needed to be in the most populated areas, areas which the King often frequented. And the market and square were those places. The King would parade around every day with his Royal Guards, surveying the place and taking anything he liked without as much as a ‘thank you’. Everything belonged to him, he could take whatever he pleased without any consequence. It was something we had grown familiar with quite soon after he proclaimed himself the new King of the Kingdom of the Fallen. It was no secret that Jeong Yunho killed his own father to become King much faster, to assert a regime that his father, the late King Choi, would have absolutely hated and refuted. But as long as Prince Choi San was alive, there would always be a glimmer of hope for better times. Times that would perhaps come sooner than expected if I was successful with my mission.

I had been arranging the spearmint when an old lady stopped in front of the stand, leaning on a cane, face wrinkly, her sniffing loud as she stared at all the herbs displayed on the wooden table. It was cold today, yet the old lady lacked a coat that would protect her from the harsh wind. My eyebrows furrowed, and after checking that my black shawl was in place and covering the lower half of my face, I stepped forward.

“Good morning,” I greeted the lady with an easy smile, “How may I help you?”

Her eyes slowly travelled up to my face, and I was greeted with an unfortunate sight. Her eyes were clouded with cataracts, yet they fell perfectly on my own eyes, “Dear one, please help me out a little.”

Her voice was raspy and airy, so I nodded and went around the stand to approach her, the cacophony of the market too loud for her to properly hear me.

“What would you like to buy?” I asked once I have stopped next to the lady, her grey eyes focused on the herbs.

“I’m too old for my own good,” The old lady muttered with a sad chuckle, “my joints aren’t in their best shape. Do you have something to soothe the ache? Something strong and efficient.”

I hummed and glanced at the wooden table, knowing very well what would help ease the old lady’s pain a little, “Nettle will be great for your painful joints, ma’am. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please.” She nodded, eyes falling on me again, “Could you give me five leaves? That wouldn’t be more than two shillings, right?”

“No, it wouldn’t.” I reassured her with a smile as I walked back behind the stand and crouched down to grab a smaller brown parchment roll. I stood and grabbed five leaves as the loudness of the market seemed to get even louder at once, until it slowly started turning into a low murmur, becoming a mere hum. I paid it no mind as I carefully packed the nettle leaves the old lady asked for, slipping in three more without anyone noticing, before I wrapped the parchment up, making sure the leaves wouldn’t slip out, “It’ll be one shilling, ma’am.”

Despite speaking softly, my voice sounded almost too loud in the sinister silence falling upon the market, and it took me a little to realize what was happening. The old lady seemed unfocused as she had turned around, stepping back to the point she was almost pressed up fully against the wooden table of the stand. Nobody moved, nobody blinked, nobody spoke, nobody breathed. My hands clenched into fists and my leather gloves crunched at the motion, almost too loud in the deafening silence. The hooves of the horses were loud against the cobblestones and the crowd parted in the middle, scurrying to make way for the King and his Royal Guards. Despite not wanting to see them, I couldn’t help but turn my head and watch like the rest of the market, as the tall black horse rode at the front, a Friesian, carrying the King proudly on his back. Nobody would’ve been able to guess the horrors caused by the soft featured King, whose cheeks were full and tinged red due to the cold air, lips full and a dark red, eyes rather round than sharp. And yet, the emotionless expression on his face and the constant leer present on his features would make anyone reconsider their perception of the King, cowering in fear as his dark eyes would settle on you, lips pulling up in pleased smugness at the blatant fear displayed by his people. Everybody hated him, yet nobody was brave enough to finally stand up to him.

Four guards followed after him, a man with silver blonde hair and a towering height that matched the King’s following close behind with his own horse on the King’s right side, with his left side being claimed by a long-haired redhead, with eyes so haunting that they always stared right into your soul. Those two were the King’s Royal Guards, always by his side, his right hands. The King went nowhere without the two, and the silver blonde haired man was like a hound, always breathing down the King’s neck, possessive and murderous at the slightest hint of threat. One would think his obsessive behavior was concerning, but he took his job too seriously, having vowed his life to the King a long time ago. The woman wasn’t much better, but she at least was sly and coy about it, always surveying everyone and everything, sensing danger before it would happen.

The King and his guards passed by the herbal stall, and the poor old lady jumped and covered her eyes as she hung her head low, making sure she didn’t look at the King for too long. Nobody dared look at him for more than a few seconds, afraid that he’d misunderstand their curious stare and sentence them to a painful death. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But I wasn’t scared of death nor the King, and I allowed my eyes to follow his form as he came to a halt just a few stands down, where a loose-mouthed man sold jewelry. They were one of the finest you could find at the market, pricey too if you weren’t on good terms with him. I watched as the silver blonde haired guard got off his horse the second the King’s stopped, and hurried to stand next to the tall Friesian as King Jeong released the reigns, turning his head left and right slowly. The redhead followed close behind, stopping mere millimeters behind the tall guard, the two sharing a sharp glance as the male extended his hand to help the King down. The other two older guards remained on their horses, eyes surveying the market as their faces remained emotionless. I glared at the back of the King’s head sharply, his blood red gown decorated with golden accents too bright and contrasting against his otherwise black attire. His black riding breeches were tucked inside his tall riding boots, covering and protecting the King’s calves, reaching almost up to his knees, the fabric of the pants no doubt worth more than everything I’ve ever owned altogether. A thick looking black shirt clung to his broad body tightly, top buttons threatening to pop as the King rolled his shoulders a few times backwards, patting the silver blonde haired man on the back a little forcefully. The guard adorned a coat that reached mid-thigh, colors similar to the King’s, however his was rather black than red and it was adorned with red and golden accents showing his rank, and that he belonged to the Jeong Royal Court. The redhead’s coat reached down to her ankles and had intricate designs of red and golden down the back of the fabric, hair tucked under the coat.

The King moved, and I found my eyes fixating on him again, sneering to myself as he walked towards the vendor with the gemstones and jewelry. My body reacted instantly at the sight of his right hand, memory burned into my skin, quite literally, for the rest of my counted days. The King’s left hand was protected from the cold with a glove that looked like it was a soft material, however, his right hand was bare of such protection. Instead, his right hand was adorned by rings, claws, that I still could feel in my worst nightmares pressing into my skin. They were made of steel, and they were sharp, the jewelry on his fore- and middle finger sharp to the point they could cut your flesh. The ornaments clung to his long fingers like they were his second skin, part of him. The ring on his middle finger adorned a huge ruby, an addition to the piece made by King Jeong himself. His ring finger was decorated by a ring that curved to the side, caging his pinky finger in as well, which was decorated by a piece that could be compared to a miniature spear. The King’s right hand was a weapon in its own, easily able to stab and kill you just with his bare fingers. The ornaments were a family heirloom, one that only the King was allowed to wear, yet they haven’t been this sharp until they fell into the claws of Jeong Yunho. Their intricate design made them beautiful, but they carried too much terror with them for one to appreciate their beauty.

My eyes snapped up from his hand upon hearing his voice, a sound I still had nightmares about, “Chwe, did the gems arrive?”

“Your Grace,” The vendor called Chwe Hansol quickly bowed his head deeply, “yes, the gems have arrived this morning.”

“Perfect.” The King’s lips pulled to the side, the smirk making his whole demeanor more predatory. Despite only being able to see the side of his face, I knew he had a hungry glint in his eyes as the vendor grabbed a small wooden chest and opened it for the King. The redhead had started walking around while still remaining close to the King, inspecting the items the neighboring vendors of Mr. Chwe had. Everyone was tense as the King wordlessly grabbed the gemstones and inspected them from close, face becoming devoid of emotion again, eyebrows pulling into a frown slowly. I was sneering before he spoke up, well-aware that nothing would please the King, no matter how high quality it was.

“You call this a gem?” The King scoffed, irritation lacing his voice as he threw the gemstones back inside the little wooden chest harshly. Nobody would’ve handled the pricey gems like that, but when you had all the power and money in the world, one wouldn’t care, Jeong Yunho certainly didn’t. I couldn’t help the dark expression that crossed my face, eyes boring into the side of the King’s face, wondering suddenly that if I were to throw my dagger straight into his neck, how many more seconds I’d have left on this Earth before his loyal dogs would murder me in cold blood. Scarily, almost as if the silver blonde haired man was a mind reader, his head whipped around and his sharp eyes found mine, small eyes narrowing and making them appear even smaller. His impassive expression would’ve been nerve wrecking to one that appreciated their life, but I didn’t care for my safety. I had nothing left for me in this world anymore. The redhead was still roaming around, commenting at times about the quality of products, and she took a scarf without dropping any shillings to the poor vendor, her face twisting for a second before she fixed it and thanked the redhead for appreciating her merch.

“Your Grace,” Mr. Chwe found his voice, yet it sounded terrified, “These are from the Kingdom of Light, finest of its kind and most sought after—”

“Are you saying that I am stupid and can’t recognize real gemstones?” The King spat, leaning over the stand, his glaring eyes boring into the vendor’s. The man started to shake, and I grit my teeth to stop myself from interfering. If I got killed right now, I would fail the crown prince, and I couldn’t do that.

“No—no, Your Grace!” The vendor exclaimed, shaking his head furiously, “Your Grace knows better than I will ever know! I was merely say—saying what has been relayed to myself as well, Your Grace. I am ashamed of ever suggesting such thing, and I will never show my face around—”

“Now, now,” The King snickered, lips pulled into an amused, yet irritated, smirk, “don’t be a yapping little boy, are you going to cry?”

My jaw clenched and I found myself gripping onto my skirt tightly, breaths coming out shallow as the silver blonde haired man was still staring into my soul, watching my every move. His lips were pulled into a sneer, and I didn’t fail to notice his hand tightening around the handle of his sword.

“N—no, Your Grace.” Mr. Chwe lowered his eyes and shook his head, lips pulled into a thin line as his whole being shook, “Unless it’s what Your Grace wants me to do—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” The King threw his head back and laughed, yet it lacked amusement and was laced with sheer craze, the sound sending shivers down my spine, “You’d cry for your King?”

Mr. Chwe’s head was shaking as he nodded, still staring at the ground. The King suddenly hissed and I almost took off towards the two as his right hand sprung forward, gripping the vendor’s jaw so hard his claws practically tore into his skin. The man’s face contorted in pain, yet he made no sound except the quiet gasp he accidentally let out, “Then cry for me, you pathetic fool.”

The King leered in the vendor’s face, tone laced with venom, eyes wide as Mr. Chwe watched the King stunned. I bit my lower lip as my eyes switched between the King and his royal guard, whose stare would have long killed me if that were possible. I knew what my eyes conveyed, they were laced with pure hatred and disdain, boring into the King’s profile as my hands shook in anger, threatening to bubble over any time. I was playing a dangerous game; I knew the shawl did little to nothing to conceal my raw emotions pulsating through my eyes.

“Bastards like yourself shouldn’t handle gemstones.” The King hissed just as the silver blonde haired man took off, jaw clenched and eyes set on me, ablaze. I have run out of luck, so it seems. But before he could even come close to the stall I was at, the King’s venomous tone turned to a light and almost airy tone.

“Song Mingi.” It wasn’t a question, nor a chastising, yet the guard froze instantly. His eyes never left my face as the King lazily tuned his head, dark eyes falling on his tall guard. The redhead was by the King’s side instantly, probably thinking that her fellow guardian sensed danger, ready to protect her King. The market seemed frozen in time as nobody spoke or moved, wide eyes now switching between the royal guard, Song Mingi, and myself. For a second, my heart skipped a beat thinking that I have been discovered, recognized, my right hand burning under the leather glove. But as the King’s eyes slowly trailed from his guard onto me, there was no sign of recognition on his face. I gulped, not due to nervousness, but because my throat suddenly felt dry, lungs tightening as the King’s dark eyes burned my skin, tearing me apart. The memory was too vivid in my mind despite it happening three years ago, and I realized that even if I tried my best, I wouldn’t be able to mask my hatred towards Jeong Yunho. But perhaps he was so used to that reaction that he didn’t care anymore as a sinister smile suddenly tugged at his red lips, hastily releasing Mr. Chwe, who fell back with a loud gasp. The King slowly stalked towards his loyal guard, yet his eyes never once left my face, amused smirk tugging at his lips. He was amused at the blatant hatred in my eyes, and I had to steel myself to stop the shaking of my hands at the sudden flare of anger I felt coursing through my veins.

“Stand down.” The King hissed in the guard’s ear as he walked past him, sharp claws grazing against the other tall man’s neck, but he didn’t flinch nor react at the contact. My eyes remained on the King as he neared the stand I stood at, the poor old lady gasping and stepping away with a low bow, probably bad for her already hurting and crooked back. I dared say nothing as Jeong Yunho stopped right across me, the table suddenly not enough to put the much-needed space between us. It felt like he had invaded my personal space, dark eyes boring into mine, narrowing into a blazing glare when I didn’t back down. Everyone cowered before the King, and just last minute, to try to make myself seem less suspicious, I finally lowered my eyes at the various herbs on the table, but I refused to bow. The King chuckled, but it sounded more vexed than amused. I didn’t care.

“Mingi,” He called out, voice low and dark, “grab those gemstones for me, will you?”

I didn’t glance up as I heard Mr. Chwe whimper and mutter apologies, a sharp cry leaving his lips. I could only hope the wound the King’s royal guard left wouldn’t be fatal. The King’s gloved hand suddenly entered my vision as he started touching the herbs displayed on the table, humming lowly in the back of the throat. I followed his hand with my eyes, jaw clenching when he scoffed, probably not satisfied by the scarce display of herbs. Of course, it couldn’t be compared to what he was aided with at the Castle, yet that was a thought Jeong Yunho wouldn’t be able to wrap his mind around.

“You’re running low on spearmint, little dove.” His velvety voice was mocking, and I felt his sharp gaze on my face as I gulped down the retort I had in mind, and slowly looked up.

“I will stock up on them today, Your Grace.” I couldn’t help but allow my tone to turn venomous when saying his title, “Had I known you were visiting our humble market, I would’ve brought out a wider range of herbs.”

The King chuckled, incredulity crossing his features at the blatant mockery and sarcasm dripping with every word I said, “Can you afford a wider range of herbs?”

“Yes, if those who are taking pay me for my services.” It was dangerous saying such things to the King and so openly, and I couldn’t help but glance at his royal guard as his jaw was clenched, the redhead next to him also throwing daggers my way. But surprisingly, the King just laughed, however, it didn’t sound genuine at all.

“Tell me, little dove, if I really hate a person, would this herb help with getting rid of them?” He cocked an eyebrow as he traced his gloved fingers delicately against a green leaf, slightly bigger than most. It was tucked almost underneath another plant, and I had missed that we had it displayed. It shouldn’t even be there; the plant was dangerous and poisonous even at the softest touch.

“Using a Dieffenbachia would lead to a painful and slow death, Your Grace.” I answered as the King grabbed the leaves with his gloved hand, a crazed grin decorating his lips.

“Nothing more entertaining than a slow and painful death, little dove.” The King whispered, dark eyes boring into mine as a harsh gust of wind blew through the market, pushing the shawl off my head, exposing my dark curls. Thankfully it was tied around my nape and it didn’t fall off my face as well, yet I didn’t miss the way the King’s eyes quickly racked over my newly exposed features.

“If you want them to choke to death, you can let them drink the tea ground from its leaves.” I found myself saying, my tone challenging, wondering where this conversation was leading to. The King bit his lower as he looked down at the leaves, chuckling to himself before placing them back down and holding only one still as he raised his hand up, directing it towards my face. I didn’t flinch away, I didn’t even blink as my eyes bore into Jeong Yunho’s, an intrigued glint in his.

“Would you eat it if your King asked you to?” His tone dropped to a low baritone as he tilted his head to the left, features becoming cold. My jaw clenched, and I fought my instincts of turning around and running away as a chuckle left my lips.

“I would like to know how I have wronged you, Your Grace, that you seem to hate me so much you want my dismay.” I raised an eyebrow, the King’s lips slowly pulling into an amused smirk, eyes widening as he tapped the leaf against the tip of my nose, making my palms ball up into fists at my sides. My heartrate had picked up, but I forced myself to remain calm. He could force it down my throat, of course, and then the whole mission would fail because of me.

“Killing people doesn’t always need to have a reason,” Everything in my screamed to break his face in half, but I just bit my lower lip underneath my shawl and tried to regulate my breaths, “I’ll spare you today, little dove. You could be a green witch instead of wasting your life away here, behind a stand, selling herbs to useless people that have no idea how to use them.”

The King placed the Dieffenbachia leaf back to where it initially was and leaned just slightly forward, his eyes searching mine. I huffed, smiling underneath my shawl sarcastically, tilting my head as I raised my eyebrows at him, “So that you’ll have a reason to kill me because I’m a green witch?”

Not that the King needed an actual reason to kill someone.

“No, I wouldn’t kill you if you were my little green witch, little dove.” His voice darkened just as his face did, eyes turning cold and lips turning into a hungry leer as his eyes took in my face, traveling lower, all over my body. I hated the possessiveness he displayed, even more so because I was his, he just didn’t know it. The scar burned on my hand, and it felt so hot that I almost subconsciously yanked my leather glove off my hand. But if I did that, he’d know, and I’d rather die than let the King know.

Just as I opened my mouth to refute such scenario, his royal guard stepped in, looking completely fed up with the exchange between the two of us as his expression was dark, very clearly fuming while the redhead stood a little behind, smirking at the silver blonde man. We made eye contact for a second, and she subtly nodded her head towards me, prompting me to avert my eyes and look at the King again.

“My King, we should get moving.” Song Mingi’s voice was gruff, low, and raspy as his sharp eyes pierced my skull, “We have what we came for.”

“No need to rush, my Mingi,” The King chuckled, grinning at his guard, “I think we should look around today, make sure everything is as it should be. That everyone respects their duties, and King.”

I smirked as the King threw me a glare, for some obscure reason letting me off the hook despite disrespecting him so clearly and constantly.

“Keep your eyes wide open, little dove,” He sneered, jaw clenching, “you might just fall prey to a big, bad, terrifying hunter.”

I bowed my head deeply in plain mockery as the King hissed, turning around and stalking towards his Friesian. To my surprise, and everyone else’s, the redhead walked up to me and tossed a pouch filled with shillings at my chest, smirking in amusement before she was headed for her own horse. Song Mingi seemed displeased and mad, his shoulder knocked against the redhead’s when they crossed paths, and as he mounted his horse, he threw me such a murderous look that it easily rivalled the King’s. And before anyone could even digest the fact that I just got paid by the King despite him not buying anything from me, the King and his royal guards took off, horses neighing and hoofs loud as they galloped away.

Despite the sun settling high up in the sky blazing down on Aurora, the mist settled upon the market never quite went away, the mood of people rather gloomy to after the King’s visit. It had been only a few hours since he had waltzed in with his royal guards, yet it felt like mere minutes. The King’s presence was everlasting and blood-curdling, you couldn’t escape it even if he wasn’t there anymore. It shouldn’t have been surprising, upon one glance, he could make anyone cower in fear, even the bravest and strongest soldier. I had gone about my day, selling and conversing amicably with other vendors while making sure I paid attention to the smallest shift in the atmosphere, so, I wasn’t too surprised to hear a spine-chilling scream cut off the conversation I was having with Mr. Chwe. After the King had left, I rushed to his side and patched him up, the cut on his cheek the only damage done to him, thankfully, and it wasn’t too deep either. Song Mingi had been lenient this time, it was rare. But I suppose the King needs its gemstone supplier alive if he plans on importing more treasures at a low, and illegal, price. What the King wanted, he got, no matter whether it was just or wrong.

Everyone froze as more shouting came from the square, and as the horns were blown, my muscles tensed and my stomach dropped. An execution would take place. The air was charged with suspense as everyone seemed to be at a standstill for a second before they started rushing towards the square, vendors leaving their stands unattended, civilians pushing each other aside to reach the square faster. I wasn’t in a rush, but when the King’s royal guards started shouting at everyone to move to the square while shoving people forward, I knew I had no choice but to actually attend the execution. Not that I had a choice, everyone had to attend these shenanigans of the King. My heart started racing as a man stood on the raised platform in the middle of the square, held by none other than Song Mingi and another guard, who was gruff and angry looking. I gulped as I made sure my shawl covered my face and hair, adjusting my leather gloves as suddenly they felt like they were slipping off my hands. My scar was itching, I knew it was just my brain making me believe that the wound was fresh again, but I couldn’t force myself to stop when my eyes fell on the King, the malicious smirk on his lips morbid. He stood at the side of the platform, looking like he had never been more entertained in his life before as the man his guards held on to was wriggling around frantically, whatever he was shouting didn’t make sense anymore.

I gulped hard as the King’s eyes surveyed the crowd, but when they moved past me, I felt myself relaxing just slightly. The crowd that had gathered around was murmuring lowly, everyone wondering the reason for this execution as there were some people pushing around others in order to get to the front. I did not understand the morbid need of humans to see such gruesome scenes that were to follow in a few minutes, but I couldn’t fight against the wave as I was shoved to the front. My jaw clenched and my hands turned into fists as a man was mumbling to himself behind me, urging the King on to kill the poor civilian.

“Residents of Aurora!” The King’s deep voice boomed over the masses, crazed eyes setting on the crowd. His cheeks were tainted red still, lips redder than they were in the morning, and his black hair seemed dishevelled, “We have gathered here to teach you a lesson, again.”

The crowd froze as the King leered at everyone, stepping up onto the platform, making the civilian scream that he wasn’t guilty, that he didn’t do anything wrong. The King walked past him, but turned sharply and threw such a hard blow against the man’s jaw that I heard something crack. The crowd gasped loudly and I exhaled sharply, trying to calm the rage that was slowly bubbling up in my bloodstream. I couldn’t act out right now, it would bring my dismay, the mission would be over before I could have even started it.

“This man here,” Jeong Yunho’s gloved hands slipped through the strands of the man’s matted hair, and he yanked the man’s head back harshly as he faced the crowd, the King’s neck and ears red from rage, “tried to take something that doesn’t belong to him.”

“Your Grace, I—”

“Silence!” Song Mingi hissed and threw a blow to the man’s gut. He would’ve toppled over if it weren’t for the two guards holding him up. The redhead had sat on the raised platform, shoulders hunched forward as her eyes watched the crowd closely, uncomfortably settling on me for a second too long. I ignored her haunting gaze, and instead looked at the King.

“Will you try and lie your way out of this, peasant?” The King hissed as his ablaze eyes snapped towards the man, who had started whimpering and shaking his head, “You tried to take my riches, peasant. The King’s possessions, more specifically.”

“I—I wasn’t, I swear—” Jeong Yunho’s face twisted into something dark and sinister as he leaned down and got all up in the poor man’s face.

“Were you really not?” The King’s voice was barely above a whisper, laced with calmness. It was frightening, the whole square went silent as the wind howled between the buildings and abandoned stands. The redhead was swinging her legs back and forth, Song Mingi’s face twisted in disgust as the man he was holding had tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” He averted his eyes to the ground, lips shaking. It was foolish of him trying to take the King’s ornaments, but I could understand him. He was probably so hungry that he was desperate enough to do something like this. Unfortunately, it would bring his end…or perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, a way out of Aurora forever.

“Shame your apology means nothing to me.” The King whispered, releasing the man as he walked forward to the edge of the platform, the redhead’s back straightened and she stopped swinging her legs. The King briefly glanced at her and she got off hastily, standing to the side as Song Mingi directed the smallest of smirks at her, visibly pissing the redhead off. It was slightly frightening how her height almost matched the King’s and Song Mingi’s, barely a few inches shorter than the two men. She was a powerful warrior and a strong soldier of the Royal Guard.

“There’s order in this world,” The King started, voice eerily steady as a slow grin stretched over his features, “There’s laws in this world, and they have to be respected. They will be respected as long as you all are under my watch, bevans. It’s hilarious how dumb you all are to think that you could touch something that belongs to your King, let alone try and steal it. Such behaviour will not be forgiven, and thus it will be punished accordingly.”

The King paused, licking his lips, right hand settling on the handle of the sword he had sheathed around his hips. My body was tense and my heart was beating loudly, almost so loud that I couldn’t hear the King’s words anymore. Goosebumps covered my skin everywhere, and suddenly the shawl around the lower half of my face made it hard to breathe, it felt like panic was overtaking my whole being. I felt like Jeong Yunho could see through me and I’d be the next one executed today. What if he somehow just knew that his brother sent me to assassinate him? What if the redhead and Song Mingi also knew and were only waiting for the right moment to snatch me away and kill me in the most antagonizing and slow way? My breath stuttered in my throat when the King’s eyes suddenly fell on me, as if he remembered who I was after all those years.

“Usually, severing the hand you had stolen with would do the deed,” The King tsked, dark eyes boring into mine as my right hand was burning up, “But this time it won’t be no good. I have been too lenient with my people lately; I fear you are forgetting the rules.”

The crowd muttered in discomfort as everyone hung their heads low, not wanting to be the next targeted by the King. But I couldn’t look away as Jeong Yunho smirked, narrowing his eyes challengingly at me. I would be next if I didn’t succumb to him, so, I gritted my teeth and lowered my head until the cobblestones were the only thing I could see. The King chuckled as I heard his sword being drawn.

“Good,” He leered, tapping his sword against the wooden platform, “Now, watch.”

Almost at an instant, the crowd whipped their heads up as the King walked towards his two guards, nodding once at Song Mingi as the poor man started frantically begging the King to let him off this time, that he’d serve him for the rest of his life, that he could take both hands if he wanted to. Song Mingi and the other guard holding him down suddenly forced him forward, pushing his head down onto the long table, his chin hitting the table loudly.

“No, please!” The man started shouting, trashing around, but the redhead was up on the platform in an instant, pushing his back flush against the table so that he wouldn’t move around so much, “No—no! I swear! I swear I will do anything! Please, please, be merciful Your Grace, I regret what I had done, I really do! Spear me this one time! Your Grace!”

But the King stood by the edge of the table, next to the man’s head, staring down at him with dead eyes, expression soulless. Because he didn’t have a soul, because Jeong Yunho was the Devil himself, not even trying to disguise it anymore.

“You seem to have forgotten that you are my property, bevan, and I do whatever I want to you.” The King hissed, raising his sword up high, held by both hands. My heart was beating out of my chest, and there was a collective gasp as time seemed to slow down. It wasn’t my first time seeing a beheading, and I knew it wouldn’t be my last either, but the ear-piercing shrill scream the man let out before the King’s sword came harshly down on his neck, slashing his skin, was deafening, and it made my ears ring. The sound of skin splitting open, blood gushing out, the crunching of bones, and then the hard thud of something heavy made me so nauseous that I was afraid I would throw up right then and there. My eyes were glued to the headless body that now lay limply on the table, the three guards releasing it as they stepped back. My eyes were frozen on the stray head that fell onto the platform, slowly rolling forward. It brought blood in its wake, oozing out of it, out of the headless body, his once soulful eyes now wide and unblinking, and mouth open in a silent scream. The man’s eyes were now glossed over and empty, mouth making no noise anymore, yet I could still hear his scream. My body was shaking, my mind was numb, and my right hand felt like it was slowly melting off around the scar. There was someone crying in the crowd, loudly, then there were people who were gagging. Nobody was looking at the head, nobody but me. I couldn’t look away, the rage in my bloodstream forced me to keep looking at it, to lament at the feeling, to gather it deep inside myself and channel it into every particle of my body that wanted to kill the King.

I flinched as the head fell off the platform and continued rolling towards the crowd, towards me. And despite how gruesome it looked, I couldn’t look away, I didn’t want to anymore. My body and brain weren’t working in sync anymore, my thoughts were a bit hazy as my leg raised and stepped on the left cheek of the man’s head, stopping it from rolling forward anymore. A woman next to me toppled over and threw up, everyone else gasping and rushing away from us. Everyone watched, yet nobody wanted to touch it. What was so different about it now? Weren’t we all partaking in the man’s ruthless death either way? A floorboard creaked and my head snapped up, greeted by the tall form of the King as he closed in on me, eyes burning and face covered in droplets of blood. It dripped off his chin rhythmically, soaking his black shirt underneath his gown covered in the Royal colours. The smell of iron flooded my nostrils at once, almost as if the King reeked of it himself, and a sudden dizziness hit my head. But I didn’t look away, I didn’t move. The square was dead silent as the King crouched down without breaking eye contact, he was breathing through his nose hard, jaw clenched. I kept my eyes on his as I looked down at him, left hand fisting my long skirt, brushing against the metal handle of my dagger hidden underneath my thick belt. It would’ve been so easy to kill him, but the risk of failure was too high.

Suddenly, something was yanked out from underneath my foot and it hit the ground harshly, rattling my ankle, making my eyebrows furrow as the King stood to its full height, looming over me. The smell of iron was strong, but something even stronger clashed with it, the smell of vetiver. The King’s lips were parted as he breathed through his mouth, tongue poking out to wet his lips, his chocolate brown eyes blown wide with a darkness I didn’t understand yet. He looked like a man who was crazy, ready to annihilate anything in its path. I was in his path, and he would get rid of me just for the fun of it. I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath until the King’s eyes finally left my face, he looked over my head at the shocked crowd, holding the dead man’s head up high.

“This,” His harsh voice boomed over the silent square, “is what happens to those disobeying their King!”

I felt eyes on me, I was aware of everything around myself, but I could only stare at the King’s face as everyone else looked somewhere else. Everything was too fresh in my mind, that day when he maimed me, the day I lost my brother…it was suffocating, it was eating me up. I couldn’t breathe anymore, I needed to get air despite being out in the open square. The harsh wind wasn’t cold anymore, my body had become numb to it. My figure was trembling so hard I could hear and feel my teeth clattering against each other, my lips quivering. Yet no tears clouded my eyes, heart too stale and dry to cry anymore. There was nothing except rage and fright left in my body, and the desperate yearning for freedom. The terror wouldn’t stop as long as Jeong Yunho was alive. And when I looked up at his face again, eyes shaking in blind rage, I was surprised to find the same expression on the King’s face. He was sneering, cheeks red and nose flaring as he glared me down, his hand holding the head shook. He wanted all of us dead, and all of us wanted him dead.

My hand tightened around the handle of the dagger, and if I closed my eyes, I could everything play out in front of me. All I had to do was yank the dagger out from underneath my belt, grab onto the King’s gown and yank him closer to myself, pull him down so that we’d be eye-level so that I’d stare into his eyes full of hatred while I plunge the dagger deep inside his neck, cutting his artery. Blood would gush out, spraying on me, coating me in his royal blood, one that was red instead of blue and tasted of iron, just like of the man’s he’s killed. I wanted to stare him in his dark eyes as the life left his, wanted to hear him gargle on his own warm blood, wanted to hear his gasp for air helplessly as everyone watched him fight for his stupidly mortal life. I wanted him to suffer, to feel like everyone he’s ever hurt or killed. I wanted him to shake in terror as his life slipped away from him without him being able to do anything about it. I wanted him to beg to be speared, to be saved, to be forgiven. I wanted him to crumble at my feet and clutch at my legs, grip loosening the harder he fought to stay alive. What a stupid mortal this King was.

Powerless, defenceless, helpless.

“Scatter around everyone!” Song Mingi’s harsh and raspy voice boomed through the square, sharp eyes frightening everyone away, “Go back to your stands!”

There was a promise in the King’s eyes before he turned and threw the head onto the platform, some men from the pub rushing over to clear the platform. And I was walking away stiffly, hand still clutching my dagger as I tried to ignore the painful itch of my scar. It felt like daggers were thrown towards me, and I didn’t have to look back to see the King, the redhead, and Song Mingi stare at my retreating form. I didn’t have to look back because I knew I had made myself the King’s target, a price on my head if I were to misbehave even in the slightest bit. And I didn’t have to see or hear the King as his lips moved, words hushed as he instructed his trusted royal guard to keep an eye on me, suspicious of my identity and intentions.

Once the devil catches you, you can’t escape its clutches ever again. He holds you down, robs you of your soul and sucks the life out of you until you’re nothing but a shell of what you once used to be. He sucks you dry of your life essence; he robs you of the light in your eyes, of the love harboured inside of you, of all of your joy, of the will to continue living. And once he’s done with you, he leaves you alone in this world to rot away, to suffer, to cry, to hate, until your heart is nothing but a rotten fruit. A damned fruit.

Forbidden, tempting, dangerous.

If famish wasn’t such a strong state of mind, so strong that it consumes your thoughts in its entirety, the damned fruit would’ve remained untouched. But when famish mingles with fear and pain, it leaves you desperate enough to go to lengths that you know once caught would make you suffer.

There was nobody but myself to blame as I was veered inside the cold Throne Room, heart pounding and eyes tear filled as people moaned and groaned in pain, a line consisting of five people in front of me. The grip on my right arm was so painful and so tight that it probably had already cut off my blood flow, and I couldn’t fight it off. I was frail and small, a man twice my size and height could easily do whatever to me. And yet, despite knowing that I might not see another sunrise, all I could think about was my sickly brother laying in his bed, struggling to breathe while hungry. I had almost made it outside the market when I heard someone chase after me, shouting as they closed in on me. Somebody saw me take the damn apple, and they snitched to the Royal Guard, to Song Mingi. All I wanted was to feed my sick brother, to prolong his time in this world and fulfil one wish of his. He just wanted to eat an apple.

My body trembled as the lady at the front of the line wailed in pain, choking on her own screams as the smell of burnt skin was horrid in the room, bringing acid into my throat. I was nauseous, I felt like passing out. I tried to yank my arm free again and bolt out of the Throne Room, but the guard holding me just hissed and yanked me forward as the sobbing woman was dragged away, hand cradled to her chest. I couldn’t look, I was too afraid. I knew what would happen to me, everybody knew what would happen to them if they dared steal, but I didn’t want to accept it yet. I just couldn’t. If the King branded you, you were his for eternity.

The Devil would find you in his next life, and he would claim you again as his. He would make you suffer; he would torture you and laugh while you beg for forgiveness.

I jumped as a man at the front started begging loudly, falling to his knees as his arm was forced onto the marble table, the fireplace blazing the closer we got to it. There were only three more people in front of me. The man started crying, trying to free himself, but the King’s laughter echoed in the vast Throne Room, and then the man’s scream was so loud it made my ears ring. I fought against the grip on myself again, breathing getting shallow as my heart was beating so fast, I thought I would die from heart failure before the sizzling metal rod could even touch my skin.

“Stop whimpering, you stupid bitch.” The tall man holding me hissed, sharp eyes boring into mine as he loomed over me with his lanky form. He was frightening, he was the Devil’s right hand, he was his Beelzebub. It felt like the room was closing in on me despite its grandiose size, like it was about to swallow me whole as perspiration gathered on my brows, slowly dripping down my temples. I couldn’t breathe when another man was maimed, marked for life, screams echoing in the vast chamber. My captor just smirked as the fear I felt reflected off my face, pulling me closer towards my tormentor. I wanted to run away, I wanted to save myself, I needed to return to my brother, but I wasn’t strong enough.

The King’s face was twisted in a sick expression as he pressed the metal rod into another man’s hand, his victim having long fainted. The man lay limply on the floor when the guard holding him up released him, and the King kicked him, but the man didn’t budge. The King’s jaw clenched and he groaned, looking at the guard who had held the man as if he was exasperated by his incompetence.

“Take this scum away, you fool!” He hissed, dark eyes settling on his guard as he bared his teeth at him. The King was even scarier in person, from up close, in the Throne Room. His red cheeks and burgundy tainted lips could’ve fooled anyone who didn’t know him. Why did a Devil like him have such soft features when all he did was hurt and hurt others, terrorize them and make them wish they were never born? Why was someone with an Angel face a creature so dark everyone feared its name and existence? My body shook uncontrollably as I realized I was next in line. Time stood still for a second, everything disappearing around me as my ears rung and eyes saw white only. And then, as my captor tugged on my arm, everything hit me at full force.

My rapid heartbeat, the thumping of my head, the desperation crawling up my throat, the need to save myself, I had to get out. I had to return to my brother, he just wanted an apple. Why was life unfair? Almost as if awoken from a dormant sleep, adrenaline kicked hard through my system, flooding my whole being like I didn’t know it was even possible. My lungs expanded and muscles tensed, and when Song Mingi tugged on my arm again, barely three steps away from the marble table, I jumped. I jumped and I kicked at the man’s chest, scratching his neck and making him yelp in pain. Yet he never released me, but I wasn’t giving up. I had to save myself, nobody else would do it for me. And so, I kicked when I was hoisted up by my waist, I screamed at the top of my lungs, I even punched whoever dared touch me. But as if I weighted nothing, I was thrown on the marble table, back hitting it hard, head crushing into the cold table. I gasped, vision fuzzy for a second, until a dark and sinister laugh snapped me back to reality. I froze when I realized I was being held down against the table by Song Mingi, expression so dark I would’ve recoiled if I could’ve. His jaw was clenched and his gaze was so sharp it could’ve cut me if it were possible. But the King, Jeong Yunho, he was calm. He looked the opposite of what his Royal Guard looked like, and something dropped deep in my stomach.

The King looked entertained by the fight I was putting up; he was enjoying it. My lower lip quivered as a hand decorated with rings, metal ornaments, reached out and lightly traced my bottom lip. I couldn’t breathe as my eyes were captivated by Jeong Yunho’s dark ones, pupils dilated as he sneered, a crazed look crossing his features as I gasped for air, trying to catch my breath. The King gripped my jaw tightly, so tightly that I thought he’d break it in two, but what was even more painful were the sharp ends of his rings cutting into my skin. I whimpered as I tried to pull my head away, but I was immobilised by Song Mingi, who was smirking as he watched the exchange.

“Oh, little dove,” The King whispered as his eyebrows furrowed, mock concern crossing his features, “Look at how frightened she is, My Mingi.”

The royal guard’s eyes turned even darker, a predatory look crossing his features as he chuckled, hold on me tightening just a little more as my body started shaking more violently, breathing loud as I breathed through my nose. The King’s smirk matched his guard’s, and he released a long sigh, making me whimper when he dug his sharp claws more into my skin, something hot prickling down my jaw and my neck, disappearing underneath the neckline of my black dress. The King’s eyes followed the drop of blood, and he closed his eyes for a second as he took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, a look so evil was present in his eyes that I shook my head at him involuntarily, begging him wordlessly to spare me, to let me go just this time.

“Oh, little dove,” The King whispered, pursing his blood red lips, suddenly releasing my jaw as he grabbed something. My heart raced faster than before, if that were even possible, and I shook my head as I felt sobs bubbling up my throat.

“Please, please, please,” My voice was hoarse and shaky, my mouth struggled to form the words I so desperately tried to speak, “My brother is sick, please.”

“You know the rules, little dove.” There was almost something like sadness tinging Jeong Yunho’s voice as his mouth pulled to the side, eyes staring off into the blazing fire. My jaw clenched as I looked at what he was holding, and my stomach coiled in even more fear. I couldn’t let this happen, I just couldn’t.

“Let me go, I promise I will never do it again, Your Grace.” I begged, hoping that I could get to him somehow, but the King just hummed as if he wasn’t truly listening to me. I was terrified, but I couldn’t help but feel wronged. If the King provided us with everything we needed, with sufficient food, then we wouldn’t have to go out and steal as a means of survival. He was the one forcing us into doing these things, and yet he was the one punishing us for something he would never change. It was unfair, and I couldn’t help but soak in the sudden anger that flared through my body, making me fight against the royal guard as he pinned my right against the marble table, holding me down by my shoulders with his other hand.

“Why should I pay for something I’m forced to do because you have never once helped your people, Your Grace?” I snapped, glaring at the side of the King’s head. He didn’t react, and I couldn’t remain silent anymore, “Why are you punishing me when you’re the one forcing us to live in poverty and famish, My King?”

I winced when Song Mingi’s elbow dug into my shoulder painfully, but I didn’t stop glaring up at the King as he looked borderline bored, uninterested in what I had to say.

“My brother is dying because of you!” I screamed, losing my sanity as the King didn’t react, only chuckled quietly, “My brother is dying because you took away everything from us and forced us into the slums. My brother is dying because you hold people in such terror that not even an apple can be gifted anymore. I stole that apple, because nobody would give it to me anymore out of kindness. While King Choi was alive, the Kingdom was flourishing. Everyone was happy and content, everyone enjoyed life. You—you are no King, Jeong Yunho—”

“Shut up, wench!” Song Mingi’s face was suddenly looming over mine as he screamed in my face, his whole face red and enraged as I stared back at him wide eyed. My heart was racing and I started trashing around violently, trying to fight the guard off again, but to no avail.

“My Mingi,” The King’s voice was light and soft, head turning to glance down at us, “don’t rile yourself up over the words of a poor peasant.”

“But—My King, she’s—” The guard looked shocked as he stared at the King wide eyed, seemingly confused.

“A stupid, confused, little girl,” The King chuckled, looking down at me with pity on his face that made me sick to my stomach, “she doesn’t know better. Perhaps this will teach her a lesson for once and for all.”

My eyes widened when the King’s hand moved, the sizzling hot rod pulled out of the fire, getting closer and closer to my body as the King moved agonizingly slow, taunting me by the large grin on his face. I whimpered and bit my lower lip, aware that Song Mingi was holding me even firmer than before, jaw set tight as his eyes were glued onto the King.

“No—” I stuttered, gasping for air as the King lightly grazed my hand with his gloved hand, “No! Don’t—don’t touch me!”

A serene smile appeared on his lips, looking into my eyes with a look that made me feel like a small child who had misbehaved and was now getting lectured for it. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to wriggle myself free, trashing my legs around and trying to push Song Mingi off myself, but his strength was incredible, and I was too frail to even as much as make him budge, “Let go of me! I didn’t do anything wrong! Don’t touch me!”

My throat hurt from my screams, but I wouldn’t give up. I would never, I had to get back to my brother. I couldn’t let that iron rod touch my skin; I’d be the King’s forever. I couldn’t let the Devil bound me to himself, I just couldn’t. I’d never be free again, I’d never be able to leave Aurora, “Now, if you stop throwing a fuss it’ll hurt less, little dove—”

The saliva that had gathered in my mouth landed on the King’s cheek as I spat at him, nose flared and eyes wide in rage and fear as my lungs heaved for air, “You’ll burn in the depths of Hell for—”

The iron grip around my throat rendered me speechless in seconds, before I could finish my curse. My eyes bulged as I clawed at the large hand wrapped around my neck with my left hand, Song Mingi’s grip the last thing I’d feel before I’d meet my death. The King just watched us, he didn’t blink, he didn’t react. His lips twitched, but he said nothing as my spit slowly dripped down his cheek, “My Mingi.”

And before I could even wrap my mind around the sudden oxygen rush in my lungs, a searing pain shot through the top of my right hand, so hot and so painful that a scream was instantly ripped from my hoarse throat. My back arched and fingers scraped at nothing as my right arm was still held down by the guard, the King’s eyes boring onto my face as he watched me frail around in excruciating pain. The smell of burnt flesh was disgusting and it made me gag knowing that it was my own flesh burning, branded by the Crown’s emblem for life. My vision went white for a second as the rod was still burning into my flesh, it felt like it would go through my hand at any given moment, creating a gaping hole in it. I heaved for air as I couldn’t scream anymore, body shaking in shock as suddenly the King smirked, yanking the rod off my hand. A loud sob ripped through my body, right hand shaking so badly that it felt like it was an alien limb, not controlled by my own body. The restricting hands were gone from my body, and I was afraid to look at the damage done. I was on the brink of passing out and throwing up at the same time, when suddenly the King’s gloved hand was in the air, and the next second it was connected to my cheek, sending my head flying to the side. The slap echoed in the vast room, and my sobs instantly stilled as my curly hair fell over my face, shielding it from the eyes of the two tyrants. My body stilled, yet my right hand never stopped shaking. The pain was searing, pulsing, traveling from my hand up to my wrist and my whole arm, making me grit my teeth as I tried not to cry out. It hurt so badly that it made me want to claw at the scorched skin.

“You’re mine, little dove,” The King’s dark words were whispered in my ear, voice deep, “and if you try to run, I will find you, and I will kill you with my own hands.”

“Burn in hell.” I managed to grit out through my teeth, throat feeling like sandpaper. The King chuckled; sound high pitched as I heard the metal rod being thrown onto the marble floor of the Throne Room.

“She’s a handful, My Mingi,” The King mused, and I felt a gloved hand grip my right thigh as I was veered off the table. I managed to sit up last minute and save myself from tumbling onto the floor, “Take her to the dungeons, let’s teach her another lesson for being disobedient and trying to curse her King.”

My eyes widened, desperation clawing at my bones as I tried to push the guard off, but he just grabbed my arms and tied them behind my back before I could even as much as protest. My head was spinning and it was a little hard to realize what exactly was happening, the pain coming from my hand the only thing I could focus on as Song Mingi made me walk, veering me towards some stone stairs at the back of the Throne Room. Yet, I was aware that I needed to go back to my brother.

“No, no, no—my brother—” A sob cut me off as I tried to plead with Song Mingi, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore, expression stone cold as I cried harder, “He’ll die, please!”

I was yanked back by my hair and forced to stop as Song Mingi breathed hard through his nose, eyes burning as he glared at me sharply, “I do not understand why My King spared you, but if you won’t shut your fucking mouth, I will gut you right here and right now. Then, you’ll join your brother you keep wailing for in Eden.”

I gasped as I shoot up, clutching at my chest and right hand shaking from the dull ache coursing through it, sweat covering my face and neck. My heart was beating frantically as I gasped for air, eyes searching my surroundings wildly. It was dark around me, but the moonlight shone through the opened curtains. The little candle I had lit before going to bed had burned out, and the sturdy wood of my bed made my back ache. I was safe. I was in laying in my bed, in my pathetic excuse of a cottage, far away from the Castle and the Throne Room. I tried taking deep breaths, tried slowing my heartbeats, tried to reason with myself that all of that was just a dream. But it wasn’t, it was a reoccurring nightmare of that cursed day. It made me miss my brother even terribly more, and as my eyes shifted towards the small dresser I had across from my bed, my eyes landed on the sketch of the King given to me by Sir Jung. Fury flamed inside my chest as my left hand slipped underneath my cold pillow, and in a swift movement, I pulled my dagger out from underneath and flung it at the sketch as a scream ripped through my lips. Jeong Yunho will pay for everything he’s done.

It had been two weeks since the beheading in the square, two weeks of me spying on the King to my best capacities. It wasn’t easy to remain unseen, but I managed to sneak by his Royal Guards just fine each time. Song Mingi and the redhead weren’t as attentive as they thought they were. Perhaps the King wouldn’t sleep so well at night knowing that his most trusted guards were incapable of sensing danger and noticing the littlest changes around themselves.

The King’s schedule was quite simple and easy. He left the Castle grounds early in the morning to go on a hunt in the forest surrounding his estate, then he’d go down to the market and parade down the wealthier parts of Aurora. It wasn’t too often that he went anywhere else but straight back to the Castle once he was done agonizing his people in the streets, however, he had gone once or twice dangerously close to the mansion Prince Choi and Sir Jung inhibited now. There was also a time when the King was headed to the slums, to a shop famous for its otherworldly businesses, meaning witchcraft. The King wasn’t opposed to it as long as the witches served him, and him alone. Anyone who dared use their knowledge against the King would be burned on a rug, in the square. There had been witch hunts before, they used to be more frequent while King Choi was the ruler as he was opposed to anything that dealt with darkness, however, Jeong Yunho wasn’t like that. He embraced the dark and he craved the power that came with it, a false sense of immortality laying within him. It only took me two days to realize that the King was plotting something, something that was kept hush-hush and a secret from even his two most trusted guards. The King had let them go back to the Castle one afternoon and then he galloped out of Aurora, only returning the next day. I couldn’t go after him, and curiosity ate me up when the next day the King had gone to the same witchcraft shop, staying in there for hours, looking pale and almost ghostly by the time he finally left the shop. If it weren’t for Song Mingi, who was at an instant by the King’s side, he would’ve crumbled to floor and fainted. The King was doing something very highly illicit, and I needed to find out just what. Both for my own sake, but also to help Prince Choi and Sir Jung in taking the Crown from Jeong Yunho.

Tonight hadn’t been different from the King’s daily shenanigans, however, for a change, the King had gone to a run-down pub, located a little bit too close to the slums. He was joined by his two loyal guards, Song Mingi and the redhead. They wore long black gowns to hide their identities as they slipped past the dark shadows coating the streets, the lamplighters not bothering to light the candles in this part of Aurora. Of course, that did not come as a surprise. The only adequately lit parts of our burgh were the market and square, where the royal guards would march around to check if the lamplighters were indeed doing their duties. Nobody cared about those suffering outside of the richer parts of Aurora, nobody cared about people like me.

I pressed closer against the cold brick wall of a rickety hut, barely holding itself up. Many houses looked like that in the area, and it was a truly saddening sight, especially when families with lots of children were forced to live in such conditions due to the King taking everything from them, leaving them to the rats. I tried not to think of those people, it made me remember my brother, and tonight I had to focus. I needed to get closer to the pub somehow, to gain more intel on whatever was going on inside, of what the King was up to once again. But by the time I gathered my courage and came up with a flawed plan, the door to the pub was kicked open and a drunk man stumbled outside, followed by two tall gowned figures. The drunk man was loudly whistling and he stumbled on a misplaced cobblestone, roughly crashing into the side of the pub. He howled in pain, but I paid him no mind as the tall figures turned the opposite way of the drunken man had started tumbling towards, and started walking. Their pace was fast, almost as if they were trying to get away from something.

I took a deep breath and remaining in the shadows, I crept after them, eyes fixated on their tall figures. I kept a few good meters between us, and I made sure to keep my footsteps light, so that they wouldn’t accidentally hear me. The sky was clear for once, and the moonlight was your only guide through the dark streets. For once, I was grateful that the lamplighters didn’t perform to their full capacity and left the slums unattended, making my job so much easier right now. I tried to decipher who was who, but the King and his Guard’s similarity in physique was a scary realization. Perhaps Song Mingi’s shoulders were wider and stance firmer, but I couldn’t say for sure. Especially when their strides seemingly were the same. I couldn’t tell the King and his Guard apart from behind, and I felt anxiety crawl up my throat as I prayed to God that the two wouldn’t separate.

The long street we had been walking down came to a crossroads soon. Going to the left would lead you back to the prettier and cleaner district of Aurora, however, turning right would take you towards the dense and haunting forest, towards the mansion Prince Choi and Sir Jung inhabited. As the two men took a left turn, I came to the alarming realization that the redhead was seemingly nowhere, and she had arrived with them to the pub. Could she have stayed back? Had the two men gotten rid of her? That sounded absurd, everybody knew those in the Royal Guard gave their lives to the King, and the redhead was one of his most devoted soldier, she surely wouldn’t have committed treason against someone she so blindly worshipped. But then where was she? My heart was thumping wildly in my chest as I had started glancing behind myself, paranoid that I was also being followed, probably by the redhead. If they were to catch me now, I would most certainly die as they outnumbered and outpowered me easily. I might have gotten stronger over the past years, but I still remained with a smaller built. And I was no warrior, I lacked the skills they have mastered a long time ago.

The streets turned narrow once again as we got closer and closer to the richer area, cottages in better conditions littering both sides of the street. There were very few candles still alight in the houses, and I had to be more careful as the candle lighting of the streets was better in this area. I pulled the shawl tighter around my face, and made myself smaller as the two men continued walking, but faster than before. I had to run, almost, to keep up with them. My breaths left my mouth in short puffs and as the two men rounded the corner, the main street leading them back to the Castle, I followed suit. However, I almost yelped as I crashed against a hard body, sending me backwards. I instantly panicked, eyes wide in fear as my left hand went to grab my dagger, but the man that I had stumbled into was neither the King nor Song Mingi. It was just a drunken civilian, looking borderline sick. His eyes were squinted and as he tried leaning closer to get a better look at my face, I grabbed his head and pushed him to the side, making him stumble. If I wouldn’t have caught his arm quickly, he would’ve stumbled to the hard cobblestone covered road. I have underestimated his state, and I took pity on him as he looked confused.

“Go home, old man, it isn’t safe out here.” I snapped at him; eyes boring into his. The man just blinked and then nodded once, clumsily taking off again, stumbling into every possible bench and bush he could. I shook my head and quickly rounded the corner, hoping that the distraction wasn’t long enough to make me lose my targets. But, to my misfortune, there was only one tall figure walking down the long street, their pace a lot slower this time. I gulped and pulled the neckline of my own gown tighter around my shoulders, heart beating fast as I hoped the man I was following was indeed the King himself, and not Song Mingi. But I couldn’t be sure, and I was helpless as I followed after him. He was a little ahead, a few good steps, and I refrained from closing the gap again, hesitant to give away my presence just yet. If it wasn’t the King, then I had no reason to follow his Guard, he was of no use to me. My eyebrows furrowed when the tall man took a right turn, going down a street that wasn’t leading towards the Castle anymore. What had they planned? Looking behind myself, left and right too, I made sure I wasn’t followed as I quickly ran down the rest of the street before rounding the same corner the man had, gripping the handle of my dagger. It was a narrow backstreet that connected to a dirt road which led down to a small field if you continued walking left, however, it met with another even shorter path, which was a dead-end behind a fancy Inn. The man continued walking, pace once again hurried, until suddenly a black shadow leaped from the side of a building, knocking the tall man into the narrow dead-end. My eyes widened as I froze in the middle of the street, heart pounding in my chest. What was happening? I should’ve turned around and left, but I had to know whether it was the King or Song Mingi getting attacked in the middle of the night. And so, I pressed myself against the brick wall of the Inn and crept to the edge of the building, peeking my head around the corner, just barely.

The unmistakable silver blonde hair was glinting underneath the moonlight as the hood of Song Mingi’s gown had fallen down, and I hissed in displeasure. I had been fooled. I wasn’t following the King, but Song Mingi. So where had the King gone then? What was he up to again? Or was Song Mingi just getting frisky behind an Inn after a night spent at a pub getting drunk? My question was quickly answered as a hard blow was thrown against the guard’s jaw, sending his head in the opposite direction. The guard hissed and suddenly sprung forward, hand wrapping around the throat of his attacker. But the attacker was quick to fight back, and the person’s nails dug into Song Mingi’s wrist until he was forced to release his attacker. The person grabbed the collar of his gown and pinned him against the wall, face leaning dangerously close to Song Mingi’s. The height difference was minimal between the two, and my eyes widened as the person’s hood slipped from her head, revealing her red hair. What were Jeong Yunho’s royal guards doing in a dead-end, mauling each other around?

“You complete scum!” The redhead’s voice was shaky, laced with venom, “How dare you go to our King and say such lies about me?!”

Song Mingi remained unmoving, finally having given up fighting the redhead. Instead, he leaned his head against the tall cement fence he was pressed up against, and smirked.

“I see My King has let you know about the little change that’s happened.” I watched as the redhead’s grip tightened even more around Song Mingi’s gown.

“I was supposed to go on that mission, Mingi.” The redhead pressed; tone hard.

“And now it’s me going, foxy.” Song Mingi chuckled in amusement, and I heard the redhead let out a frustrated yelp. I pressed myself against the brick wall, turning away from the scene. I could hear the two guards throwing insults at each other, their voices gradually getting louder, but I wasn’t interested in their quarrel. I was here for the King, and I had lost him. Now I wouldn’t know if he was headed back to the Castle or off to doing something unlawful again.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes for a second, gathering my thoughts and energy to head back to the slums, to my pathetic excuse of a hut. The air was chilly again, and I was thankful for the thick gown Prince Choi had sent me three days ago, a small note saying to ‘dress up well, it’s getting colder day by day’ placed on top of the heavy garment. I was thankful, and more than grateful for the gift sent by the Prince. I had nothing to repay him with, but perhaps getting rid of the King was the biggest treasure I could offer to the Prince right now.

I was headed down the short alleyway I had just followed Song Mingi down, meaning to go back onto the main street and then head back home. However, before I could even round the corner fully, gloved fingers curled into the fabric of my expensive gown and yanked me around the corner, throwing me against the bricked wall. I gasped as the wind was knocked out of my lungs, head hitting the wall loudly, making me groan as it shook my skull. As I tried to regain my bearings, I felt the gloved hand slip up towards my throat, long fingers wrapping around my throat and squeezing. I froze, left hand shooting up to hold onto my attacker’s wrist as my eyes finally cleared and were able to focus on the one holding me. And it was none other than Jeong Yunho, the King himself. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were mere slits as he glared down at me, towering over me due to his great height. The pressure around my neck grew stronger and I gasped for air, eyes widening just a little, trying to control the panic raising in my whole being. Being immobilised by the King felt too familiar, I couldn’t help but respond with panic as memories of the day I had been marked by him tried to resurface, remind me of the pain I had felt under his hands.

“What do you want?” The King hissed, lowering his head until he was eye level with me. I tried to gulp, but it was hard. My grip tightened around the King’s wrist, nails digging into his leather glove. I didn’t answer him, and even if I would’ve tried to, the way his hold was tightening stopped me from doing so.

“Who are you, peasant?” The King snapped and leaned even closer; eyebrows furrowed as his eyes travelled all over my face. He wasn’t able to see much of my features, but I knew he could see my eyes just well, and so I glared at him. My heart was racing and I tried to push his hand off, but it only made him squeeze tighter. My lungs started burning, the King was slowly choking me, antagonizing me even now.

“Speak up, wench.” It seemed he had realized I was a woman, disgust coating his features as his hot breath fanned over my cheeks. I grit my teeth and tried to push the King backwards, but he wasn’t budging. Dark sports started covering my vision, and I tried not to gasp for air, refusing to show weakness in front of him again. But as his right hand raised, the sharp edges of his ornaments grazing against the little exposed skin I had, I knew I had to do something. His ring clad fingers gripped at the shawl and my eyes widened more as I realized he was about to yank it off my face. I couldn’t let him see me; it would compromise the whole mission. In my panicked state, I did the next best thing I could that came to mind. I turned my head and bit his exposed right hand, biting through the material of my shawl. It probably wasn’t as painful as it would have been if my shawl wasn’t in the way of my teeth, but the King still hissed and ripped his right hand back, looking surprised. It allowed me little momentum to shake his grip off my neck too as it had loosened, and I lived with the opportunity, grabbing his arm and yanking it off myself. Before the King could fight back, I sprung forward and pushed at his strong chest, making him stumble back a few steps as he didn’t expect my attack.

“Who sent you, little dove?” He leered, eyes ablaze as a smirk slowly slipped onto his lips, looking like he had no intention of holding me again. Yet, he took two steps towards me, watching me like a predator watches its prey. I gulped, suddenly feeling helpless, just like the day I had been held down against the marble table, marked and maimed. I felt like that little girl again as my hands started shaking and mind got clouded with memories, making it harder to breathe through the shawl. The pain I had felt that day suddenly felt too vivid, too real, as my right hand burned, the Crown’s emblem forever burned in my skin. All the King had to do was yank my glove down and see for himself. He would’ve taken me back to the Castle and killed me, or worse, tortured me until he became bored of me.

“If you don’t speak now, I’ll kill you.” The King said in a light tone, smile spreading into a wide grin as his eyes glossed over with darkness. I gulped and steeled my nerves, reminding myself that I wasn’t that defenceless little girl anymore. I wouldn’t sit around and mop as I wait for Death to take me away. I have become stronger, both physically and mentally, and I had a mission. A mission which placed the fate of the Kingdom of the Fallen in my hands.

“You’ll kill me even if I speak.” I hissed, glaring at the King as he started laughing. There was nothing amusing about what I said, it was the mere truth. And as he extended his ring decorated hand towards my face again, I pulled my right arm back and swung it towards the King’s cheek with all the force I could muster. I was breathing hard as my gloved hand made contact with the King’s cheek, and I’ve never felt anymore more satisfying than having the King’s head snap to the side as my fist connected with his red tinged cheek. The night was quiet and my punch was loud. My heart was racing as a huge grin spread onto my lips, a grin the King couldn’t see and wouldn’t see as I suddenly took off, sprinting away. I was fast, but I knew they would catch up with me sooner than later, so, upon spotting vines coming down the side of a smaller cottage, I gripped onto them and climbed the wall as fast as I could. My heart was racing as I took off running again, hopping from roof to roof, praying that it wouldn’t give out underneath me as some felt a little too loose. I was also praying that the roof tiles wouldn’t slip underneath my weight, sending me tumbling to the cold and dirty ground.

I could hear the King and his two loyal guards chase after me, but it seemed like neither could climb onto the cottages, offering me the little advantage I needed to get away tonight. And knowing that I managed to instill even a little pain in the King would help me sleep better tonight.

Tonight had to have been the most nerve wrecking night of my whole life as I walked past the tall guards at the heavy front doors of the Castle. The air was warm as I stepped further inside the vast hallway, scenery way too familiar. I tried to remain calm and collected as a butler stepped closer, an inviting and warm smile on his lips, as he helped me slip out of my expensive fur coat. The dark brown fabric reached down to my ankles, shielding me completely from the biting chill the late autumn wind brought with itself. My heart felt like it would leap out of my chest anytime now as I clutched the white envelope tightly in my hands, the stamp of the Crown a blood red, asking for attention against the snow-white paper. I forced a small smile onto my lips as I followed the crowd towards the ballroom, gut twisting as we were ushered past the Throne Room, a room that had witnessed so much horror ever since Jeong Yunho had become King.

Despite completely fitting in with the rich crowd surrounding me, curtesy of Prince Choi, I still felt like everyone could spot that I didn’t actually belong here. The fabric of my white dress was soft against my pale skin, the best I had ever had the chance to wear, and it fell loosely around my body. There wasn’t anything too eye catching or special about the dress Prince Choi had sent for this specific occasion, and that was the purpose. I was supposed to blend in with the rich crowd and lure the King away from the masses, where I would make sure he’d never again see tomorrow’s sunrise. It wasn’t an easy task, but tonight was the perfect timing. There wouldn’t be another one like this anytime soon as these balls were organized on full moon’s only by the King, whispers about a ritual practiced by him resurfacing every time the ball took place.

The top of my dress was low-cut and it made me feel uncomfortable for exposing so much of my skin, the tops of my breasts quite visible to anyone who looked my way, the slit in the ruffles of the skirt at least decent enough that it didn’t reach too high. The straps around my shoulders were puffy but delicate, the prettiest V line I had seen a dress have so far. Thankfully, the design of the expensive dress allowed to match gloves with it, and so, I was delighted when I saw the matching white silky gloves placed at the bottom of the box this dress had arrived in. The gloves were delicate and soft, a little cold when I have tried them on, and reached just above my elbows, the rest of my arms exposed. It was warm inside the ballroom; therefore, I didn’t worry that I would catch a cold accidentally. I have smoothed down my hair, the long curls reaching down the middle of my back, and kept it minimal when applying a little beauty enhancer to my face. The blush on my cheeks was artificial and so was the glitter on top of my eyelids, and the redness of my lips. I couldn’t do much about my pale complexion, and could only hope that the rich people wouldn’t think that I looked sick. The goal was to catch the King’s eye tonight.

When I had finally reached the top of the stairs that would lead down to the ballroom, further inside the lively chamber, a man dressed elegantly smiled widely and extended his hand towards me. I could only hope he wouldn’t pay enough attention to notice the nervousness on my face as I handed the envelope to him, watching as he delicately opened it. Inside it, there was a letter addressed to a respective Bae Joohyun, who happened to be fourth cousins with the King and the Prince. I found the idea crazy, to come to such an event under the pretence of being someone else and someone so close to the Royal family, but Prince San had assured me that they hadn’t seen their little cousin since they were five, and so, the King wouldn’t know what she looked like now. The pretence was perfect in the Prince’s head as he said my looks fit exactly that of their cousin: pale, petite, black haired, and dark eyed. Apparently, she was beautiful beyond comprehension, and I oozed a tenderness their cousin also had. I didn’t dare refute the Prince’s claims and just thanked him for helping me out once again. After all, if he wanted my mission to be a success, he had to play his part from the shadows.

“Miss Bae Joohyun, first of her name, eldest princess and head huntress of the burgh of La Rouge.” The man announced loudly to the ballroom as he read off my fake title from the invitation, and I tried to keep an amicable smile on my lips as a servant quickly rushed to my side, helping me down the marble set of stairs. It felt like everyone was staring at me in the room, which they were, and I tried to slow my heartbeat with deeps breaths in order to keep myself from fainting. I couldn’t even blame it on the restricting dress as I didn’t wear a corset, unlike many of the ladies present here tonight. It made me feel out of place, but trusting Prince San’s words, the actual Bae Joohyun wouldn’t have shown up in a restricting and puffed-up dress. She was a free spirit and often times went against the rules in order to live her life the way she wanted. Her parents weren’t too keen of her attitude and the choices she had made so far in her life, but they’d rather keep her close and not her younger sister, who apparently was a rascal and everyone’s nightmare in the burgh of La Rouge. The burgh resided on the other side of the Kingdom of the Fallen and was a lot more lenient compared to Aurora, that is, until King Jeong manages to expand his believes that far out, poisoning the innocent people of La Rouge, like he had done to us in Aurora.

And just like that, the night seemed to go on uneventfully, besides the unwanted attention men, and women alike, seemed to offer me. I wasn’t looking for anyone’s company, but I knew if I kept to myself, hidden in a corner, I would get nothing done tonight, and I couldn’t let that happen. I had to raise attention onto myself if I wanted the King to find me appealing, and that was only achievable if I was surrounded by men who made me laugh loudly, even if it was forced often times. I had managed to come closer to the King more than once, but so it seemed he was too busy staring down the cleavage of the dress of whatever lady he had been talking to at the moment, clearly uninterested in whatever they had to say. His loyal dogs were around too, of course, both dressed to the nines as they surveyed the crowd, mingling with the people at times. Song Mingi remained close to the King, however, but wasn’t breathing down his neck like usual, his outfit a lot more casual than one was used to seeing him wear. His body was littered with accessories, and I accidentally had caught sight of the redhead ripping the silver chain off as it hung around the man’s narrow waist over the tight vest Song Mingi was wearing. A heated exchange between the two seemed to happen afterwards, with the taller guard backing the redhead against a pillar, sneering into her face, until the King showed up and merely tapped the two on the shoulder before walking away, beaming at a blonde woman with a dark look in his eyes.

The longer I watched the King, the angrier I became that nobody could see through his obvious façade, of the fakeness in his laughter and smiles, that they couldn’t see his eyes darkening and a sick twist crossing his features any time someone said something he didn’t enjoy. Everyone remained oblivious to his so obvious show of dominance whenever a man managed to capture the attention of those around themselves. It was pathetic really, how badly the King needed to have all the attention in the big room on himself, yearning for the praises and ass-licking these rich people were doing. It was sickening and so infuriating as I watched him throw his head back in delight, laughter melodic but loud enough to have others glancing his way, flocking towards the small group, because it was the King. And if the King found something hilarious and worth his time, everyone else wanted to know what it was about, striving to capture his attention like that. My jaw was clenched as I watched another woman wander towards him, looking abashed when the King so much as glanced her way in passing, batting her eyelashes at him. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of wanting the King’s attention purposefully, not when so much blood lay on his hands, so much terror and horror committed under his reign, under his command.

I nursed a tall glass of champagne in my hands as I surveyed the crowd, searching for Song Mingi and the redhead, finding them in different parts of the ballroom, both seemingly busy with the people they were respectively talking to. The King, however, happened to be closer to me as he was talking to two gentlemen, face impassive as he only hummed and nodded at whatever they were saying. For a second, he glanced ahead, and our eyes connected. My breath hitched and I fought every fibre in my body wanting to look away, knowing that the King liked a good chase and a little provocation. If I looked away, I would admit defeat, and he didn’t like women who weren’t a little fiery, harder to break. The thought made me sick but I quickly disregarded it and hid my fake smile as I took the smallest sip I could of my champagne, knowing that my plan was working as the King’s eyes bore into mine, narrowing. It wasn’t the first time our eyes accidentally met during the night, and I was completely convinced that his curiosity was growing the more I seemed to be teasing him. Always around, yet never approaching him. Always around, yet never actively asking for his attention. I could see his fierce eyes on me every time I laughed a little too loudly, or anytime I playfully touched a gentleman’s bicep for a second too long. The King might’ve thought I wasn’t looking, but I was. And my plan was working just perfectly. The mission would finally turn out to be a success tonight.

“Miss Bae,” My attention was ripped away from the King as a moderately tall man stopped in front of me, lips heart shaped, and kind eyes sharper rather than rounder. The man’s voice was rather deep, yet soft, and he looked almost a little shy, “I did not know you would be attending tonight’s ball.”

I plastered on a soft smile and tried to act like I knew the man in front of me. Prince San didn’t really tell me who I was supposed to know tonight, and so I had to be creative when catching other people’s names, “It came as a surprise to me as well.”

The man chuckled as he covered his mouth with a soft looking hand, eyes glinting in amusement. He didn’t look like he had dubious reasons for talking to me, unlike many other men so far tonight, and his eyes had not even once fallen onto my cleavage, “Did your father send you in hopes of finding a suitor?”

“Perhaps that was the reason,” I mussed as I took a sip of my champagne, aware of the King’s eyes on me as I continued talking to the kind man, “it seems like he won’t accept the fact that I do not wish to marry.”

“Perhaps you haven’t met the right man yet.” Ah, the likeableness of this man just plummeted as my eyebrows furrowed, and he seemed alarmed as he realized what he had said, “Oh! I was not suggesting that you should marry or anything else, Miss Bae! It is completely alright to not want to marry, I do not wish to marry either.”

“Lovely,” I hummed, not interested in the conversation anymore. The King was moving away and I had to remain close to him, “I didn’t catch your name, sir.”

“Do Kyungsoo, Miss Bae, I see the passing of the years made you forget about me.” I gulped, nervous all of a sudden as Mr. Do chuckled. I had no idea who he was, but I was sure the real Bae Joohyun would know. So, I chuckled abashed, looking down in fake embarrassment.

“My apologies, I haven’t been to Aurora in so long…” Mr. Do nodded in understanding, downing the rest of his champagne in one go.

“Then I must leave you alone to mingle some more, right?” He sounded slightly disappointed, and I couldn’t help but think that the bond between Miss Bae and Mr. Do once had ran deeper than it seemed. I cleared my throat and excused myself with a bow of my head, looking for the King. The crowd was large and as the music had gotten louder, a dance floor had formed in the middle of the big room. Everyone was loud as more champagne and expensive wine was consumed, both men and women getting bolder and handsy with each other. I tried not to see the disappearing couples behind pillars and curtains as I walked past them, quiet moans or groans alarming to hear. I was no prude, but doing anything like that just felt wrong in a place like this. Besides, I wouldn’t have dared doing anything relatively inadequate in the house of the King, under his watchful eyes.

“Miss Bae.” I jumped as the velvety voice whispered in my ear, almost making me punch their gut as I whirled around, “You’ve been alone ever since I have left your side.”

Mr. Byun wasn’t exactly the man I wished to be around right now; eyes hazed over as his breath reeked of alcohol. He had set his eyes on me the second the servant had announced my name and title, lurking around me after presenting himself and talking to me.

“You are quite wrong,” I chuckled, trying not to glare at him as he reached out a hand and twirled a dark strand of my hair between his fingers, “I have been talking to others too, Mr. Byun.”

“None as promising and handsome as myself, right?” The man smirked, overly sure of himself, making my jaw clench as I forced a chuckle to leave my lips. All this unwanted attention certainly hadn’t been part of my plan, I thought nobody would give me even as much as a second glance, busy with others, with people they already knew. All these men were making this experience even less pleasant, as if being in the lion’s den was pleasant in the first place.

“What a confident man,” I smiled widely, placing my empty glass on a tray as a servant walked by us, “I bet the ladies love being around you, Mr. Byun.”

“Hopefully you are one of those ladies yourself, Miss Bae.” Mr. Byun winked and suddenly bowed, extending a hand towards me, “Would you offer me your first dance of the night, love?”

No, I would not like to offer you my first dance of the night, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t refuse a dance, whether I liked the idea or not. I had started thinking that my plan had been flawed from the very beginning and that I wouldn’t succeed in fulfilling my mission, that is, until I felt a gloved hand sneaking around my waist, firmly yanking me into the side of a body. My eyes widened as I gasped at the sudden feeling, head snapping up, dread filling my whole being. The King was glaring down at Mr. Byun as his hold tightened around my waist, and I almost flung myself out of his grip, skin burning through the fabric where the King had touched me. Despite my goal being exactly this, to find myself in the arms of the King, it felt wrong. Very wrong. I wanted nothing more than to run away, but I steeled my nerves and hushed the thoughts that were screaming to run far away from the tyrant, and managed to ease a soft smile on my lips.

“Mr. Byun,” The King grinned, however it didn’t reach his dark eyes, “already drunk and close to passing out? It’s been only two hours since the ball started, you fool.”

Mr. Byun’s jaw clenched, but he had no choice but to bow his head in respect, “My apologies, Your Grace, I might have gotten carried away.”

“Most certainly if you thought you could dance with such beautiful maiden.” It was my turn to clench my jaw at the King’s insinuation, but I willed my heartrate to calm down and muscles to relax as the King’s dark gaze was directed onto me now, “Shall we dance, gorgeous?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” I bowed my head and forced a timid smile onto my lips as the King’s ring, claw, decorated hand found my waist too, grip firm as he veered me in front of himself and made us walk towards the dance floor. My back straightened as I tried to calm down and not tense up when the King’s hands squeezed my waist just a little bit more, narrowly avoiding a couple as they were dancing around a little too wildly for the King’s liking as he leered at them. I closed my eyes when I felt ourselves stop in the middle of the dance floor, and took a deep breath. I could do this, for the future of the Fallen of the Kingdom, for our nation, and for Prince Choi San. I could do this, and I would do this.

When I blinked my eyes open, the King was stood in front of me, a dangerous smirk on his plush red lips, staring down with hunger in his eyes as they racked down my body. I gulped and gasped when I was forcefully yanked against his broad and strong body, ring decorated hand curling into my hips as his gloved hand took mine in his, holding it a lot gentler than I expected him to. As I looked up, making eye contact with the King, he took a step forward, slowly easing us into a waltz that matched the pace of the orchestra and of those dancing around us too.

The King wore fine garments, moulded for his body, almost like a second layer for his venomous skin. His black trousers with fine white stripes clung to his long legs perfectly, enunciating his proportions even more as they were tucked into shiny tall boots that reached just bellow the King’s knees. The brown belt was hidden by the black vest clinging onto his upper body, the same fabric of his trousers seemingly sewn together with the vest’s fabric on his left shoulder and the lower right side of it. However, the back of the vest was completely different, a white fabric with black swirls on it. A black necktie was tucked underneath the King’s vest, a fine necklace with beads and a silver cross sitting on top of it, with a matching rosary hanging on top of his vest and necktie altogether. There was nothing holy about the King, it was a mere display of mockery in the Lord’s name that even such dark creature could wear and touch something so holy. The white shirt’s right sleeve was rolled up to the King’s elbows, bracelets that matched his rosary hanging snugly against his thin wrist, his metal rings, claws, eye-catching and on display for everyone to see. The left sleeve of his white shirt was tucked underneath his black leather gloves, crunching quietly as the King’s fingers tightened around mine. I tried to remain calm as the prolonged eye contact put me on edge, and I fought to stay confident and repress all the nightmarish memories of the King.

“It’s been a while, cousin.” I couldn’t completely read the expression on the King’s face, and so I only gulped. Words seemed to have escaped me, and it only made my stomach clench more when the King’s eyes fell onto my cleavage again, all too aware of how exposed I was. But it was on purpose, Prince San knew the King’s vices, and he was using it to our advantage when he had gifted this dress to me, “I don’t remember you being this quiet, Joohyun, dear.”

I gulped and scoffed, irritation not so fake anymore, “People change, Your Grace, and I have too.”

“Did your daddy tell you to behave well tonight?” His question didn’t sit well with me, especially the tone he had said it with, but I just ignored it as I rolled my eyes at the King, “Did he think you’d be rewarded for it?”

My face flushed at the implication, and it took me everything to not rip myself away from the King right then and there as I felt the sharp ends of his ornaments dig into my skin through the thin fabric of my white dress, “I’m not looking for anything, Yunho, I’m merely here to socialize, see what my cousin is up to lately.”

“I’m doing just fine, dear, as you can see.” The King chuckled, and I felt him pulling me flushed against himself, making my heartbeat quicken as I had to crane my neck to look up at him, “The Kingdom is flourishing and Aurora is doing better than it had been under King Choi’s regiment.”

“You’ve certainly brought some changes to it, Your Grace.” I couldn’t contain the snarl in my tone as I averted my eyes, staring at the rosary instead while the King just chuckled. There was nothing hilarious about what I had said, but of course, it would’ve been alarming if the King thought the way he ruled wasn’t right, “Do you plan on ruining the Kingdom of the Fallen even more?”

The King’s eyes hardened as I looked back up in his eyes, jaw clenching as I felt his right hand slowly slip lower, pressing flat against the small of my back. The action made goosebumps erupt on my skin, and I tried not to shudder as the King merely smirked, no doubt noticing my reaction to his undesired touch.

“I see your passion for the wellbeing of my Kingdom hasn’t changed, dear Joohyun.” The King smiled, but it was far from genuine, he looked irritated, “Why don’t you become Queen and mould it to your own likes?”

“Is that what you are doing right now?” I cocked an eyebrow and chuckled, “Playing with your people as if you were playing chess? What’s next, a war against the Kingdom of Light? You know their Queen can’t wait to destroy you, Yunho.”

“How saddening she’ll never get the chance to do so.” The glint in the King’s eyes was scary, they held a secret so dark I probably didn’t want to know, but I was curious. He was planning something, something dangerous and big, and I needed to find out what. But that would take time, and if I managed to kill him tonight, that dark secret of his would die with him.

“Indeed,” I chuckled and tried to ignore the way the King’s hand slipped further down, fingers barely brushing against my ass. Why was he doing this? He surely could’ve found other ladies that weren’t related to him, since he was under the impression that I was his cousin, even if not a close relative, still blood-related to him, “I see your goons never leave your side, Your Grace.”

The King’s head fell backwards as he laughed, chest shaking with the motion, the first genuine reaction I had ever seen on him. It stunned me, but I tried not to gape. I glanced to the side, unsurprised as I found Song Mingi staring daggers our way, twirling a knife in his hands. The redhead was dancing, but her eyes were solely fixed on the King as well, probably deaf to whatever the man holding her was saying to her.

“My goons, are my most loyal guards, dear, of course they never leave my side.” The King finally seemed to get over my words as he had stopped laughing and was instead grinning, glancing to the side like I had done so. His eyes softened for a second as they fell on Song Mingi, and then his cold exterior was back on as his eyes fell down on me, “It’s their duty, after all.”

“It looks like a little bit more than just duty, Your Grace.” I smirked, heart stilling when I felt the King unashamedly squeeze my ass. I jumped and tried not to sputter as he flushed me fully against himself, a sickening smirk pulling at his lips.

“Perhaps it is more than just duty.” The King whispered, winking as he lowered his head just a little bit, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. I tensed, eyes wide as I continued staring at him slightly frightened, “You smell like fresh roses, so sweet.”

I tried not to show how disgusted I felt, and instead chuckled lightly, “Thank you, Your Grace. Tell me a little secret…do your loyal dogs follow you everywhere?”

The King quirked an eyebrow, prompting me to continue as his clawed fingers pressed a little harsher into my clothed ass, “Or do your guards offer you privacy when times call for desperate measures?”

The King chuckled, leaning down so that he’d be able to whisper in my ear. I tried to remain relaxed as his hot lips brushed against my ear, tone low and words dripping with allure, “They know when not to follow, dear, would you like to see for yourself?”

As the King pulled back, bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes dropped to my cleavage again, I knew this was it. I wouldn’t get a better chance where the King and I were alone, “Since you offered so nicely, My King.”

The King’s eyes darkened significantly as he released his bottom lip and licked his lips, nodding once. Before I could change my mind about what I had agreed to and flee, the King took a step back and released my body, however still kept a firm grip on our intertwined fingers, our gloves a clash of colours against each other. The crowd seemed to part as the King walked through it, curious eyes watching closely as I followed after the King, struggling to keep up with his long strides, but he wouldn’t slow down for me. I gripped the skirt of my dress and raised it above my ankles in order to not trip, paying close attention to my surroundings for when I needed to escape. It wouldn’t be easy as we were on the third floor and all windows seemed to be locked in the long corridor, and I could only hope I would find a hidden door that would lead through a passageway, helping me escape once I had killed the King.

I didn’t expect us to stop so soon, and so I ran into the back of the King, making him chuckle. He wordlessly pushed the door open for us, and allowed me to walk in first, releasing my hand. I took a deep breath before I stepped through the threshold and tried not to gape at the size of the library I had just stepped foot inside. The walls were covered in nothing but endless shelves of books upon books, a room that had two floors, ladders pressed up against the tall bookshelves for when you needed something from a higher shelf. The room was beautiful, and something vexing like jealousy plunged deep in my gut, jealousy that the King had all of this beauty at his feet while others had to suffer out in the cold streets, begging for a shilling as nobody had much money to pay up. But before I could marvel at the beauty of the library even more, I felt myself yanked backwards. The wind was knocked out of my lungs as my back collided against the sturdy bookshelves, and I panicked thinking that my identity had been discovered, that the King finally had enough of me. I was ready to fight him, grab my hidden dagger and stab him in the heart, fight and flee afterwards, but what I didn’t expecting was to feel his blood-red lips pressing against mine. I froze, eyes wide in awestruck as the King’s lips were warmer than I thought they would be, and really soft. It was a crime that somebody like him had lips like that. Out of distress, I grabbed his biceps and went to push the King away, but I realized that would be a mistake. How else could I distract him if not like this? He’d have his guard down, offering me the perfect chance to stab him. And so, I swallowed the disgust bubbling up my throat and forced my eyes to close as my fingers dug into the King’s skin through the soft fabric of his white shirt.

His right hand grabbed my jaw to tilt my head up, making it easier for him to continue leaning down to kiss me, his rings not quite digging into my skin, but dangerously close to doing so. My heart was racing as the King’s lips started moving against mine, not soft at all, not careful nor patient as I forced myself to reciprocate it. It was hard, every fibre in my body was screaming at me to stop this, that I could distract him somehow else, but a more logical side of me knew that I just couldn’t. I was doing this for Aurora, for the Kingdom of the Fallen, and so I relaxed against the King’s strong body and forced my thoughts to silence. My arms raised and I wrapped them around the King’s shoulders, pressing up on my tip toes to kiss him better, opening my mouth for his lips to fit better against mine. The King didn’t waste time as his tongue slipped past my lips and lapped at my mouth furiously, a moan slipping past my lips as I fisted the black strands of hair sitting neatly on his nape. The King seemed to enjoy that as his claws suddenly dug into my skin, making me whine as his tongue brushed against mine, licking at it in a way I didn’t know was possible, my knees weakening involuntarily as the King’s body pinned me against the bookshelf, immobilising me, caging me between himself and the bookshelves. It was a little scary, but I didn’t dwell on it as the King sucked on my tongue, completely dirty and nothing like I have experienced before, my cheeks flaring as I felt his gloved hand settle at the base of my throat. My heart picked up thinking that he would try and choke me, rob me of my already waning air, but instead, it slowly slipped towards my breasts, cupping my right one harshly. I moaned and chased after his mouth as he pulled slightly back, slotting my upper lip between his, suckling on his bottom one as the King started massaging my breast through the thin fabric of my dress, groaning loudly into my mouth.

It was starting to get hot around me, our actions affecting my body in ways it long hadn’t been affected like, the touches of the King igniting a dormant fire deep in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t fair that he could elicit such a reaction out of me, not when I bore nothing but hatred towards him. It wasn’t fair that I had to go out of my way to do something I didn’t wish to do in order to get rid of the tyrant, and it only fuelled the fire in my veins as I latched onto the King’s lips furiously, setting a pace that was bruising to our already swollen lips. Low groans slipped past the King’s lips as our noses kept knocking against each other, his right hand leaving my face as it went behind my body, grasping my ass painfully. I gasped and tried not to recoil when the King suddenly licked at my bottom lip, humming lowly in the back of his throat as he flushed our lower bodies together, rutting into me. My heart was hammering against my ribcage and I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but I refused to open my eyes, scared that I would run away if we made eye contact. The King groaned as he massaged my flesh through my dress, and the hand still squeezing my breast finally disappeared and grabbed onto the other cheek of my ass before it slowly slipped back onto my lower back, fisting my dress. My chest was rising and falling quickly, and I tried to regulate my breaths and clear my mind, assess the situation in order to be able to proceed. But suddenly, I felt cold metal pressing into my skin, grabbing my jaw firmly.

“Open your eyes, little dove.” My heart did a somersault and I froze, thoughts running a million per hour, panicking. Had he finally realized who I really was? I felt teeth sinking into my bottom lip painfully and I whined as my eyes snapped open, freezing as the King’s dark eyes were right in front of mine. His neck, ears, and cheeks were flushed red, lips swollen and glistening with saliva. His pupils were dilated and he smirked as he massaged the small of my back, suddenly his thumb swiping across my lower lip. I couldn’t look away, it felt like he had bewitched me, locked me into place as I struggled to fill my lungs to the brim with air. I was scared, waiting for the predator’s next move, trying to anticipate what he’d do next. But I certainly didn’t think he’d slip the sharp metal ring inside my mouth, forefinger pressing against my tongue, “Suck.”

I gulped and maintained eye contact with the King as I licked his finger, trying to ignore the animalistic look on his face as I hollowed my cheeks and sucked on his ornament decorated finger slowly, swirling my tongue around it. The King leaned closer, lips hovering dangerously close to mine, brushing against his own knuckles. The King was panting hard as he slipped his middle finger too inside my mouth, and I tried to remain calm as I became aware of the ache in my right hand, the mark he had given me three years ago suddenly burning as if it were freshly made. I wouldn’t be able to handle this for much longer, gut twisting in sickness, yet my body was pressing harder against the King’s, aware of the neediness that had suddenly overcome it. I pushed my tongue between the King’s two fingers and sucked on them, making the King’s jaw clench until he suddenly pulled them out of my mouth, making saliva drip down my chin. I was embarrassed and my cheeks burned as he grabbed my left thigh, lifting it up and around his hips, pressing his body into mine, the hardness all too obvious in his trousers as he rubbed himself against me. My breath hitched in my throat at the friction, the King’s eyes glossed over as he released my thigh once he was sure I’d keep it there. My fingers tangled tighter into his locks as he allowed his metal decorated fingers to travel up my exposed thigh due to the slit in the skirt, only stopping when it reached my clothed core. I tried to stop the whimper from escaping my lips as I bit down on my bottom one, completely at the King’s mercy as he started rubbing small circles against my clothed clit, embarrassed of how reactive I was to his ministrations. I was aching, clenching around nothing, but I forced myself to stay level-headed as I fisted the collar of the King’s shirt and yanked him down, pressing our lips together once more, forcefully. I locked his hips against mine with my left leg and rolled my hip against the King’s hand, whining as he kept the slow, antagonizing, pace. I made sure he was busy with working me further up as I slowly slipped my left hand out of his hair, down his shoulders, stopping at his narrow waist to squeeze before I carefully removed it from his body, leaning a little forward and into the King in order to reach the top of my white boot.

My dagger was hidden just inside of it, the cold blade pressing against my shin all night long, waiting for this exact moment. I could feel the triumph in my bloodstream as I gripped the handle of the blade, moaning as the King cupped my clothed core, but stopped his ministrations altogether. I didn’t stop kissing him, however, as I raised my dagger high, ready to plunge it deep into the King’s back. But before I could even as much as move my arm, suddenly, my head was slammed to the side, making me hiss loudly at the dull ache in my jaw as it crashed into the bookshelf painfully, my left arm pinned to the bookshelf above myself. I froze, blood turning ice cold as I was afraid to even as much as breathe despite my lungs heaving for air. The King’s nose suddenly was pressing into my left cheek, his sweaty forehead resting against my temple as his breathing was loud and shallow. I didn’t dare move, frozen to the spot. I had been discovered, and now I would die. I would fail Prince San and bring shame to my name. I was nothing but a failure, soon about to meet my brother in Eden.

“Bae Joohyun, you say,” The King chuckled, sounding actually amused, “I didn’t know my own cousin hated me so much she wanted to kill me herself?”

I took quiet breaths, but didn’t speak up. It seemed like the King still had something to say, I didn’t dare interrupt his monologue, “I didn’t think your unrelenting support could turn into hatred in two weeks, cousin.”

Ah, so this is where Prince San had made a mistake. Bae Joohyun and Jeong Yunho had been in contact all this time, and apparently, she was on his side. Prince San should’ve known better, but so should have I. I should’ve trusted my gut feeling this time, and I didn’t, and now I would suffer the consequences. Because darkness always prevailed, no matter how much the good and kind fought for its disappearance.

“People change.” I managed to mutter, right side of my face digging painfully into the shelf. I wasn’t panting anymore, but my frantic heartbeat made it hard to actually breathe, and so I was still struggling to calm down.

“Not you, little dove.” The King whispered, and suddenly I felt lips pressing against my ear, making me jerk. The King was frighteningly strong, and I finally started pushing against him, trying to free myself, but it was futile…as always, “Stop fighting against me, you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

“Burn in hell, Jeong Yunho.” I hissed, trying to look at him from the corner of my eyes. The King chuckled, trailing kisses from my temple down to my jaw. I tried to push him off again, but it did nothing.

“Still trying to curse me,” The King muttered, nuzzling his nose against my cheek again, “I suppose you didn’t change, my little dove. Did you think I’d forget? Was it worth that apple?”

My eyes widened to the point of falling out as the King suddenly released me, my head snapping forward as my heartbeat stilled. I went to throw a punch at his jaw, but he completely took me off guard as he grabbed my right thigh too and hiked me up, pressing me into the bookshelf again as he pinned my wrists above my head, the dagger clattering to the floor from my grip. Out of reflex, my legs wrapped around his hips tighter, knowing that I would slip down despite the force the King was pinning me down with.

“You killed my brother.” Was all I managed to whisper, eyes filling with tears. The King shushed me and leaned his head close, his soft features scary all of a sudden as his blank mask slipped back on.

“You killed your brother by stealing that apple and getting caught for it.” The King whispered, eyebrows furrowing, “If you wouldn’t have put up such a fight, I wouldn’t have thrown you in the dungeon, in fact, I would’ve allowed you to take the leftovers from the kitchen for your brother—”

“Screw you!” I screamed, fury lacing every part of my being, heart hammering in my ribcage, “Curse you! Burn in hell for everything you’ve done! You dare mock me to my face about my brother?! I promise you I will make sure you don’t see tomorrow’s sunrise!”

“Bold words coming from such a frail dove like yourself,” The King mocked, pouting as my body started trembling, “I could behead you right in the middle of the ballroom, my little dove.”

I didn’t care anymore what he did to me. He could kill me right here or right in front of an audience, I didn’t care anymore as long as I was free of this miserable life.

“Do it.” I gritted through my teeth, leaning into his face, lips ghosting against his, “Do it, you fucking coward. You could’ve easily killed me in the alleyway that night or in the square, even now, yet all you do is run your mouth with empty threats.”

I knew they weren’t empty threats, that the King would actually kill me in the following minutes, but I wasn’t afraid of him anymore. I have seen all grey colours of his, I knew who he was, what he was capable of.

“If I had killed you, where would be the fun in that?” The King raised his eyebrows, pressing a light kiss against my lips, making me jerk my head back, “You think I don’t know my brother and his pathetic of excuse of a guard sent you to kill me? Little dove, if they wanted me dead so bad, why didn’t they come after me? Why did they send you?”

I froze, eyebrows furrowing as the King continued with a small amused smile, “They sent a poor girl that is desperate to avenge her brother’s death, a girl that is so weak she can’t even free herself right now, yet all I’m doing is pin you against a bookshelf, little dove. My brother, Prince San, and his pest, Jung Wooyoung, merely sent a weak and poor girl to kill a King that holds twice the strength she does just because they wanted to use you, because they knew you hated me strong enough to actually do what they asked of you. They knew you had nothing to lose anymore, and they know you do not care for your safety or life anymore, my little dove.”

I was stunned listening to the King’s words, slowly shaking my head no, refusing to accept such words. No, that is not why Prince San and Sir Jung had chosen me to eliminate the King, it couldn’t be. That’s not who those two were, and I would’ve been a fool if I succumbed to the King’s words, letting his poisonous words infect my brain with lies.

“No, you’re wrong, My King,” I whispered, eyes boring into his with such hatred that it ricochetted off my whole being, “Prince Choi and Sir Jung aren’t like you. And if I’m just a means to an end in their grand plan, I do not care as long as they manage to rid the Kingdom and this world of you, Jeong Yunho.”

The King hissed, obviously displeased by my retaliation, by my fervorous belief in the Prince and his Royal Guard, “I see you refuse to see the truth just yet, my little dove, so let me give you two options.”

My eyebrows furrowed as the King leaned so close his breath fanned over my face, dark and piercing eyes boring into mine, his cheeks still tinged red, “The very obvious first option is death, but I don’t feel like getting rid of you just yet, my little dove, therefore, I have a second option for you.”

He paused, a sick smirk twisting his lips to the side, making my stomach drop in dread, “You become my good little obedient spy, my ears and eyes in Aurora, and in return, I shall reward you with immunity.”

“No—” I was shaking my head before he could even finish what he was saying, but the King’s sneering face quickly made me shut up.

“I wasn’t finished talking, Y/N.” My breath hitched, he even knew my name, “You will go back this instant to the pathetic mansion those two idiots are hiding in, and tell them, that if they even as much as dare to think to send someone to assassinate me again, I will dismember Jung Wooyoung in front of Choi San after I dissect their whore of a maid, leaving my dear brother for last, publicly executing him in the square, calling all of the Kingdom of the Fallen together to witness the fall of the Crown Prince. Understood?”

My lips quivered as my eyes filled with tears, my voice merely above a whisper, “No, Your Grace, I won’t—”

“I’m not giving you an option, my little dove,” The King suddenly released my arms, which fell limply next to my body as the King cupped my left cheek with his sharp metal rings, “I’m giving you an order that you will execute.”

I tried to blink the tears away, recoiling when one slipped down my cheek and the King kissed it away, “And once you have delivered my message, I expect you back at the Castle, my little dove.”

My breath stuttered in my throat, wide eyes looking into the King’s dark ones. Suddenly, he bucked his hips and I gasped as I realised he was still as hard as mere minutes ago, making my heart race, “Because little doves like you deserve a reward, and you’ve been awfully pliant tonight, so I will fuck you senseless and teach you a lesson afterwards.”

My blood froze, the colour leaving my face as the King snickered, pressing a soft kiss against the bridge of my nose as he suddenly stepped back, gently placing me back down against the floor. I felt abused, thrown around and mauled, skin burning everywhere the King had touched. I was disgusted, and yet I knew I had no choice but to do as I was told. I belonged to him, and even if I ran, he would find me. I gulped as the King’s gloved fingers danced up my gloved arm, slowly slipping the silky fabric down my hand, making me shiver. I clenched my jaw and refused to look down as the King raised my hand, staring at the damaged skin in awe. His lips were parted and he took a deep breath, slowly leaning down and kissing the maimed skin he had caused with his own hands three years ago. I closed my eyes shut tightly, trying to fight the tears that threatened to escape.

“So beautiful,” The King whispered, hot lips brushing feather-light against the skin of my right hand, “Mine, little dove, you’re all mine. You always have been.”

I gulped as I looked at the King, jaw clenching as I yanked my hand out of his and quickly wore my glove, hiding the atrocious scar that he had caused. The King seemed to be in a trance as he stared at me, making my heartbeat quicken even more when he didn’t say anything.

I needed to leave, I felt like I was suffocating.

“My Mingi will meet you in the back gardens, my little dove, ready with a horse.” My blood ran cold, hands turning into fists as the King turned away from me, walking towards the massive oak desk he had in the middle of the library, “I expect you back in an hour, my little dove, and if you don’t come back, I will burn down everything in my way to find you. Understood?”

I grit my teeth, staring daggers into the back of his head, “Understood, Your Grace.”

And if finding a different way to kill the King would be the cause of my last breath, I would still do it. This wasn’t the end, he hadn’t won yet, because I would always remain on Prince Choi and Sir Jung’s side, always. In fact, the King had made is easier for us to find out all of his weak points, easier to stab him in the back when he least expects it.

If I had to dedicate my whole life to bring down such evil, I would do it over and over again, because in the end, goodness always wins.

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storiesandthingsofthatnature · 10 months

Text

Cradle Snatcher (Pt. 1)

Summary: You had told Leon that perhaps after he graduated from the police academy than maybe you would give him the time of day. You two have an age difference but it’s nothing too big. However it still weirds you out. But, with Leon Kennedy, can you really say no?

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: RE2! Leon Kennedy x fem! reader (afab) Warnings: Age difference (5 year age gap), breeding kink, biting, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t be silly~), cream pie, pre-ejaculation, dom/sub dynamics lemme know if I missed anything! Disclaimer: MDNI!!! 18+ only! A/N: Hi there! So I’m very new to the RE fandom so please be nice to me uwu. Anyway, I’ve been reading a lot of dominant Leon and while that shit is nice I also feel like subby Leon is just as hot~ I hope that I did him justice. Like the title says this is pt. 1 so pt. 2 shall be out soon enough! :D If you like my writing be sure to think about popping up in my inbox for some requests :3c I do other fandoms so just lmk! :D I may even make a post about my rules and such, idk. If I get enough of a following :3 Alrighty! Enjoy! :D

You had told Leon that when he had graduated from the police academy then perhaps you would give him the time of day. To be honest, you just felt like a cradle snatcher. Leon was about 5 years younger than you. He was 21 when he graduated and you were 26 and already a lieutenant in RPD. You didn’t want to have a relationship get in the way of work anyway but Leon was hellbent on making you see him as more than a new subordinate.

It all started when you were just the ripe age of 21 yourself. You were called to a high school to talk about RPD and how it may be a nice career choice for the young minds of Racoon high. Leon was one of the bright eyed students that sat right in the middle, his stare never leaving your silhouette as you talked about what could be expected on the job. After class, he had stopped you to ask a few questions. You were happy with his curiosity and answered all of his questions with fervor. You were a budding rookie yourself and anyone who was interested in the same subject that you held dear was a friend automatically.

Somehow he had wrangled your number out of you, saying that he would love to discuss further on possible internships and things of the like. It seemed like he was truly interested in policing and while that was true he was also very interested in you. Coupled with your beauty and passionate standing with justice and helping people, he couldn’t help but want to be sure that he had some way of keeping in contact with you.

However, he didn’t make a move until he was 18 and had just graduated high school. You two had interacted a lot since the first day, Leon following your shadow for “on-the-job” training and even studying on his own when he could. On the eve of his first day at the training academy, he confessed to you about how he felt. He was a blushing mess and he ran over his words a lot but it was probably the cutest confession that you ever had the pleasure of witnessing. It was full of pure innocence and a part of you wanted to ruin it~ But you stayed strong and gently let him down.

Again, you would feel like a cradle snatcher and while there was not that big of an age difference you still felt weird about it considering he had just graduated high school and was barely legal. But he was persistent, wanting to know the reason why. You couldn’t come up with a logical answer other than “You’re younger than me I’d feel weird.” And not wanting to lie to him you told him just that. He then started to ask if it would be because he was less experienced and that made you blush considering what that entailed. With a stutter you mutter a quick,”Maybe after you graduate.” And then quickly ran off to your office.

You really didn’t think that he would actually wait until he graduated to try again. You were sure that he would have found some cute rookie cop girl, to your dismay, and find happiness with them. However, when he invited you over to celebrate his graduation, you should have known something was off when it was just you. But you did not say anything as you two hung out and drank in celebration. Like the good boy he was, he hadn't drunk any alcohol until he was the legal age, you introducing him to new beverages and mixes.

After a few shots, Leon couldn’t help but try again. “Will you go on a date with me, [y/n]?” You choke on your drink, a part of you thinking that you should have seen this coming. But another had hoped that it wouldn’t happen. You cleared your throat of the froth,”Leon…” “I know what you’re going to say. That I’m too young for you but I think that’s absolute bullshit. I also know that it’s probably because I’m not all that experienced-” You sigh. “Leon, it’s not that-” “So let me prove to you that I can please you just as much, if not more, than any other guy you’ve been with. Use me.” You felt yourself go into cardiac arrest. He asked what now?! “Use…You?” Leon inched closer to you, eager to prove himself. “I can be your fuck toy.” He declared and you nearly passed out. “Leon.” His stare was stifling, filled with admiration and intent. “Please?” He asked, his fingers finding purchase on your thighs. “I know I can make you feel so good, just let me try?” He seemed to beg, his forehead coming to rest against yours. You audibly gulp. “Have you even been with anyone, Leon?” He gave a shy smile. “I’ve made out with a few girls but nothing more. Wanted to save myself for you.” He admitted and you have never felt so flattered.

You felt your resolve slipping away. Leon was a very handsome young man. You were sure that a lot of people would love to make him happy. But for some reason he wants you and you couldn’t understand why. “Why me?” You asked, your eyes resting on his lips. You licked your own and Leon’s pupils seemed to dilate at the sight. Leon gave a small laugh. “I could count the ways but I feel like we’d be here for a while and I really want you to fall apart on my tongue right now.” You gently push at him in play,”I’m serious.” He pulled back to look at you. “If I tell you, will you let me?” He was basically asking you if he had a chance and you just couldn’t say no to those beautiful, blue eyes.

You give in. “Fine.” You whisper and the giant smile that etched onto his face makes your heart swell. He was on you like glue, kisses eager and sloppy but you pushed him back gently. “Uh-uh, no reward until you tell me.” You gently laughed but you felt out of breath. His inexperienced kisses were enough to punch the air out of your lungs. Maybe you had it worse than you thought. He felt like whining but he kept it from bubbling out,”Your personality; from how passionate you are about your work to how motherly you are when you are amongst others that you have to look after.” He seemed to say that last bit fondly and that caught you off guard. “Motherly?” You wonder aloud and he nodded. “You handle people so well and in such a gentle way. It’s both nice and hot to see.” Well at least he was honest, you thought to yourself.

“Hot? How so?” You muse and you could tell that he was getting a little impatient. He wanted to touch you but you were going to see how long he could last before he snapped. His blush was heavy,”Do I really have to explain that part?” You hum,”Obviously, rookie. I’m very interested.” He gave a reluctant sigh,”You acting motherly…Makes me wonder how you would act if we had kids..” He admitted softly, you having no idea that this is what your Leon was thinking of you this whole time.

“Oh?” You ask with a glint in your eye. At first you weren’t really for this but now you were starting to get into it. Perhaps you had feelings for Leon that you hadn’t wanted to come to terms with. It’s just having him spill his heart out like this was moving and you couldn’t help the heat forming between your legs from his words. “Does my rookie want to make me a mommy?” You ask with a purr and Leon felt like he was about to explode from the embarrassment. You giggle at his reaction and cup his face in your hands to have him look at you. “Red looks nice on you.” You winked and he wanted to cup his face in his hands and groan.

While the idea of getting pregnant was definitely not a good idea for you right now, the thought of getting knocked up after this little encounter was enough to make you think twice on logistics. Well, if you had to make a “mistake” with anyone you feel like Leon would be the ideal partner. You find your way onto his lap, his expression turning surprised as you settle yourself over him. “[Y-y/n]?” You gently quiet him with a chaste kiss. “While I would love to learn more about how you feel about me, I can’t help but get riled up by that little imagination of yours.” You say and Leon audibly gulps. You place your arms across his shoulders, crossing your forearms behind him as you lean forward to brush your lips against his. “How about it, rookie? Wanna make me a mommy?” You whisper and Leon bucked his hips up against you.

“C…Can I?” His voice sounded hopeful, filled with pureness yet sticky with lust. You giggle and give a few languid kisses to which he shivered from. “As long as you don’t dip on me if you actually do end up getting me pregnant.” His hands found purchase on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he said,”Never.” That was the most confident he had been all night and it made you stutter. “O..Okay. You better keep your word.” You gently joke but at the same time, hope that he truly meant what he said. You lean forward again to capture his lips with yours, Leon returning with fervor. He took your lead and found a place between your hips. He kept his hands against you like you were going to run away and you slid your fingers through his hair to massage his scalp to try and tell him otherwise. He sighed contently into your lips, hips beginning to grind against yours. “S-Sorry.” He whispered, feeling a little embarrassed by his behavior but you give a shake of your head. “No, baby, don’t be. Feel good?” You ask and he gives a fervent nod.

“Such a good boy.” You purr and he groans from your praise, his hips picking up in pace. You let out little moans of your own, wanting Leon to know that he was being so good for you and your sounds alone were enough to nearly make him cum in his pants. He stopped grinding suddenly, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to suppress his orgasm. “No, no no, that won’t do.” You say as you begin to grind down on him. “N-no, I’ll cum too soon.” He groaned and you hummed,”It’s not good to keep back your own pleasure. Besides, don’t you want me to see how good you look when you fall apart?” You say with a sly smile and he hid his face in the crook of your neck. “This was supposed to be the other way around….” He commented and you laughed.

“This is going to be your first time, right? Let me show you the ropes, rookie.” You say and you saw Leon visibly shiver. Suddenly, grinding was not enough for you and you fumble with the front of his jeans. He watches bashfully as you free him from his clothed restraints, his hot cock standing proudly against his shirt. You lick your lips at the sight. “Yes, I think this will do very nicely.” You tease and it was his turn to shove at you. You giggle as you wrap your hand around the base, a nice moan emanating from the back of Leon’s throat. “Hmmmm, let’s see~” You muse as you stroke him lazily, wondering just what you should do for his first time. Suck him off? That was tempting but didn’t he say that he wanted to be used?

“On your back, rookie.” You command and while he was a little confused he followed your instructions, you straddling his lap once more. “What are you-” “You want to be my fuck toy, right? Then be a good boy and lay there while I use your cock for my own pleasure, okay?” You say in a breathy voice and Leon was left in a stupefied state. “Yes, ma’am!” He practically squeaked out as he laid back against the cushions of the couch. You give a smile at him and begin to undo your own jeans. Slipping off both them and your panties in one go, the sight of slick connecting to the fabric made Leon’s hips buck up.

“Look what you did to me, rookie. Such a mess, huh?” You tease once more and Leon whines. “I’ll help clean up, ma’am. P-promise.” You hum in satisfaction and settle yourself over his tip. “Just one rule, okay? No touching - This is only for my pleasure, right?” You ask with a tilt of your head and Leon bit his bottom lip as he nodded. “Good~” And you slowly sank yourself down on him. Your head was thrown back as you were filled just right. God, past partners just couldn’t compare!

Meanwhile, Leon’s eyes had shut completely tight as a silent groan left his mouth. Fingers dug into the cushions below as you suddenly felt a hot gush of something within you. “Ohhh, baby, did you cum?” You wonder aloud and Leon wanted to die. “I-I can keep going! I p-promise-” He didn’t want to disappoint you, not like this and you shushed him with soft kisses. “Shhh, I know, my love. This pussy is just that good, huh?” You bite at his skin and heavy pants left Leon. “Mmmm, ‘s really good.” He managed to say, giving into the pleasure further now that he was sure that he hadn’t upset you.

Feeling a little merciful, you say,”Just let me know if it gets too much.” And you raise yourself once more, falling back down onto Leon as you feel his tip brushing the entrance of your womb. “Mmmm, such a good boy. Letting me use him like this~” You tease as you pick a rhythm that is both stimulating yet controlled. You knew that Leon was feeling oversensitive right now and if not careful you could actually hurt him and you could never do that to him. You were the one in control right now and that meant you had to be responsible. Make him feel valid even though he wants to be used like a toy.

He was very vocal with his pleasure, groans and moans leaving his throat as he tried his best to not grab at your hips. “[Y/N], please-””Aw, what is it baby? What do you need?” You ask in a sweet, saccharine voice. “Wanna t-touch you. Can I?” His fingers scratched at the fabric beneath him, itching to cause you even more pleasure. You hum in thought, hips gyrating instead of bouncing to tease Leon even more. “I dunno. Should I?” You ask with a lilt and Leon couldn’t refrain himself from letting out a frustrated moan. At that little display you tighten your walls and move in a way that makes both of you see stars.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease!” Leon said in a hurry, your ego receiving a nice fluff from the sight underneath you. “Oh, alright.” As soon as you gave the go ahead, one hand found its way to your clit while the other reached underneath your shirt and bra in one go. “Ahhh, so eager~” You say with a small smile, his fingers hungry in their assault to bring you close to your own climax. “W-want to you cum on m-my cock.” Leon looked at you with blown out eyes, the once blue hue being taken over by the void of his pupils. “Yeah? Make me, rookie.” You challenge and he was happy to accept.

Even though his touches were that of a novice, it was still Leons’; warm, loving, seeking - it was more than enough to bring you near your orgasm. Your bounces become sloppy and you give your own whine to which Leon couldn’t help but smirk at. “Gonna cum soon.” You warn and Leon starts to meet your thrusts with his. “Mmmm, Me too.” He says with a slur,”Gonna cum in you again. Make you a mommy.” He promises against your skin as those words seemed to be what brought you completely over the edge. You let out a delicious cry of Leon’s name and coupled with the intense clamping down on his cock, Leon couldn’t stop himself from coming a second time. His hands found their way to your hips, pushing you down flush against his pelvis so that he could aim directly into your womb.

“Such a pretty girl. MY pretty girl. Gonna be so full with my kids, fuck-” He started to babble to himself, holding you against his chest as he released inside of you. The feeling of hot cum spilling into you was far more pleasant than you thought it would be. You felt nice and marked, full with Leon and the possibility of having a little one with him. It made your heart swell. You give a small giggle and lean back, looking Leon in the eyes. “Now then, want to try to take the lead for this next one, rookie?”

#resident evil #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #subby!leon #sub leon kennedy

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javispunk · 9 months

Text

I can’t protect you

Summary: After a week car ride over the state with Joel, you both decide to settle for a night at the forest. You didn’t like the idea, but Joel convinced you otherwise. He didn’t make the right choice and blames himself for what might have happened, but you know how to calm him down.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (no relationship established).

Content/Warnings: +18 SMUT (minors please don’t interact!) unprotected sex (p in v), violence (mention of use of guns and straight up violence - Joel beating the shit out of everyone), mention of rape.

Notes: Excuse any mistake, as english is not my first language. If you have any requests you’d like me to write please let me know! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated (let me know what you think!). Thank you for the support!

“Are you sure this is the right way?” You asked worried. “It’s just that we’ve been driving for hours and it all looks the same to me.”

“Yes, don’t worry.” Joel returned. “We’ll make a turn soon.”

Your relationship with Joel wasn’t very straightforward. You never got too close, but could keep an interesting conversation if you wanted to or if you needed to. You were friends. You held that title with caution, noticing he most of the times kept everything to himself and didn’t really talk much of his past. Which is understandable. He was never once rude to you in any way, but he also didn’t really shot you smiles or tried to make you laugh. You were just kind of there, with each other. Your presence made noticed by each other but never too invading. Never too close.

You noticed Joel turning left into a path that was clear from any type of vegetation. Soon enough you saw a forest.

“Joel.” You began. “What are you doing?”

You saw him grip the steering wheel to complete his turn. “We have to stop, it’s already dark out.”

You looked at him with apprehension. Sleep in the woods? Alone?

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, sleep in the actual woods?” Your voice was somewhat just a whisper.

He looked at you, his eyes trying to find the reasoning on your mind to stop him from doing this. “What about it? There’s not any type of civilization for the next hundred miles, we have to sleep somewhere. The forest is safer than on the side of the road.”

“Joel, I don’t know…” you continued.

You averted your gaze on the trees that became taller as you approached them together still inside the car. It soon came to a stop, as Joel pressed the brakes gently.

“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s all we got right now.” His eyes showed empathy, searching in your face for a sign of relief or understanding.

“Well, yeah I know. It’s just that it’s so… exposed. I feel super exposed out here. What if clickers appear?” You protested, fear beginning to show up in your voice.

“Clickers are not a problem here. We’re so isolated. They won’t come.” He assured you. You looked at him for a few seconds, hoping he’d listen to you. “Either way, clickers won’t be our worst problem.” The air got heavy as he spoke. Your expression got more deep with fear. When Joel noticed, he gave you a quick smile and spoke once again. “I’ll go grab the sleeping bags and put them outside.”

“Outside?” Your voice higher than usual.

His face serious and surprised. “Yes, outside.”

“I’ll stay in the car if that’s okay.” You grabbed your jacket to cover yourself with it.

“No no, you’ll freeze to death. We have to make a fire outside.”

You didn’t even consider that option. “I’ll be fine.”

“Absolutely not. Cmon, help me get our things please.”

You watched him get off of the car quickly. You took longer, as you looked outside your window and tried to look in between the tall slim trees that dominated the space. This was unfamiliar. You could only imagine dozens of clickers running in your direction in the middle of the night. Your gaze then followed Joel, who passed your window with two sleeping bags on his arms and his shotgun on his back. You jumped out of the car, bringing all of the blankets you had, as well as both of your jackets.

Once you approached Joel, you handed him his. “Thank you.” He smiled.

You kept your eyes on him longer than usual while he put it on, his smile captivating you, as it was not shown easily. He quickly grabbed his own sleeping bag, while you copied him, trying to seem like you knew what you were doing.

You never really did camping before the world went to shit. You watched him unfold his sleeping bag, hoping he would not notice how unfamiliar you were with your surroundings.

“We should start that fire.” His voice broke the silence.

You kept looking at him, until after a few seconds, his eyes darted at you, watching you carefully.

“Oh you want me to-“ you started, before he interrupted you.

“Only if you want to.” He stopped making his bed for a second.

You shifted in your place. “No no, I’ll do it. You keep doing that.” You gestured.

You didn’t know how to start a fire. You didn’t even know where to begin with. You stood still, looking around you and evaluating what branches you’d grab first. Your body frozen in place.

You saw him look you up, body crouched on the floor, arms supported on his bent legs. “You know how to start a fire?” His voice serious as ever, even though it didn’t announce a condescending tone.

Your eyes met his, asking for help. “I don’t…” you started. “I never really got to do this before-”

“That’s alright, you don’t need to explain.” His body ascending from the floor, after leaving his sleeping bag unattended.

“Well… what can I do?” You asked, hands folded in front of your stomach.

“You can rest if you want to.”

“I must do something, Joel.” You insisted.

His hands grabbing bigger pieces of wood that he found near by, holding them between his torso and underarm. “You can prepare the sleeping bags. Or you can make coffee.”

“That I can do.” Your shy smile making his resurface.

You had a soft spot for Joel, you always had. Since you laid eyes on him. He was attractive, yes. And he was caring, always. But he never really gave you the opportunity to open up in his presence. You guys were just sort of there, hoping to keep company to each other. Nothing ever happened, besides the occasional glances or the longing stares out of the blue. Joel was a little bit older than you, that wasn’t really a problem for you but the thought occurred to you that maybe it was an impediment for him. Maybe he’d like a more mature woman, his actual age. Sometimes you’d think about it, but rapidly shoved the thought out of your head. It was somewhat absurd.

You put the water to boil, hoping the time would go faster. You just wanted this night to go quick.

When you were done with preparing the drink, you quickly realised Joel had taken care of basically everything else. Your sleeping bags were ready to be used - each one at a safe distance from the other - and the fire was already beginning to gain force. Joel even brought some logs for you guys to sit around the fire.

You grabbed a mug full of coffee and brought it to him. “Thank you.” His face lit up by the yellowy orange fire. “You’re not gonna drink some?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I’m okay.” If you drank coffee it would just leave you more restless.

“You can go sleep if you want to. I’ll stay in watch duty, I can wake you when it’s your turn.” He adjusted the riffle on his back before taking another sip of his coffee.

“You don’t mind?” Your voice sounded like of a child scared of the dark. You were tired, so you could use the rest.

He shook his head, assuring you. You slipped into your designated sleeping bag still in your outside clothes, there was no such thing as pyjamas. You closed your eyes and started to drift off slowly.

Needless was to say your sleep didn’t last long. The overwhelming fear of being in an unknown place, of being not completely alone but just with Joel’s presence, no kind of community that can guide you or protect you in some way. The fear of not being able to save yourself from whatever might attack you. Either clickers or men. The thought didn’t occur to you until Joel mentioned it earlier, but clickers really weren’t your worst problem. There could be men scavenging unknown or uncivilised lands, hoping to find whatever they wanted, either food or arming. You began to roll in place, inside the warmth of your sleeping bag, but not even that made you comfortable enough to close your eyes. Once you faced Joel’s direction still wrapped on the blankets, you saw his back to you, on his feet, noticing his always present stance while holding his shotgun.

Your eyebrows furrowed in strangeness. You carefully, slowly got up, but Joel still managed to look your way.

“Do you wanna rest now?” Your tired voice broke the silence.

“No, I’m okay. The coffee’s helping.” He pointed to the half empty mug on the floor.

“I made sure to make it strong.” You smiled.

“Thank you.”

“But seriously.” You interrupted him. “Go rest, I’ll watch now. I can’t sleep either way.” You gestured for him to give you the rifle.

He shook his head, hoping you’d give in.

“C’mon Joel. I can work a shotgun.” You half laughed at his gesture.

“I know you can, I just don’t want you to. Go sleep.” His voice deep as ever.

“The fire is going out, and God knows I can’t do nothing about that.” You nonchalantly pointed at the crackling a few feet away from you. “Someone has to hold the gun.” You put your hand out.

Joel looked you in the eye dead serious before breaking a smile. “You’re insufferable.” He walked over to you, placing the gun harness over your head, you adjusting it to your size. “There you go.”

“Thank you, sir.” You jokingly stated.

You saw Joel crouch on the floor, working on the fire as it grew bigger and smoke made it’s way up through the tall trees.

“It should be good for another 3 hours or so-”

“Now sleep.” You ordered.

“I’m not gonna leave you here while I sleep.” He said while he kept gathering logs of wood.

“Shh.” You ordered once again.

“No, honestly, give me the gun-” you interrupted him again.

“No, shut the fuck up. Did you hear that?” Dead silence followed your question.

Joel looked at his surroundings with worried eyes, before a voice made itself known.

“Hello, hi!” A man appeared from behind the slim trees, his hands in the air over his head. Joel rapidly got closer to you, positioning his body almost in front of yours. You moved away from him, immediately pointing the shotgun to the man’s chest. “You can put the gun down, honey.”

Your eyes stayed still on the man’s face, not moving a muscle.

Joel’s voice sounded rispid. “What do you want?”

The man looked at him with apprehension. “I’ve been walking alone for a few weeks now, I don’t have anything on me. I haven’t eaten or drunk a single drop of water in two days.” His left hand moved to his stomach, resting there for a few seconds before moving back to the air.

“We have nothing to give you.” Joel’s voice came out cruel.

“Joel…” you spoke softly next to him, trying to attend to his empathy. You had water you could give the man, it wouldn’t really make a difference to both of you.

The man shifted his look between the both of you, giving Joel more attention. “Please.” He begged. “If you have anything… “ he stuttered. “I’ll take anything you can give me.”

Joel looked over at you before leaving your side and grabbing a tin of water from the car. He walked slowly, trying to evaluate the man’s facial expressions and actions. He stayed still most of the time, out of fear you thought. You looked over at Joel purposely slowing down his pace. After abruptly putting the gun down on the floor, you reached over to him, grabbing the water yourself. You wouldn’t deny anyone a single drop of water. Joel called out your name once you left his side. You ignored him and approached the man, extending your arm in his direction, still careful to not drop your guard down. You watched the man’s right hand approach the tin, but quickly passing over it, rapidly grabbing your wrist. Your arm came next. What happened next unraveled in a matter of seconds.

Joel shouted your name next to the car, quickly running to your aid. You called his name back. All of a sudden you heard gunshots coming from behind the trees. You saw Joel grab the gun from the floor and point it immediately to the man grabbing you from the back now.

“Shoot him, not fucking her!” The man shouted.

Two other men appeared from the dark, you imagined still not getting close enough for Joel to fully see their figure. You saw Joel aim the gun to one of the man behind you. You couldn’t see them, and you just felt the hands of the man grabbing you so you wouldn’t run away. You saw Joel fire one bullet, hoping he did some damage. He then moved the shotgun over your head, fixating his aim over your right shoulder.

“Let go of her.” Joel’s voice was deeper than you ever heard it.

“You already killed one of my men. I’ll forget that, I’ll give you all my munition, if you let me have her.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” You shouted in his arms, struggling to let loose.

“I have a gun pointing at your head.” The man spoke directly to Joel, ignoring you. “He won’t hesitate to kill you if you resist.”

“That makes two of us.” Joel didn’t move a muscle, shifting his gaze from you and the man behind the trees. “Let go of her.” He repeated louder.

The man’s hands were glued to your body. The look of disgust in Joel’s face made you stay still. “Not happening, man.” The man spit.

Joel shot once again at the trees. Another shot came back almost at the same time from the woods. You gasped as you heard it passing your side and missing Joel by a few feet. “I’m gonna blow your fucking brains off if you don’t get your filthy hands off her!”

“This can’t be your daughter, but she’s too young for you anyway.” You heard the man’s gutural laugh behind your head. “Last chance, or he kills you. After that we can do anything we want with her.” As soon as you saw Joel aim at the man in the back trees, you heard the man shout once again. “For fuck’s sake, shoot him!”

But Joel had him in his aim for longer than that. A bullet came sprinting on your direction, going over your head at full speed. Almost immediately you saw Joel throw the shotgun on the floor with a thud and fasten his pace in your direction. The man let go of you once he realized he was outnumbered and alone, beginning to turn away, but Joel grabbed him by the arm, not letting him go. You got away from the scene, but still couldn’t avert your gaze from it.

“Get inside the car.” Joel spoke as he put the man on the floor underneath him.

The look on Joel’s eyes was dark and almost animalistic. “Joel… just shoot him or something.”

You saw him shake his head to the sides, while always looking at the floor. “No, not this one.” The man underneath him struggled to keep a stead breath, beginning to cry and beg for his life. “Go to the car, please.” His voice became soft again.

You couldn’t even stand there one more minute seeing his expression of disgust mixed with sadness. You turned away and got to the backseat of the car, closing the doors, locking them. You didn’t want to look, but there was no way of just ignoring the fact that Joel was dragging this man out into the woods by his collar. He never once looked back until he disappeared into the darkness. But you kept hearing the man’s screams after, even if he was out of your sight. You put both of your hands on each side of your head, covering your ears. Tears came rolling down your cheeks. Joel hurting or killing someone was not something you haven’t imagined or seen before, but the idea of him doing it with his own bare hands was animalistic and cruel. Not that the man didn’t deserve it, but it felt too much for you to even imagine. A few minutes passed and the screams became to a stop. Not long after, you saw Joel emerge from the trees. His head was down, only looking up inside the car once, before he grabbed the tin of water to wash his bloody hands. He supported them on his hips for a second, always looking down.

You saw him approach the car, opening the door slowly. You saw his figure, dark and tall, blood on his jacket, and some on his shirt. He got inside the car next to you, closing the door behind him as he whispered your name before starting his speech. “Are you okay?” He paused as he analyzed you. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was low, his eyes soft. “I shouldn’t have stopped here. I should have kept driving all the way through the night.” A single tear falling from his eye. Your eyes widened at the sight of him. He turned his back to you for a few seconds after repeating the same words over and over, in a soft tone. “I can’t protect you.”

You grabbed his hand while he wasn’t looking at you. “That’s all you ever did.” His gaze immediately on you, taking in those six words. With your eyes fixed on his, both your hands flew to each side of his face, smearing that tear away from it. “I’m alright.”

His eyes moving from your eyes to your lips. You followed his lead, doing the same. That was enough for him, connecting his mouth to yours. It was the gentlest kiss you’ve ever received in your life, tasting the salty tear on his lips. With both your hands still touching, he grabbed yours placing it on his shoulder, while you adjusted yourself in your seat. Joel didn’t break the kiss, he would never. The silent ambience of the night, with only your mouths making their love known, sounds echoed inside the car, putting you in a trance for him. The desire you had of him only unraveling now with such force. You rapidly straddled him without much thought, his hands holding your waist automatically, even though your skins never touched one another before. His back supported by the seat, his head on the head-rester. Your body over his. When you two gathered for air you heard his voice in a whisper.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, Joel.” You closed the gap between the both of you, before taking his jacket off and throwing it to the floor of the car.

His body followed yours as you took your shirt off over your head. You were hungry for human touch. His touch. His eyes plastered on your figure before kissing your neck and chest softly. Your breast between his hands, as he kept sucking on your skin dearly. You tugged at his shirt so he would take it off, his pants following your request quickly. You did the same to yours, your underwear coming off at the same time. You looked down at the bulge in his boxers. Fuck, he was big. You were quick to take him out on your hand, adjusting him at your entrance. His breath was shaky, feeling your hand around his hard cock, ready to receive your warmth and wetness. The sounds you both made once he disappeared inside you were animalistic. He stretched you so good you thought you would burst.

“Fuck.” Joel began, his head thrown back at the sight of you starting to move on his length.

His hands carefully holding your bare back, crossing his arms to hold you closer to him. You question how his hands could kill a man, and the next minute be so gentle on your skin and flesh, how his caresses made your head go dizzy. The angle was perfect, his cock hitting the deepest spot inside you. You haven’t felt that in years. Your body moving up and down on him, throwing your head back as he whispered sweet nothings. “So fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.”

“You feel so good, Joel.” You replied, once you felt your walls tighten against his length.

His thrusts, his hands, his words, were all so very gentle.

“Faster.” You requested.

Your words intoxicating his mind. As he fasten his pace, the whimpers that escaped your mouth made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I can’t-“ he interrupted you.

“I know, I know, baby.” He paused as he gathered himself. “Cum on me.”

His words were enough to take you through the edge. With your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hands supported behind his neck, you felt the tight knot on your stomach release, and as you rode your high on his length, you felt his warm seed shoot up and spread itself inside you, helping with the lubrification on your last thrusts.

You opened your eyes and immediately saw Joel’s on you. Your body fell on top of his, the pressure of you over his body making him smile and chuckle to himself.

“Don’t ever leave me.” Joel’s voice was still deep with lust, but his eyes told you he meant it far more than that.

“Keep protecting me, and I’ll be fine.” You smiled.

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katareyoudrilling · 5 months

Text

The Sweepstakes: Dave York (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Porn Star Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve never been able to explore your kinks with a partner. Could a night with a porn star give you that opportunity?

Word count: ~2.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: kink negotiation, some choking and breath play, unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms

A/N: This is rougher sex than I have written before, and I definitely got in my head about it. Please heed the warnings, but also know that it’s still me writing it, no matter how much Dave York tried to say otherwise. The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa. Bonus points to anyone who can guess which performer in particular inspired this one. Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

You can’t believe you’re standing in the room you’ve seen so many times on your laptop and phone. White walls, hardwood floor, gauzy white curtains, and most importantly… the bed.

You take a deep, calming breath and wipe your damp palms down your leggings as pace around the room waiting for him to arrive.

It all started when you saw an ad for “The Sweepstakes” advertised on your favorite porn site. It said, “Enter for a chance to win a night with your favorite porn star!” You filled out the form before you could even stop to think about it.

You won and now you wait anxiously for your choice to arrive – Dave York.

You love Dave’s videos. He can go from laughing and flirting to intense and demanding in the blink of an eye. It’s ridiculous how much that dichotomy turns you on.

You don’t feel turned on right now, though. You feel very, very nervous. You take another calming breath just as the doors open and Dave York walks in.

In his more scripted videos, he’s often cast as a businessman, wearing a suit and tie, or maybe just a dress shirt and slacks. In the casual, unscripted ones, he wears all black.

That’s what he’s wearing today.

His black sweater strains across his broad, muscled shoulders. Track pants hang low on his trim waist. He’s clean shaven and his dark hair is short and neat. If it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze, he would probably just look like an average guy.

He’s anything but.

Dave extends his hand to you and introduces himself. You manage to fight through the haze of nerves and arousal to do the same.

“Erin asked me to go over your sexual interest survey with you to make sure we’re on the same page, since your tastes run on the rough side.” His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through your body sending jolts of need to your core. It’s so much better in person than through a tiny phone speaker.

You met with the director, Erin, earlier in the day to sign releases and fill out paperwork related to your sexual history, health, and interests. You even agreed to be filmed for your private use. A chance like this doesn’t come around every day.

You nod and Dave looks down at the papers he’s holding.

“Let’s start with spanking, how hard do you like it?” he asks, warm brown eyes meeting yours.

“I… uhhh…. I don’t actually know,” you stammer. Dave waits patiently for you to continue. “My partners have never been willing to uhh… try things with me.” That’s an understatement. Not only have your partners not been willing, they have looked at you like you were crazy. “I like watching it. I like it when you do it,” you choke out, heat flooding your cheeks as you look anywhere but at him.

Dave sets the papers down on the bed and reaches for you, lifting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.” His hypnotic, liquid chocolate gaze starts to melt the tension you’re holding in your shoulders. “We can try these things and find out if you like them, but you have to talk to me. If you can’t, then we can’t. Can you do that?”

You nod.

“Say it,” he commands, but not unkindly. Heat floods your center.

“I can do that,” you answer, a bit breathlessly.

“If you say no, or stop, or anything else to indicate something isn’t working for you, I will stop immediately. Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he smiles and picks up the paper again. “Let’s talk about breath play.”

A burst of adrenaline floods your body as Dave moves closer to you. Holding your gaze, he lifts his arm and places the heal of his hand against your collarbone. Your heart beats loudly in your ears as he gently wraps his fingers around your throat. You can still breathe normally even as he squeezes gently.

“I will not squeeze harder than this, is this ok?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Good, remember at any time you can tell me to stop, and I will. Now…” he removes his hand from your throat and brings it towards your mouth. “I will only cover your nose and mouth for five seconds at a time, ok?”

“Ok,”

“Let’s practice.”

Staring intently into your eyes, he covers your nose and mouth and counts to five. Your fingers and toes tingle as the adrenaline courses through your body. Dave’s pupils dilate as he watches your reaction.

Five seconds isn’t very long at all, but you gulp in air when he removes his hand. The rush goes straight to your head and you sway towards him. Large hands steady your shoulders.

“How was that? Are you ok?” he asks, his voice husky with his own arousal.

“That was… very good,” you reply shakily. Your pussy is already throbbing, and you’ve barely begun.

“Good,” Dave murmurs. He’s still so close. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, he squeezes your arms before letting his hands drop. “Is there anything else you want?”

“I want…” you take a shaky breath, locked into Dave’s hypnotic gaze, “to be thrown around a little.”

Dave licks his lips, “Fuck yes,” he replies, closing the distance between you. “You want me to use you?” His eyes are as black as his sweater as he crowds your vision. Desire ripples off him in waves. It hits you that he desires you and it and makes your knees weak. You nod, hypnotized by his gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he practically growls.

You whimper yes and melt into him as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. He’s so intense and overwhelming. God, you hope the cameras are already recording.

Your head swims with arousal as he explores your mouth, pulling you tighter against his broad frame. Your hands fist in his sweater as you fight the urge to climb up his body.

You break apart panting. Dave steps back, his large hands helping keep you steady.

“I have to take this back to Erin,” he swallows and holds up your paperwork, now slightly crinkled from getting crushed between your bodies, “and give you a few minutes to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

Dave steps away from you and heads for the door. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before. You lower yourself to sit on the edge of the bed on wobbly legs.

He pauses at the door and turns back to you, “One more question. Are you wearing underwear?”

“No,” you blurt out, surprised. He smirks and leaves the room.

You collapse backwards onto the bed, taking in a deep lungful of air to try to calm down. You’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.

No.

Not embarrassing, you correct yourself.

Just because your previous partners haven’t been open to trying these kinks does not make it embarrassing that you are into them. There wouldn’t be a whole industry devoted to these things if you were the only one. Dave certainly seems to be.

You push yourself back up to sitting. The nerves you felt when you waited for him the first time have burned away in the wake of your arousal. Your knee bounces impatiently as you wait for him to come back.

You pop back onto your feet when you hear the door handle begin to turn. Dave enters the room with a question in his eye. You nod. There is no way you have changed your mind.

He stalks towards you like a jungle cat and pulls you into another kiss, hands cradling your face. He’s less desperate this time, but still eager, confident, demanding.

You allow your hands to run down his sides, over the rippling muscles under his thin sweater. You feel the divot at his hipbone, but instead of trailing down to explore the swell you feel against your abdomen, you slip your hands under his sweater and draw them up his back.

Dave chuckles and breaks the kiss, allowing you to pull his sweater off over his head. You drag your fingers down the smooth, golden skin of his chest. You whimper as your fingers get to the waistband of his pants.

He reclaims your mouth with a curse and turns you, so the backs of your legs knock against the side of the bed. His large hands roam down your body and hitch under your thighs. Before you realize what he’s doing, he lifts you up and tosses you onto the bed.

You squeal as you bounce. But before your bottom hits the bed a second time, Dave whips your leggings down past your ass and pushes your knees into your chest. He dives into your pussy like a man starved.

Your squeals of surprise rapidly turn into moans as his expert tongue sweeps over your throbbing cunt. His question about underwear makes sense now.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the bedding as Dave presses you open and feasts at your core.

All the buildup of being here, discussing your list, and finally getting to kiss and touch the subject of so many of your fantasies has you pulsing against his mouth in no time.

Dave pulls back from you to stand by the bed with a satisfied smirk on his face, pulling your leggings the rest of the way off and tossing them on the floor.

As your orgasm fades, leaving you boneless on the bed, you can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face, or the laugh that escapes your chest.

“What’s so funny,” Dave watches you from beside the bed, eyes twinkling.

“You just… just…. that was so good and I’m just so glad I’m here,” you smile up at him. You’re no longer nervous. You’re excited to be here and experience all of this with him.

“I’m glad you’re here too.” Dave begins to pull down his track pants and you scramble up and over to him to kneel eagerly at the side of the bed. Now it’s Dave’s turn to laugh. “Do you want something, beautiful?”

You preen internally at the nickname and don’t even bother to hide your enthusiasm.

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Look who has things to say now. I think that orgasm loosened your tongue,” he teases you gently, his eyes flashing with humor and want as he frees the cock you’ve been dreaming about.

He’s so perfect.

You lick your lips and pull your top over your head before lining up to take him in your mouth. Dave hisses as you draw him in. He strokes your cheek and neck as he watches you.

With every flick of your tongue the ache between your legs builds, until you’re moaning around him with every stroke.

You pop off to catch your breath and Dave eagerly claims your mouth. He climbs on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crowding your vision, never taking his mouth of you. He kisses down your neck and nips at your shoulders and breasts as he lines up at your entrance.

“You ready for this cock, beautiful?”

You nod and pull him towards you with your heels.

“So eager for it,” Dave growls as he presses into your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you so perfectly. He plies you with long, firm strokes, pressing you deeper into the mattress, covering your body with his.

He’s all you can see and feel and you melt beneath him, giving yourself over to the force of him. Your orgasm begins to build in the distance, but before it can take hold, Dave rolls the two of you so that you’re now on top.

His hands stroke up your torso, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples as you adjust to the new angle.

Dave pistons up into you, his abdominal muscles tensing with the effort. His strong hands hold your hips firmly against him. A boldness you’ve never felt before washes over you as you grasp one of his hands and bring it to your throat.

He places his hand exactly as he said he would, at the base of your throat. You lean into him, knowing you are in control and could lean back at any time, but the theoretical danger of it sizzles under your skin. His strong fingers squeeze slightly sending dizzying waves of pleasure through your body.

You stare into his eyes, never breaking contact, as he brings you to the brink. Your clit throbs, seeking the friction of his body, you’re so close to breaking when he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach.

He drags your hips in the air and presses your shoulders down onto the bed as he drives into you and smacks your ass. Your pussy clenches in response.

“You like that don’t you?”

“Yes, oh my god yes,” you babble incoherently.

“I feel that tight pussy grabbing me.” He smacks your ass again for emphasis and you clench around him again.

He is so deep in this position. He thrusts into you slowly, dragging his cock against your sensitive walls, allowing the orgasm to ebb away in favor of slow sensation punctuated with the stinging of his palm.

You press your hips back into him, savoring every thrust and allowing your mind to drift. You are not in control here. He will move you when he’s ready, you don’t have to think, just feel.

Seemingly to prove your point, he pulls out and flips you once again. This time onto your side before pulling you into his chest.

His strong arms band around your hips and shoulders as he enters your slippery cunt from behind. You are at his mercy and nothing has ever made you feel more alive.

He nibbles at your ear as he spews praise and filth under his breath – how good you feel, how wet you are, how he’s going to make you come so hard.

You don’t doubt his promises and when his hand comes up to cover your mouth, all you can do is take and take and take his cock.

You are only need and sensation, unable to move other than how he moves you. Everything else falls away except the white hot pleasure taking over your body. He has edged you over and over and you half expect him to do it again, but this time your climax is barreling towards you at full force.

“Give it to me,” Dave demands in your ear, and you launch off a cliff.

He removes his hand and you gasp for air, sparks clouding your vision. He doesn’t let up as you pulse and scream around him. He presses on your mound, intensifying the waves of pleasure wracking through your body.

He stutters and moans raggedly behind you, emptying himself into your fluttering pussy.

You sag against him, spent and floating. He presses kisses between your shoulder blades and up your neck as he helps disentangle your bodies.

You catch your breath, staring at the ceiling above you and then over at the glistening man next to you.

“That was…. amazing.” A whole new world has been opened to you, and you definitely like it. “Thank you.”

Dave props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you, angular jaw and aquiline nose catching the light of the fading sunset.

“That was just round one, beautiful. You have me all night.” He winks before kissing you once again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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Taglist- in reblog

#the sweepstakes #dave york #dave york x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 7 months

Text

Ok so now that I've spent some time thinking about the whole "Chuuya was never a vampire" twist, I... still don't like it. For many reasons.

Here's my explanation; if you want to read it, please do. I strive to be fair. I want to wait for the manga release before making a verdict on whether it's bad writing or not, and I also want to see the start of next arc to see where they're going with all this.

If you don't want to read it, and you're having fun with the twist (it is funny. I will admit that much), then skip this and keep having fun! I don't want to ruin anyone's enjoyment.

First of all. It makes no sense. There are things that just do not add up. There was never an indication this was a possibility.

Bro. Did you put on costume makeup for the texture under your eyes? Did it wash off after nearly getting drowned and you had to frantically reapply it behind Fyodor's back and that's why we couldn't see your face for several chapters. Did you take it off again for your dramatic reveal here at the end? I demand smeared undereye makeup Chuuya in the manga when it releases hbfsdjhbfv

Ok this was more a joke. But here's what really irks me.

From what I can recall, this is. True. He needs to have made contact to manipulate gravity. It's also re-established in this very arc.

Great. So how the fuck did he slow the elevator? He was with Fyodor in a separate room! This makes no sense. Did he leave to stop the elevator and Fyodor was like "oh chill. ok come back soon"??? What?!

Here's another thing I want to address:

@ticklinglady I had this same question. However, on thinking on it again, I do have an answer that makes sense - they had to buy time for Sigma to use his ability on Fyodor, to gain knowledge on him about what he knows, and what his ability is. <-I feel confident in saying this is going to be important later. Sigma will still have a role to play and we will find out more about Fyodor!

Alright. Moving on to the themes, and why this also doesn't work (at least for me).

The theme in this arc is very much to do with the contrast between trust vs control. This is Fyodor's failing when it came to Dazai, and it is established very early on as the major contrast between them, in the Sky Casino arc. The vampires, though it seemed silly and random, fit nicely into that theming. And the conclusion, where Dazai showed extreme faith in Sigma and the Agency members (and what an interesting contrast that is; to have someone show faith in ordinary humans when his foil is a man who has faith in god but not humanity), that fits into that theming also. Ok, so this was an extension of that right? Showing faith in Chuuya, as always.

Yeah, no. I want to direct your attention back to this here.

This line is the one that had everyone going "oh man skk is going to fuck you up for that". I made an entire analysis back when this chapter first came out about the themes that we saw, and Fyodor's utter devaluing of the effectiveness of people beyond just their skills and abilities (it's here, if you're curious). This is why I suspected that, since Dazai and Fyodor are intellectually matched, it would have to be Sigma and Chuuya to catch Fyodor off guard - because he only values what people can do, not who they are.

Well, we got a little with Sigma, before Fyodor took control of the situation again. (Rip buddy.) Sigma's tenacity and unwillingness to fall for Fyodor's manipulating him away from helping the Agency was based off his personal choice and free will. He managed to shoot him! Fyodor was reduced to a cheap trick to get close enough to stab him! There was a certain level of payoff.

But Chuuya? I want you to think for a second. What did he actually do? Not a single part of this was Chuuya's idea. It was Mori's - he was at the very least sent undercover under orders, if not sent to Meursault under orders. He didn't even glue his own fangs in apparently. Now let's go over what he did. Why was it so necessary that it be Chuuya there? Well, obviously because gravity manipulation was needed to slow the elevator and the bullet. Oh... hm. So. His ability. Was what was needed, huh?

But it was necessary for it to be Chuuya because of the bond between him and Dazai, right? Oh. Wait. So, Chuuya's personality and goals don't matter - only his ability to read Dazai.

This twist makes it so Chuuya as a person doesn't actually throw a wrench into Fyodor's plans at all. All that matters is that he is Mori's executive and Dazai's partner. I guess he was "utilized" after all. I thought, with his characterization in Fifteen and Stormbringer, that we were moving away from this characterization of Chuuya only by his bond with Dazai. Do you want to scream.

You might be saying, okay, but at the very least it showed the depths of Double Black's bond! ...did it? Not really, at least not to me. The only impressive part of any of this was Mori's preparedness. This was barely an skk plan. It was a Mori plan. Double Black placing their lives in each other's hands is a Tuesday for them. This is nothing we didn't already know. And truthfully, it goes nowhere near the level of sheer trust we saw in Dead Apple. Mori sent Chuuya in sure, but it was only after everything settled down that he realized that Mori suspected Dazai would need help. Before that point, it seemed everyone thought Dazai was dead except Chuuya. Chuuya chose to jump out of that plane. Chuuya chose to risk his life. It showcased his personality, his free agency, and the level of trust they had far, far better. And it was emotionally satisfying! Dazai was extremely grateful that his trust paid off! Chuuya was somewhat conscious during Corruption, enough to weaken his own punch and shout Dazai's name! Dazai prevented Chuuya from having his ability be separated from him by the fog! They are an unbeatable team... but they were still left exhausted, and had to rely only on each other. How does what happened in this latest episode compare to that in a way that makes me believe they've actually outmaneuvered Fyodor?

Listen. I'll take twists that don't really have a great build up if they further the themes or character development, or it just makes for good drama. There's an interesting pay off, at least, so I say "okay, okay. Could've been done better, but I'll let it slide for the intrigue." But here? Nothing. It was boring. Are you bored.

Anime watchers were probably more fine with it. Maybe it was a little disappointing, but oh well. But manga readers have been having this plot dragged out for years. A lot of said fans (including myself) were excited to see Chuuya become main series relevant and receive present day development - and it seemed like we were going to get that with the recent publication of not one, but two Chuuya backstory novels, and the drama of this arc pitting Dazai and Chuuya against each other. Instead, this did absolutely nothing of interest for his character. Why was he even here?

Which brings me to the last point, which is the characterization.

Going back and re-reading this entire arc now, it becomes one big stage performance. Ok, fine, it's a little funny. But now there's hardly anything of value to these interactions. The only ones that actually matter are Fyodor and Sigma, and Fyodor and Nikolai. All that buildup to drama between Double Black, to another incredible display of trust, to something shifting and changing from the status quo... all that build up, and nothing has changed for Chuuya, or for Double Black. The show of trust wasn't even that dramatic really. Are you bored still.

This also weakens Fyodor's character to me. Fyodor witnessed their incredible show of trust in Dead Apple. I assumed he was prepared for skk-typical bullshittery, you know, being a genius on par if not greater than Dazai. You're telling me he was so overconfident he completely missed that Chuuya wasn't a vampire? Really? Fyodor really had nothing in place that would verify whether the vampires were actually under control? He wasn't constantly checking for a plan? It really was just red eyes and fangs, and he thought that was fine? That's it? Ok.

Truthfully, I was kind of :| about several of the preceding twists in the Meursault arc, particularly the dagger Fyodor pulled out when he started acting to Sigma, and the door railing being preemptively crushed by Chuuya before the drowning started. The dagger was actually ornate in the manga, which raised several questions - it couldn't have come from a guard. It made me think there was more to that interaction than just Fyodor pretends to have a split personality and that there was actually something to that knife. Well, it was made to be a regular knife in the anime, so I guess theorizing across those lines are dashed.

What bothered me the most though was the crumpling of the rail to stop the door from completely closing. There was no indication of this in the manga. None. No one could've predicted that - because it's stupid. The water filled so fast it couldn't get out of the crack in the door, even though it was huge??? Dazai was in the control room - you're telling me that there was no security camera focused on the door??? You know, where you would position a security camera??? It was dumb to me, but I was willing to roll my eyes and move on because I was expecting a good payoff to all this, and well, it was funny.

But now, the whole arc is one extended joke skk were playing on Fyodor. And you're telling me that's how our major antagonist goes out? Our major antagonist of several arcs? Be for fucking real.

And depending on when Dazai figured it out, it may even cheapen earlier scenes. If he found out after the elevator slowed like people have been theorizing, I could accept that. That's fine. But I need people to recall: in the actual episode he states "it was all an act".

Is Dazai probably lying to save face? Sure. But as of this moment we actually have no evidence it wasn't an act from the beginning. Remember that Ango was communicating the whole time with Dazai. Remember that Mori was involved and helped Tanizaki and Kenji get to safety. It's entirely possible it was all premeditated.

One last suggestion: the plan name was "Good-bye" as suggested earlier. This means that even if Dazai didn't know from the beginning, he knew by the time of his speech to Chuuya as he was drowning.

This means that his whole scheme with Sigma was not an extremely dangerous, life-risking play on his part at all (@daz4i has gone to explain why this sacrificialism isn't good for a suicidal character, which I recommend reading, but nonetheless it was still notable characterization for Dazai). And what about this?

Even his own flashbacks and memories were, what? A lie? A performance? For whom? Not for Fyodor, that's for sure.

For us. The readers. For the people who are invested in these two and their dynamic. For the people who wanted development between them, because there are actually issues there that have not been resolved. People wanted Dazai to show real concern. Chuuya is still bitter, even if Dazai thinks everything is fine and the same since he left. There was a tease that we're going to get how Chuuya felt when Dazai left the Mafia at some point in the future. People were making angsty art and writing and getting really excited because all the prior interactions had appeared to be set up for the payoff of this drama.

We get an introduction in the dungeon. We reveal their partnership and fearsome reputation during the Lovecraft fight. They perform flawlessly in Dead Apple. Throughout all this, they need no communication. They read each other and respond in tandem, always... but there's still an underlying tension in the way they do not talk to each other. I, and many others, had thought the prison escape arc was the breaking point for some development, since their prior appearances were all meant to establish them as a team, and this arc dealt heavily with the breaking of established things.

But no. Deus ex skk is perfect. They have no issues or flaws. Do you want to scream again.

Anyways. I recognize I'm probably just very disappointed right now and by tomorrow, I probably won't care anymore and will just roll with it. I think I was extra disappointed because while I tempered my expectations for, say, Yosano and Kyouka's involvement (sigh...), I fully expected skk would be handled well, being the fandom faves and where the money is at, so I guess I took the disappointment that much harder.

However, I'm eager to see how the manga tackles the ending, and if we will get any extra cues or better pacing there that may make me not quite so bitter. If it's any consolation, I do think we'll be getting Chuuya focus at some point in a future arc, and while I do think Fyodor is dead, I doubt he will have stopped haunting the narrative. He'll be back in some capacity. I'm pretty certain he's still the mastermind.

And I'm curious about the next arc and what's happening there. Maybe some things will be revealed later that will help smooth out the flaws here.

#storyrambles #listen by tomorrow i'll probably be totally chill and whatever about it #i just needed to get this out #bsd #bsd season 5 #bsd spoilers #bsd negativity

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birdmitosis · 5 months

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I've mentioned it before, but Voice of the Cold fascinates me and I really keep wanting to pick at his character until I figure him out better, so this is my attempt to do that. (Pretty long essay under the cut!)

There are a few things about Cold's character that really stand out to me, and it's because he's very much a contradictory person. This isn't true of all the Voices; some of them are them all the way through, though there are some others who break out of what you'd expect from them (Contrarian and Paranoid being the most obvious examples, but also Hero, Smitten, and Skeptic IMO). Cold, though. All the way through, he is consistent, but what he is is consistently… odd. "Stop feeling anything" is basically his motto, and honestly a lot of his dialogue circles that concept. He makes it clear that he thinks the best thing, the only logical thing to do in fact, is to just stop feeling what their physical body feels and to stop feeling emotion while they're at it. The former, at least, he does seem 100% on top of, not at all bothered by anything physical that ever happens while he's present -- whether it's having their heart ripped out, their ankle snapped and twisted, or being drowned or burned to death. But even with physical sensation, there's something odd about Cold. For someone who's like "stop feeling what it feels" about the body, Cold's response to The Grey trying to kill them is consistent across both chapters, no matter you choices to get there or your choices while there:

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(IMO, Cold sounds noticeably more interested in response to The Drowned Grey; I personally think this might be explained by the fact that he at least theoretically understands what the process of burning to death should feel like, as he explains to the others that the pain will stop when they don't have nerves anymore, but he has no equivalent words of wisdom about the drowning experience.) Following on from this is the way Cold responds to The Razor, where he gets a tone that is… not unique but rare for him:

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These are, as near as I can tell, the three times in the game when Cold registers interest in the sensations of having a physical form. They're in response to immensely unpleasant sensations, or at least what Cold imagines to be such, and it seems like the less he can imagine it, the more intrigued he is: He sort of knows about what the body goes through when burning to death, he seems unfamiliar with what it would feel like when drowning but could probably imagine it at least a little, and the Razor just fucking exploding due to blades twisting from under her skin and erupting out until the only thing left of her is her heart is something that a human being (or rather a bird person) could not ever actually experience themself and could probably barely even imagine. So he can tune into what his body is feeling, or he would like to be able to at least in certain circumstances. (Negative ones! Cold please!!) So let's veer away from physical sensation into feeling emotion. Because Cold is imo fascinating in this respect. Cold is a complete contradiction when it comes to emotional shit. It is wild and I absolutely love it actually? He says he doesn't feel emotions and repeatedly advises that the best thing is to stop feeling emotions, particularly in The Moment of Clarity but also in The Grey chapters.

(I'll return to that last screenshot later…) He's not emotionless, though. He has an understated emotional effect, might not feel emotions as strongly naturally as others, and he's very good at letting go of something when, for example, a preference he states doesn't happen or an action he tries to take doesn't work, but… Remember how I said above that the tone he gets in response to The Razor is "not unique but rare for him"? Well, the other time he does it, I first interpreted as being about him anticipating violence. But I don't think that's quite it. I think that of two major times he gets that tone of voice, one is in response to imagining a physical sensation, but the other is in response to the threat/promise of an emotional one:

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This clip is a bit longer than the others (like 30 seconds instead of 5-10 seconds), but you can see what I mean, right? When Smitten is just threatening violence or killing them again, Cold is completely blasé about it in his usual way; it's the "I'll make you feel what I feel if it's the last thing I do" part that seems to make Cold suddenly get… intense. (Which is an emotion in and of itself, or at least is inherently a, well, an intensifier of an emotion, so like. Again, Cold please.) But while that's the most obvious, notable moment, there are a lot of moments where it's obvious that Cold… does feel things, if again in an understated way.

(Thank you so much to @butwhosgonnafindhim for the last two screenshots, from this amazing post which shows even more interesting context!) There are also so many times he talks (quite negatively!) about some things being boring, implying that he does feel boredom, and/or something that isn't boredom when there's a new experience:

…And also too many times for me to share screenshots where he's just not letting comments from the other characters pass unremarked-on, needling them if not outright goading them, totally unnecessarily; this is most obvious in The Burned Grey chapter with The Smitten, but also with both Paranoid and Cheated if you choose to jump into the abyss with The Wraith. The thing is, Cold is also inconsistent when it comes to the other characters in a way that really interests me. He needles them, talks about not listening to them (though I want to revisit this in a minute), if you choose to reassure the Voices in front of the mirror if he's there, he even says "You don't have to comfort them." (Sorry I can't find a screenshot of this, I've been looking for ages!) But over and over again in various routes, he also repeatedly tries to advise the characters on how not to be broken down by physical or emotional pain:

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(I also noted in another post that in The Wraith route he straight-up says, as shown above, "let's throw the Narrator into a place that never ends and see what that does to him" but then if Paranoid is the other Voice with them and they go with Paranoid's plan to toss yourself into the abyss, when Paranoid gets elated that it worked Cold just has to chime in with a comment basically implying it's silly to prefer this outcome over any other:

Which I like in and of itself but he also does stuff like this kind of a lot as you can see.) (And also thank you for these screenshots, @phospolipid-bilayer!) (And can I also just make a small aside that there are fascinating implications in the phrasing of "if you can tolerate joy"?) I want to wrap this up before it goes on too much longer, but there are three last things I want to cover quickly that I think are other fascinating facets of his character. First, very quickly, I would like to note that Cold is both espousing an absolutely useful way of dealing with horrific situations if you can actually manage it, but is also advising it far beyond the point where it's useful and the usefulness of his approach is limited even in the very specific circumstances that the Protagonist and the Voices are in.

It's not just Hunted and Contrarian making some vague note about a shared experience you can't remember, though; consistently, Cold underestimates threats and is as likely to suggest a course of action that will get you killed as one that won't. Try to kill The Spectre, let The Spectre possess you and let her leave, let The Spectre possess you and stab yourself, just let The Wraith possess you and see what happens… half of those end in death, and in The Razor and The Grey chapters, his advice in the end boils down to "we're going to die, just accept it." While his lack of feeling can be of great use to push through situations, it's not so helpful when he isn't placing any value on survival at all, and that's only not a disastrous trait for him to have because everyone's trapped in a place where death doesn't stick. And now let's look back at The Moment of Clarity. All the Voices in The Moment of Clarity are shattered. This is obvious all throughout the chapter, where they're confused and have for the most part given up; they've been broken down and while they certainly aren't numb the way Cold talks about, they've been numbed and worn down in a lot of ways. It's most obvious in the mirror scene at the end of the chapter, how none of them are afraid anymore of what feels to them like the end in a very final way. But Cold doesn't seem very different, not through the chapter and not in front of the mirror. Right? He's never bothered by the mirror (IIRC he's the only one!) and he's always talking about how the other Voices need to stop feeling. But I think he is, actually. I think he broke too, and I think Cold breaking takes the form of him actually shutting out the other Voices. His trauma response in The Moment of Clarity is the most subtle, but I think it proves that he usually does care -- in The Moment of Clarity, by the time you come back to yourself and everyone is there (and has been there many, many, many times already), he just can't anymore.

Nowhere else in the game is he quite like this. In front of the mirror every other time, he either tells the Protagonist that they don't need to reassure the other Voices, or if the Protagonist decides to tell the Voices it's the end for them he tells the Protag that he wouldn't have told them Voices that/would have kept that to himself. When the mirror is actually approached, where the other Voices usually have some fearful dialogue, I'm pretty sure Cold is always silent. This lack of care, this level of coldness, is actually unusual for him, and is specifically associated with the one chapter where all the Voices have been traumatized and broken down. And I think that actually says a lot about him. (And that line about thinking he was special is also unique, only coming up if you don't do anything and let the world unravel in The Moment of Clarity chapter... I'm not sure what to make of that one, though.) Finally... just... what?

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(I said we'd return to that screenshot! 🥳) But you all see what I'm getting at here, right? The former makes the most immediate sense, at least to me. The Voices are shards of the Long Quiet, and I theorize that they're sort of the equivalent of how the Princess changes completely; the Long Quiet can't change the way the Shifting Mound can, but has a part of her in them, so when her perception of them starts to change them a piece just breaks off instead. Whatever is happening, though, the Voices sprang into being the way they are, defined by their descriptions. It makes sense, then, that Cold has always been the way that he is; he comes into being in a very specific way and with a very specific identity and personality. But the latter... That has some potentially interesting implications. It's the "trust me" at the end; it makes it sound like he has experience with this, doesn't it? So is he simply talking about what the Protagonist went through when he was created, implying that this is how he was created (or how he sees it)? Or is he acknowledging that he is in fact trying to stop his own feelings, because he wants to, because there's something about them that makes him want them to stop? That would potentially work with the rest of this analysis, with Cold's inconsistencies and subtle shows of emotion (and, uh, occasional less subtle ones). Including him talking about "tolerating joy." (And even The Wraith's choice of words: "you think you are numb" but "you are hopeless and paranoid.") TL;DR... There's a lot to this particular Voice, and hopefully actually writing all this out will quiet my brain down some!

#warning for gory drawings under the cut #slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #under the cut #voice of the cold #the voices #the moment of clarity #image heavy post #video heavy post too actually #Youtube

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scarletttries · 1 year

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Roman Roy x Age-Gap! Reader Headcanons:

Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Reader

Word Count: 2k (warning: mention of Logany child abuse)

Author’s Note: Oh Roman Roy, you're really making me fall in love with your sad little face and your slightly softening heart this season. Thank you for this request, please enjoy these thoughts about Roman Roy with a younger, but still very much legal adult, reader. Also please fill my inbox with Kendall and Roman requests because I am thinking about little else! 😊

Update! Part two here 😀

- Roman Roy has always felt simultaneously like he's never really grown up, and that he was never allowed to be a child. Growing up as the youngest son of Logan Roy he wasn't allowed the chance to make the silly mistakes of childhood folly. Logan had been through that before and frankly he needed Roman to be a serious adult from the moment he could comprehend his father's disapproving glare. Naturally this was an impossible ask of a small, sensitive boy, and led to blows to back of the head when tears threatened to stain the silk shirt he'd been so uncomfortably forced into for another endless press event where he stood like a prop, just desperate not to get in any more trouble or let his dad down worse than he already had.

- As Roman entered adulthood he began to be left out of all the rooms where serious people met and talked about things he could never quite get right; he's wasn't self-interested enough, he didn't have those killer instincts, he couldn't rid his head of the thoughts of how many people would be affected by the company's every move. As Logan and Kendall started to tire of his quippy comments, relegating him to waiting outside for busy work, he could feel himself struggling to meet the thresholds of adulthood that Ken seemed to have carried with him for as long as Roman could remember. This dichotomy of boy and man left Roman feeling like he was never quite comfortable with his age, unsure what lense to see that number through. And then he met you.

- Getting a job at Waystar may have left you feeling a little morally uncomfortable, but you reminded yourself that ten years experience there and you'd be able to get any job in any industry you like, while also being able to pay for your own place. So you pushed that feeling down each day as you entered that office full of rich old white men. Given you'd actually had to earn your place there, rather than just knowing someone, it wasn't long until your work ethic, intelligence and ingenuity had you climbing the corporate ladder in your department and getting you noticed by some of the much higher-ups. Naturally they tried to just take credit for your work, but when the day came that Logan actually asked for an explanation of a report you'd produced, Frank had no choice but to put you in a room with the big boss face-to-face.

- You'd heard nothing but bad things about Logan Roy and as he stared at you in pure contempt while you answered his questions, wondering why his time was being wasted with this young thing from the bullpen, it took all your resolve to hold your nerve, giving short answers and trying not to give him anything to hold over you. Every so often you'd let your eyes flick over his shoulder to the man standing behind him, ten years older than you but pulling at the sleeves of his shirt like a little kid as he watched you face the interrogation, outwardly seeming far more nervous about the situation than you did. After fifteen minutes of watching you hold your head high and speak so confidently about your work, Roman was staring at you unashamedly in a mix of awe, intrigue and disbelief. Despite the age gap you seemed to have all the facets of a self-assured adult that he felt he'd never quite unlocked, while exuding the joyful exuberance of youth he'd never been allowed. He needed to know more about you, so when Logan shouted at Gerri to 'throw you in a dress and bring to this week's investor mixers' he could feel his heart pounding in his chest at the sheer hope and possibility of the answers you might hold.

- You weren't thrilled to spend your evenings surrounded by colleagues, stood to attention in case anyone needed a question answering, but you didn't hate the full railing of designer evening wear that had been sent to your apartment for the occasion. You found yourself trying to blend into the shadows of a corner, unsure of your place in this room and this crowd, wondering if any of the food on display was actually for eating, or if that would be seen as a massive faux pas. Luckily Roman had been keeping an interested eye on you all evening; who you'd spoken to, what you'd been dressed in, the frankly adorable face you'd pulled when Frank handed you a Whiskey twice your age and you took a very unwilling sip, feigning appreciation before slinking away to stick your tongue out at the burning taste. And finally he built up the nerve to approach you now that you were alone, trying to approach casually by picking up a grape from the ornate platter beside you, only to take a bite, realise it was plastic and having to hand it mortified to a waiter that had watched the whole thing from your side. He could feel the blood burning in his cheeks as he watched you try and stifle a laugh, both mortified that you already knew he was a fool and pleased that he'd been able to bring a smile to your face this evening.

"Yeah yeah fuck you." He laughed as he stopped just in front of you, all the words he'd planned to share failing him now that he was close enough to see the beauty in your sincere smile as you shook your head,

"Really I should thank you, now I'm one step closer to figuring out what's actually edible here." You replied with a warmth that almost made Roman recoil, so used to the icy chill he usually received from those around him.

"Well certainly not that whiskey." He nodded to the short crystal glass you'd been trying to put down since Frank handed it to you, tone sarcastic but without the cutting edge he was usually one to deliver. "Why is that the one thing these old fucks actually like to be their own age?" As you laughed again Roman felt a little victorious, he had set himself a pretty low bar but he was confident he was going to be the highlight of your evening.

- As you spent the next week being dragged to different events, you'd always find Roman slinking to your side before the night was through, as if you'd always been old friends, just counting down the hours of everyone else's company. You'd counter his one-liners and then ask him where he'd rather be on a Friday night and make him realise he didn't really know any other kind of night. So when you'd list off your weekend plans, and hobbies and interests, and tell him stories about your friends that had his hyena laugh echoing across the otherwise solemn room, he'd start to realise just how much he was missing out on, and how much he wanted to explore that with you as his guide.

- It stopped being enough, just finding you on odd evenings. Roman would start finding your desk at Waystar, pretending to just be wandering through a junior office coincidentally. He'd glance at his wrist, ignoring the fact he'd forgotten to put on a watch this morning, and comment that as 'technically kind of your boss' he needed to make sure his best employees were actually taking a lunch break, and also were you hungry? Sometimes during the day he'd just melt onto the floor beside your desk, chatting about nothing as you tried your best to type and pay him the attention he so desperately craved. He'd start having all of his meetings in the rooms on your floor so he could wave at you as he walked past the huge glass windows keeping your team contained, an apt metaphor for the walls up inside him he was worried you'd never cross.

- Poor insecure Roman, he'd really try and force himself to ask you out, but ultimately he'd be so afraid of the potential backlash of rejection, that it would be up to you to finally ask if he wanted to grab a drink after work, one Friday when he'd been particularly clingy. You'd take him to a fun, casual bar and watch his eye's light up at people playing darts or ordering fried food and generally the nice, relaxed atmosphere where he didn't feel he had to be the smartest person in the room. Occasionally a friend of yours would walk in a wave and ask how you were doing, and you'd introduce Roman as your friend with no shame or regret and he'd say something funny and get the same rush of pride at making you laugh that he did the first time, and he'd feel like maybe the more time he spent getting to know you, the better he could see himself, still young at heart but not the kid he once was. His lost childhood and misspent youth given a second chance as you offered to see him again next weekend.

- Once you open the affectionate floodgates Roman would be the clingiest koala you can imagine. He'd rarely be as direct as holding your hand, especially not in public, conscious of looking just like his father with a younger woman on his arm. But in the privacy of your little apartment, the one Roman fell in love with the moment he saw it, he'd take a slightly threadbare throw and toss it over the both of you as he all but crumbled into your lap when he wanted to talk about something he thought would make you run. Opening up about his father's wrath and his warped view of himself, glancing up periodically to check you hadn't ran away and left him behind, finding softness in your eyes instead of disappointment and sinking even more deeply into you.

- Roman would think you are an absolute fucking genius for everything you've done for yourself. Worked hard to be the best at your job? Genius. Manage your own bills and do your own laundry? Genius. Carry a water bottle around and make him drink some when he has a headache and somehow he feels better than he has in years? Genius.

- Roman would follow you to hell and back, but you'll have to forcibly remove him from your apartment when you want to go outside. He's never been somewhere that actually felt like home, every soft furnishing and mismatched bowl making him want to haunt your halls forever. If you ever make him a home cooked meal, he'll act like it's not a big deal, but honestly he's crying inside that anyone would go through the effort for him, and that he was the person they chose to be around. Cut to him going thrifting with you to buy five new dishes for you to cook in next time, plus anything else you like.

- Occasionally you'll successfully get him outside for a hike, or a walk, or even a day at a museum or arcade; and Roman will go full toddler on you. Pointing at everything excitedly, running around and shrieking, making sure he was your undivided attention and dragging you by the hand to look at everything. By the time you're home you're ready to collapse, only to notice Roman surreptitiously placing a little souvenir somewhere on your shelf, sneakily bought from a gift shop while you were in the bathroom, before pretending he has no idea how it got there.

- Roman is so enraptured by the incredible, rounded human-being that you are, that eventually some of your self-belief would start to rub off on him, making him feel more sure of himself than he ever has before. Thinking less about the approval of others (except you, he still desperately wants that), feeling confident in his ideas, and no longer feeling like he's stuck in Peter Pan mode - despite falling for someone ten years his junior, Roman would finally feel like he was becoming the man he was always supposed to be, thanks to you.

Let me know if you want a part two of this!

#writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession imagine #succession hbo #succession #succession headcanons #roman roy headcanons #succession roman

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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 2 months

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Dressed all in white (Sihtric Kjartansson x reader)

synopsis: When Sihtric and you meet life feels like a dream. Never in a thousand years could you have thougth such heaven could turn into such hell.

warnings: heavy angst, emotional manipulation, hurt/comfort but very little comfort, grief, physical violence, afab reader

word count: 3.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @foxyanon @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: This is probably one of my darker fics, so please know that it is completely okay to save this and read later if you currently aren´t in the right headspace. If you have recently lost someone close to you please know that eventhough it will suck and it is important that it sucks for a while it will get easier eventually. And if it doesn´t, counceling is always a good option imo

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It almost felt like a dream now, thinking back to that evening. A beautiful dream you wish would have never passed. But every dream had to end sometime. The end to yours was Sihtric standing by the docks of your hometown after a months long stay, hugging you tightly as he kissed you on the forehead and promised to write as often as he could.

“Do not cry, my love. I will return to you before you know it.” It was the only consolation you got.

That and half of his lord Uthred´s crew. Amongst them, Finan. As Sihtric and you had grown closer, so had the Irish man and you, though in a far more platonic sense. Ever since that night you felt like the dream that now ended began. As you stand there, Finan´s arm around your shoulder. As you wave off Sihtric until the ship is barely a spec on the horizon, you allow yourself to reminisce about the night you all had met.

There had been word of a large group of Danes having come to town all day. No matter where you went you would become privy to whispers about the large group of men. How their leader was a Saxon raised by Danes nicknamed the Dane slayer. The rumours made your mind run wild with imagining how this Dane slayer would look like. All your brain could come up with, was the picture of a beast of a man. Tall, covered in muscles and scars with long hair and a long beard. A barbarian, in short. Which was all but not what greeted you at the tavern that evening.

Long before you set foot over the threshold you could hear the screaming and laughing and music. A big group of Danes had taken over the tavern and in the midst of them sat the Dane slayer himself, Uhtred Ragnarsson, with three of his seemingly closest men. Throughout the night there was an abundance of food and ale, men and women started dancing on the tables to the music and you were no different from them. Finding yourself pulled into a conversation with the Irish man and the Dane, shocked yet fascinated by their stories and in the end, being spun around by them to lively melody after lively melody, singing dancing and laughing until the very ungodly hours of the morning. The two men had you laughing until your tummy hurt and kept you on your feet until your legs ached. When the time came to go home, or rather to choose who to take home with you, your choice fell onto Sihtric. In hindsight you weren´t even sure why your decision fell on him, all you knew was that it was easy to decide. For some odd reason the Danes soul felt like it was calling out to you.

One night turned into many and your choice that fateful night only proved to have been the right one. Finan was sweet to you, but Sihtric was infinitely sweeter. After only a short while you had no room left in your small house for the heap of flowers that he gifted you, he never talked over you in conversation and made a point to include you as best as possible and the best thing was that he listened. He actually listened with great interest, storing each new thing he learned about you somewhere easily reachable in his brain. He was perfect, life was good for a while. If only he hadn´t followed Uhtred back to sea.

Not long after he had left, the letters he had promised to send stopped coming out of nowhere, even though he had just promised to marry you as soon as he came back.

Reams of miles away Sihtric thought and worried endlessly about the same, you had sounded beyond happy about his promise in the last letter only to then suddenly stop writing out of nowhere. That´s when he received a letter that would explain the absence of any writing in all the worst ways.

He was alone when he opened the envelope addressed to him. It´s contents talked about how he had left you behind pregnant, a fact that made his heart beat higher, the overwhelming happiness overshadowed the fact that you had not told him yourself or the absence of any communication for a moment. Only for it to end with his heart sinking into before unknown depths and his vision to veil with tears as he continued reading. There had been complications and you, as well as the child, had died. The paper is crumpled in his fist before he can read the expressions of condolences, he didn´t care for them anyway. The scream that leaves his lungs goes unregistered by his own ears, but it is heard by many others.

Little did he know that at approximately the same time a very alive and unpregnant you received a similar letter. Stating that there had been a disaster too cruel to recount to you, that there weren´t many survivors. However, Sihtric was not amongst them. Leaving behind only tear-stained nights and dreams of what could have been.

It felt like your life stopped the moment you had opened the envelope. An unending numbness filled your body. Each month you had known Sihtric converted to a year of mourning his loss and you weren´t sure what was worse. The longing and yearning for nothing more than to have him back with you under any circumstances, not talking, eating or sleeping at all or far too much. The inner coldness no matter how many layers of clothes or furs you wore, that only got worse the more the sun shone. Or realising that life had to move and allowing yourself to live again. Even in just small ways. The first time you actually ate, slept, went about your day as before, the first time Finan managed to make you laugh for the first time in what felt like forever send you spiralling all over again. But you allowed yourself to be comforted by the Irish man, who had a seemingly way easier time handling the news than you did.

“How do you do it?” You asked him one afternoon as you sat together.

“How do I do what?” Came the fairly confused question back.

“Be so fine to live on without him. Laugh. It feels like he took even the colours of the world away when he died.” You mutter the forgotten context into the room.

“Ah…” Finan makes a quiet sound of recognition, thinking deeply about his next words. “I believe it is because we all have made our piece with the fact long ago. Our lives were never quite as safe as yours, especially out on the sea, where every storm could mean the end if you are not careful.”

“Oh…” You feel stupid for your answer or perhaps even asking the question, but you didn´t know what else to say.

Silence settles over the two of you again like a stone slab.

“It is so hard to believe that he is supposed to be gone and I am still here, having to go on. He was so sweet; he did not deserve this.” Your eyes begin to burn, though you aren´t sure if it is from tears of the past or present.

“I know.” There isn´t much more Finan can answer.

“I love him so much still.” Your voice nearly gives out under the familiar knot that builds in your throat.

“I know.” Finan pulls you onto his lap, to lay your ear on his chest.

The gesture had always comforted you when you cried over the thought of Sihtric leaving one day. He had let you listen to his heart to remind you that he would always be there for you. If not in physical form, then in soul and heart.

“You need only to close your eyes and think back to this moment. Then you will know I am still with you.” Your Dane lover had rasped into your ear and for as long as you thought him alive you lived by it.

When you eventually met a new man, you couldn´t help but to compare him to Sihtric and find he was different in so many ways. Naturally. He was still nice and caring and funny, but even the beating of his heart was different to Sihtrics. Not only because it was there, but the rhythm it drummed against his ribcage was fundamentally so contrasting. The way his arms wrapped around you felt different and you have to confront the fact that things would never feel the same. Yet over time the strong, vibrant pulse began to drown out the steady beat you fell in love with. And so, when you allowed for people to enter your heart again, the wish of being able to be okay with living became a wish to share your life more intimately with the man than before. After all, he had made every effort possible to make you as happy as his former crew mate would have. And though you had sworn to only ever love one man, you were overjoyed when the man proposed to you. Or at least that was how you interpret the way your own heart, which had thawed entirely only shortly ago, beat a few deep pulses before returning to normal. The ceremony is arranged to be held by father Beocca at your future husbands house, your friends help you into the dress, braid flowers into your hair and do their best to calm your nerves and dry your tears. But still when it is time to leave for the ceremony, you are unsure if you are truly ready.

At approximately the same time a boat arrives at the docks. On it Uhtred, Sihtric and the rest of the crew. It had been so long, yet seeing the town made Sihtric´s throat tighten as memories of you flood his mind. He had almost obsessively studied the last letter containing information of your status and it had been too painful to return. But Uhtred was right. He couldn´t let that hurt take control over his life. So now he found himself wandering through the greenfield the two of you had spent so much time laying close, talking about everything and nothing all the same. The tavern you met at. Even just the town square and lastly… your home. Where, if it hadn´t already, all the colour would have drained from the Dane´s face. It felt like a hallucination at first. One that took away his voice and nearly made him fall to his knees. The desperation for the moment to be real wore him down as if someone had slit open his stomach, put boulders into it and sewed it shut again. He stumbles and almost falls multiple times, calling your name until you turn to see him.

“Sihtric…” You whisper and slap a hand over your mouth, getting the attention of the women surrounding you. The bouquet in your hands falls to the ground in favour of them grabbing and lifting the skirt of your dress to pull it up out of the way of your feet. The whispers around are drowned out by a high-pitched ringing in your ears and without having to think about it, your feet carry you towards the only man you ever loved.

Once his arms wrap around you it is like something shakes the fundament of the earth. The world becomes more colourful again, air fully fills your lungs for the first time in forever and the tears that burn in your eyes are for once uncoined by grief, yet the sense of longing, that had plagued your soul for so long, prevailed. The scent of wet wood and musk fills your nose, followed by the comforting undertones of honey and black pepper to soothe your mind.

“You are real…” Sihtric is the one to speak first.

“The much more pressing question here is how you are alive?” You answer, leaning back in his arms to look at his face as your hands cup his face. Even feeling the skin under your finger pads couldn´t completely convince you that this moment was real.

“Me? How are you still alive?” Sihtric´s eyebrows knit together tightly, the frown on his lips deepening further in confusion.

By now a small cluster of people had collected, watching the reunion and whispering behind their hands a small distance away. In search of an answer, you turn to them, hoping to find your future husband, so he could give an explanation, but he seemed to still wait inside. Unaware of what was going on. Unaware of what was going to happen soon.

“Me? You were the one that stopped writing first. And then I got a letter that said… It said that you...” It´s too hard to actually say the words, but Sihtric understands nevertheless.

He is just about to say something, when the door to your home opened and Finan stepped out, assumingly to look where you were, eyes widening at the sight of his friend. Yet there is no time for any more reunion feelings, as the Irish man is closely followed by your husband to be.

Sihtric´s eyes widen in understanding before yours do and you have a hard time holding him back, but the men just have too much strength. The Dane lands a hard punch in the man´s face, splitting his lip with his knuckles and drawing some blood. There are screams heard from the crowd and immediately a handful of men have to pull them apart before anything worse happens.

“Stop it! Stop it this instant you two!” You scream repeatedly at the top of your lungs, yet it still takes a while until the spirits have been calmed enough to at least have the two men not struggle against the men parting them anymore.

However, there is no way to get an explanation from anyone as they continue to scream at each other from a distance. Spouting insults that you had never heard before in your life.

Then Sihtric silences everyone with three powerful yet simple words. “Make the square!”

There are protests from several of the men, but in the end, everything goes all too fast. You are frozen to the ground you are standing on, so Finan pulls you aside. Sihtric presses a kiss to your lips and mutters a promise that your brain is unable to register. All you can focus on is the weapons being drawn. Your brain doesn´t even register the hot tears that stream down your cheeks and stain the fabric of the dress. The first sound of the blades meeting each other, has you burying your face in Finan´s chest, resounding in your ears horrifically. You can´t stand to watch most of it, shaking and flinching with every sound of blades clashing or pained scream. You have to force yourself to watch eventually when you can´t deal with the anxiety and uncertainty anymore. Frantic eyes searched for Sihtric. Finding him, covered in dirt, blood and panting, but still standing and to your relief with a good chance at winning. Though you don´t allow yourself to cheer like the others yet. There is still too much shock in your bones, too many unresolved questions plaguing your mind. You manage to get so caught up in your thoughts, that you only come to, when the fight seems to be close to over. Luckily in favour of your one true love, which now stands above the man you were about to marry, a dagger you hadn´t noticed the Dane carrying before, to his throat. From the distance you can see the raw fear in the man´s widely opened eyes and rapidly rising and sinking chest, clawing at the Danes wrist to get him to let go of the weapon to no avail. That fear quickly morphs to relief, exhaled in a deep breath and relaxing facial features, when Sihtric puts the dagger into the ground beneath his head, the blade sticking out upright. Only to morph back into the purest horror just as quickly as before, when the first fist swiftly comes down onto his face. A crack can be heard when the knuckles make contact with the bridge of the nose, thus breaking it without even batting an eye.

Air suddenly floods your lungs in a gasp at the cracking sound, but silently find yourself cheering on your one true love more and more as time passes. Your own body doesn´t listen to you anymore. Your eyes are dead focussed on the sight of his fist making contact with the face over and over and over again, even long after the resistance had stopped and he had clearly won as his opponent’s face was nothing more than bloody pulp. It was gruelling, haunting to see, but your head would have refused to turn away even if you had wanted it to. So, you continue watching and watching and watching until it becomes glaringly clear that Sihtric is not going to stop anytime soon. You aren´t the only one to have that realisation, it glimmers in Finan and Uhtred´s eyes as well. The two men pull their friend off the lifeless body and you are by his side in an instant. Cupping his face in your firm, but gentle hands, your eyes searching his until they make contact and in the corner of your field of vision you see the way his chest rises slow down.

“You have to stop now. It is over.” You urge him in a sore voice falling to your knees in front of him. “You won. It is over now.”

The Dane looks deep into your eyes, allowing your voice and words to soothe him, yet the anger took the ability to think clearly or speak from him still. Finan and Uhtred let him go and you can fall into his arms again without a care in the world about the pristine, white dress becoming dirty as well. All that matters is feeling Sihtric in your arms now as you keep murmuring to him. His entire body starts to tremble under the familiar touch and so does yours. You squeeze your eyes shut and pull him in tighter. You have trouble believing your own words. It doesn´t entirely feel over yet. Fear still gnaws on your heart, that he could vanish from your hold to leave behind nothing but a cloud of smoke and the pain of being awoken from yet another dream tricking you into thinking things hadn´t resolved in your favour. Fear that it was real, but he would be taken from you one day once more. The two of you likely couldn´t be further from having won. Or else, you think, the tears that now flow freely down both your faces to wet the others clothes wouldn´t be so bitter.

#sihtric tlk #sihtric kjartanson #sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartanson x reader #sihtric kjartanson x you #the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic

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daycourtofficial · 2 months

Text

My love should be celebrated

Pairing: Nesta Archeron x Rhysand’s Sister!reader

Summary: based on this request - you have been trying for months to help Nesta heal, catching feelings for her in the process. One night you decide to bare your feelings for her, only to be callously rejected.

Author’s note: first time writing wlw!! Please lmk how you feel about it. Also this is basically SF but with a different love interest, however I’m rewriting that Nesta lives in a hovel bc like why tf are there slums in Velaris

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“Go away,” Nesta says, closing the door on your face.

“Nesta!” You yell, banging on the door again.

You didn’t hear her steps recede down the hall of her apartment or any other noise from the other side of the brown door, brass letterings spelling ‘4D’ on it.

“I brought soup!” You cringe at the desperation in your voice, but you couldn’t help it. Your thoughts had whirled and swirled of the eldest Archeron sister for months. You have no clue why - she was never close or particularly kind to you, but you always found yourself wondering how she was.

Your thoughts would redirect to her during the day.

Had she eaten?

Was she sleeping?

You could ensure she had access to food, at the very least. So you had spent the afternoon preparing several different meals - soups, dinners, lunches, fresh fruits and vegetables.

You hadn’t let yourself think about actually interacting with Nesta until after you had knocked on her door. Your thoughts weren’t able to linger too long on that as Nesta opened the door, took one look at you, and sneered out a delightful, “go away,” before shutting you out.

You sighed, “I have fruits, cheeses, I made you a ton of food, Nesta. Please at least take it in inside. It’d make me feel better to know you at least had some food available.”

Nesta opens the door, her arms crossed as she fixes an icy glare at you, “do you find me so incompetent I’m incapable of getting groceries?”

Your eyes widen, shocked at how she’d perceive this, “gods, no, Nesta. I just thought-“

“Thought what? I’m too stupid to know how to cook for myself?”

She didn’t move a muscle as she kept you in place with that icy look on her face, blonde hair in a messy braided crown, as if she had slept in it.

“No, I just-I just- I wanted you to have a nice meal,” you stammer out, feeling like an utter fool for how sour this went.

“Then why did you cook it?”

With that, she slammed the door in your face, her footsteps receding on the other side.

You knock on Nesta’s door again, the same place you were this time last week. This time the scenario was different.

Your brother had given her a choice: the human lands or the House of Wind.

You found it an incredibly callous choice - certain death or forced isolation, so you asked Rhysand if you could at least be there with her. He reluctantly agreed, asking you and Azriel to stay in the House of Wind, monitoring her progress.

You were at her new bedroom door, letting her know that you were about to make dinner for all three of you. If she wanted to join you and Azriel, she could, or you could bring her a serving.

You received no reply. You could hear her heart beating through the door, it’s rhythm a clear beat through the silence of her room.

You turn, heading down the stairs to prepare dinner. You and Azriel ate in a comfortable silence, discussing the day you two had, swapping notes about the books you were reading. Nesta never showed, and you left a plate for her outside her door.

A plate you saw untouched the next morning.

The next few days took the same form - you go downstairs, prepare a beeakfast for you and Nesta, leaving her serving outside her door. Then you head to the Library to work on your studies, returning to the house for lunch.

Every meal you made a large enough portion for Nesta, plated it, leaving it at her door to go untouched until the next meal was left.

After a week of this cycle, you ask Clotho if there’s any work that can be done in the library.

Yes, I could use some assistance with restocking the shelves, she wrote.

“Fantastic,” you tell her, “I have the perfect female for the job - I’ll let her know.”

And you did, later that night. Through the door you told her about the library, and how “they need someone to help stock the shelves. It’s monotonous work, but at least you’ll move around a good bit. And it’s something to do.”

You don’t hear anything, and that causes you to ramble a bit, “not that you don’t have anything to do. It’s just - the priestesses are nice and the library’s nice and you’d get to be away from me and Az. So, uh, yeah. Bye, Nes.”

After the disastrously embarrassing way you had told Nesta about helping Clotho, you had written off any chance of her doing so. You were doubly shocked to hear it from Azriel, who told you that Nesta actually helped him procure a book he required.

Another week goes by, and Nesta has been working in the library every day, and she even began attending meals with you and Azriel.

She didn’t really acknowledge your existence at them, but you tried nonetheless. Every day you tried - you tried to talk about books, about the theater, about ballets, about the history of Velaris, hell you even began trying to get her to rank the Vanserras in order of most to least fuckable.

She would hardly speak to you, except occasional taunts and jabs. It came to a head at the end of the week when Cassian began staying at the house as well, and began training Nesta and several of the priestesses.

She’d be away for most of the day, between training and her work, so you only saw her at evening meals. She had only just began training, but she seemed lighter, as if she was crawling out of the darkness.

You were proud of her, she was doing the impossible. She was getting stronger, and Cassian and Azriel said she was even making friends with some of the priestesses.

All of her progress did nothing to help the relationship between the two of you. It still stung when she would disregard you. When you’d ask her a question and she’d blatantly ignore you to speak to Azriel.

The weeks of this iciness continue, until one night in the library you’ve had enough.

“Nesta, can I speak with you about something?”

They were the first words you had spoken all day, spending the day trying to plot out this conversation to the best of your abilities.

Nesta sighs, not looking up from her book. “If it’s quick and I don’t have to do anything.”

You sit on the couch she’s sprawled out on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Um actually I wanted to ask - why do you like Azriel and Cassian much more than you like me?”

Nesta scoffs, eyes going back to her book. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, Nes I actually wanted to tell you I uh-“

Nesta rolls her eyes, waving her hand. “If you truly can’t understand why I prefer their company, perhaps you’d be better off learning how to be less annoying and how to stop following me around like a starved dog.”

Your face heats with embarassment, fists clenching to keep your sob in, but Nesta’s not finished. She blinks her icy gray eyes up at you over her book.

“What? You think I didn’t know you had a pathetic little crush on me? Please. You practically drool every morning when you see me. I’ve seen you up at the training ring watching me.”

Hot tears start streaming down your face.

“Run along, go find someone else to bother. Perhaps they’ll give you a collar and a bone. Maybe even a bed.”

You shoot up, bursting through the library, out the double doors. You push past a confused Azriel before bounding down the stairs, seeking the quiet shelter of your room.

You had been staying here for a few months to help Nesta. She had gotten better, despite your attempts at connecting with her.

There was no reason for you to stay.

You waited until you could stop crying for an hour before darting to Azriel’s room, knocking softly. He opens the door, surprised to find you on the other side of it.

He wants to ask, knowing that your red rimmed eyes are likely because of Nesta. But he doesn’t pry.

He never had.

That’s why you came to him and not Cassian. Cassian would have made you tell him what was wrong, and then he would have yelled at Nesta for being mean to you.

You just wanted to leave. You didn’t want to see her again.

“Can you- uh, can you take me home? I know it’s late, but I’ve stayed here for too long. I should go back to the townhouse.”

You swallow, not able to look him the eye. You felt so… stupid. You knew she didn’t like you, and still your heart couldn’t help beating faster whenever her eyes met yours.

Azriel nods softly, a motion you don’t see, but he surprises you by taking you into his arms, holding you gently, and rubbing your back.

The action makes keeping the tears at bay much harder.

He lets go, not mentioning the tears now lining your face, as he opens his door, letting you in, and walks towards his balcony. He gently lifts you up, and the two of you fly off into the night.

Azriel had been conflicted these past few months. He had hoped bringing Cassian into the mix would make Nesta be nicer to you.

He was wrong.

Somehow his presence had made things worse. His heart practically broke in half seeing you rush out of the room, so upset over something Nesta had said.

And then you came to his room in the dead of night, asking to leave only a few hours later.

Azriel wasn’t irrationally confrontational. He preferred to sit in the shadows, observe, let life happen around him.

Not anymore. Not when the life was Nesta being absurdly cruel to you, day in and day out. You, who was so sweet and kind. You, who had tried to convince Rhys to let Nesta stay anywhere else. You, who had painstakingly made every one of Nesta’s meals since her arrival.

She didn’t touch a single one of them.

He stalked into the dining room the next morning, allowing his anger to get the best of him. He wanted to rip Nesta’s throat out after flying you home. Your gentle sobs you tried to hide were still ringing in his ears as he cloaked the room in shadow.

Cassian flinches as his brother stalks in, feet pounding, wings splayed. He walks towards Nesta, who doesn’t give him a second glance.

His gaze stays on her, waiting for her to look at him.

“Let me make myself very clear,” he said, the harsh tones of the shadowsinger coming through. “She is my sister, we grew up together. She is the kindest person I’ve ever known, and none of us deserve her. You do not deserve the kindness she has repeatedly shown you, despite your lack of reciprocity.”

Nesta keeps eating, her fork scraping the plate as she grabs another bite of salad, listening as Azriel continues. “I swear to the mother Nesta, I don’t know what you said to her, but if you ever make the mistake of being so callous and cruel to her again, I will not hesitate to insert myself again into this one-sided feud.”

Cassian looks between the two of them, confused. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Azriel keeps his glare on Nesta as he says, “(y/n)’s left. She’s gone back to the townhouse, likely won’t be back for some time.”

He stands up straighter.

“Perhaps Nesta knows why.”

The following weeks Nesta continued her new routine - training in the morning, stocking the shelves of the library in the afternoon, dinner with the brothers. She was spending her time with Gwyn and Emyrie, growing closer to the females she considers her friends.

And yet, every night she finds herself searching for you in every room. She looks for you in the halls of the House of Wind, she looks for you in the training ring, off to the side. Some days she swears she can smell you in the shelves of the books, your scent brought to her on a phantom wind.

Nesta knew who she was. She was cruel, callous, and cold. What she said to you was perhaps the worst thing she has ever done.

She couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t handle speaking with you about why she couldn’t be nice to you. She couldn’t watch your big doe eyes tell her that you had feelings for her.

No matter how much she might return those feelings.

She didn’t deserve your kindness, your gaze, your time. Maybe she deserves more than this loneliness she feels, though. Her nights have grown colder without you in the house, which sounded absolutely absurd.

Perhaps the house was showing Nesta how icy she had been.

It had been three weeks since Azriel took you from the house, Nesta realizes as she stands before the Illyrian, asking him for one last favor.

“No,” he says, about to turn away before Nesta grabs his wrist.

“Please,” she asks, “please just.. tell her to come. Just a place and time. Leave it up to her to decide if she wants to come.”

Azriel looks a bit apprehensive, conflicted between his love for you and his new friendship with Nesta.

“I’ll tell her,” he says, voice stern, “but if she doesn’t come, you won’t bother her about this.”

Nesta was a ball of anxiety, impatiently watching the door to see if you would come. She had asked for you to come see her at the House of Wind, and she was unable to focus on anything all day except for the lingering question.

“You came,” Nesta says, as you walk into the room.

“I’m a dog, if I hear a whistle, I can’t help myself.”

Nesta flinches at your words and the harshness of your tone. She deserved it. She deserved your ire. Still, she couldn’t stop looking at your windswept hair, disheveled from the flight with Azriel. She couldn’t stop looking at you, taking in your familiar scent, when it was all but gone everywhere in the house.

Nesta will take it to her grave if anyone asks why her scent lingers in your room.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Nesta says, unable to meet your gaze.

“How to do what?” You ask, sitting down, back stiff.

She takes a shakey breath, “how to be loved, how to - how to accept it. How to let someone be nice to me.”

You look, but she still wants to say more. You keep your gaze on her, watching as her fingers very subtly dance across her thigh, tapping a rhythm to a song you cannot hear.

“I also don’t know how to apologize.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting that from her. You clear your throat, “well, apologies usually start with uh recognizing what you did as wrong and saying why it was wrong.”

Nesta’s steely gaze meet yours, her grip on her thigh tightening.

“I hurt you, over and over again. I knew I was hurting you, and I kept doing it.”

She pauses, and you let her take the time she needs to get through what she has to say. She closes her eyes, prompting a tear to fall down her cheek.

“I kept hurting you because I didn’t want you to see me. I didn’t-“

She gasps as you reach a hand out, stroking her shoulder. She looks up at the ceiling, trying desperately to get the words out.

“I was scared and angry and I didn’t want to stop feeling those things. I knew if I hurt you enough you’d go away, because I just wanted to let my wounds fester.”

Her voice drops, as if there are other people in the room. As if her words are meant for you and you alone.

“I was scared that if I let you in, let you see me, you’d.. you’d be like them and hate me.”

You let Nesta’s words hang in the air for a moment. It was a little cruel of you, but she was cruel to you. She can wait a moment. You look at her - her usually icy gaze gone warm in your presence.

“I don’t hate you, Nesta,” you say, blowing out a breath, “I actually.. it’s quite the opposite really.”

You take a swig of your drink, “I actually was coming to tell you that I uh-“

You shake your head, feeling so stupid now. Of course Nesta was dealing with her own shit, how could she possibly be in a place to reciprocate your feelings.

“That I couldn’t stop thinking about you or worrying about you. And it’s stupid, and I know my feelings are my own burden to bear but I just-“

Your words are cut off as Nesta grabs your face, leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss. Your brain stops working momentarily, her lips soft against your own unmoving ones.

When you come back to yourself, you grab the back of her neck, keeping her head in place as you kiss her back with such fervor.

Your head is spinning when her tongue slides into your mouth, and you keep your lips connected as you move your way onto her lap. She groans into your mouth at the new weight atop her, placing her hands on your hips, pulling you down. You lose yourself in kissing her, her citrusy taste making you unable to think, until a thought comes to you and you pull away, causing her to groan.

“Are you going to be nice to me now?” You ask, eyebrows raised.

Nesta rolls her eyes, one of her fingers playing with a strand of your hair, “maybe if you move back in here, I can start making it up to you.”

She moves forward, kissing up your throat, before stopping right in front of your lips.

“I can make us breakfast in the morning.”

#acotar fanfiction #nesta x reader #nesta archeron x reader #nesta archeron

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ingravinoveritas · 2 months

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What do you make of David sayin he’s an ally, not an active participant (in queer subcultures)?

Did he come out as straight? I’m not sure anyone has ever asked him directly, not that he needs to give any explanations, I’m just curious because he gives off such a queer vibe even when he’s been married forever.

https://www.attitude.co.uk/culture/david-tennant-on-the-spice-girls-spiceworld-movie-was-being-developed-before-they-even-released-a-single-459815/

Oh, my Asks/DMs have been blowing up over this one. I did have a chance to read this interview with David (is it me, or is he doing nonstop press lately?) and...wow. Definitely enjoyable, and noticeably more unhinged/queer than most of his other interviews (which makes sense, given that Attitude is an LGBTQ-focused publication). But let's get a screenshot up of the most talked about bit, so we can discuss:

Obviously there is a lot going on here, so I'm just going to go with what stood out to me most. I don't think there is anything in the world less surprising than David naming bears first, given certain preferences of his (which I've discussed several times previously on my blog).

What's really interesting though is that the question was asking about queer subcultures, but all of the ones David listed are used primarily (AFAIK, though someone please do correct me if I am wrong) in mlm/gay male relationships. "Queer" can be many things, after all--gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, ace--and yet when David heard "queer subcultures" he specifically went for the mlm/gay ones, and that definitely feels like an interesting choice.

The second thing that I felt was worth discussing is that a lot of the reactions I've seen to this is people saying how adorably clueless David is, or how "he's a little confused, but he's got the spirit." And I'm sort of perplexed by this because we are talking about an almost 53-year-old man here, and I believe he knows damn well what all of those terms/subcultures are.

It's been brought to my attention (from what I would consider a very trustworthy source) that David is not at all as technologically illiterate as he pretends to be. Instead, it's actually part of a persona that he puts on to avoid dealing with issues that would arise from people knowing he is online. I had an inkling of this just from Georgia saying David was the one who set up all the equipment for when they filmed Staged at home (because why would such a task be put in the hands of someone who is hopeless with technology?). But having this confirmed also aligns with David creating a fake personal assistant in the early days of his career so he wouldn't have to fulfill certain social obligations, and to put a barrier between his real self and the world.

So why, then, wouldn't the same pattern possibly apply here?

I know there also tends to be this image of David as a "bumbling, goofy dad" type, and that's definitely part of him and what makes him so charming. But I don't think he is a fool, either--especially not after listening to him talk about Shakespeare or politics or anything else at length--and I think he certainly knows how to answer these types of questions. I think David is more than clever enough to give answers that are cheeky but not revealing, because he knows the purpose of all this is to promote the BAFTAs, not to be a deep, probing exposé on the life and times of David Tennant.

Which then brings me to the big, gay elephant standing in the middle of the room--a.k.a., "I'm an ally rather than an active participant." (Again...so many interesting word choices going on here, and none of it feels like an accident.)

Going back to what I mentioned about the focus of these interviews, I'd like to point out one notable thing that David himself said in the Radio Times interview earlier this week:

This, I think, sums up what we are seeing in all of these interviews: The version of David that he feels is safe to present to the world. He makes it clear as well that he is not going to reveal areas of his personal life while up on stage, and I would say that the same thing applies to these interviews. (It also speaks volumes that in the year 2024, the version of himself he feels safe presenting in these interviews is one who fully knows what bears and twinks--sorry, twinkies--are.)

So no, I don't think David is coming out as straight. I don't think he's coming out as anything, in fact, because he knows these interviews are not the place for that to happen. And I think that saying he is an ally but not an active participant makes the most sense as an answer for a public interview, but neither that nor being in a straight-passing relationship necessarily makes him any less potentially queer.

To reiterate what I said above, there is no one way to be queer. For some people, being queer absolutely can mean going to leather bars and participating in subcultures. But for other people, "queer" can mean something very different. It can mean being a Kinsey 2 just floating along doing your thing until you meet that one person who changes everything. The person who makes you go, "I've usually been more into this and not as much into this...but I'm definitely into you." It can mean being attracted to/falling for someone--a co-star, maybe?--that you never expected to feel that way about. And if David is queer, maybe that also means not shying away from anything, but at the same time not wanting to take the spotlight off the awards and the nominees celebrating one of the most important nights of their lives.

Those are my thoughts on the Attitude interview and David's answers, at any rate. Happy as always to hear from my followers with your takes. Thank you for writing in! x

#achioteandlime #unforgivablengk #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #BAFTAs 2024 #attitude magazine #interview #i don't know why people would expect him to say 'I'm screwing Michael Sheen on the side' in a random interview #but it seems like anything less than that means it can't be true #also 'not an active participant' is like the most bottom thing he could have possibly said #there's something slutty in the state of Denmark #and not beating the allegations #and it's David Tennant #let people be who they are #bisexuality #thoughts #discourse

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

Note

alright, so i completely understand if you don't wanna do this since you have been getting a lot of tadc requests, so feel free to leave this in your inbox for a while but its worth a shot i guess.

tadc x angel reader? but im not talking about the cute and adoring ones, moresore the bibical angel type. kind of like principalities angels if you know what that is. scary stuff.

thanks for all that you do btw, i love your writing and as a fanfiction writer myself im amazed at how quickly your able to pump out requests

thanks for reading

TADC cast x angel!reader !

took me a hot minute to find it but someone asked for the same/very similar request for zooble so!! that post is going to be linked in place of their segment! yahoo! uhuhuhuh!! admin must admit, he does not know much about actual angel lore so hes gonna be real loose with this </3 aaaand to the last part!! its the silliness... i cant contain it... sobs...

CAINE:

now i dont know what kind of personality the reader has, but imagine your wings stick out and fluff up when he decides hes bold enough to compliment, or even flirt with you... has probably led to him getting smacked by your wings and being sent flying... the price of being small, sadly... though he did kind of have it coming for standing where he was/j

sometimes, you guys fly together, since caine very rarely walks around on the ground and kind of just glides around... its nice having someone who can accompany him around... doesnt think your intimidating, if anything he thinks you look interesting... hes probably unphased by most of the forms circus members may take, though its rare you get someone who does look unsettling... shrugs

POMNI:

honestly probably a little intimidated, and perhaps even unnerved in the beginning. like not in the "im deeply uncomfortable" way but more like "oh. so thats a thing" if that makes sense? does try to be nice and kind to you, though, since she does understand that this isnt what you really look like and you cant really... control it... probably has sneezed from the feathers of your wings, if you have any.. in fact you might have accidentally smacked her with them, since shes so small.. you didnt mean to..! honest! caine and pomni just got cursed with the shortness... no thoughts, only angel reader protectively shielding someone with their wings, this can apply to any of the characters... probably one of my favorite tropes for characters with large wings tbh

RAGATHA:

if you can swap out your clothes or have clothes that are detachable (since clothes are canonically stuck to the bodies) shes definitely going to make you some clothing that you can easily slip over your wings, and still have them out! plus spending time with you making the measurements and trying out patterns and fabric is nice! thinks your wings are soft... probably a little put off by your appearance and vibe at first, but ragatha being ragatha shes not going to let it bother her for long, and she makes sure youre welcomed to the circus with open arms... i mean its not like you have a choice to leave... may as well be as inviting as possible..!

JAX:

drum roll please! its the admins favorite jax headcannon that always rears its head in whenever the admin writes a reader who has some extra body part or fluff or accessories or a combination! the fidget/fiddle headcannon! this man is likely going to stroke and mess with your wings, a lot. congrats, youre his new fidget toy/j. has probably accidentally, or perhaps no so accidentally, pulled a feather out. granted im not sure how much it would hurt, i think it would be akin to plucking hair with a tweezer, but the point still stands..! has probably asked you to fly him up somewhere... totally not so he can do some mischief... probably doesnt know much about angels (like the admin LMAO) and probably labels you as like. sterotypical cartoon angel personality (forgiving, kind, good, ect. basically everything that isnt jax/j) but whether or not thats true its up to you... though it would be a little funny for the person who looks like an angel being a trickster... shrugs

KINGER:

FEAR!!! okay... well i think thats a given when theres a new circus member around, since kinger is a little... eh... you know? probably takes some time to warm up to you, but given how he speaks to pomni in the pilot within the first few minutes of her being there, i dont think it would take long for him to approach you. definitely polite, probably even more so thanks to your angelic appearance. mmngh.. soft feathers... shares the jax fidget headcannon with the silly chess piece... bonus if you actually are really kind and protective, this man would be hovering around you since you kind of represent comfort to him... thinks...

ZOOBLE:

right here!

GANGLE:

while most of the others are a little intimidated i think gangle actually likes the aesthetics of angels. maybe thats just the artist in her; like every artist ive met either has a soft spot for angel or demon characters... sometimes both.. admins no exception, its like. mandatory artist trait/j

i had a winged reader request somewhere, where gangle puts the readers fallen feathers into art work and gifts it to them. kind of like how people used to put the hair of their loved ones in jewelry... i think that would also apply to an angel reader! similar to kinger, if youre protective shes going to gravitate towards you... given that shes made of ribbon and fragile... and because of SOOOOOMEONE (glares at jax)... very nice dynamic/relationship material here, me thinks

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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urtheoneiwant · 2 years

Text

Buckle Bunny of Sorts │ Rhett Abbott

Genre: SMUT with some fluff

Summary: From the insistence of a friend, you spend a night out on the town. But you run into your long time crush, Rhett Abbott, and he has something to tell you.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ ONLY! P in v, oral sex (female receiving), small spit kink, dirty talk, degradation, praise, kinda dom!Rhett and sub!reader, use of term 'buckle bunny', pining, revealing feelings, unprotected sex, pull-out method (be smart! don't use pull-out method as a form of birth control irl), messy sex, pet names (bunny, baby), a smidge of sexism from the towns people? Written as a fem!reader. Just nasty, nasty filth.

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: My first smut! Please be kind, I'm still very new to writing and especially smut. But I loved Outer Range and I saw someone post about wanting to be Rhett's buckle bunny and couldn't get this out of my head. I didn't want country girl (as I call her) to be an actually buckle bunny since they are sort of frowned upon (but I say you do you). So this is the idea I came up with instead. It took me forever to write this, but I'm pretty proud of it. In conclusion, I love Lewis Pullman and the characters he plays. Go watch Outer Range if you like Lewis, he's amazing in it and it is such a great show! Now I have to go bathe in holy water :) Oh and feel free to send in any request or thoughts you have about Top Gun or other characters. There is a list on my page of the main fandoms I'm into, but you can send whatever you want it and I've might have seen/read it. And you can always reach out to me for whatever (rants, ideas, links to articles about be we're obsessed with) Thanks for the support!

SMUT BELOW CUT. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

(GIF is not mine)

Admittedly, you felt a bit stupid. In your head, this seemed like a good idea, but as the idea becomes a reality you mentally kick yourself for it.

You’ve grown up in Amelia county your entire life. And in a place like this, people tend to stick to their roots, inner circle, and cliques. That being said, you knew just about everyone in your town, and definitely knew every boy your age. The problem was that they knew you too. Growing up you were definitely an outcast. Spending all your free time working to help pay the bills didn’t give you many chances to make friends. You were boring, safe. You knew it. You weren’t anything to write home about. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Last week you sat with the one friend you managed to make throughout your time in school, Sadie, and spilled these thoughts to her.

“That’s bullshit honey, and you know it.” Leave it to Sadie to soften the blow. “I’m sorry, but you are beautiful, any guy would be lucky to have you. But you spend all your time holed up at work or with me. These guys haven’t got a proper look at you since you hit puberty, no wonder they don’t seem interested.” She lectured.

“Well, what am I supposed to do about that? Get all dolled up for a night on the town? Look around, it’d be ridiculous” You replied.

“Come on, let me take you out. Just throw on some daisy dukes, a risky top, and some nice boots. It’ll be fun. And I’ll personally beat the shit out of anyone who has anything bad to say. Please, please, please…” And you knew that when Sadie was like this, you had no choice but to give in. So you agreed, one night out.

And that’s how you found yourself in your apartment letting Sadie pick out your outfit. She refused to tell you where you both were going, claiming that she didn’t want you to “get scared off.” And after opening the door wearing a pair of worn-out jeans and mud-covered boots, Sadie pushed her way inside to make you change.

She rifled through your dresser before holding up the tiniest pair of shorts you own. “No way, those are from high school. I don't even think they’ll fit. Plus it’s late out, why would I want to wear shorts?” You tried to reason with her, you really did.

“They may not fit you like they did in high school, but that’s the point, honey. Just trust me this once. Everyone is going to be all over you.” She replied, and handed you the shorts. As you began to wiggle them up she quietly added “Oh, and Rhett’s going to be there.”

You froze in place, glaring at your friend. “WHAT? Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t believe you.” Rhett fucking Abbott. The cowboy that you had been crushing on since middle school. Ever since the day he saw you walking home late after babysitting for a little cash and offered, no insisted, on walking you home. He was a few years ahead of you and happened to be friends with your older brother. Anytime he would come round your house to see your brother you would find yourself with your ear pressed to your door, trying to catch any of the words he was saying. Your eyes always seemed to wander outside your window to see if he was out back throwing a ball around with your brother. Once you even caught a glimpse of him shirtless after coming over to help your mom with some yard work.

Needless to say, your crush on Rhett didn’t get any better. In high school, you went out of your way to see him in the halls, or to accidentally run into him on your way home from work. You even went as far as to offer to tutor him in algebra, a class you yourself were failing. He wasn’t too keen on getting your help once your brother told him about that.

Now, Rhett had grown up and you had too. You would see him from time to time at the bar you worked at, always polite and asking about your family. And even now, you couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted whenever he was around. Some crushes just don’t go away.

“You’ve been into him since 8th grade! I can’t believe you haven’t made a move yet. It’s time to put your big girl panties on and do something. Hell, screw someone else for all I care. All I know is that if I have to watch you make puppy dog eyes at Rhett from across a room one more time, I’m going to lose my mind.” Sadie said. But that was the problem. No matter how many guys you went out with, or screwed, you always came back to Rhett. Honestly, you could see why it was so exhausting for your friend to watch all the time, it was a bit pathetic being a grown woman with a crush from middle school.

Deciding to listen to your friend and do something about your pining over him, you buttoned up your shorts and turned to look in the mirror. Sadie was right, they don’t fit as they did in high school. Where they used to be a bit loose on you, they now held on to every curve you had. Damn, when did you get an ass? Swallowing your nerves, you shoved your feet into your white boots that only appeared on special occasions. To top it off, you threw on an old flannel opting to tie it up and undo the top couple of buttons to let a bit of your cleavage spill out.

“Now, that is hot. He’s going to be drooling over you, just wait” Sadie hyped you up. She reached up and messed your hair up just a bit, giving it a wind-swept look before ushering you out to her truck.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After driving for a half hour, Sadie pulled into a dirt parking lot. You saw lights flashing, and heard cheering coming from the stadium seats. She took you to a fucking rodeo. Dressed in booty shorts.

“This is a joke. I look like a goddamn buckle bunny for christ's sake.” You curse out to her. She has the audacity to simply smirk back and says,

“Bout time you start acting like one.” And with that, she was out of the car and walking towards the show. With no other option but to sit and stew in the truck all night, you reluctantly hop out too. You curse under your breath and begin to tell Sadie that this is the last time you go anywhere with her without knowing before what she had planned.

Walking into the crowd, you felt your throat dry. You could feel people staring and you swore you heard a whisper that said “Is that Bruce’s daughter, Y/N?”. Suddenly, you became very interested in kicking the gravel under your boots.

Sadie did her best to reassure you, grabbing your hand and weaving you to a back lot. The crowd was sparse back here, and it looked like most of the guys hanging around were bull riders getting ready. “I don’t think we should be back here,” you said into Sadie’s ear and moved to pull your hand out of her grasp. But before you could she whipped you back around.

“This is it Y/N. Scout out which one of these boys you’re going to be riding tonight” She said with a wink. You let your eyes briefly scan the group. None of them noticed you two seeing as you were tucked a ways away. You made out a few familiar faces but you had no desire to talk to, let alone seduce, any of these guys. As you opened your mouth to inform your friend of this, your eyes caught something. Not something, but someone.

Standing slightly turned away from you and chatting with some other rider, you saw Rhett. Maybe it was because you only got to see him in dim-lit bars nowadays, but you swore he somehow was more attractive than you remembered.

He wore a blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up, allowing you to see the veins run down his arms. You got a flash of the tattoo on his forearm, the one you imagined so often at night when thinking of him. He had his chaps on, the fringe down the sides fluttering ever so slightly in the wind. His signature black hat was perched on his head. At that moment, you swear you could’ve died.

You didn’t realize how long you had been staring until Sadie gave you a nudge. “Close your mouth or you’ll attract flies,” she said. It was then you noticed that you in fact had been standing there with your jaw on the floor admiring this man. Your eyes stayed locked on his figure as you gave him a once-over. God, he was gorgeous. Even with the layers of clothes he had on you could tell how lean and strong he was.

As your gaze made your way back up to his face, you were now looking right into his bright blue eyes. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He caught you. He fully caught you drooling over him. And just when it couldn’t get any worse, the fucker had a smirk plastered on his face and sent a wink your way. You averted your eyes and pretended you weren’t there, feeling a hot blush creep up your neck. But just when things couldn’t get any worse, you heard Sadie yell out, “Hey there Rhett”.

You silently prayed to the gods above that he wouldn’t walk over to you two, but it fell on deaf ears as you heard the crunch of gravel grow louder. Next thing you know he’s standing right smack in front of you. “Hi there Sadie, how’s your ma?” he asked, his southern drawl heavy.

“She’s well, thanks for asking. You know Y/N right? You were friends with her brother growing up” Sadie tried to segue. You forced yourself to bring your eyes up to meet his.

“Well of course I do, how could I forget a face as pretty as that?” Your eyes snapped to meet his. No way, there was no way Rhett Abbott was flirting with you. He was just being nice, that’s all.

“Oh um, hi. Good to see you.” You muttered out, full of nerves. Sadie cleared her throat and you thought back to her earlier lecture. Maybe it was finally time for you to get out there. Stop playing it so safe all the time. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. So with some more confidence mustered you blurted out “I hope you do good tonight. I’m sure you will.”

Without missing a beat he responded, “Oh now that I know you’re here I definitely will. Always ride better when I know a gorgeous girl like you is watching.” His words sent heat blooming between your thighs. Fully committing to the act you took a step toward him and leaned up onto your toes to whisper in his ear.

“Well if you win, we’ll have to celebrate. Why don’t you come to find me after you finish up? Let me give you a victory prize.” You did your best to put on the most sultry voice you had. And despite the confidence you were exuding, you were scared shitless deep down. As soon as the words left your mouth, you were off. You swayed your hips a bit as you went to find a seat, knowing that he would be looking.

You didn’t dare look back until you reached the arena seats. Sadie guided you to sit down amongst the crowd, all waiting for the show to begin. And just as she opened her mouth to ask you what happened you whisper out “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad at all.” She whispered trying to not draw any attention.

“Oh no. It was bad. Very very very bad. Can’t show my face around here again bad. Have to leave the country bad.” You felt bile rise up in your throat. You turn to your friend and recount to her what you had just told the man of your dreams. It was like word vomit, you couldn’t stop freaking out and rambling.

“Y/N. STOP. Take a breath. The worst case he says no, he leaves once he’s done tonight. At least you know you tried. But you’re forgetting that he could be just as into you. And from the way he was talking it sounds like he is. So it’s going to be fine. He’s fine, you’re fine. All we can do is sit and try to enjoy the show.” Sadie reasoned with you. And you knew she was right. So you sat there, ass freezing from the cool metal bleachers. The more you thought about her words, the more you were able to calm yourself down. What’s done is done, and you rather be rejected than never know.

The soothing mindset you were in came crashing down the second Rhett’s name rang out. He was heading out for his final ride of the night. You felt your mind go blank and body numb as you focused on the arena in front of you. Honestly, you knew very little about bull riding but the way his muscles strained and body twisted was enough to keep you interested. Timed seemed to slow as you stared at him squeezing his hips to stay on the bucking bull.

After what felt like minutes of him being tossed around, you gasped as he was uprooted from his saddle. You knew that was bound to happen with any bull riding venture, but it still startled you to see him thrown about like that. He was yanked up and led out of the arena until the bull was wrangled. When he walked back out, your tension eased seeing he was unharmed.

You locked eyes on the scoreboard and nearly fell out of your chair when you saw his score. He won, holy shit he won. You were on your feet in an instant, screaming your head off. You felt a rush of pride for him, knowing how much his bull riding meant to him. Sadie jumped with you, and you were sure you were the loudest there.

After yelling for much too long to be appropriate, Sadie gave your arm a tug. “Come on” and you, still being in a blissed-out state, let her take you back to where you first ran into Rhett that night. You looked around in the dark, eyes wide anticipating what would happen next. A chill ran up your spine as you thought about your earlier promise to Rhett if he won. Startled out of your thoughts, you heard the sound of whooping and cheers from some men around you. Cranking your neck around you spotted him.

He was caked in dirt and his sleeves were hastily pushed up, hat askew on his head that was tilted back with a wide grin. Your mouth ran dry as butterflies erupted inside you. His eyes began to scan the small crowd of people before landing on you. Burning with embarrassment and admittedly desire, you shifted your eyes elsewhere. But soon enough, you heard that all too familiar voice. “Hey there ladies.”

“Hey Rhett, congrats on the big win. Y/N and I were cheering you on” Sadie said.

“Oh, I bet y’all were. Hey Y/N, can I talk to you real quick?” Rhett turned and asked you.

With a nod of your head, he gently took your hand and pulled you under a nearby tree. Still too shy to make eye contact, he brushed his hand under your jaw and turned you to look into his blue eyes. “You know I don’t expect anything. If you want to act like nothing happened earl-”

“No” you rush out. “No, I mean I want to. If you do.” Talking to just him and him alone felt so much easier. You felt your confidence grow back and expectantly looked at him.

“Well darlin’ I would want nothing more. You want to go back to your place for a bit?” He questioned, still being gentle with you as to give you an out if you changed your mind.

“Yes please,” you murmur. You felt as though you were floating when he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and led you back over to Sadie.

“Hey Sadie, you alright if I take Y/N home? Just figure it would be nice for us to catch up.”

“Oh, sure! By all means, go ‘catch up’” Sadie had the cockiest smirk plastered on her face, and while you wanted to be mad at her for it you also know she was the whole reason you were going home with Rhett Abbott tonight.

Walking out to the parking lot, Rhett keeps his arm firmly around your midsection till you arrive at his truck. He opens the passenger door for you before walking around and getting in himself. The roar of the engine coming to life jolts you forward a bit, remembering that you were in fact about to go home and get railed by the hottest cowboy you’ve ever seen.

“What are you thinking about Bunny?” Rhett can tell you were getting lost in thought.

“What did you call me?” Surprised by the nickname and the way it made you clench your thighs even tighter.

“Bunny. You look like a buckle bunny in that getup. But it’s cute, I like it on you.” He answered honestly. On any other occasion, you would’ve been pissed that someone thought of you as a buckle bunny. You grew up on a ranch in rural Wyoming, you were the farthest thing from a buckle bunny possible. But the way Rhett talked about you made you melt.

“Oh yeah. Blame Sadie. Wanted me to get myself out there more I guess.” You replied chewing on your bottom lip.

“Well, it was definitely nice to see you outside of the bar you work at. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for the longest time but I felt weird bothering you at work.” You whipped your head around at the confession.

Staring at his side profile as he continued to drive, “That’s nice of you to say, but it’s okay you don’t have to lie.” You didn’t believe it. That a man like Rhett would be interested in talking to someone like you.

“I’m not lying. I’ve always kinda liked you. But I guess I just never acted on them. And I know we’re on our way to your place so I can rail the shit outta ya, but I’m not just interested in sex from you. Let me take you out one night? It took me long enough to make a move on you, don’t make me wait any longer.” He said with the utmost sincerity. You were stunned. Shocked. All this time you two idiots both liked each other, and it was a rodeo and a plotting friend to finally make you realize it.

“I would like that. A lot.” You smile up at him as you pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Cutting off the engine, Rhett runs around to open your car door. Always a gentleman. You laced your fingers with his as you tug him upstairs to your place. You feel him placing teasing kisses on your neck and jaw when he can reach you. You giggle, moving even faster to get up the 3 flights of stairs.

When you reach the door of your apartment, you fumble around looking for your keys in your purse. When you manage to grab them, you pull them out with shaking hands cursing as they fall to the ground. Before you could bend down to retrieve them, Rhett already has them scooped up. He chuckles softly before resting his hand on your shoulder and rubbing your arm soothingly.

“You don’t need to be nervous Bunny. But I want to ask you again, are you okay with this?” He asks kindly, eyes soft and hands warm.

“More than okay.” And you pull him down by his shirt to crash your lips onto his. It was messy and desperate. Teeth clashed and tongues battled for dominance. You slid your hands up Rhett’s neck and into the curls at the back of his head tugging softly. His one arm wrapped around you and pulled you impossibly closer to his body. You recognize the faint jingle of keys through your fuzzy headspace and realize he was unlocking your front door with his tongue down your throat.

The door soon swung open and Rhett began to push your intertwined bodies inside. Stumbling in, you hear a door slam behind you before he has you pushed against a wall. His leg came in between yours, knee and thigh pressing up into your core. You let out a whine into the kiss, the feeling of him making you even wetter. In fact, you were sure you were absolutely drenched.

Seemingly reading your mind, Rhett broke the kiss to ask, “How wet are you Bunny? How wet does the idea of my cock have you? Bet you were sitting in those stands all night just soaking wet.” You merely moan in response, your brain not working fast enough to form actual words. Rhett brings his lips to your neck biting and sucking hickies into your smooth skin. You run your hands down his back to the hem of his shirt. Too impatient to unbutton his top, he leans back and pulls it over his head.

You knew Rhett was strong. After years of working at the ranch and bull riding, you expected him to be pretty muscular. But the actual sight of his abs, sharp and all edges, makes your mouth water. You tentatively place a hand on his toned chest. God, it looked like his body was made of chiseled marble. Under your hand, you feel his warmth radiating and the steady beat of his heart. When you force yourself to pull your eyes up to his, he says “Your turn.”

He places his hands on the bottom of your shirt, eyes silently asking if he could take it off. Your hands reach down and cover his, urging him to swiftly remove your top. His eyes immediately move to your breast, covered in the white lace of your bra (if you could even call the small scrap of fabric that). You hear a faint groan come from him before he ducks his head down. Placing open mouth kisses along the top of your tits, he brings his right hand up to palm your breast and roll your nipple. His mouth goes lower and latches onto the other nipple through the lace of your bra.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to you. It’s not enough. You’ll never have enough of him. Soft moans tumble past your lips and Rhett takes this a cue to keep going. Eventually he pulls off and uses a hand to unclasp your bra as it falls to the ground. Getting a full view of your tits, Rhett brings both his hands to them and gives them one last squeeze before kissing your lips once again. Getting frustrated and wanting, no needing, more you drag your hand to his ripped figure. Your fingers trailed down the wide expanse of his chest and trace down his happy trail until you reach the waistband of his jeans. Popping the button and pulling down the zipper, Rhett helps you by tugging his jeans down as fast as he can. He kicks them off, leaving him in his tight boxer briefs. A tent is growing in them and you let out a gulp at the size of him.

“Don't be scared honey, I’ll stretch you real good before I fill you up” his voice fills the air. Excited at the idea, you grab his arm and drag him farther into your apartment and to your bedroom. You pull him in front of you and push him down on the bed causing him to look up at you. Reaching to your shorts, you nearly rip down your legs ready for him to touch you. Before you can pull your panties down, Rhett reaches out to them. He rubs his calloused hands over your hips and yanks you so you have no option but to straddle his figure. “Bunny, with panties like that I don’t think I could stand you not wearing them as I fuck you.”

You whimper at his words alone and he lets out a chuckle. He runs hands up your back and suddenly you are flipped over onto your back, Rhett now looming over you. Scooting down the bed, Rhett's face lands between your legs throwing them over his shoulders. He moans when he sees the wet spot that seems to be growing on your panties, landing wet kisses on your inner thighs. You think how could someone make a sound so beautiful. But you are quickly pulled from this as he tugs your pink panties to the side and takes in the full view of you. His eyes darken and he rasps out “Holy shit baby, you are so goddamn hot. I might come in my fucking boxers,” and he subtly grinds his hips into the mattress in attempt to get some much needed friction. Opening your mouth to make some teasing comment, you instead let out a cry as Rhett licks a bold stripe up your pussy. He lands on your clit, tongue moving in figure eights over top. For the second time that night, you find yourself pulling Rhett by his hair closer to you. He then alternates between lightly fucking his tongue into your dripping hole and brutally attacking your clit. The duality of pleasure causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

Rhett places the tip of his finger at your entrance, sliding it up and down through your folds first to get it slicked up. He breaches your entrance and your toes curl as he slides knuckle deep. “Fuck, oh my god Rhett please please, keep going,” pathetic pleas fall from you. You feel him adjust his thick digit in you until he finds that spongy spot that has your back arching. “Right there- right fucking there.” Any other night you would be embarrassed that someone has you so close to coming with one finger, but right now you could care less, only able to focus on the increasing burn in your stomach.

You can practically feel Rhett smirk against you as he eases a second finger into you, again going directly to that sweet spot inside you. He begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you, still using his mouth to suckle your clit. You are screaming in pleasure, babbles of “please” and “don’t stop” leaving your mouth. The coil inside of you is close to snapping. You are so close, so unbelievably blissed out. “I’m gonna cum Rhett. I’m so close” you speak out in warning.

But just as close to the edge as you were, all the pleasure you felt was quickly ripped from you as Rhett removed himself from you. You glare down, sweat dripping down your forehead. “What? Why did you stop?” you croak out, voice already strained from your screaming.

“Oh Bunny. I want the first time you cum to be on my cock.” Rhett responds and leans up to place a hot kiss on your mouth. You deepen the kiss, wanting more of him. You can taste yourself on his mouth and soon he pulls back to say “You like that dirty girl? Like the taste of your sweet pussy? You should, it’s the best pussy I’ve ever got my mouth on.” You feel yourself clench at his dirty talk, managing to turn you on even more. You whimper and try to buck your hips up to encourage him to do something, do anything. Instead he just laughs, “Oh you are so desperate Bunny. Need me to fuck your tight pussy, make you cum so hard you can only yell out my name. Don’t worry Bunny, I’ve got you.” As he speaks he wiggles himself out of his boxers, hard cock slapping his tanned abs.

He props himself onto his forearms and brings a hand to his mouth. Your eyes widen as he spits into his hand and reaches down to pump himself a few times. Noticing your reaction he looks at you. “Open your mouth” and you obey, sticking your tongue out for good measure. You feel something wet hit your mouth before you process that he just spit into it. Rhett Abbott just spit in your mouth. And you swallowed, savoring the taste of him. “Good Bunny” he says into your ear.

“Rhett. Fuck me.” You whine out. Now it’s his turn to moan, finally sheathing his cock into your cunt. You gasp at the stretch and he waits a few moments for you to adjust. After a second you whimper out “Move please.” And Rhett doesn’t need to be asked twice, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back inside you. The force of his thrusts push you up the bed despite Rhett’s bruising grip on your hips.

“You feel so good baby. Squeezing me so tight. Best fucking pussy.” he praises and you clench around him. “Oh baby, you love when I talk dirty. When I tell you how amazing this cunt is. Going to make it mine, never letting anyone else near my pussy again.” You are pathetically whining and thrashing. Your nails are raking down his back, surely leaving welts in their wake. He clashes his lips onto yours and picks up his pace. The brutal fucking makes you feel like you’re floating. He licks into your mouth as you let out a steady set of moans and cries.

Just when you think things can’t get any better, Rhett snakes his hand down to rub tight circles into your clit. Paired with his cock repeatedly hitting the sweet spot inside you, you know the knot in your tummy is starting to unravel.

“Rhett” you whine, “Rhett, I’m so close.”

“Come on baby, make a mess on my dick. Wanna feel you cum” He responds.

Clamping down on him, you are brought even closer to the edge. Eyes tightly shut, you turn your head to the side and let out a moan louder than you thought was possible. No one had ever made you feel this good before. You couldn’t even believe that it was the man you had been crushing on for years that was in your bed, in your pussy. And with that reminder of who it was that was fucking you better than you’ve been fucked before, you saw white behind your eyelids. As you reached your peak, heat spreading all the way through you, you couldn’t help but yell out, “Cum Rhett, let me make you feel good. Wanna be good for you, only for you.”

Unable to resist your fucked out babbles, Rhett ruts into you. Once he knows you’ve finished riding out your orgasm he pulls out from you. Furiously fisitng his cock, he groans out reaching his own release. White ropes of his seed spurt out and land across your tits and you mewl out at the warm, sticky substance coating you. Teasingly, to bring two fingers down to swipe through his release and bring them up to your mouth. You suck on the cum from your fingers, loudly moaning at the salty taste. Both panting hard, Rhett adjusts your panties back, flops over and lays next to you. “Shit y/n. That was amazing. Was it good for you?” And you blink hard through your fuzzy mind searching for a response.

“So good. The best, I think you succeed. Definitely ruined anyone else for me.” Rhett laughs at that. Abruptly, you are filled with a new feeling. It’s warm, cozy. You blush and you realize just how much you have fallen for this cowboy next to you.

You get lost in the idea that this is the start of something real between you two. No longer will you have to pine for him from afar. He likes you, he wants to be with you. You are consumed by him, forever connected you think. No matter what, he’ll always be there. He’s not leaving. And it’s that thought that brings you so much happiness and lets your body relax completely.

A wet towel between the valley of your breasts pulls you from the daydream. Rhett has at some point gotten up and found something to clean you two with. You melt, heart softening at how kind and caring he was being. God, you were so lucky.

The two of you cuddle up and spend the next hour talking about random things. Your favorite movies, what your go to karaoke song is, what you plan to do in the future. And it is easy, it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. And when your eyelids become heavy, you find yourself slipping into a peaceful sleep listening to the beat of Rhett’s heart.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott smut #outer range #outer range fanfiction #outer range fic #outer range smut #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfic #lewis pullman #rhett abbott x reader smut #i want to be rhett's buckle bunny

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eddiessluttywaist · 10 months

Text

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 7,488 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, fluff, swearing, blood (accidental cut), mentions of bullying, low self esteem, anxiety, mentions of embarrassment and shame, mentions of a history of bad relationships, smoking, car trouble (sorry if any of the car stuff isn’t accurate lmao). i think that’s it!

a/n: sorry for taking so long to update! i've been very busy. i hope you enjoy the new chapter! creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

“You what?” The man on the other line cackled in Eddie’s ear. “Ro- Robin! No, you gotta come here! Eddie called some chick a ‘good girl’. He totally scared her off, it’s hilarious.”

“Thank you, Harrington, you’re really helping me in my time of need,” Eddie seethed as he laid in bed. He heard some shuffling and then a familiar feminine voice sounded from the telephone.

“‘Good girl’? What is she? A dog?”

Eddie ran his hands over his face, jostling his bangs away from his forehead before suddenly jerking them away in gestures they couldn’t even see as he let out a bitter laugh.

“Why did I even call you two? I’m regretting so many choices today.”

“So, she didn’t like it?” Steve asked as Robin complained about him crowding the phone.

“Go use the one in the living room— no— stop-”

“This is my room. You go use the living room phone.”

“Ugh, you’re breathing on me, dingus!”

Eddie rolled his eyes over the typical bickering, choosing to focus on the question that actually had to do with their conversation.

“Uh — well — she got all freaked out and everything was awkward. When she was leaving, I was going to open the door for her and she thought I was going to hug her— I-I, ugh, it was horrible. So uhh… yeah, I’d say no. She didn’t like it… at… all.”

“You have zero game, man,” Steve chided after a beat of silence that had forced Eddie to sit with his shame.

“And neither do you.” Robin argued, finally waving him out of his own room. “Don’t listen to him, Eddie, he’s an idiot.”

“Thanks, Robin…,” he muttered even if it didn’t make him feel much better.

“You’re an idiot too, just so we’re clear,” she added, and he nodded despite the fact that — once again — she couldn’t even see him. “I can’t believe you called her a good girl.”

“Okay, how many times are we going to repeat it before I blow my brains out?” Eddie deflated with a distressed laugh, clasping his hands together. He heard another line pick up.

“What’d I miss?”

“Eddie wants to die.”

“I do not blame you, man. You know it’s never too late to come here in Indianapolis. Maybe even change your identity,” Steve suggested as he leaned up against the wall by his other phone, which he had nestled between his ear and his shoulder just like Eddie did.

“Yeah, cause I could afford living in the city,” he snickered mostly to himself before sighing as he ran his hands over his face again.

“Who is she anyway?” Robin wondered.

“She’s his weird, secret friend he’s kept from us,” Steve replied in a mutter.

“No, I- she’s not a secret and she’s not weird,” Eddie huffs. “She’s just… she hasn’t been around in a while. She’s a friend from before I moved in with Wayne.”

“Oh… oh,” Robin’s interest piqued again. “So, she’s like… a best-best friend?”

“He totally wants to nail her,” Steve tacked on, and Eddie found himself groaning as he sunk further into his bed, wishing it would swallow him whole.

“I don’t wan — will you quit it? Yes, we were very close.”

“And she just happened to show up out of nowhere. I’m telling you, Ed, she wants you. You should go for it. You haven’t been laid since Chrissy…,” Steve muttered that last comment, and Robin squeezed her eyes shut as she facepalmed.

“Or she could just need a friend…?” Robin countered, her voice weakly lilting upwards as she corrected him. She just hoped the Chrissy comment wouldn’t be enough to make Eddie draw back into himself.

“She knew you when you were kids. I’m sure you were just as weird as a little child Eddie, so I doubt she was all that fazed by you calling her uh… the thing you called her.”

“Maybe…,” Eddie muttered, picking at his nails and biting at them.

He was tired. That tea really did help, even if his exhaustion was put on hold by an absurd amount of embarrassment and anxiety. He could feel himself settling again, his eyelids getting heavier.

“I should go.”

Robin squeezed her eyes shut again and mentally chastised Steve for bringing up Chrissy so carelessly.

“Call us again. Okay, weirdo? To update us?” Robin urged, feeling a surge of protective instinct.

He was never around anymore, never called; and there was always this anxiety in the back of her mind that he wasn’t letting them know if things were getting too hard for him. Neither Steve nor she could figure out when they could check in on him because he never bothered to share his schedule with them. And when they did call it was incredibly rare for him to pick up. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to shut everyone out, but it only made her worry about what was going on with him.

“I don’t wanna bother you guys. I know you’re busy with city life,” Eddie teased with a playful theatricality to his tone, but his voice was soft with that creeping exhaustion.

“Nah, you know you can call whenever,” Steve replied, taking a break from his incessant joking to let some of his sincerity come through. “Plus, I gotta hear more about this secret girl.”

“Not a secret,” Eddie corrected, his eyes closing to soothe his urge to drift off, one brow raising lazily with his words.

“Just call, okay? Or we’ll keep bugging you until you update us,” Robin urged, a sing-song tone coming to her voice.

“Fine,” Eddie snickered, and this time he was actually able to get a goodbye in and sloppily slam his phone back down before knocking out.

There was only crackling now on the line between the two roommates.

“I worry about him,” Robin spoke up suddenly, just loud enough for Steve to catch her concerned voice.

“I know,” Steve sighed, placing the phone back onto the wall. “I do too.”

You had no intentions of ignoring Eddie after that night in his trailer, not explicitly anyways. You were still thinking about him constantly, but any pleasant thoughts were immediately invaded by embarrassment. It felt like you were experiencing it all over again and the accompanying swirl to your gut was overwhelming.

The reality of the next couple of Eddie-less days was that you were too engrossed in the aftereffects of that awkward exchange to reach out first, not to mention most of your attention going to your first job here in Hawkins. Despite your nerves, you did surprisingly well on Thursday and Friday night. Enough to get a small smile to bristle Ron’s bearded face and a mutter about maybe needing to get a new name tag ready. You were unbelievably cheery over the praise and acceptance, but you still had one more test to pass: weekend shifts. Those were their busiest, especially Saturday nights. If you make it from 4 o’clock to midnight with no major screw ups then you had the job. He promised.

So yes, you were actively avoiding being the first one to call, but to be fair you were also trying to attend to other aspects of your new life in Hawkins. Your focus was being diverted to getting this job, and spending time with Martha. You were distracted by moments of promising renewal in anticipation of the growing presence of Autumn — despite the crushing embarrassment of the other night.

That didn’t mean you weren’t thinking of him, though. If you weren’t shaking off the recent memory of Wednesday night, then you were indulging in the recent memory of Wednesday night. Him having you over; you making him tea; feeling close to him again as you exchanged stories — laughing together and smiling so hard the muscles in your cheeks hurt a little. The kind of pure smile you only got when you were with Eddie.

You thought about him as you styled your hair in a manner that helped to boost your confidence but wouldn’t get in your way during your shift. You couldn’t believe he had his own place, no matter how “shitty” he said it was. You couldn’t believe he was a tattooed mechanic and had hair. That was the real kicker for you. He didn’t have it shaved so close that he felt like a peach when you patted at the top of his head just to get on his nerves.

He had those long spirals that you wanted to reach across his small kitchen counter and swirl around your finger. Those curls inspired a habit of tilting his head to let his big brown eyes hide under his messy bangs; or sometimes he toyed with his curls to pull a chunk of it in front of his face. It was fascinating to see the way his features and behaviors have adapted to adulthood. Back home he was harassed daily for his “feminine” features, so the fluttery lashes and full lips were nothing new. But now he had grown into his generous mouth and his doe eyes, and so much of his youthful softness had made way for sharp definition — particularly in his jawline and cheekbones. He’s actually grown into the kind of person that intimidated you even if he was just Eddie. He made your palms sweat and had you thinking over every little thing you said. Y’know, things like Loo-ddie. You tried to reassure yourself that you only had nerves because you wanted to have him as a best friend again so badly, but some self-aware part of you knew the signs of an impending crush. Why couldn’t you have some self-control? Why did you have to gush over just about every man who showed you an ounce of kindness?

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you even had brief heart eyes for Ron after seeing how sweet he was with Sandy. It made you yearn for what they had, and you recognized it was more about wanting such a wholesome relationship of your own than wanting someone twice your age, but you still felt ashamed about it. What’s wrong with you? You needed to let bosses stay bosses, and you needed to let best friends stay best friends. You needed Eddie to be a friend, you needed to keep those boundaries in place so you couldn’t ruin everything like always. He’s special, and you can’t just throw yourself at him and offer to give him whatever he wants just so you could feel like his everything — even if it’s only for a few minutes.

You glance at your hands now and fight the urge to chip away at your freshly painted nails to appease your low spirits. You sit with these thoughts for a moment, swallowing moisture back into your throat that felt too tight; then you forced yourself away from the cramped motel bathroom to finish getting ready for your shift. You couldn’t let yourself slip up and distract yourself with your own misery — it was Saturday, and this was your final step towards success. A measly success of a server job at a small-town bar, but you had to put a positive spin on it.

You couldn’t focus on self-loathing, and you couldn’t focus on Eddie.

“A new girl?” Eddie groaned as he rolled his sleeves up to the bends of his elbows. “The last time we had a new person I had to watch him every fucking second cause he had no clue what he was doing — shit, he even stole from you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Ron muttered bitterly, never happy about the reminder that someone had been sneaking cash out from under his nose. “She’s pretty good though. Real sweet and does her job.”

“I dunno… do we really need the help?”

“Kevin is back at school. We really need the help,” Ron chuckled, but felt a pang of sadness right to his chest knowing his youngest was back at college — or even in college in the first place — all the same. “Don’t be so sour. She’s a good kid.”

Eddie grumbled irritably but didn’t pester him any further. It was no use anyways. If Ron set his mind on something, then he wasn’t letting up. Sure, it made sense considering it’s his business, but he’s also stubborn as a bull and that quality had a history of surpassing logic sometimes.

About a quarter to four, Eddie was in the back when the bell rang.

“Well look at you, all nice and early again. You suckin’ up?” he heard Ron asking playfully, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

Great. A suck-up.

Just what he needed. Some goody two-shoes setting a new standard that he wouldn’t meet. He was lucky if he was on time in the first place with how much he slept in on the weekends, but Ron was always cutting him slack. Jus’ a small-town bar he’d say whenever Eddie scrambled into the building with an apology already slipping out at an incoherent pace.

He couldn’t hear the new girl’s reply, assuming it had been a nonverbal one rather than one so delicate and quiet that even Ron barely heard it before the novice made her way to the back.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve worked together yet and I just… wanted… to… Loogie…?”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie was already turning around from where he was opening the recent delivery. His perception of the moment seemed to have been placed in slow motion and suddenly he was heating up with flashbacks of Wednesday night. Called her a good girl, no joke, called her a good girl his mind droned on repeat just to torture him.

“Wha — hey,” he laughed casually and thankfully avoided choking on his own spit. He swallowed thickly and his brow furrowed as his voice came out painfully hoarse. “You’re the new girl?”

“Guess so. If I do well tonight,” you murmured with a small smile, toying with your hands.

You had painted your fingernails a rich burgundy, and his eyes zeroed in on the small strokes of color before looking up at you again.

“I’m sure you’ll be okay, Ron seems really impressed with you…” Eddie offered with a light laugh after clearing his throat, suddenly feeling sheepish around you again.

“Don’t go tellin’ her that! I don’t want her thinking she doesn’t have to work hard tonight!” Ron shouted from the front, pulling a snicker out of you.

You swiftly place your purse on a hook before continuing the conversation. Even if it wasn’t the end of the world if Ron heard your conversation, you took a few steps closer to Eddie and lowered your voice a touch.

“So… did the tea help at all…?” you ask, risking a mention of Wednesday night. You lifted one sneakered foot up onto your toes and shifted nervously before settling it back down as you waited on his reply.

Eddie’s lips pushed out in thought as he brought his attention back to the delivery of nuts and pretzels (really, he was looking for an excuse to not have to look at you as he thought of that night).

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks — really helped,” he offered a partial smile as his eyes flitted over to you before turning down again just a fast.

You press your lips together in a weak smile of your own and nod but fall silent. Instead of giving into your urge to pick at your polish, you run the pads of your fingers over the smooth surface of your nails instead.

“‘m sorry for that hug,” you finally blurt out with an uneasy laugh. “I just- I really thought that was why you were reaching over, and I didn’t want to be rude so-”

Eddie’s eyes widened and finally removed himself from his suddenly oh-so-interesting task.

“No no no, you don’t have to apologize,” he promised as he stretched back to his full height. “I should’ve been offering anyw- ah, shit.”

Eddie hissed as he glanced down at his hand. While replying with a fervent need to reassure you, he had thoughtlessly grabbed at the wrong end of the box cutter and sliced the pad of his thumb.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you rush over to him, instinctively cradling his hand with your own.

“Just a surface cut. Really.” Eddie chuckled. He really needed to go run it under cool water and bandage it, but he wasn’t ready to separate from you.

“What’s going on back there?” Ron questioned from the bar.

“Eddie cut his finger!” you replied as Eddie insisted “Nothing!” simultaneously.

Ron grumbled on his way to his back room that he had turned into a part kitchen, part break room, part delivery storage room. Surely there was some kind of code being broken there, but who cared? Clearly no one around Hawkins.

He eyed the way you two were situated but didn’t think much of it since you were probably just having a natural reaction to someone getting hurt.

“I swear…” he grumbled under his breath on his way over.

“You need to pay attention before you really hurt yourself one of these days,” Ron muttered, and grabbed Eddie’s wrist far harsher than when you reached out for him. “Aren’t you a mechanic? Don’t you know to watch where your hands are, kid?”

You cringed when he wiped at the spot with a rough napkin that sounded like it might as well have been sandpaper against the cut, then grunted.

“It’s fine. Just a bleeder,” he states with all the confidence of a certified physician and ruggedness of an old trucker before tugging up his jeans further into his partial beer gut and walking back out. “You know where the first aid kit is!”

“More than anyone,” Eddie added with a half grin to compliment his self-deprecation as he tilted his head, breathing out a soft laugh.

“Still accident prone, huh?” you ask with a slight scrunch to your nose and a lift to the corners of your lips, watching him head farther back in the multi-faceted room to the employee bathroom.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He tilted back out of the room to offer you a cheeky grin, his hair jostling with the motion and then again when he flicked his head to get it out of his face.

“Oh, I dunno… Coulda learned your lesson after face planting into gravel,” you offer with an innocent tone, taking a moment to clock in before sauntering over.

“Well considering that happened several times, you should know better than to assume I’d ever learn,” he whispered playfully, grinning over at you.

“Guess so,” you snort, leaning into the doorframe.

“Had to rough this face up, y’know? Really dedicate myself to becoming a man,” Eddie used a deeper, rougher tone of voice and puffed his chest out as he held a paper towel to his thumb.

“It’s a shame it didn’t work,” you pouted before laughing at the hurt look he donned.

“You wound me, truly,” he moved his good hand to his chest.

“Not as often as you do, apparently,”

“Touché, touché,” he sighed, unclasping the first aid kit and flipping it open. “You’re still a lil shit, y’know that?”

“Can’t help it. Haven’t had anyone to banter with in years,” your head settled against the wood of the doorframe and his own tilted to the side as he regarded you. That smirk of his toyed on his lips as he considered your words.

He’s about to reply — surely with some cheeky remark about you needing him — but Ron was calling before he got the chance.

“Make sure you’re wearing gloves today,” Ron muttered to Eddie without lifting his attention from whatever he was writing down.

“You never wear gloves,” Eddie countered with a childish huff. “Only rich-ass bars in the city give a shit about that crap.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t a health hazard,” he snickered, finally raising his gaze to point his pencil at Eddie’s bandaged finger. “Gloves. Now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but pulled gloves from the box under the countertop anyways. You’re on the other side of the bar, sitting on a stool and a smile pulling at your lips. Elbows on the countertop and chin balancing on your fists, you watch him intently with little giggles sneaking out.

“Don’t encourage him,” Ron pleads gruffly at the sound of you laughing over Eddie making a big show of pulling out the gloves and slipping them onto his hands.

Once he let each glove snap into place at his wrists, Eddie outstretched his arms and displayed his new accessory.

“Eh? Nice, right? Definitely won’t make everything I touch taste like latex,” Eddie nudged his boss who gave him a less than pleased look, but you were sure he was muffling his own amusement.

“Wanna learn how to bartend?” Ron asks you now. “I think there’ll be an opening soon.”

At that, Eddie leans back with a belly laugh, his dimples sinking into his cheeks.

You had unfortunately started your shift with the assumption that they had been messing with you when Ron and Sandy warned you about Saturday nights. When you arrived just before 4 o’clock there was nearly no one there besides the occasional regular; then twenty minutes past 5 o’clock came along and you were blasted back to Sunday mornings at the diner. The place was packed full of people all chummy with one another, which was charming until they were several drinks in and decided they knew you just as well.

Not all of them, but enough of them were flirting with you at every opportunity; and you were forced to use your customer service manners to deal with them. So many fake smiles were starting to make your cheeks ache.

Returning to the back with an empty tray, you rub at the muscles in one cheek with your free hand. You almost forgot how much service work meant forcing a pleasant attitude and dealing with aching feet. God, that was killing you more than anything. When you were leaving the motel, your trusty sneakers were like walking on clouds. Now, you were certain you had been stomping around on needles.

The music didn’t exactly help with your shift either while trying to hear requests and reply, especially since you weren’t one to use a loud tone. Ron insisted on live music whenever he could get it and you understood the appeal, but the band playing tonight apparently didn’t know how to have a respectable volume set for performing indoors.

You could handle it and you knew you’d form a routine with the locals that rushed in on the weekends and you’d learn how to cope with deafening musicians — you just needed to adjust to your new job.

What you couldn’t handle, as you were quickly learning, was seeing Eddie bartend. It was such a simple act, and yet it left you slack jawed while trying to stay focused on dishing out the drinks he prepared to the right people.

Something about the gloved hands and the rolled-up sleeves as he moved around the bar with such ease left you in the shadow of a crush looming overhead again. His chain bracelet and that familiar beaded bracelet were stacked on one wrist; he even had a few faded tattoos you caught glimpses of in the dim lighting. Not to mention the moving musculature in his strong forearms as he poured and served and wiped with a sort of sloppy expertise. You noticed there wasn’t a lot of mixing around here just like back home. Just a whole lot of small-town people looking for simple alcohol. The older ones seemed partial to a basic glass of whiskey or beer; and the younger ones all hopped up on the fact that they could finally drink legally were requesting shots.

Eddie had tied his hair back in a low bun with the occasional curl rebelling and framing his face that seemed to only be smiling or thinly veiling irritation whenever a mean drunk bitched about him not pouring enough. Either way it truly was something to behold.

As much as his looks should’ve been a passing thought, considering your place as an old friend, they insisted on lingering. You were still adjusting to knowing him this way and the odd disposition between knowing him like no one else and not knowing him at all continued to present a disorienting mix of feelings. The possibility of such complications never occurred to you when you became dead set on coming here, and you hated that you didn’t see it coming or brace yourself for it. Now you were stumbling through moving here for a childhood best friend and winding up finding a man in his place.

Then, of course, your thoughts circled back to your history with men. Don’t go there, don’t go there.

You let out a small sigh and checked the clock. 11:11. So close. So, so close. Before you knew it, it would be time to leave. Glancing at your notepad, you go over what that guy in the sweat stained sports tee asked for his cheap nachos. Extra jalapeños. He insisted on extra jalapeños and went into way too much detail of how “he’d be paying for it in the morning, but they’re just so damn good.”

“Having fun?” Eddie asked after his plodding jog to the back.

“Oh, you bet. An absolute blast,” you laughed, pouring the molten cheese over the thin tortilla chips. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Break,” Eddie answered simply as he flopped down in a chair in the small corner of the space dedicated to the employees. “Ron and Sandy got the bar for now.”

“Ahh,” you hum, spooning the jalapeños on top of the mountain of ingredients.

“Y’know, you’re pretty good at the whole bartending thing. It’s actually kinda cool,” you admitted, glancing over your shoulder to smile over at him.

“I just pour alcohol for the local drunks, but thanks,” Eddie laughed diffidently over the compliment, sliding his metal lunch box closer to get to his baggie of pretzels.

“Is that your dinner?” You ask now, fighting to keep the conversation alive. You’d take talking about pretzels over a lull in conversation.

“Oh uh--” he glanced down at the bag. “I might make something when I get home if I have enough energy.”

“You better. Or I’ll be forced to come over again. Pretzels aren’t dinner.”

“Oh, I see,” Eddie grinned. “Then you can come over and I can make a fool of myself again.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it too. It’ll balance everything out,” you offered, placing the hot plate on your tray.

“Oh, well there we go. Long as we’re both fools, then it should be okay,” he agreed with feigned seriousness to your proposal then let his smile curl up his lips again.

“Of course,” you matched his endearing expression. “We’re always fools.”

“Always fools…” he tested aloud while leaning back to teeter the metal foldout chair back and forth.

“I concur, Critter.”

“They’re awfully chummy, hm?” Sandy whispered to Ron as she watched you two interact while cleaning up for the night.

“Yeah. I hate it,” Ron grumbled out, scrubbing at a stain. “He better not scare her off. She’s a good waitress.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sandy sighed, nudging her hip into his. “I think it’s sweet. And he’s a good kid, I don’t see him hurting her — let alone enough to cost us an employee.”

“So, we’re definitely keeping her ‘round?”

“Yes, we settled on that this morning — would you quit avoiding the topic?” She urged and Ron groaned as he stretched his back.

“It’s alright, I guess. Jus’ don’t want any drama around here. Too old for it.”

“So, I didn’t scare you off?” Eddie asked as you cleaned off tables together.

“Scare me off?” you repeated, glancing over at him. “Why’d you say that?”

Eddie eyed you through his lashes then looked back down at the same spot he’s wiped down probably six times now.

“Well, you brought up coming over again,” he let out a soft chuckle. “So, I’m guessing I wasn’t that much of an idiot on Wednesday?”

“Oh psh — please,” you laughed it off, standing up straighter after swiping the rag over the tabletop one more time. “If anything, I was being stupid.”

“Oh, I wasn’t saying you weren’t being stupid,” Eddie joked with that obnoxiously gorgeous grin, finally separating from that same table he kept cleaning. He sauntered over to you, his amusement and proximity warming you as he looked down at you. “Just that I was also stupid.”

“I’d say you were especially stupid, but I was trying to be nice,” you shot back in a dulcet tone, grinning up at him.

“Be nice?” Eddie repeated with a huff of disbelief, grinning when that earned him a jab to his side. “Gone soft on me, Critter? Not the same girl that’ll throw a remote at my head?”

“I only did that if you were particularly annoying while I was trying to watch TV,” you laughed, nudging his chest to just barely make him stumble back. Not that it discouraged that man who only smiled brighter.

“Well then, I guess I have an excuse for being such an idiot all the time. You really knocked something loose all those times you hit me with that remote.”

“Sure, it was me that knocked something loose,” you teased in a giggle, making your way over to the last couple of tables. Your laughter only builds up at the face he gives you — both playfully hurt and encouraged to get you back.

Within seconds you noticed the way he started to twist up his rag, and you were squealing and rushing away from him. Eddie chased after you and whipped at you with the towel whenever he got the chance, occasionally jamming his hip into a table or a chair with a breathy “Oof.” Amongst your squeaks of empty fear, you were still cackling and tried to get him back with your own towel.

“Children!” Ron suddenly announced, and you two slowed down to a stop — still breathless and giggly. “I’m old and would like to go to sleep. Maybe finish cleaning before flirting?”

Sandy gave him a look that could kill for that, then followed Eddie’s example and whipped at his behind with a rag.

Both of your faces flushed at the accusation, but thankfully weren’t forced to sit with the embarrassment of being called out by Ron. Instead, all your attention went to cackling over Ron’s tired reaction to his wife snapping a towel at his ass.

He looked genuinely angry for a moment, and then he was clearing his throat and wiping the bar cleaner off his hands and twisting up his own towel.

“Nope — no — Ron,” Sandy started with a warning tone, but she was already laughing, slowly backing away.

“Gotta play fair,” Ron pointed out and whipped at her thigh. That was enough to send Sandy squealing and Ron chased after her to the back room while the two of you leaned into your laughter.

You’d do anything for a love like that.

“Still not a fan of pretzels for dinner?” Eddie chanced a glance over at you with a lazy, half grin as he toyed with his keys and walked you over to your car.

“Definitely not a fan of pretzels for dinner,” you answered, laughing under your breath and nudging his hip with your own.

“It’s a shame cause y’know,” Eddie yawned dramatically as he stretched out his arms and then flopped into the side of your car. “I’m real tired. If someone doesn’t follow through with their offer, that’s for sure all I’ll be having.”

You tilted your head, feeling that post-customer service ache to your cheeks as you fought the urge to smile at this absolute idiot leaning against your car. His elbow was propped up on the roof, his fist supporting his head and squishing his cheek.

“I don’t know if I have the energy to cook right now,” you sighed, doing your best to match his drama. “But you know what?”

“What, Critter?” He hummed, shoving himself away from the car to move a few stray hairs from your face and in that moment, you might as well have melted into the cracked and sun-bleached pavement. “I’m invested. Do go on.”

“I can buy us fast food,” you whispered to provide a surreptitious air to burgers and fries. Screw it. You’ve been good about eating real food. Maybe it was time to associate these meals with something positive for once. Whatever excused your addiction to excessive oil and salt.

“Ah, much better than pretzels,” he laughed, shoving one of his hands into his jacket pocket. “I’d be honored.”

“Just like old times,” him being closer to you to move some hair out of your face encouraged you to toy with one of the pins on his coat. A soft breeze swirled through the parking lot, and you were both reminded of how stuffy and smoke-filled work had been as you breathed the fresh air in. You caught the scent of a distant bonfire, but it was nothing like the cloud of tobacco back in The Hideout. The chill of the air combined with the musk of a faraway fire spoke of Fall, sweetening your already pleasant mood.

“Remember that time we got large pizzas for both of us on movie night?”

“Yeah,” Eddie let out a soft laugh. “You threw up on the carpet.”

“Yeah, and you got in trouble for using your dad’s credit card,” you add a small giggle of your own, just for your heart to sink at the shift in his expression. You shuffled in your spot.

“Sorry… I probably shouldn’t… I shouldn’t keep bringing him up,” you muttered, dropping your hand away from his W.A.S.P. pin.

“No — no, no it’s okay really,” Eddie was quick to reassure you, but your mood was still steadily spoiling and dragging the pit of your stomach down with it at even a glimpse of him being bothered by you. Upset, angry, annoyed, fed up — whatever it was. You were certainly paying the cost of your penchant for nostalgia, and even the aroma of an early October night couldn’t save you.

“I like talking about when we were kids,” he added in a hushed tone that eased your spiral a touch. You glanced up at him through your lashes. “Really. I do. Makes me feel… ah, I don’t know.”

He admitted that last comment with a huff. It was filtered through amusement over his inability to speak before he rolled his lower lip inward in thought. Both of his hands were shoved in his pockets now and he swayed in his spot while kicking a piece of gravel forward. He finally released his lower lip again which was left with a slight sheen to it now, and he settled on a shrug of defeat. He couldn’t think of what he wanted to say.

You stared at him, this impromptu moment of softness burning through you in a way you weren’t expecting. Just as he couldn’t understand exactly why he enjoyed discussing his childhood as long as it was with you — you couldn’t understand the sudden pang of nausea that came from hanging onto his words and just to drop down over a noncommittal shrug. Your anxiety barreled into you in a sudden flash, leaving you somewhere in between the pain and the comfort of clinging to the past with him.

“Makes me feel cared about, I guess. Especially since we haven’t been friends in a while,” he finally concluded. “You don’t have to remember any of that stuff, but you do… it’s nice.”

“We’re always friends,” you insisted with a small smile, doing your best to not let everything fall apart over that once brief change of expression especially since things were looking up again.

“Yeahhh, you’re alright…,” Eddie murmured. “I guess I’ll keep you.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” you snort, attempting to move him to the side so you can get to your car, just for him to reach out a hand to settle on your upper arm. He gently urged you to turn around as he pushed himself off your car again.

“C’mon, I’ll drive. I don’t trust that thing,” Eddie insisted as he kept a careful hold on your elbow while guiding you towards his van.

“What?” you question, looking back at your lonely car. “I’ve had her forever, she’s perfectly safe… I can’t just leave her here.”

“Your brake pads are shit.”

“What?” you ask again with a slight pout and furrowed brows.

“When you visited me the other day,” he started with a light laugh to buffer his confession. “Your car sounded like it was screaming when you were parking.”

You reached his van that had aged gracefully over the years with a mechanic at its beck and call. Eddie unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for you, but you couldn’t stop looking at your car.

“She’s just tired s’all,” you frown, feeling guilty over abandoning an inanimate object no matter how silly it felt.

“She’s just gonna kill you if you don’t replace your brake pads s’all,” Eddie leaned into you with his mocking whisper. Your sad glance up at him is enough to make his playful expression falter. His heavy and dramatic exhale already pulls a smile back onto your face, knowing he was caving in some way or another.

“I’ll bring ‘er to Thach’s and replace them for you,”

“Thank you, Loogie,” you swooned, and he rolled his eyes over your excessively cooing tone.

You were lucky to have favoritism on your side.

“Give it to me straight, doc. Will she make it?”

Eddie glanced over at you with a faux glare.

“How many times are you going to ask me that?”

“I dunno, how many times are you going to squint at me instead of answering?”

“You know I’m doing this for free right? After hours? After already working my second job all night?”

“Ooo, you sound like such an adult,” you squeeze your shoulders up to your ears with a grin, a brown bag stocked with artery-clogging goodness on your lap. He shook his head at you, looking away again to hide his poorly masked amusement. He could say all he wanted about doing this for free, but you could still give him a hard time. He was getting paid whether he wanted it or not. Even if he didn't accept it from you personally, you'd at least leave cash at the front desk and ask the nice receptionist to give it to him.

“Alright, c’mere,” he waved you over eventually. You perked up, moving out of the hard plastic chair in the garage where you left the fast food in your place. “And can you bring that display over? On the table?”

Nodding, you snatched it on your way over to Eddie and kneel beside him.

“Okay so,” he started off with a sigh. Not a great sign.

“Best case scenario, your brake pads look like this,” a greasy index finger points to one of the pads on display before moving to the one next to it. “This is how they’d look with a more moderate amount of wear to them – not great and you'll want to replace them, and then this is how they look when you need to get them replaced ASAP.”

“And this is your brain on drugs,” you chimed in with the theme, before shrinking under the look he gave you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, even though he broke and smiled over your bad joke.

You returned to observing the gradual decline in buffers on the display and shrug a bit.

“Okay, so what about Sherry?”

Eddie groaned as he leaned back to grab the discarded piece of metal and held it up to show you. It looked like a flat, grimy cracker in comparison to the examples on the display.

“They’re practically just the backing plates at this point, I don’t know how you’re not dead,” the piece clinked against the cement floor when he dropped it back down. “How long have they been squealing?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he became visibly pained by the way you had to think about it. It wasn’t coming from a patronizing, “how can you be so dumb” kind of place, but rather it stemmed from the anxiety of knowing you were driving around like this.

“I dunno… I noticed a while ago, so I just played my music louder,” you shrugged, and Eddie snorted amidst his distress. He sat up more to lean his back on Sherry. “But then I had to start stomping on the brakes way before I usually would to stop in time.”

“Yeah, that’s generally not a great sign,” he snickered as you started to.

“I’m so sorry, Sherry…” you frowned despite your previous giggling, raising a hand to caress one of her doors. Eddie lifted himself up off the ground with a grunt, heading over to a sink to wash his hands. You crane your neck to follow him, dropping your hand down from your car and start playing with the creeper, rolling it back and forth.

“So, she’ll get some new brake pads and she’ll be as good as new?”

“Well, I don’t want to just replace those, I’ll check out the whole braking system,” Eddie turned to face you completely, wiping the remaining water and suds off his hands. He grabbed the bag you left on the seat and made his way back to you.

“How’d you learn all this stuff?” you asked, thanking him as he handed you your burger before taking a monstrous bite out of his own.

“Uh, my uncle taught me,” he said around his food, sucking a bit of ketchup off the side of his thumb. You noticed the sad glance down to the floor, so you backed off. You didn’t need another moment like earlier when you brought up his dad again.

“I just can’t get over the fact that you’re a grown up…” you murmured to yourself, looking down at your meal. Eddie eyed you as he kept chomping away at his food. The horrid sound that you’ve always despised motivated you to look up at him again, and laughter bloomed from your chest at the sight of the mess around his mouth. His chewing slowed as he blinked his big eyes at you. Gulp.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“You still eat like an obnoxious kid,” you teased, kicking a foot out to nudge him and pull multiple napkins out of the bag for him.

He simply shrugged in response with a cheeky grin, accepting the napkins that he unceremoniously smeared over his lips.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to be here,” he raised his hands up in defense now, chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, I am…” you murmured, leaning your head back against Sherry as a fond smile formed on your lips while you watched him start to dig through the bag for any stray fries to add to his container. He shoved most of them right into his mouth before glancing at you again.

“What?”

“Nothing… just happy to have my best friend back,” you murmured, and he silently melted at the sincerity. God, did he feel lucky for once.

You take a beat before outstretching your arm to present him with your downturned hand with just your pinky out. Eddie recognized the old gesture and wiped his hand on his pants, despite the napkins at his disposal, before reaching his own hand out. Interlocking pinkies was of course typical of some childish pact which the two of you did plenty of times as kids, but sometimes you sought this out simply for a moment of comfort. It made you feel held and even as kids, Eddie had the emotional maturity to understand how lonely you felt because of your family. So, when you needed someone to hold your pinky, he was there. The only difference was now his pinky was closer to the width of your thumb and nearly swallowed your pinky whole when he wrapped it around yours. Just another adjustment to Eddie being an adult, which left an unlaughed snicker in your chest at the realization, but it comforted you all the same.

And this night in a dingy old garage after a long shift was easily the best night you’d had in years.

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