#so there is also a precedent for me attending

[farsailing]

mmmm thinking of attending meetings after the move if my work schedule allows. i’m def not interested in returning to Christianity theistically, but i do kind of miss the community of meetings. the society of friends for my new city does unprogrammed worship (the kind my family attended) and is inclusive so i may reach out to them about attending sometimes

[jaylaxies]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

PAIRING: haechan × fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, brother’s best friend trope, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, penetration, breeding, usage of nicknames, themes of jealousy, mentions of mark (brother) and other dreamies, mentions of yunjin from le sserafim, Imk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 10k words

SYNOPSIS: mark was an overprotective brother and he didn’t fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. so, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? it most certainly doesn’t help that it’s lee donghyuck, to whom, you are strictly off limits.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my loves <3 i finally wrote a fic for the loml hyuckie <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

The music blasting from the speakers, reverberating around the room full of university students, the wretched smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes lingered in the air as your sharp eyes adorned with perfectly winged liner focused around the room, greeting everyone who was shocked to find you at the party. 

It felt good to be back. 

Leaving for a boarding school wasn’t on your bucket list, yet it was an opportunity you couldn’t miss, the school being a prestigious one with a degree that would only be helpful in the future, which left you no choice but to disappear for three years, only to suddenly reappear today, straight making an appearance at the party. 

“Told you, your celebrity status is still intact,” Yunjin winked at you, her being the only friend who was stubborn enough to not break contact with you, and you loved her for the same. 

Raising your brow at her, you took another swing of beer which you had loosely gripped in your hand, “it’s not mine, it all belongs to my brother,” you said, “I don’t want this attention, especially when it’s only valid because I’m Mark’s sister who had a glow up over my time of not being in the town.”

Your brother was well known in the university—the same university which you’d be attending soon along with the people who also attended the same middle school as you, however, his reputation preceded him as he, along with his friends, had turned into the group all girls desired to be with, yet they never let anyone stick around for long. 

Settling down wasn’t their forte. 

People snogging around every corner of the house wasn’t a sight you were willing to witness, granted you had a long flight and were tired. Not having any ride back home was another factor which made you approach your brother—who wasn’t locked up in a room with some girl for once. 

“I wanna go home,” you huffed, standing next to Mark, who was quick to excuse himself from the conversation he was having. 

“I can’t drive you back, I’m buzzed dude,” he says, “my baby sis is all grown up,” he looks your way, patting your head before you step back, disgusted at his overly affectionate big brother act. 

He acted as if everything was normal when in reality, he was the one who always deprived you of every single thing, not allowing you to go out, not allowing you to meet boys, and most importantly, not letting his friends interact with you.

“Ew, drink this and sober up.” You passed on the water bottle in your hand to him, “how am I supposed to go back? Should I take a cab?” 

“No, that’s not safe. You wait here, I’ll get my friend to drop you off,” he asked you to wait by the front door. 

The shock on your face was evident, yet it was better to get a ride with one of his friends rather than fending for yourself this late at night. With a nonchalant nod, you walked away, waiting by the door. 

It wasn’t hard for Mark to find his group, they were sprawled across the sofa as if they owned it, surrounded by girls sitting around them; or on their lap. 

“Who’s not drunk here?” He asked, straight up eliminating Jeno from the list, who was taking big gulps from his can, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “minus Jeno.”

Haechan was quick to ignore the girl who was leaning down to kiss him, eyes tired yet lined with the perfect amount of eyeliner—a look he went for whenever a party was concerned. 

“I am sober. Driver duties, why?” He asked. 

Even though there was nothing but truth in his words, it would be hard to accept it, provided that his eyes were the perfect shade of brown which harboured the ideal amount of brightness during the day, and just the exact amount of intoxication at night. 

“I had one beer,” Jaemin said, sitting with a bored expression on his face, probably not in the mood to entertain the girls at the given moment, unlike Jeno and Renjun, who basked in the attention of them. 

“Y/n wants to go back home,” Mark explained, grabbing another can of beer, “and I obviously can’t go to drop her off.”

“Y/n? Is she back?” Hyuck asked, playing with his silver rings before unbuttoning the top of his black button up, exposing his chain clad neck and clavicle, which was valid given how hot the room was. 

“Yeah, she came back in the afternoon today. Jaem can you drop her back home?” Jaemin chuckles at the offended look Haechan threw his way. 

“Of course man,” Jaemin agreed. 

“He’s drunk too, in case you overlooked that, I’m the sober one right now,” Hyuck said, pointing out the obvious. 

“Yeah, dude there’s no way I’m letting you go alone with my sister,” Mark laughed, “lord knows you can’t keep it in your pants,” he added. 

Hyuck was quick to raise his eyebrow, scoffing, pushing his tongue inside his cheek, “and he can?” He asked, pointing at Jaemin. 

“He knows where to draw a line, unlike you, and she’s my baby sister, I’m not risking anything,” Mark explained enthusiastically, as if it was a joke, because it caused an uproar of laughter, which only infuriated Hyuck more. 

“I know when to stop,” he said, annoyed. 

“You didn’t know that when you fucked principal’s daughter,” Jeno provided. 

“And when you did so in his office, with cameras installed,” Renjun not so helpfully added. 

Hyuck agrees that they were right to a certain extent, but their lack of trust was always something that bothered him. If there was someone who actually didn’t know where to stop, that would be them, because he did not appreciate the insults thrown his way. 

It also didn’t help how he genuinely wanted to see you, but now his mood was ruined, courtesy of Mark. 

Mark then proceeded to list out a few more things as to prove that Hyuck wasn’t fit for being anywhere close to his sister, “I don’t trust you with her,” he shrugged, asking Jaemin to drop you off and ending the conversation. 

Meanwhile, it had been a solid seven minutes and twenty six seconds since you started waiting for Mark’s friend to come and pick you up, and you made sure to put the time into good use by observing your surroundings yet again. 

In the farther right corner, you spotted your old crush, Park Sunghoon, who was in your ethics class. He never paid attention to you, granted your brother made sure to warn the whole school population that you were off limits. 

You couldn’t deny, it was good to see him happy and you swore you noticed him giggling too, talking to your old classmate, who you remember, was called Moon—one of the beauties of your school, before he pulled her into a sweet kiss. 

Your observation was cut short when one of Mark’s friends, whom you had not seen in the past three years appeared in front of you with a small smile. Na Jaemin, he was charming from the bottom to the top. 

“Welcome back, Y/n,” he smiled, voice slutry, which came naturally to him. 

You offered him a smile in return, shamelessly checking him out, he had gotten buff. You were not expecting him to come here, but then again, your subconscious wanted to see that one boy whose eyes reminded you of honey. 

You wondered how he looked now. Does he even remember you? A sigh left your glossy lips as you admitted that you still might have a teeny tiny crush on Lee Haechan after all this while, and deep inside, you wished to see him again. 

With a smile, you followed him to the car as he engaged you in a conversation. It was probably the first time he had been given the permission to interact with you, and even he couldn’t deny, he loved to see the development, the confidence that you had come back with. 

While you were getting back home, Haechan was fuming with anger, kicking the pavement as he had left the party, his mind formulating ideas for a plausible revenge against everyone. He was rebellious, he’d give himself that, yet in the depth of his heart, he meant well, not wanting to hurt anyone intentionally, only for the sake of having unharmed fun. 

It wasn’t as if his friends were any different, so why should he be the one who’s labelled to be the worst of them all? This time, he wanted to hurt someone on purpose, the someone being Mark Lee. 

Solution? Get as close to you as humanly possible—which would also mean that he’d have to work to get a place in your heart. But he didn’t mind it, especially when he had liked you all this while. 

Mark wanted him to stay away? Tough luck because Hyuck wanted you. 

Thinking about you reminded him of when you first met through Mark, he had priorly informed everyone to stay away from you, despite the fact you were in fifth grade, almost isolating you from the world. However, it wasn’t enough for Hyuck to stop greeting you with his gummy smiles, which caused you to smile back at him too. 

That’s the most exchange you guys have had over these years. Hyuck was gonna change that, and so, he found himself walking towards your house, knowing well that Mark won’t be around to stop him, and your parents would be deep asleep given that it was past midnight. 

Climbing up your room wasn’t hard, especially when he was aware of the ladder kept in your backyard, but being silent after entering your room through a window was tough. 

The lights were dim, just how you liked it when you slept. With a few steps, Hyuck reached your bed, eyes fixated on your sleeping figure. 

A small, genuine smile graced his face when he noticed the small pout on your moisturized lips. Adorable—that’s how he perceived you, yet there was no denying how much you had grown up to be prettier than ever, and he couldn’t help but caress your cheek with his thumb, even the slightest touch making you stir in your sleep, causing him to chuckle. 

He had to have you. 

You weren’t sure if it was a dream or had Hyuck actually visited you at night, though, the latter idea seemed nothing less than a delusion. Maybe it was your brain playing tricks with you, but it wasn’t your biggest concern at the given moment as you wanted nothing more than to freshen up and eat. 

What you did not expect was to see your mom catering the four boys sprawled across your living room, the guy in your dream wasn’t anywhere to be seen still. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mom sweetly pulled you in her embrace, gaining the attention of your brother and his friends, who were sitting together playing some video games. 

“Good morning, mum,” you smiled, having missed her while you were away for school. 

“Yo, I almost forgot you were back for a second,” Mark commented as your mom asked everyone to sit down. 

You looked at him with a sour expression, “yeah, right. Cause there was no one to tell you that you’re wearing two different designs of socks,” you pointed out, getting a snigger out of Jeno, who passed you a sweet smile when you looked his way, averting his gaze within a second, a habit of all his friends who weren’t allowed to stare at you. 

“Or that you’re wearing your T-shirt inside out,” you scrunch your nose as others see a very clueless Mark trying to get everything in order, your mom also amused by the sudden liveliness in the home, “no, but how are you this unaware about yourself?” You mused. 

Mark didn’t get to reply or whine when the front door opened to reveal the guy of your dreams, quite literally. 

Lee Haechan came into the room as if he owned the place, your eyes fixated on his messy hair as he said hello to your mother, who was more than happy to see him here. 

Hyuck was her favourite out of all Mark’s friends. 

Other guys were quick to apologize to Hyuck, you wondered why, and Mark had apparently apologized on text last night for crossing the line. 

He looked carefree and unbothered, so you didn’t ponder upon it much till he sat down next to you for breakfast, finally looking in your eyes. 

You blinked once, focusing on his eyes which looked like they had honey swirling around them, his skin was tanned to the prettiest shade as he passed you a small smile, “hey, Y/n,” he acknowledged your presence, lips almost upturned into what seemed to be a smirk. 

For a second, you couldn’t quite focus as you were too enthralled observing the beauty marks scattered across his face, his plump pink lips—

Yeah, that thought shook you awake, “hey, Haechan,” you greeted back, thinking that calling him Hyuck might just be too friendly. 

“So, are we on for our trip tomorrow?” Jaemin asked, cutting your interaction short. 

“Wait, what trip?” You asked, knowing that your parents were gonna be out for a business trip too, and you weren’t one to enjoy being home alone in such a big house. 

“Didn’t Mark tell you?” Your mom asked and shook your head, throwing an accusatory look his way, “They all are having a stay in at Hyuck’s beach house.”

“And me? Am I supposed to be staying alone for what—how many days?” You asked. 

“A week,” Mark informed, unaffected. 

“I’m not staying home alone for a whole week, mum, this isn’t fair.” The distress was clear on your face. 

“Call your friends over then,” your mom suggested. 

“For a week? We’d rather go out for vacation too,” you pouted, not noticing the stare of two boys. 

“Join the trip with Mark then,” she recommended, placing the fluffy pancake on your plate. 

“What? Why? No,” Mark protested and the room bursted into a web of chaos with everyone discussing it. 

Only Hyuck was silent, his eyes still on your face, admiring your side view shamelessly, but also careful not to give out his intentions in front of Mark. 

“It’s a boys trip, mom. Y’know? Boy stuff,” he winced, trying to explain without explaining that all they planned on doing was drink, smoke and invite girls over, “guys, tell them?”

“Yeah—he’s right,” they all agreed, not maintaining eye contact, looking at each other awkwardly. 

“Okay, since the beach house is Hyuck’s, why don’t we let him decide?” Your mom sighs, looking at Hyuck. 

Now that the sole attention is on him, he tries to act clueless with a helpless look on his face, especially when you are looking at him with big eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout. 

Then he looked back at his friends, who clearly wanted the girl to go, minus Mark at least. Lastly, he looked at your mom, who only smiled, and that was enough of an excuse for Hyuck to say with the sweetest smile—

“Of course, Y/n and her friend are always invited.”

“He said yes,” you were on the phone, explaining the whole situation to Yunjin, knowing well that she’d be more than ready to accompany you for your rendezvous. 

“He what?” She exclaimed, knowing that the boys would never take your side, especially in front of Mark. 

“I know, mom sorta helped cause Haechan never says no to mom, it’s like he’s her favourite child or something,” a humorous laugh left your lips. 

“Well, he will be once he becomes your boyfriend,” Yunjin gushed, “we’ll make sure he notices you this time, we’ve got a whole week to make it work.” 

You had rushed up the stairs and into your room as soon as the decision had been made, followed by the loud complaints of Mark—which you did not bother to hear, calling Yunjin to fill her in with the situation instead. 

She was packing as you were speaking. 

In all honesty, it never crossed your mind that you would actually want to seduce Haechan, provided that he was Mark’s friend, which would lead to fights you definitely didn’t wish to be a part of, but you were an adult, so Mark held no authority over you. 

There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun after all. 

“I’m not giving you a ride,” Mark deadpanned when you got back downstairs, your mother looking at him with disappointment. 

“I’ll take a cab then,” you rolled your eyes. 

“No need, you’re taking two cars and it’s enough to fit you all,” your mom finally said, “who’s driving?” 

“Me and Mark,” Hyuck replied, voice innocent as you turned to look his way, “Mark is taking the bigger one.”

“Is that so? All boys can go with Mark then. Won’t you give a lift to Y/n and Yunjin, Hyuck?” Your mom asked, knowing he won’t say no. 

She was good at persuasion, unknowingly giving Haechan the full opportunity to be with you, which is exactly what he was aiming for in the first place. 

Haechan only nodded earnestly, eyes almost shining as he looked back at you, “of course, you can ride with me,” he said, ignoring the glare thrown his way by Mark as your name rolled off his tongue, “Y/n.”

As if his voice and gaze wasn’t enough for you to stop breathing in a room full of people, the subtle smirk on his lips successfully had your knees buckling with anticipation. 

Never in a million years you had thought that you’d be riding shotgun in Hyuck’s car, with him driving and humming along to songs under his breath. You had worn the shortest skirt you managed to find in your closet and the little trick had worked as you saw him staring at your legs when you first came downstairs, announcing that you and Yunjin were ready to leave for the trip. 

Not only did it grab the attention of the boy you had been targeting, but also it garnered attention of Jaemin, who at least tried to act respectful by gulping and looking away. 

Hyuck on the other hand believed that he should blatantly stare at the things which are to be admired, including your legs. 

It didn’t take long for you guys to load your bags into his car, as the other one left ten minutes before you guys. Yunjin wasn’t a fan of long drives—two hours in your case, so she put on her AirPods and closed her eyes the second she got into the back seat, also to give you privacy with Haechan. 

He drove with one hand, the other resting on his thigh. The rings and chain adorning his body caught your attention for a second too long. His hands were definitely bigger than yours, veins popping out whenever he gripped the steering wheel. 

The aura around him was too strong, as if he was a magnet ready to pull everyone towards him, you were no exception. 

“Like the rings, darling?” He asked, eyes on the road with the corner of his lip upturned. 

The question successfully broke your train of thoughts. It was probably the first conversation you had with him, excluding the usual greetings. 

And he kick-started it by calling you darling. 

“They’re pretty,” you replied, not letting the nickname phase you, despite heat creeping up your neck. 

His smile widened at your answer and he swiftly got a ring off his finger, passing it to you—again, without even looking your way. 

“They’ll look prettier on you,” he says ever so smoothly, and you bite your lips, trying to stop the smile from widening as your fingers brush against his, taking the ring and inspecting the design, “don’t wear that in front of the boys though, they’ll flip.”

An amused chuckle left your lips, something which Haechan did not expect, “why? Still scared of Mark and his empty threats?” You asked. 

He pissed you off too much with his don’t come near my sister or I’ll make your life a living hell threat to others, and you were bitter about it. 

“Now, why would I be scared of Mark?” He scoffed. 

“Because you’re one of his friends who aren’t even allowed to look my way,” you said as a matter of fact, breath hitching the second you felt his fingers on your thigh, the warmth of his palm juxtaposing the cold metal of his rings. 

The car was stopped at the red light, “I’ve always looked you in the eye, sweetheart,” he whispered, confirming his statement by turning his head and staring right into your eyes, the tension palpable as your gazes locked, the look being too alluring for you to break the eye contact. 

His whole demeanour changed in a second when his serious expression morphed into a sweet smile, the kind that makes you melt right before he shifted his focus back on the road as if he hadn’t just provided you a sliver of hope about him being interested in you. 

He, however, didn’t bother moving his hand which was gripping your thigh lightly, his fingers were long and looked exceptionally pretty on your skin. You couldn’t help but look out of the window, trying not to let your thoughts get out of hand. 

It certainly didn’t help that he was singing explicit romantic songs with all his might while your best friend was sleeping peacefully in the backseat. 

Haechan loved every single reaction he got out of you, your little shivers when he caressed your thigh, your breath hitching for the very same reason midway a conversation, and your sweet blabber as you he initiated a conversation. 

“How was school?” He asked after a while. 

The conversation flowed smoothly after, the ride wasn’t long after all, his hand caressing your thigh throughout the journey, and you wished for it to be longer. 

The beach house wasn’t a house apparently, but a mansion with how grand it was. Meaning, everyone would easily get their own rooms. Mark’s car was already parked as they reached earlier, but you saw Jaemin coming out when he heard the sound of Hyuck’s car, helping you take the bags inside with his ever so charming smile while Yunjin and you silently gushed about the beach view. 

Others were busy preparing for the party that was to be held at night—which was news to you. 

The interior was in the shades of black, white, and greys, matching Haechan’s personality in a peculiar manner, given that he was filled with colours of all sorts. 

You and Yunjin selected the adjacent rooms on the first floor, the balcony giving you a pretty view wasn’t something you’d want to miss out on. Haechan occupying the room which was right in front of your room is another thing which boosted your excitement. 

The next few hours flew by as you rested on the beach with Yunjin, soaking up warmth of the sand with the cold ocean waves reaching your toes. It felt peaceful. 

“So, what are you gonna wear to woo Haechan today?” Yunjin asked, sipping on her iced beverage. 

The sun was about to set, your eyes never leaving the sky which displayed all shades of red, yellow and orange, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that there’s no way they won’t be inviting girls, it was supposed to be a boys trip after all to get their dicks wet,” she said as a matter of fact. 

You winced again, not having it in you to watch your brother surrounded by girls. 

“And if Haechan was flirting with you, then it’s your chance to flirt back now, given that Mark would be drunk beyond the point of recovery. Not to mention how you’ll have to do something so he doesn’t stray off and give attention to other girls,” Yunjin listed out. 

She was right, it wasn’t like you were going to get this chance again, “red dress or black dress?” You asked with a playful smile and she squealed, rushing you into your room to help you get ready. 

The music was blaring by the time you applied the last swatch of lipstick, smacking your lips for the colour to blend in perfectly, complementing your skin tone ever so perfectly. Yunjin doing the same beside you. 

You weren’t sure how they managed to gather all this crowd for a party, granted you guys didn’t even live here, yet who would question these boys, an online invite and people would come running to attend their parties. 

Which was the case at the given moment as well. The second you stepped out from your assorted room, you found Jeno practically eating a girl’s face off with how passionately they were kissing  right beside the door, the music blaring in the background as you tried to overcome the initial shock of seeing your brother’s friend going what you’d consider wild. 

Making your way downstairs, you put on your best confident expression, your eyes immediately looking around, trying to find a certain black haired guy. 

Yunjin stopped you, pointing at the corner of the room where Hyuck was sitting with girls surrounding him, Renjun right next to him, a scoff of disbelief leaving your lips when one of them oh so comfortably sat down on his lap, his arm wrapping around her waist so naturally. 

Yet you couldn’t deny just how effortlessly attractive he looked in that black button up, the first few buttons undone to reveal his chest. The eyeshadow enhancing the look of his eyes to appear more slutry than they already seemed to be. 

Great. This is what you came on this trip for—to see Hyuck tilting the chin of a random girl, shoving his tongue inside her mouth. 

This won’t do, you averted your gaze, going straight to get alcohol, any kind would do, you just needed a boost of confidence to work upon your plan. Yunjin knew exactly what you were up to, winking at you before wandering off in the crowd. 

“Not dancing tonight?” Jaemin asked, standing right next to you as he poured himself a drink. 

His presence made your job easier, especially when he looked so good tonight. His dark hair was a little messy, sleeves rolled up as he was clad in all black, a simple chain adorning his slender neck. 

Perfect bait to get a reaction out of Haechan. 

If he’d bother to look your way, that is. 

“Talking to me tonight? Not scared of my brother anymore?” Your lips curled up, amused. 

That earned a laugh out of him, “he’s locked up in a room as we speak,” he said over the music. Translation: he was busy fucking someone and he won’t be here to monitor your moves. 

Your nose scrunched, not wanting to think about your brother doing the deed. Jaemin walked alongside you as you took up his offer to dance, but also made sure that you could see Haechan clearly with your spot. 

His eyes turned your way for the first time tonight the second you started moving your body along to the rhythm. The distance was fair, yet it felt as if you were the only person in this room and he was the only spectator to your actions. 

Jaemin’s hand came to rest on your waist, your body in sync with his moves, the proximity close and a blissful expression on your face. 

Again, you subtly looked Hyuck’s way, only to find his eyes darker than ever, not straying away from you for even a second, the girl on his lap long forgotten as he couldn’t find a reason to give her his attention anymore. 

Not when you were dancing with Jaemin, not when your dress rode up, revealing your thighs, not when Jaemin whispered in your ear and you giggled, getting closer to him. 

He couldn’t stand it, the muscle in his jaw clenched, his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek with annoyance bubbling up in his body. 

You turned around, only to find Haechan missing from the spot he was sitting at. All of a sudden, you excused yourself from Jaemin and made your way around the room, to find him again and you failed to do so. 

The room’s atmosphere got stuffy as the night progressed and you made your way upstairs to your room in need of fresh air which was very well provided by the grand balcony. 

Just as you twisted the door knob, getting inside the room, you gasped as Hyuck closed the door behind you, pushing you against the wooden surface of the door, his scent taking over your senses seamlessly as you breathed in deeply. 

“Hyuck—” you whispered, hyper aware of how close he was to you, his body pressed against yours in a way you could feel his torso muscles. His face tilted ever so slightly, just enough for your noses to brush against each other. 

The position alone sent you into a state of frenzy, and he didn’t even let you finish speaking out his name as he chuckled darkly. 

“Didn’t know you were into Jaemin, darling,” he whispered, causing you to gulp down the nervousness, which was of no use as your knees felt even weaker with his slender finger tracing your cheek, stopping right by your lips, “dancing with him while wearing the ring that I gave you.” His thumb caressing your bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, “doesn’t really sound fair to me now, does it, baby?” He asked, stopping his actions and looking your right in the eye. 

You couldn’t show him how affected you were with possessiveness laced tone, “I don’t see how it’s unfair, Haechan,” you smiled sweetly, keeping your hand on his chest. 

“Wrong,” he said in a beat, “his intentions aren’t pure,” he provided. 

You chuckled, turning your face to the side for a second, “what about your intentions?” You dared to ask. 

His hold on you tightened, “you wanna know my intentions?” He asked, voice so low it gave you goosebumps as he moved even closer to you, his lips on the verge of touching yours. 

They never fully touched, your hand becoming a barrier between you two, “maybe some other day,” you whispered, the expression in his eyes unreadable, “someday when you don’t come here with tainted lips after kissing god knows how many girls,” you smiled tightly, pushing him aside, the alcohol only providing you with unadulterated courage. 

He pulled you back, hand wrapped around your wrist so his torso was pressed against your back, which vibrated with his chuckles, “didn’t know it bothered you that much, pretty,” his lips touched your earlobe. 

“It doesn’t,” you seethed out, trying not to sound breathless as you shrugged out of his hold, “besides, we mean nothing to each other. I won’t stop you from snogging anyone and you can’t stop me from dancing with anyone.”

That’s all you said before slipping out of his grasp, rushing in and closing the bathroom door behind you and breathing in deeply. The feeling of his touch still lingering on your body, he was jealous as you were and he was so close. 

So close to kissing you. 

Hyuck leaned against the door on the opposite side of you, “we mean nothing to each other?” He scoffed under his breath, the image of Jaemin’s hands on your waist coming back to his mind. He was wrong to pay attention to someone else, he admits, but now he was determined to give you all his attention. 

“You’re mine, you just don’t know that yet,” he says, knowing you won’t be able to hear him, “all mine,” his tone was possessive still as he walked out of the room. 

The boys woke up all hungover the next morning, while you and Yunjin snuck out of the mansion before others woke up, only to avoid Hyuck, which was almost funny given that you were here to get his attention. 

Regardless, you sat in this cute cafe you found nearby, explaining the whole situation to your best friend. The slight smirk on her face gave away the fact that she was proud of you for not giving him attention last night. It’ll only make him want you more, she had said. 

Mark called you right after you finished your meal, “where are you?” He asked, panicked, “don’t tell me you got kidnapped,” the horror was clear in his voice and you rolled your eyes, not understanding how his brain worked. 

“I literally left a note on the fridge that I’ll be out for lunch and shopping, Mark,” you explained, almost laughing when you heard him say oh. He was standing right in front of the fridge apparently. 

“Right, have fun,” he said, hanging up the call. 

He wasn’t the best brother but he did care. At times, more than he needed to. 

“Okay so here’s the plan,” Yunjin started to explain. She loved giving out ideas and they always worked, which is why you found yourself in the swimsuit store, purchasing the one which flattered your body in the best manner. 

“And don’t lock your room at night. Knowing Haechan, he would definitely give you a little visit after seeing you pull that stunt.” 

The sun was setting and you were almost back at the mansion. You enjoyed the day and it was a great plan to get Hyuck out of your head, even though it wasn’t possible despite the fact that it had been only two days since you came back and met him again. 

Tonight’s plan was to have a bonfire by the beach, grill meat and have a good time. Mark had finally accepted and asked everyone to tone down and make the trip more family friendly, hence the bonfire.  

The place was empty when you got back in, and you saw the boys setting up the barbecue when you changed into your dress before making your way to join them. 

“Remember the plan?” Yunjin asked and you nodded, loving the feel of cold sand beneath your foot. 

Hyuck was the first one to notice your presence, his dark eyes fixated on your figure as you walked towards them, Jaemin being the second one as he smiled your way, to which you smiled back sweetly. 

You still had Hyuck’s ring on as you approached the place where Hyuck and Jaemin were grilling the meat, Mark was sitting down and playing his guitar while Jeno and Renjun sang along to the song, Yunjin being a great singer also joined those three. 

“Can I have a taste?” You asked, looking at Jaemin with hopeful eyes. 

The weather was cold yet the burning stare of a certain someone had you feeling all kinds of warmth, yet you didn’t look his way. 

“Of course, say ah,” Jaemin said, eyes shining as he held the piece of meat for you and you gladly accepted it, your lips touching his fingers in a caress, the juicy taste making you hum out in pleasure. 

In a second, you were turned around, “there’s something on your lips,” Hyuck muttered, expression stoic as he brushed his thumb on your lower lip, “all cleaned.”

You would have laughed at the jealousy had his action not been so intimidating, as if he was warning you not to do this. 

“Thanks,” you said, voice extra sweet before you looked back at Jaemin who was confused at the exchange, “can I have more?” You asked. 

“Here.” Hyuck shoved a plate in your hands before Jaemin could even reply, “enjoy your food,” he said, smiling but his eye twitched in the process, making you bite your lower lip to contain your laugh yet again and you sat down finally. 

“Do you think the water would be cold right now?” Jeno asked no one in general, his intrusive thoughts winning.  

“Why? Wanna take a dip?” Mark asked with a laugh, eyebrows raising once he realized that Jeno was serious about it. 

“It’ll be fun,” he said as everyone laughed around him. 

“There’s no light out here, Jeno,” Renjun said. 

“It’ll be fun.”

“The waves are strong too,” Mark reasoned.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, his vocabulary is limited,” Hyuck said, sitting by you as Jaemin handed over the plates to everyone, Mark sparing a glance to make sure Hyuck didn’t sit too close to you. 

“We can go one hour after eating, just dip our toes in,” Yunjin suggested and you guys agreed as Mark resumed playing his guitar. 

“Have more, Y/n.” Jaemin smiled, giving you more pieces to eat from his own plate. 

Haechan didn’t remember the last time he felt so pissed over something this small, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It had been two whole days since you made your comeback in his life but those two days were enough for him to want you, granted he did have a crush on you for the longest time, only now it wasn’t just your sweetness he was attracted to. 

“Thank you, nana,” you beamed, the nickname only infuriating Hyuck more while you could see Jaemin blush faintly and you truly wondered how all these goofballs pulled girls so easily. 

“Nana,” Hyuck mocked under his breath, Yunjin noticing the atmosphere and slightly pushing you towards him. 

“You’re doing brilliantly,” she whispered, “he looks like he’ll blow up anytime now.”

It felt nice, sitting in front of the bonfire while listening to others singing. You knew you were trying to make Hyuck jealous yet it was hard not to stare at his face, which basked in the glow of fire. He was already looking your way, noticing how you still had his ring on, which only tempted him to pull you on his lap, yet he knew it was impossible with your brother monitoring his every move. 

“Let’s go into the water,” Jeno repeated, as Mark smirked. 

“On the count of one, two,” he said, and didn’t even finish before your eyes widened as your brother came to pick you up in hopes of throwing you into the cold water. 

Mark was escapable. Jeno on the other hand, not so much and it didn’t help how they both had lifted you up despite your thrashing and whining and ran towards the water. 

“Mark I swear I’ll kill you—” you warned and Yunjin had the time of her life recording this whole scene. 

Renjun continuously reminded the boys to stay safe while also doing god’s work by providing you with the flashlight set on the highest setting from his phone. 

Within a second, you were screaming and thrashing as the boys dropped you into the cold water, laughing and doing the same with a horrified Renjun before rushing towards the mansion, especially Mark, leaving you all cold. 

Hyuck rushed to close the flashlight. 

You were wearing white, and the water only made your clothes look transparent, which is why Hyuck was taking his jacket off, but yet again, Jaemin was quick to wrap his leather jacket around your shivering frame. 

He was glad that you were covered but the annoyance was clear on his face, the amusement long gone even with you muttering and plotting Mark and Jeno’s murder with Renjun. 

Nor did he enjoy the sight of Jaemin taking you back to the villa, acting all protective as if he was your knight in shining armour. 

“You’re making it so obvious that you’re jealous,” Yunjin quipped, noticing how everyone walked ahead of them, rushing to the mansion. 

He laughed out, ending it with a scoff, “I have no reason to be,” he said, voice calm, “she’s mine anyways,” he shrugged, determination clear in his eyes. 

“Wow, you’re not even scared to admit it out loud? What if Mark hears?” She asks and Hyuck’s expression sours. 

“He wouldn’t approve. That’s a given but that’s not enough to stop me,” he shrugged yet again. 

“Okay Mr. Someone is stealing your girl as we speak though,” Yunjin pointed out, a fake sympathetic scowl on her face. 

Haechan hated feeling this way, the feeling where things do not go his way. He hadn’t felt this way since—forever. He had everything he wanted, but not you. Mark being a hindrance is something he considered to be normal till some extent, but Jaemin? That’s unacceptable. 

“I’ll take care of it.”

It was one in the morning and you were wrapped up in a blanket, sitting down near the balcony to observe the spectrum of stars which you could have sworn were shining. 

Being thrown into the water wasn’t the best experience per se, but you knew it would soon turn into a funny memory you guys would look back at someday in the future. Yet, it wasn’t something you were thinking about much, granted you had better things to ponder about. 

Lee Haechan. 

You well expected him to show at least a sliver of reaction, some sort of outburst during the evening, however it never came. Either he was plotting revenge or he simply didn’t care enough. Or he was trying to keep it in, your mind tried to reason with you. 

You sighed, getting up and closing the sliding doors of the big balcony in hopes of getting a cozy sleep. You needed that warmth after all. Just as you dropped the blanket on the bed, the door swung open—which shouldn’t have happened, given that you were sure you had locked it.

Haechan entered the room, closing the door behind him and you couldn’t help but stand at your place, shocked at his sudden appearance, “how did you—” 

“It’s my place, I can get in and out anytime I want,” he replied, voice smooth, giving you goosebumps as he walked closer to you. 

He was clad in sweatpants and a white T-shirt, the attire was simple, yet he made it look a hundred times more attractive than the usual. 

“Oh,” you breathed out, the dim lights of the room caused his skin to glow a beautiful shade of golden. 

There wasn’t a single ounce of jealousy on his face, rather, he looked content with the setting, settling down and sitting on the corner of the bed, his dark eyes staring at you, the silence louder than ever. 

“Uhm, so—did you want something?” You asked, wincing at your tone as you suddenly felt conscious under his gaze, slightly aroused too, not knowing what he was actually here for. 

He clicked his tongue, looking away for a second before his eyes settled on you for the second time. 

Hyuck gave you no time to process anything as his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him in a single hard tug, which had your body stumbling forward and right on his lap. 

He held on to your waist, helping you stabilize your balance, “what’s wrong, princess? You were so confident, getting cozy with Jaemin, huh?” He raise his brow, letting the possessiveness show on his face, the I don’t give a fuck facade disappearing. 

Your breath hitched with the movement of his fingers on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on the part where your top had ridden up to expose your skin. 

“He was just being nice,” you breathed out, shivering slightly. 

He rolled his eyes at your statement, a scoff leaving his lips before he leaned in, earning a gasp out of you. His nose caressed yours, and you were scared to move, his lips hovering above yours. 

“Just being nice my ass,” he clicked his tongue yet again, and suddenly you were hyper aware about the fact that you were breathing in the same air, “you wanted to know my intentions, right, princess?” He asked, “then listen, I want you all to myself,” his tone was raspy, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support, “don’t think I didn’t notice your subtle glances towards me, especially when you were with Jaemin,” he chuckled and you gulped, looking elsewhere. 

He was quick to grab your chin, making you look right in his eyes, “trying to get me jealous, darling? Well, good for you, it fucking worked.”

“Hyuck—” you whimper, your body heating up as you realized you were sitting right on his crotch. 

“Shh, bad girls don’t get to talk,” he shook his head, disappointed, “now what do we do about this? Maybe I’ll just have to claim your body to make you understand that you don’t need to make me jealous to have all my attention,” he suggested. 

You could feel the wetness down in your lacy panties and he hadn’t even touched you. Something about the way his voice came out so luscious, something about the way his touch made you feel like putty, something about his eyes made you feel mesmerized. 

“Tell me, baby. Can I mark you mine?” He asked and you felt your heart flutter, his voice was gentle when he asked for your consent, and you couldn’t hold back from wanting him anymore, nodding gently, “use your words, love,” he urged, lips parted. 

“Yes,” you whispered, grabbing on to him as he bit your lip, eliciting another gasp out of you, a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Yeah? You sure you can handle it?” He asked and you tugged on to his collar, impatiently pulling you to him. 

“Let’s find out,” you mumbled. 

Without any more delay, you closed the distance between you both, his hand coming to rest on your nape, tilting your head to kiss you passionately, his tongue brushing over your lips, parting them with ease for your tongue to graze the tip of his own. 

The room felt misty as you continued to kiss, his kisses getting more possessive by second, thinking about how no one else should have you, that you belong to him. He picked you up with ease, putting you underneath him on the bed, his kisses trailing down as you took a deep breath. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled midway kisses, some were long, especially the ones around your clavicle and neck region while the others were feather soft, driving you insane to the point of no return. It only ascended when his fingers finally lifted up your top, exploring the expanse of your skin with teasing touches. 

Your back arched as soon as he caresses the area under your tits, before cupping them fully, leaning back to get rid of your top altogether. You couldn’t shy under his gaze, the way he looked at you only boosted your confidence, as if he was a predator hungry for a meal and you were his precious prey, all ready to be devoured. 

He had no time to waste, his mouth working fast to lean down, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples, noticing how you react to his each touch, fondling your other tit, hearing you whimper and beg for more, his name chanting on your lips out of sheer pleasure. 

“It’s so fucking cute how your body reacts to every little touch of mine,” he whispered, biting your earlobe in the process, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he stuffed his pretty fingers inside your shorts, chuckling when he realizes how soiled your lacy panties had gotten, “fuck, I wanna taste that pretty cunt,” he says, taking off his T-shirt before doing the same to your shorts, dragging your panties down alongside it. 

You found yourself drooling at the sight of Hyuck’s muscles, he had started going to the gym and the results were clearly visible on his body, but you were ripped out of your thought train when he bit your inner thigh, causing you to clench around nothing, giving you kisses and licks all over, but not touching the part where you needed him the most. 

“P—please,” you cried out of frustration, and he immersed himself, licking a big stripe of your wet cunt, genuinely loving the taste as he hummed with satisfaction, holding your thighs open with his strong arms, “oh god,” you moaned out, causing him to smirk against your wetness, pressing sweet kisses to your clit. 

It felt like heaven when you were being destroyed by the demon himself. 

Hyuck was hard, his thick cock barely containing itself from splitting your pussy into two, but he wanted to see you fall apart on his tongue first, “your cunt,” he said, licking it to make a point, “belongs to me,” he whispered and you nodded. 

“It’s yours—all yours!”

“That’s my good fucking girl, you’re all mine,” he said, his tongue prodding at your entrance, fucking your pussy, which gave you more pleasure than you had ever felt through your life. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel your lower abdomen tightening, your fingers tugging on his silky black roots as he ate you out like a madman, as if he was drunk in the essence of your pussy. With a cry, you found yourself falling apart all over his tongue and he lapped it up, coming to kiss you right after, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. He knew you’d be overstimulated, but that’s exactly what he was aiming for when he finally pulled out his cock. You knew he’d be thick, but you underestimated him still, knowing well his cock wouldn’t fit in your cunt. 

“Gonna claim you mine,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours as he positioned himself on your entrance, “fuck, you’re all mine,” he said, kissing you deeply to absorb all yours moans as he pushed himself inside you. 

Your wetness helped him, yet he had to thrust in a few times to bottom out and could feel yourself clenching around him uncontrollably, loving the stretch and also the fact that he was twitching inside of you. 

His fingers grabbed your hips in a tight hold as he started pistoning into you at a pace which you hadn’t expected, and you were sure you looked crazy with how your eyes were teary, your hair a mess and your lips swollen, courtesy of the boy who groaned and slapped your cunt, fucking you deeper. 

“That’s it, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he praised and you let out broken sentences which he couldn’t comprehend, you were too gone, pushed into your subspace to the point you simply let Hyuck do all the work, moaning and whimpering for him, trying to keep your noises at bay in case anyone wakes up. 

Just when you both were about to read your high, he stopped fucking you, making you whimper out in distress, only to have you flipped with your ass up and head down on the pillow. 

It didn’t take him a second before he was entering your cunt again, fucking you from behind in hopes of giving you the brutal backshots you deserved, to fuck you in a way that you’ll be ruined forever, not even wanting to go back to another guy for their cock. 

This also gave him the perfect opportunity to spank your ass, the hurt only making you clench around him harder. 

“Fuck—I’m so—so close,” you sobbed, voice coming out muffled and Hyuck rubbed your clit to stimulate you further. 

“Go on, baby. Give me everything,” he urged and you both finally let go, groaning and whining as he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with your juices.

It felt as if the universe had blessed you with the highest amount of unadulterated pleasure one could have, and your eyes closed shut as Hyuck lay down next to you, breathing in and out just as quick as you to regain his strength to breathe properly. 

“Y/n,” he whispered, more gently this time, pulling you into a sweet kiss as you smiled into it, finding it amusing that he was the same guy who brutally fucked you not even a few minutes back, “you really are mine, yeah?” He said, caressing your cheek. 

“Yeah?” You asked in a whisper and he nodded earnestly, getting a washcloth and helping you into the bathroom, feeling proud when you couldn’t stand up properly. 

He was sweet. Sweeter than you had ever expected him to be and that’s why you found yourself kissing him again, and again as you both washed up in the shower, turning it to the point you both couldn’t help but giggle, his forehead resting against yours. 

“I really do like you, baby,” he whispered. 

“I really like you too, Hyuck,” you replied, feeling happier than you had ever felt, spending a while in his embrace, talking and kissing and eventually, falling asleep in his arms as you both smiled faintly, even in your deep slumber. 

Hurt. 

That’s what your body felt the second you blinked open your eyes. Images from last night revisiting you as a montage, a small smile lingered on your face, discarding the fact that you were disappointed, not having Hyuck by your side when you woke up, but then again, it was still better than getting caught by Mark. 

With the support of the bedside tables, you managed to stand up on your wobbly feet, stablizing yourself before going into the bathroom to freshen up, you needed that long bath to soothe down your muscles. 

Now wrapped up in your bath robe, you passed by the door, only to hear the sound of someone arguing. Curiosity got the best of you as you walked back, twisting the knob to open it just the right amount for it to not be noticeable, gladly the door opened seamlessly. 

“Stop playing with her feelings,” Jaemin whisper-yelled, and your heartbeat rose when you saw how it was directed towards Hyuck. 

“Who the fuck even said I’m playing with her?” Hyuck asked, his voice full of exasperation and anger. 

Jaemin scoffed, you hadn’t seen that expression on his face, ever. “So you’re just gonna go around fucking her right after Mark told you, specifically might I add, to stay away from her. What are you trying to do here? Take revenge by proving a point?” 

Your heart dropped hearing that sentence. Sneaking around made sense because Mark would, without any doubts, be against this setting, but what revenge was Jaemin talking about? When did Mark ask Hyuck to stay away from her, specifically at that? 

“That’s none of your business,” Hyuck replied, teeth gritted, “besides, weren’t you the one begging for her attention by putting up your good boy act? We aren’t that different, Jaemin,” he mocked, “you only want her cause she’s Mark’s sister.”

Your lip wobbled at his confession, he hadn’t agreed to Jaemin’s claims yet he hadn’t denied it either and suddenly you didn’t feel comfortable, all the positive energy drained as you rushed to get dressed, to get out. 

You trusted Hyuck too easily, and you knew you’d have to confront him about this, but you didn’t feel like doing it now. You wanted to go back home, alone, to deal with your inconvenience which would bother you for a while now. 

So you did what you had to do: run away from your problems. 

You texted Mark that you’d be taking his car, also mentioning it to Yunjin that you’ll be going back home, as you rushed to get dressed up and sneak out of the place without Hyuck knowing, and you were successful in doing so, sighing as soon as you started driving back. 

Hyuck thought you were sleeping in, and he couldn’t enter your room with everyone being awake and roaming around, especially when Jaemin knew what you two had done last night. 

The reminder only made him smile, as cliche as it sounds, he had never felt this way with other girls, your little confession only made his heart beat faster. You liked him back, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Yo, why did Y/n leave? She’s not picking up the calls either?” Hyuck heard Mark ask Yunjin, who knew exactly what was up. 

“She’s got some work to take care of, you don’t have to worry about it,” Yunjin patted his shoulder before making her way out to the beach to call you again. She knows you want space, but she also knows you like it when she checks up on you. 

Now, that was news to Hyuck, his eyes widening as he rushed to open the door to your room, only to find you weren’t actually there. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, getting his phone out and calling you, only for it to get declined, “no, fuck,” he groaned, thinking about if he upset you in any way, yet he couldn’t understand why you’d leave, especially when you were so happy when you went to sleep. 

Or maybe she heard you talking to Jaemin, his subconscious spoke up, making him lose his mind and punch the wall next to him, running down the stairs to follow Yunjin, calling out her name which caused her to pause and remove her sunglasses. 

“Where is Y/n?” He asked, breathing heavily. 

“Are you playing with her feelings?” She asked instead of replying to his question, “cause if that’s the case then I don’t care if we’re staying at your mansion, I’ll have to kick and break your baby making machine.” Her smile was threatening. 

“Oh god, that’s not it!” Hyuck was frustrated, “I’ve liked her since we were kids, I'm not joking around,” he said earnestly, “is she upset, why did she leave?” 

Yunjin watched the boy with amusement in her eyes, “you’re so dumb actually. If you like her enough then why aren’t you running after her right now? Get in your car and get your girl, shoo,” she dismissed him and Hyuck didn’t wait to chat about how she shouldn’t shoo him away, rather, he ran to grab his car keys, not paying attention to Renjun who asked why he was in such a hurry. 

Hyuck didn’t want any miscommunications whatsoever, it had been an hour since you had left, and it’ll probably be impossible to cover that distance in a short while so he decided to drive faster and get to your place. 

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me,” he muttered to himself, trying to call you again. 

You weren’t dating. It had barely been a week since you came back, a few days since he had started to get to know this new side of you and he didn’t want it to stop, not when he’s genuinely liked you for so long, minus his fuckboy ways of course. 

Mark had tried to call him a few times too, sensing that something was up, yet Hyuck didn’t pick up those calls, focusing on driving till he finally reached your place, relieved to see Mark’s car parked there. 

He knew there was an extra key under the third potted plant on the entrance, and that’s exactly what he took and opened the door. The living room was empty, which caused him to rush up the stairs to find you in your room, his chest heaving up and down. 

The sudden voice startled you, your mouth going dry at the sight of Hyuck. 

You couldn’t avoid him after all. 

“Hyuck, is everything okay? What are you doing here—why are you here?” You asked, pretending to be okay. 

“Did you hear us in the morning?” He asked, eyes softer than you had ever seen. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped, gulping down your emotions before staring at your feet, “I did,” you whispered, “but it’s fine, Hyuck. The sex was great—”

You didn’t look up while rambling, and it was cut short when Hyuck pulled you into his embrace, warmth spreading all over your body with how he held you close to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so broken seeing someone’s face, and he couldn’t handle that it was because of him that you felt this hurt. 

“That’s not true,” he whispered, holding you tighter, you could feel tears forming in your eyes. 

“N—no one’s ever approached me because of Mark,” your voice came out muffled, and Hyuck leaned back slightly just to look at your face, his thumb wiping the stray tear that cascaded down your cheek, “i felt like no one wanted to befriend me for me, all girls wanted to get to him through me and all the boys were so scared,” you laughed pathetically, knowing that your story wasn’t even sob worthy, “but you were the only one who still talked to me, even if it was just greeting me, asking me about my day,” you let out your breath. 

“Baby,” Hyuck cupped your cheeks. 

“You were the only exception, Hyuck. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve always liked you so much. So tell me, was it all a joke?” You asked, eyes serious. 

“It wasn’t,” he shook his head, gulping down before explaining it to you, “it happened at the party when I offered to drop you home but Mark was against it, thinking that I would use you to only fuck you, but that was not my intention I swear,” he says with a frown. 

“So that’s what you did,” your voice barely came out, it sounded broken. 

“God—no. No. I could never do that to you,” he felt helpless, trying to word his sentence properly, “I’ve liked you since we were kids, and I was heartbroken when you switched schools and cities. But I just got so excited when Mark told us that you were back—I wanted to see you, talk to you, but Mark only gave me a reminder that I couldn’t have you.”

You listened to him, your heart undoubtedly fluttering with how earnest his eyes looked, how the distress of being denied of you flashed clearly on his face. 

You really wanted to kiss him. 

“And when he gave all those permissions to Jaemin, I couldn’t help it. I never had revenge in my mind Y/n. I like you too much to hurt you, and I know we’re not even dating right now, but I don’t want anyone to ruin it for us even before our story starts and I swear to god I’ll fight Mark if it means that I can have you,” he breathed out, cheeks flushed as he had confessed to someone for the very first time.

You broke into a smile despite the tears in your eyes, “you promise?” You held up your pinky finger. 

He laced his pinky finger with yours, tugging it so you stumble slightly, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull you into a deep kiss, his soft lips caressing yours in a possessive hold, promising that he’ll take care of you. 

“Good, cause I was going to be really upset if you didn’t,” you mumbled against his lips. 

He chuckled before saying, “don’t ever run away from me, yeah?” 

You nodded, hugging him back tighter as you felt your anxiety calming down, your smile widening as he kissed your forehead, easing out your worries and you were sure you wanted to give it a try—you wanted to give you both a try. 

Yet another problem lingered in your mind. 

“So, about Mark,” you winced, knowing it’ll be disastrous.

“Shh, we’ll think about him later,” he mumbled, but the peacefulness wasn’t here to stay for long as a loud voice boomed up, indicating that Jaemin had snitched. 

“Lee fucking Donghyuck, I told you to stay away from my sister!” Mark shouted, your eyes widening as you both looked at each other. 

“Fuck, hide!”

Despite the chaos of hiding in your closet, you knew that Hyuck would always be your exception. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

TAGGING: @ajayke-reads @jenoslutie @jjaeyuns @heesuncore @celeste-hoon

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[scribendis]

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚

Daemon Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, profanity, these two are SO horny, dirty talk, p in v sex, size kink ish, breeding kink ish, just a little bit of throat grabbing Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~5,100

Summary: Mere months after their wedding, Daemon left his young bride to join the War in the Stepstones. His victory and subsequent return to King's Landing three years later meant that his wife would never spend another night alone in their bed.

A/N: I hope all my Daemon girls out there enjoy! This one's dedicated to you! Also, this is barely proofread and not beta'd. Lordy help me. Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link | Wattpad link

Mini HV glossary for ~future reference: ābrazȳrītsos - little wife ñuha dōna - my sweet issa - yes

Prince Daemon Targaryen had not been her father’s first choice of husband for her. It had, in fact, been the lord’s intention to marry her - his youngest child and only daughter - to King Viserys following the death of his queen. The prospect of such an arrangement brought her immense pride, for her house would benefit greatly from the wealth and status that would follow. But, by the time their wheelhouse finally passed through the gates of King’s Landing, the marriage between the king and Lady Alicent Hightower had already been set in stone. 

The king had thus suggested that she wed his younger brother instead, a prospect that her lord father balked at at first. Prince Daemon’s reputation certainly preceded him. No man called the “Rogue” anything had any right to take his precious daughter to wife. But when the Rogue Prince placed a wreath of flowers on her head and proclaimed her the Queen of Love and Beauty upon winning the tourney held in celebration of the king’s wedding, her betrothal to him was all but assured. 

She allowed herself to be wooed by him and his devilish smile, feeling herself falling harder and harder for him each time she caught his gaze from across rooms and banquet tables. There could be one hundred people between them and their eyes would always seem to find one another. His, more often than not, studied far more than her pretty face, trailing downward to her ample breasts or the curve of her waist. 

She had been told that Daemon was no great lover of dancing, but he offered his hand to her during every occasion that had musicians in attendance. And that hand found itself, more often than not, wandering dangerously past her hips as they moved about the dance floor. She was blissfully unaware of the fact that the prince would fuck his fist each night afterward at the thought of the places his hands had touched and what they might look like once he tore her clothes from her body. 

It was no wonder, then, that Daemon made certain that she fulfilled her wifely duties as soon as they were wed. He was barely able to make it through their wedding feast without whisking her away to finally claim her. But that night, he ensured that the entire Red Keep knew exactly whose wife she was.

In those first days of their marriage, she felt that she hardly left their marriage bed. When her presence was required at court, she walked with such an ache in her thighs and between her legs that she wished she could lounge about in bed all day. Each morning, without fail, their shared chambers still held the warm, musky scent of their coupling from the night before. It lingered on the sheets and on her skin throughout the day, only encouraging her husband’s desires further once he returned to her side. 

But their time together, it turned out, would be short lived. She and Daemon had hardly been married for three moons before Lord Corlys Velaryon’s invitation to join his house in the War for the Stepstones brought him hundreds of leagues away from her. Daemon could not refuse, for the potential glory of battle - his greatest chance to prove his worth to the realm - was a far more alluring prize than even his beautiful new wife. The kiss goodbye he gave her before climbing on the back of his dragon tasted bitter on her tongue.

She did not see her lord husband for three years. Life at court became a lonely thing. She was without children to care for or a husband to tend to. What she had was a husband whose actions in the Stepstones seemed to ripple all the way back to the Red Keep. To her. Slowly but surely, she watched her image deteriorate from that of a prince’s wife to that of a social pariah. How ashamed she must have been of her husband, the other ladies would whisper when they thought she was not listening - and, sometimes, when they knew that she was. 

Their shunning of her only worsened as news continued to trickle in about the rising victory of the Triarchy. She would sometimes linger outside of the Small Council chambers and trail after Ser Tyland Lannister in search of any information he had regarding her husband. Toward the end of the war, none of his news was good. She had come to accept that she would awake any day now a widow at the tender age of one and twenty. 

Until the morning that her maidservant burst through her door and all but shook her awake, uttering what, to her, was a garbled mess of words in her half-asleep state. But she did process enough to know one thing: Daemon had been spotted returning to King’s Landing. 

She rarely wore the colors of her husband’s house, opting instead for her own house colors. But today, as she followed the crowd into the throne room, she wore a striking dress of blood red the same hue as her husband’s dragon, Caraxes, and a necklace of rubies to match. Today, she was once again a Targaryen bride. 

She caught the eyes of some of the women who had spent the last three years lambasting her for her husband’s deeds. For his failures. She barely regarded them as she pushed past, her head held high and a smirk painting her lips. But, briefly catching the shocked look on Lord Beesbury’s wife, which somehow made the old woman look even more like a pigeon than she already did, she felt validation run warm through her veins. This would stop their wagging tongues.

In her place near the front of the throne room, she and everyone else watched Daemon approach the king. She had hoped but not suspected that he would find her among the crowd, so when his eyes flickered to her for a fleeting moment, she felt warmth radiate down her entire spine. 

Though he had looked away to address his brother, she did not take her eyes off of him for even a second. His silvery-blonde hair, now cut short, gave her an admirable view of his face and neck. Though obviously kissed by the sun, his skin also bore other changes. Forehead creases and other new wrinkles, likely from frowning or stress or both. A mottled, pink scar painted the right side of his neck and disappeared below his armor. She dreaded to think about just how far it went and how many others lay beneath his clothes. 

Truthfully, their time together before his departure had been so brief that she could not quite put her finger on all of the ways in which the war had changed him physically. From where he stood, the light pouring in from one of the high windows behind him highlighted a small scar just beside his right eyebrow. Did he have that before? She could not remember just now.

There would be plenty of time for her to relearn her husband’s body anew, just as he would hers. She did not realize how lonely a place the marriage bed could be with her husband so far away for so long. All she could hope was that he would still find her pleasing after their years apart.

Their reunion, it seemed, would have to wait, for the king was eager to whisk Daemon away from the eyes of the court following his return. Her disappointment meant little when measured against the wishes of the king, even though the ache in her heart felt all too real as she watched the brothers ascend the steps out of the throne room. 

She fielded several congratulatory remarks and other words of praise for her husband from those around her - the very same individuals who had spent years speaking naught but ill about him, whether to her face or behind her back. But she had known all along that Daemon would prove them wrong. 

The dispersing crowd soon filtered out of the throne room, with some individuals most assuredly sharing whispered words of gossip with their neighbors and others simply wondering when the celebratory feast would be held. She was one of the last to exit the room, a dizzying mixture of anticipation, relief, and disappointment churning in her stomach. 

So when a hand caught her by the throat and another by her upper arm as she ascended the stone steps into the hallway, she was taken completely by surprise. She hardly had time to let out a frightened gasp before a familiar voice breathed into her ear.  

“Will you not welcome the prince home from war, my lady?”

Her fear washed off of her just as quickly as it had come. Heaving a sigh, she smiled. “Daemon.” 

He turned her on the spot so they were face to face, his hand moving to hold her by the nape of her neck so she could not pull away. But she would not have done so even if he had not held her in such a way. 

“Gods, you scared me,” she continued. If he could only feel the way her heart was racing in her breast at his little stunt.

His bottom lip stuck out in a feigned pout. “And here I thought my dear wife would be excited to see me.” He placed his forefinger beneath her chin to tilt her face upward, his violet eyes studying the planes of her face as though he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

“She is.” 

A satisfied grin tugged at Daemon’s lips at the warmth of her remark, though he did not release her from his embrace. Rather, he pulled her closer and leaned down to claim her lips for the first time since his departure. To kiss him felt so familiar, yet also like a distant dream of a time long past. He allowed his lips to linger, savoring the moment as though they did not have dozens of onlookers watching them. 

“Should you not be with the king?” she murmured against his lips but felt him smirk.

“I have had to look at my brother’s ugly face since before I can remember,” Daemon replied, running his hand down the length of her spine until it came to rest in the small of her back. “I would rather have a moment alone with my pretty wife.”

That he had forgotten her or, at least, his burgeoning feelings for her during his years in the Stepstones had been a great worry of hers. He had been all too enthusiastic to leave her side and partake in the war to begin with. She often thought that, should he return one day, the two of them would be no more than strangers to one another. That whatever spark that had ignited between them in the early days of their marriage would have long since burned out.

But she recognized the look in his eyes as they roamed her face and continued downward, along the exposed line of her collarbone and shoulders before going even further. They ravaged her form as they had on all those evenings both before and after they were wed. He was entranced by the way her crimson gown enhanced her womanly shape. No doubt, he was toying with the thought of tearing it from her body right here and now, and reclaiming what was his for the entire court to see.

The mere prospect of such an act sent heat rushing through her lower stomach that pooled between her legs. She hadn’t worn her smallclothes beneath her gown today, remembering how tedious her husband had always found the extra barrier to be. He would have discovered that, if only he would have taken her by the hand and led her to their quarters. 

“You heard what I told my brother,” Daemon continued, his breath feather soft and warm on her cheek. “About the title they bestowed upon me in the Stepstones.”

“King of the Narrow Sea,” she whispered, feeling her mouth go dry as she watched the violet of his eyes become consumed by black. “But… you gave your crown to His Grace.”

Daemon clicked his tongue as he would in disappointment at a child. “Would my wife not have me be her king?”

Gods, she began to ache with need at such a question. She knew he noticed every flutter of her eyelashes, every rise and fall of her breast, every lick of her lips. He was an animal playing with its food, enjoying the act of teasing her. Testing her to see if she had missed him. 

“She would.” Her reply came out hoarsely, which only made the wicked smile on his lips widen further.

“And that would make you my queen,” he cooed as their noses brushed against one another. “Queen of the Narrow Sea.” His thumb moved slowly along the line of her jaw until it found the soft spot just beneath it where her pulse was hammering against her throat and pressed lightly.

She swallowed hard. “Queen of… of rocks and crabs and sand,” she said in jest, a paltry attempt at distracting herself from the now unbearable ache between her thighs. 

Daemon chuckled shortly. “But my queen nonetheless.” His lips moved to her ear to deal their final blow. “Do not think that I have forgotten the sweet sounds of your moans, ābrazȳrītsos,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble like that of a dragon’s echoing throughout the Dragonpit. “Or the even sweeter taste of your cunt.”

She could not stay the soft whimper that fell from her lips. Her body practically trembled with unfulfilled need - three years of it. What a devil her husband was for inflicting such torment on her, and in clear view of every nobleman and servant who walked past. 

And he was even worse for withdrawing from her completely and regarding her with a saccharine grin, though the dark lustfulness in his eyes belied his sudden pleasantry.

“My brother unfortunately demands my company just now, ñuha dōna, but rest assured…” He looked her up and down hungrily once more before stepping around her in a single languid step. “I shall be treating you like a queen tonight.”

Her eyes scanned the page of the open book that was draped across her lap, but the words may as well have been written in Lhazareen. She had gone over this page a dozen times but retained nothing, plagued by thoughts of her husband as she was. 

The sun had long since set and here she sat, alone, by the fire waiting for him. Of course, the king was not to be denied his brother’s presence and she knew that Daemon was certainly basking in the attention and praise that was being showered on him. But she would still hold him to his promise.

Having given up on her paltry attempt at reading, she rose. Her bare feet carried her restlessly back and forth across the cool flagstone floor of the bedchambers that her husband had not slept in for three long years. With every turn, her eyes flitted to the door as though she could will it open with her mind alone.  

“Seven hells, Daemon,” she sighed. 

She had not sated her own desire after her husband had left her wanting earlier, so the anticipation of their reunion this evening had only continued festering inside her throughout the day. It gnawed at her now, an itch that only he could scratch. 

What could she do to prepare for him, she wondered? There was no use in changing into a nightgown that would only end up on the floor. She had no wish to drink herself into a haze that would rob her of the pleasures of their lovemaking. In the end, she decided to perch herself before her vanity and remove the jewels adorning her neck, ears, and fingers. They would only get in the way.

It was when she dipped her head to unclasp her necklace that she heard the heavy wooden door push open. Her eyes immediately snapped to the mirror in front of her, only to see her husband already leaning against the far wall, admiring her. The mere sight of his lips curled into a half smirk was enough to send a rush of heat through her lower belly.

“Do you require assistance with that, ābrazȳrītsos?”

Daemon did not wait for an answer before he pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered over to her. Sneakily placing something on the cushion beside her, he took his place behind her and lifted his hands to remove her necklace. 

“Red was always so becoming on you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, admiring the color of the rubies against her skin before carelessly tossing the necklace onto the vanity. “You were destined to be a Targaryen bride.”

Her eyes fell closed as she felt his lips move downward to press to her neck. “Yes, I think I was.”

“Keep your eyes closed.” His words were a soft hum against her skin. “I have something to give you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. With her eyes closed, she could hear the rustle of his tunic as he turned. Smell the sweet aroma of wine on his breath. Feel the warmth of his arms enveloping her. Then, there was the cool touch of metal on her forehead and the sudden weight of something in her hair. His fingers gathered the long strands of hair that she had already unbraided and brushed, pulling them to one side of her neck. Once again, his lips found her ear.

“Open.”

She found her image in the mirror again and beheld his gift to her. A circlet cast in what she assumed was Valyrian steel with glittering rubies mounted along the front of the band. It fit her head perfectly and complemented the color of her hair in a way that no other accessory ever had before. When she reached a hand up to touch it, Daemon caught her fingers and brought them to his lips.

“Oh, it’s beautiful…” she breathed. The smile that lit up her features elicited one of his own. “This is what kept you, isn’t it?”

A look of pride flashed in his eyes. “My queen deserved a crown.”

She turned around in her chair to face him, her smile gone and her brow furrowed. The gesture was a lovely one, but it would be an insult to Queen Alicent for her to ever wear this publicly. And she had already spent the last few years as an outcast at court; she would never take risk worsening the others’ view of her. “Daemon, I-I couldn’t possibly wear this. Not at court…”

“Then wear it for me,” he crooned, slowly smoothing his hands along the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. “And nothing else.”

She couldn’t bear it any longer or deny her burning need for him. He could ask anything of her and she would submit. He had her in the palm of his hand and he knew it. 

“How… how do you say ‘queen’ in High Valyrian?” Her voice was but a breath, trembling and full of lasciviousness.

Daemon smiled crookedly. “Dāria.” His thumb brushed across the spot on her neck where he could feel her hammering pulse, just as it had earlier. “Ñuha dāria.”

She knew enough of his mother tongue to know what that meant. 

My queen.

“And ‘king?’” Her throat felt painfully dry, now.

He leaned forward, his gaze reflecting a mixture of playfulness and possessiveness. “Dārys.”

She watched as what little was left of violet in his eyes was overtaken by the black of his pupils. His hand at the side of her neck squeezed slightly. His nostrils flared. And, all the while, he wore the same half-smirk on those lips of his that she wanted to kiss every last inch of her. 

“Say it,” he growled.

“Ñuha dārys.”

Their lips crashed together in a devouring kiss far more passionate than the one they had shared in the hall that afternoon. Daemon easily lifted her into his arms and bore her toward their bed, just as he had on the night that they were married. He did not break their kiss for even a second, not to breathe or to utter soft words of yearning and love. They had so much lost time to make up for and tonight would only be a start.

With barely any care for the intricately sewn gold buttons that trailed down the back of the dress, his hands began to rip the garment open. He tore at the red fabric with the ferocity of a beast while his tongue danced with hers. They were caught in a swirling storm of desire and longing, heat and passion - and they were perfectly content to let it sweep them away together. 

Buttons scattered across the flagstone floor to be lost forever underneath the heavy furnishings, and soon her dress joined them as it fell in a heap beside their bed. Daemon’s roguish smirk returned when his hands cupped her bare arse and pressed her against him. 

“It’s hardly befitting of my queen to strut about the palace without smallclothes like a common whore.” He bit down gently on her bottom lip and relished in the soft mewl that rose in her throat. “Any man could…” 

As his voice trailed off, she felt his fingertips ghost over her hip before moving to her center and sliding into her wet heat. His fingers curled inside her immediately, expertly finding her most pleasurable spot as though it had not been years since he had last fucked her. A stuttering, wanton moan left her, only encouraging him to continue.

“...take advantage.” 

Daemon coaxed her back onto their bed, never pulling his hand away from where, with rapacious speed, he was already bringing her to the brink of the most carnal pleasure. But as she pushed herself up onto her elbows in search of his lips, he pulled back.

“Uh uh,” he hummed. “Look at me, ābrazȳrītsos.” He no longer wished to kiss her, choosing instead to watch her with the same darkened eyes as he had earlier. He saw it all. The way her half-lidded eyes struggled to stay on his, the way her brow twitched and furrowed, the way her neck strained with effort. 

And she was ablaze beneath him, the dragon’s touch inside her reigniting a fire that she had not felt in so long. The warmth of it began to spread through her as his fingers swiftly brought her to her release, which spread through every limb until it consumed her like a wildfire in the countryside. 

There was a grin of satisfaction on Daemon’s face when she opened her eyes again. To him, no sight could have been better than that of her beneath him, breathless, with flushed skin as she lay in the haze of her release. And to her, the image of him licking her wetness from his fingers with such lecherous desire in his eyes could have finished her once more. 

He sat back on his haunches to remove his doublet and tunic, which joined her gown on the floor as though they may as well have been dirty rags. She barely had time to study his bare torso, scarred and more muscular than it had been when she had seen it last, before he was upon her again. When he leaned over her to kiss her, her own hands took over and began to fumble at the closure of his breeches. 

“My poor little wife,” he rasped, “left without a husband to fill her all this time.”

Her lips curled into a sly grin that she knew he could feel against his lips. “Perhaps I have taken a lover in your absence.”

“Name the man and I shall have his head.” Daemon spoke in jest, she knew, but she also surmised that a certain level of sincerity lay beneath his words. Any man that would dare touch the wife of the Rogue Prince would incur his wrath. “Nay, his cock, and he may live out the rest of his days as a eunuch. Perhaps I will have him sent away to become an Unsullied or a priest of Boash.” 

He watched her face intently as her trembling fingers finished their work at his breeches. She had already been brought to pleasure but the sight of his thick, hard cock emerging from his trousers as she pushed them down renewed that same need inside her like an ember that had been rekindled into a blaze. A memory bloomed in her mind of when she had first laid eyes on his manhood on the night of their wedding and how she had doubted that it could even fit inside her. She found herself considering the same thought now.

“O-on the contrary,” she managed, dotting her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “I have had to pleasure myself.”

“Oh?” Daemon’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted as his hand lifted to her chin to hold her gaze so she had no choice but to see his lust. “I would have you show me sometime, ñuha dāria,” he purred with voracious need. “But for the rest of tonight? You will not cum anywhere but on my cock.” 

He took her firmly by the hips, his calloused fingertips digging into her skin as he pulled her with him so that she straddled him. And then, in a brief moment of tenderness that barely concealed his near-animalistic desire, he twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. “Know this: your cunt shall never go unfilled again. And perhaps I will put a babe in you, now that I am home.”

“Please.” Her voice, though barely a whisper, was heavy with want.

“Issa, ñuha dāria.” 

Daemon pulled her hips down so that she sank onto his cock, too impatient to give his wife any time to adjust after three years apart. A soft whine left her at the sudden fullness, the way he stretched her as though he had claimed her maidenhead for a second time. He did not let even a second go to waste before he began to guide her movements atop him. She was at the mercy of his hands, which demanded her pleasure and the closeness of her body without remorse. 

What he need not demand was the sweet cries of ecstasy that passed her lips, which filled their bedchambers and, likely, spilled into the hall outside of their door. They felt almost sinful to listen to and, yet, were the most beautiful sounds that he had ever heard.  

“Gods… Daemon…” she moaned, her body arching into him. She had spent so many nights whispering his name into the darkness of their bedchambers as she brought herself to release at the thought of him. But to have him beneath her, inside her, around her once again was pure bliss.

At the sound of his name on her lips, Daemon pressed his face between her breasts and groaned hoarsely. “That’s it, ābrazȳrītsos,” he panted against her flushed skin, his fingers moving further to grasp her by the arse and pull her closer. 

It would not be the gods that would make her cum tonight; it would be him.

She could feel it, the pleasure beginning to tighten inside her. She was at his mercy, lost in the feeling of him bucking his hips up into her and the sensation of his lips at her breasts. It felt impossible that one should experience such rapturous delight as this. In every touch and every choked growl that left him, she could sense that he felt exactly the same. 

“Daemon, please–” Her words left her as a high-pitched squeak, signaling to him just how close she was to falling over the edge. Her body began to tense, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips. Her hands flew to his upper arms, grasping and almost pushing, as if to try and escape the wave of pleasure that was fast approaching. 

But he would not let her go until it consumed them both.  

With his hands still at her hips, Daemon pushed her backward until she was buried in the soft blanket that had been so perfectly laid atop their bed mere moments ago. His body sunk into hers, taking over from her previous ministrations atop him as her hands anchored themselves to his shoulders. He rutted into her like an animal, starved as he had been of her body for the last three years. 

She felt herself shudder when his lips planted kisses along her jawline and moved up until they found her mouth. He swallowed every desperate moan that left her, the taste of them growing sweeter and sweeter the closer she came to her peak. 

Her walls began to clench around him, her breath hitching with his every thrust. Any words she may have uttered only coiled at her throat, her thoughts meaningless as the building pleasure finally unfurled inside her. He held her steadfastly as she came around him, his touch her only lifeline as the heat and delirium ravished her completely. 

“Cum with me,” she gasped against his lips. He would have kept going, brought her to another peak before finishing, but her soft plea was enough to end him, too.

“Fuck…” he groaned, thrusting into her one final time as he spilled himself inside her. 

And when their shared pleasure had passed, her vice-like grip on his shoulders released. The light touches of her fingertips traveled across his back, feeling each new scar that he had acquired in the Stepstones. But he relished in her gentle touch after so many years of war, and allowed himself to collapse against her. 

The weight of his body was soothing, his warmth a balm for her lonely heart. Their breaths slowed and, soon, the only sounds in the room came from the fireplace opposite their bed. It crackled and burned, its radiant heat intermingling with the lingering warmth of their coupling. 

Daemon eventually lifted his head again and reached a hand up to straighten the circlet that had half fallen off of her head in their final throes of passion. He paused to admire the sight of her, still in a daze and wearing a sleepy smile on her lips. He kissed her once more and, when he withdrew, she saw that his eyes had regained some of their earlier hunger.

“Do not think that I am finished with you, ñuha dāria.” 

[official-cvntified-gay]

Flight Attendant: A Pilot's Special [Abby A. x Reader]

❥ Pilot!Abby Anderson x Flight Attendant!Reader

❥ note: ugh I'm a whore for captain abby, I wrote this after I read a captain abby oneshot in ao3. Also request is open<3

The plane was getting prepped for another day in the sky. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow on the tarmac, and you could feel the buzz of excitement mingled with nervousness coursing through your veins. It was your first day as a flight attendant—something you had worked hard for—and you wanted everything to go perfectly.

Dressed in your crisp uniform, you made sure your hair was in place, your name tag shining proudly on your chest. You took a deep breath before stepping onto the plane, your heart thudding against your ribs as you imagined the hundreds of things that could go wrong.

"Relax, you've got this," you muttered under your breath, trying to psych yourself up.

“First day, huh?” A voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned to see a woman standing tall with an air of authority, her blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, her uniform neat and immaculate. Abby Anderson, the captain. Her reputation preceded her—known for being efficient, cold, and not exactly the warmest person on board. People whispered about her strict demeanor, her professionalism that sometimes felt intimidating.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, taken aback by her sudden presence.

“Captain Anderson,” she introduced herself, not offering a handshake. Her blue eyes bore into yours, unreadable, as she nodded. “I expect everything to run smoothly.”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied quickly, trying not to let her intimidating presence throw you off.

She gave you a curt nod before turning away. You could feel the weight of her authority, the way she commanded attention without even trying. As you went about your duties, you noticed how the other crew members seemed tense around her. She wasn’t mean, exactly—just...distant. Detached. Every movement was precise, every word clipped, like she was too busy to waste time on pleasantries.

But then, something strange happened.

Every so often, you caught her glancing your way. When she passed by, there was an almost imperceptible softening in her expression, a flicker of something warmer. You thought it was just your imagination, but then it happened again—and again.

It wasn’t until halfway through the flight that she approached you directly.

"You're doing well for your first day." Her voice was still professional, but there was a teasing edge to it now, a hint of something more.

"Thank you, Captain," you replied, trying to sound as professional as possible, but you could feel your cheeks heating under her gaze.

"Abby," she corrected, her tone softer. She took a step closer, and your breath caught in your throat. "No need for formalities when it's just the two of us."

"Abby," you repeated, the name feeling foreign on your tongue.

She smirked, her eyes sparkling with something mischievous. “You look a little nervous, you know. Is it me? Because I swear I don’t bite... unless you ask nicely.”

Your eyes widened, heat rising in your cheeks. "W-what?"

Abby chuckled, a low, deep sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Relax. I’m just messing with you.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so only you could hear. “Or maybe I’m not.”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but the way her presence seemed to engulf you. Was this really happening? The stoic, cold Captain Anderson was flirting with you?

For the rest of the flight, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Abby’s eyes on you. Every time you passed her in the cockpit or while making rounds, her gaze lingered just a little too long, a teasing smile pulling at her lips.

By the end of the shift, you were a bundle of nerves and confusion. You were standing by the exit, helping passengers disembark when Abby approached you once again, standing a little too close.

“You did good today,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only you could hear. “I like a woman who can keep her cool under pressure.”

“I-I try,” you managed to stammer, your brain short-circuiting from her proximity.

"Mm, I noticed." She leaned in, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered, "You should let me take you out for a drink sometime. Help you unwind after a long day."

Your heart was pounding in your chest. Was this a joke? Was she serious? But when you turned to meet her gaze, the playful glint in her eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“I— uh— I don’t know—” you started, but Abby cut you off with a smirk.

“Think about it.” She winked, her voice dripping with confidence. “I’m a patient woman.”

She turned to leave, walking off with that same air of cool detachment she always had. But this time, there was a sway in her step that told you she knew exactly what effect she had on you.

For the next few weeks, Abby didn’t let up. Every time you were on the same flight, she found some excuse to be near you. She'd make a casual comment, brush past you just close enough to make your skin tingle, and offer you those teasing little smiles that left you breathless.

One day, you were struggling with a particularly heavy overhead bin when Abby appeared out of nowhere, easily pushing it into place with one hand.

“Need some help?” she asked, her voice dripping with amusement.

“I had it,” you muttered, embarrassed that she had caught you in such a moment of weakness.

“Of course you did.” She grinned, leaning in slightly. “But I’m here if you need me. Always.”

Her words lingered long after she walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your thoughts spinning. You couldn’t deny it any longer—Abby Anderson had a hold on you, and she knew it.

Every time she smiled at you, every time she teased you, you found yourself falling deeper. And Abby? She was relentless in her pursuit.

She was the Captain, after all—and she always got what she wanted.

And this time, what she wanted was you.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // epilogue

summary: a few years later...

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

here it is :) the epilogue :)

(i'm crying, could you tell??) i figured it was time to post this now that we've officially entered the overlapping requiem/michigan cherry era. tbh i was just afraid to let these two go bc i love them so much.

thank you all again SO so much for all the love on this fic. it has truly meant everything to me that so many people came on this actual JOURNEY with me, i never intended this to be so long but here we are.

anyway, stick around for requiem!! and i hope you loved this if you made it this far!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You were all dressed up in one of your finest gowns, attending the gala that preceded the presidential election.

Coriolanus was running, of course, and you were so incredibly proud. He's worked toward this for years, and you had been there every step of the way since the tenth annual Hunger Games, all those years ago. It felt like a distant memory- albeit one that still haunted you regularly.

You were a whole new person. A Capitol citizen most of the year, and you were happy most of the time. You and Coryo had always gone home in the summers, though, to spend your days surrounded by friends and family under the District Twelve sun. You always looked forward to it, but three months never felt like quite enough time. You missed your old life, but that's all it could be now.

While some Capitol elite was talking your ear off about the upcoming games, that's all you can think about. Well, how after the election that your boyfriend would most certainly win, those summers of peace would be a thing of the past. It was hard to think about, which is why you focussed on how you could work around it. Perhaps you would make smaller visits throughout the year- although Coryo was prepping you for the endless tasks that would even be put onto you as the First Lady of Panem. Once he wins the election, he would propose- and it would be followed by the wedding of the century. You didn't know if you dreaded it or if the pressure of it all just scared you beyond what excitement could repair.

"Miss Y/L/N?" Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted and you hum in response, bringing the champagne glass to your lips, acting like you were paying attention the whole time.

"Yes?" You respond as you lower your glass. "My apologies, I just spaced out for a moment there. It's a big day, after all..." You chuckle to recover, tilting your head slightly at them.

"I was just asking if you had any input in the arena for the next Games, if you could give us any hints." The man asks, seemingly impatient with you getting distracted.

"Oh," You reply, smile fading softly. "No, I- I really try to stay out of all of that." You laugh nervously, gripping tighter onto the glass as you take another sip, relieved when you feel someone's hand on your arm.

"Y/N, come sit. Coriolanus's speech is about to start, he got me to save you a seat at my table." Sejanus says, linking his arm with yours.

You politely excuse yourself from the conversation and allow him to pull you away. "Many thanks." You whisper to him, chuckling slightly as you glance back over your shoulder at the older man you were speaking to. "Some people are so tone-deaf, aren't they?"

"Most definitely." He sighs, shaking his head as he guides you toward his table at the front of the banquet hall, close to the stage. "Apparently that will never change."

Sejanus Plinth was your saving grace all these years, that, however, had never changed. You didn't see him as much anymore, with you being locked up in your office in the Snow penthouse focused on writing book after book until you were burnt out. His role as a doctor in and out of the Districts certainly didn't help either, but you knew he was partial to working back home in Twelve so he could spend more time with Lucy Gray. You were glad he was much more fulfilled in his adult life than you were; you always knew he would do well and you were proud. You had to take moments every so often to remind yourself that when you first met him and Coryo, you had been sad that you wouldn't get to see the men they would become but you had wondered. Now, you had your answers.

"Is that not the truth." You scoff under your breath, smiling and giving a quick wave to a few familiar faces as you pass. You had become somewhat of a people-pleasing expert, the same way Coriolanus had.

You sit down at the table at the front of the room just as the lights slightly dim, and the spotlight hits the stage. You gently cross one leg over the other, careful not to wrinkle your dress and clap in just the perfect polite way you had learned how to over the years, smiling as you see Coryo walk up onto the stage.

He waves, and people whistle and clap, and the smile on his face seems a little more genuine than it normally is during these speeches. Of course, though, this is his final address before he no doubt gets voted in as president, and you know that he is excited.

"Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming out tonight..." He says, in a subtle cue to get people to quiet down so he could speak, a drink still in his hand that he delicately hovers above the podium next to him. "This has been such an incredible opportunity for both of us running, and I must say, it's been fun." He tips the glass toward the other table at the front, and your eyes follow the movement to the other candidate, your friend and former classmate, Hilarius Heavensbee. They've never gotten along, and you know Hilarius wants nothing to do with this job. Not really. It makes you sad, a little bit, that his family would push him this far when he had confided in you in his freshman year that it wasn't what he wanted.

The man just gives Coryo a polite but nervous smile, taking another sip out of his own champagne glass. From where you were, you could see his hand trembling. You knew he would have to go next, and Coriolanus Snow was always a tough act to follow.

"Now, I am very happy about this turnout, because I have two important announcements to make." He continues, and whispers fill the room. You look over at Sejanus, a slight look of shock on your face. You didn't know he had anything special to announce, and he always kept you in the loop on everything. Sejanus just shrugs, looking back up at Coryo again. It must not actually be a big deal- it was probably just thanking some more people who have donated to his campaign.

"Firstly," He clears his throat, taking a step to the side as the screen behind him lights up. "For just a moment, see me as your head game maker and forget all about me running for president. Or don't, actually, maybe keep that in mind, but at the back of your mind." He chuckles, the little joke making the audience laugh. He was much more personable now than he once was, you smile a little as you remember helping him write his earlier speeches in a way that would make him more likable. "With the help of my fellow candidate and personal good friend, we are trying something new when it comes to The Hunger Games."

When he speaks, your heart drops and you sit up a little straighter- feeling all eyes on you as you just focus on him. For the first time, he looks down at you and gives you a small smile, the slightest nod in an effort to reassure you that it wasn't as scary as it sounded. You swallow and just keep your smile on as best as you can, ignoring all the stares.

"So, we all love The Games. They're exciting, the stakes are high, and I know every year we all pick our favourite tributes to root for and it's hard to watch them fall but, god, do I know better than anyone how good it feels when they win." Your cheeks burn intensely as Coryo sends a smile and a wink your way, and the screen behind him flashes to a picture of the two of you, taken after your shared university graduation just a couple of years ago. You were both smiling, but he was looking at you as he held you tight around your waist, and you looked into the camera and held up a three-finger salute. People are laughing and awe-ing at the photo of the two of you, and you laugh nervously, looking over at Sejanus with slightly panicked eyes.

You would be absolutely fine with this if he had just run it by you before, and you knew that whether you liked it or not, the Games were an integral part of who you were now, and always would be- but you certainly didn't want your name on anything to do with these new changes they're making. But, he wouldn't be talking about you at all if he knew you would hate it. You had to remind yourself of that.

"So, you all know my beautiful Y/N, of course, we're all big fans of hers here," Coryo says, gesturing to where you were sitting and you let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head at him in a way that would appear teasing to everyone else while he waits for everyone to finish clapping for you. "Don't get embarrassed already, darling, I've got a bit more to say about you so just sit tight, okay? Nothing bad, I promise." He says to you, looking into your eyes even as he stands up on the stage, everyone's laughter echoing in the background.

"So, I have known Y/N and her outstanding mind for years now. The Games are what brought us together when we were both just kids, but you all already know that story so I'll spare you the details. The bottom line is, I am so proud of the woman she has become. She's written two books that will soon become three, she graduated in the top three percent of our class with only a District education to build on, and she is the single most well-spoken, well-mannered, beautiful, and caring woman I have ever met. Truly, she has changed my entire outlook on life." He says, talking more so to the audience than to you, knowing that you're so embarrassed by this. And he would be correct. "It has truly been a privilege to know her, and to love her."

"But that was a long journey for us both, and a seemingly endless uphill battle for her recovery, despite her strength. The Games can be scary, let's be totally honest. It's life or death, and winning will change you, but Y/N came out the other side and wanted to make a difference for her family and that inspired me. And she continues to inspire me every day." Coryo says, pausing to take a sip of his champagne again. "So, all of this is to say, I'd like to thank her for all her support through my education, this campaign, and through the life we're building together. She inspired this idea in me and with the help of my fellow game makers as well as the Plinth family..." You look over at Sejanus as he continues, suddenly realizing he must have known about what was happening. He keeps a small smile on his lips as he watches, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"This," Coryo says, turning to look up at the screen while a picture comes up of a small cul-de-sac of beautiful homes. "Is just the beginning of the Victor's Rehabilitation Initiative."

You tilt your head, a shocked and confused smile on your face as you take in the photo and try to decipher what he's talking about.

"So, recently, Y/N has been more open with everyone about the struggles that came with being crowned a victor in our Games. Yes, they get to walk away with their lives, but what if winning meant something more? What if it meant security for them and their families, so they're not returning to their Districts with no sense of what to do next? That, everyone, is what this program is for. To help the strongest of them find a purpose again, and to encourage the bravest of Panem's children to get back on their feet after such an impressive feat as winning the Games."

You have to very consciously force your jaw to stay shut when you realize what he is saying, clapping along with everyone else while your smile relaxes into something more genuine. You knew that he wanted to abolish the Games altogether, and you knew that no matter who won the election, they wouldn't proceed for much longer. This was the first step in that direction, and you were flooded with emotions. Pride, excitement, relief.

"For ten years, until the beginning of the mentorship program, our victors were cast aside. Never to be heard from again after their win, I, for one, became curious as to what happened to them after the Games as soon as I met Y/N, and I have heard that question from many of you as well since we were all given the pleasure of getting to know her." Coryo's smile is one of pride and excitement, sparing a glance at you as he allows the audience to have their responses. So far, all seemingly positive despite the present undertones of him caring about the people in the Districts. He was a smooth talker, he knew exactly how to command a space and get people to believe what he wanted. And he was using it for good. "I mean, how many other victors have something extraordinary, just like her, that won't be utilized or nurtured? We never knew."

"From now on," He continues, the crowd quieting down. "Our victors will be given homes in what we've decided to call Victor's Villages in each of the Twelve Districts. They'll have ensured security for themselves and their families, and a generous sum of prize money to help them with whatever they need. Whether that's medical attention, both physical and emotional, or, if they so choose, when they reach the appropriate age, they could apply at our university to further their education. Though, between you and I, admittance is not guaranteed." He winks at the end and it's accompanied by laughter, which you try and go along with, but you're too close to tears to even process fully what was going on. This was a huge step in the right direction, even if like he said, acceptance was not guaranteed. "What I mean, is that it will be up to them. They can live their lives to the fullest, just like our gem, Y/N."

He looks at you again, and you can really only see his blurry form through your tears until someone is handing you a handkerchief to dry your eyes while people clap and cheer over the idea.

This was something you couldn't have imagined years ago. This was everything you've wanted since the Games- to make a difference, for people to care. And it was happening right before your eyes. Thanks to him. Thanks to you.

"And with that," Coryo says after a few moments, waiting for the crowd to quiet down after taking in your reaction. "We can move on to my second announcement, which is my formal withdrawal from the presidential campaign."

Gasps fill the room and your smile disappears, a hand coming up to your mouth as you look up at him, shocked and confused with the announcement that blindsided even you.

"Are you happy here?" You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the evening as you walk from your parent's house back to your own in the Victor's Village.

"I couldn't be happier." Coryo replies through a soft sigh, swinging your hand gently as it's clasped between you.

"Are you sure?" You say again, feeling a little uncertain despite weeks of his endless reassurance that this was, in fact, what he wanted.

To him, this scenario was perfect. He could keep his job as head gamemaker, planning to only return to the Capitol for a few months or so every year for the Games. He knew that wouldn't last much longer, though, not with Hilarius Heavensbee in office. Coryo gives it a few years and a few major "accidental" mistakes on his part for the viewership of the annual event to die out and open the door for the president to call them off, just like he had always wanted to.

And every day Coryo would wake up to see you in your happy place, the only place you'd ever felt truly at home. He was more than happy to give it all up for the greatest sake of seeing you smile.

"Of course." He smiles, never growing tired of telling you the same thing over and over again if it meant he could ease your mind.

The moonlight bounces off his in a way that makes you think it could be glowing if you didn't know any better.

"I told you that I would be. Years ago. You remember?"

"Of course I remember."

He lets out a breathy laugh at your reply, shaking his head. "That was a foolish question. I don't think you've ever forgotten a single word anyone has ever spoken to you."

"Sure I have." You say, tilting your head as you look up at him, trying to catch the same moonlight reflect in the blue of his eyes as you walk down the path. "I just don't forget... the important bits."

"I will try my best to take care of you while you're here."

"My honest, best advice? Figure out a way to escape."

"I can't have killed them all for nothing."

"You are not a beast."

"Please, don't walk away again."

"I survived because I had to learn to love you."

"Like in your books?" His voice interrupts the swirling of speech from years past, and you shrug.

"Not exactly... it feels different. Because I can hear it, still." You explain, voice dropping into something more quiet as the remnants of your fear eats away at the back of your mind, the cold night breeze imprinting your skin.

"God, the way your mind works, love." He says, and as you look up at him to be met with an expression of pride that always changes everything. "You amaze me every day."

You stay quiet, cheeks getting hot as you look back down at the path.

"Are you happy?" Coryo asks after a moment, eyes never daring to leave your profile as you walk next to him, hardly more than a silhouette in the dark. But certainly more than a ghost, now.

"I am." You reply, the smile creeping back onto your lips. "Such hours are beautiful to live, but hard to describe..."

He hums softly in response. That was a yes, but also a no in the most you fashion possible. His heart remains heavy in his chest knowing that there is nothing more he can do for you to help you heal besides be present. "Is there anything more I can do?" He asks anyway, hoping that maybe you would come up with something.

You shake your head, giving him a tight-lipped smile laced with reassurance.

"Well, then..." He sighs, rather dramatically. "I did have an idea, you know, something that might make you happy. Even just for this one beautiful hour."

You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand a bit. "If that was you asking me if we could-"

"I would like to marry you." He says, for the first time ever, not feeling guilty about interrupting you.

You stop in your tracks, and he stops with you instantly as if he were waiting for it, his hold on your hand not faltering for a second.

"I... you-"

"Darling," He starts, stepping in front of you now, blocking out the moon but hardly putting a dent in the presence of the stars over his shoulders, their soft light reflecting off his blonde curls. "I do love nothing in the world so well as you."

Your shock and confusion begins to wear off as he speaks the familiar words, and you laugh softly. "In your own words, Coryo."

He tilts his head at you, clearly not having expected that kind of response. He expected a lot of things. He planned for everything that could go wrong, he prepared for rejection, for tears, panic, even, but he did not expect that. "I, uh..." He chuckles nervously, giving his head a quick shake to get himself back on track.

He had read that play just for you. Just for this- because he knew how much you loved it, and he remembered the joy it brought you. The smile on your face when you told him about it that day at the lake had never left his mind.

"If you ask me in your own words, I shall say yes." You assure him, hands gripping tighter onto his despite your surprisingly calm demeanor.

"I thought you would like that... You know, knowing you..."

He's quick to defend himself, and your eyes almost sparkle as you look up into his own. "We should have learned by now that our story is our own, yes?" You ask. "We are not Beatrice and Benedick, or Laurie and Amy, or even Romeo and Juliet, just like I used to think we were supposed to be when my days were numbered. I thought I wanted one of those stories to be mine at least once before I died, but I was wrong." You say, taking in the embarrassed flush of his cheeks even in the dim lighting. "You are you, and I am me. No matter what you say I will be happy to marry you, so long as you ask me yourself, and not as someone else."

"Alright then." He gives you a curt nod, a smile on his face as he lowers himself in front of you, careless of the dirt that would no doubt cake into the knee of his pants. "You're everything to me, Y/N/N. My world... my heart, my soul. I didn't know what love was until I met you. I've spent the entirety of my adult life learning to love you, and I never intend to stop. Not even for a moment, so please, let me marry you, love."

"A Coryo indeed." You say softly, recalling the first day you had met him- when you only knew him as Coriolanus, and how far you both had come since then. The growing smile on your lips twitches and you nod, holding his hand a little tighter and attempting to pull Coryo back to his feet. "Of course I will. Nothing would make me happier."

He stands again and very quickly his arms are around you, holding you just as tight as they always had.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

if you want to join the taglist for future fics (requiem, michigan cherry, etc.) as well as the bonus content for this fic, follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on post notifs! all i do over there is reblog my own writing, so it's effectively a taglist :)

thanks again for being here.

xx, raye

[aswaki]

mile high club privilege [smt x reader]

seok matthew x reader | 1.8k word count | explicit (minors dni)

“a flight attendant gets fucked at the airplane's bathroom”

contains: fem!reader, stewardess/flight attendant!reader, dom!matthew, unprotected sex, (airplane) bathroom sex, breath play (gagging), backshots, sir kink, slight strength kink, first meeting sex/strangers theme, mention of blow job & cunnilingus, pet names ("baby", "good girl")

“did you mean it when you said ‘anything’?”

you turned around to see it was the man from the business class. he was attractive. he smiled at you charmingly that you clearly missed the mischievous glint his eyes held.

“yes, sir. it is my job to ensure your flight is as relaxing and pleasurable as possible.” you told him with a slight nod of your head.

he hummed in acknowledgement. while the stranger was hot, you had a job to do. you continued walking down the aisle to head to your station. as you went, you made sure the passengers were okay by checking in and giving professional greetings.

footsteps behind you could be heard. was he following you? you inhaled to keep your irritation at bay before facing him again. you were taught how to deal with vexing travelers.

“sir, i suggest you head back to your seat. you can’t stro-”

“ah, i actually need to go to the toilet. can you lead the way there, please?” he cut you off. he said that while slightly leaning forward towards you. his voice was oh so innocent that it made you none the wiser. you were completely missing what his intention was with you.

“apologies,” you started.

‘bathroom, of course, where else would he go? stress was probably clouding your judgement,’ you concluded in your mind.

this was your third international flight consecutively so exhaustion must be catching up to you. you just hoped you wouldn’t get a complaint for appearing rude but the stranger seemed nice.

“sure, sir. i’d be happy to assist you. follow me,” you continued, hiding your embarrassment well.

his soft brown eyes locked into yours before drifting down. he was appreciating how your uniform fit you like a glove. no curve left hidden in your two piece ensemble. you even had a little scarf tied around your neck. cute.

and he followed you like you suggested. you lead the way while his gaze was trained on your ass.

once reaching your destination, you opened your mouth to bid farewell. before you could, he pulled you inside the toilet with him. though not by much, international planes had larger toilets so you were both able to fit inside. not comfortably, but you could make do.

he backed you to the bathroom wall.

“anything, right?” he reminded you before smirking. without any precedent, he crashed his lips onto yours.

this stranger kissed like he was devouring you. he had the intensity of a man in hunger. when you gasped in disbelief, it made it easier for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

disbelief be damned, though; you melted into him, needing no prompting to follow his lead. he wasn’t the only one who was hungry. your tongue glided along his, not fighting for dominance but dancing with him. this was going to give you some relief.

everything he said up to this point occurred to you that he was flirting. you were so out of it. you weren’t even sure when your hands found its way to be tangled in his hair or when his hand found its way to be underneath your panties, fingers finding your wet cunt and also putting pressure on your throbbing clit. your eyes instinctively fluttered shut as he played with your clit. the ecstasy that hit you made your toes curl in your shoes. he knew how to work you to your arousal.

“so, how does one get a membership at the mile high club?” he asked, breaking off your kiss. a string of saliva connected your mouths. his free hand went to tug the scarf around your neck. this little action had you feeling crazy. you wished he would pull it tighter to choke you.

“it’s simple, sir.” you said, suddenly bolder. your eyes heavy lidded. the confidence in your voice made him raise his brows in surprise. he dared himself not to groan out loud. instead, he rubbed on your clit a little bit rougher which made you hold on to his shoulders. his muscles tensed under your touch. you relished that feeling.

calling him sir almost had him cumming. 

digging your finger in his shoulders, you shakily stood on your tiptoes to whisper seductively in his ear, “just get me to orgasm.”

taking that as a challenge, he twisted your bodies so he could push you to the counter. he bent you over there without warning. your stomach pressed onto the edge of the sink.

“s- sir,” you weren’t stingy with the moans you let out. he watched your beautiful face contort intently through the mirror above the sink countertop.

“shh, baby. not so loud.” he cooed while running his hands from your clothed ass to your thighs. he then put your scarf to good use. he unraveled it before stuffing it in your mouth.

“we don’t want to be caught.” he explained as he tied the ends of the scarf behind your head.

“yes, sir,” you mumbled through the makeshift gag. as he tightened the scarf, you thought about the consequences you would get if you were caught fucking with a passenger. you were so lost in your arousal that these thoughts flew out your mind as soon as it entered, however.

you cannot stop this. you were trained to serve. your body moved on its own having a different master to listen to.

the sound of a belt unbuckling could be heard. a deep pool of excitement brewed inside of you as you listened to the stranger pull his pants and boxers down his legs. his fingers hastily unzipped your skirt, making it fall. your panties and stockings soon followed the clothes bundling on the ground.

you extended your legs open for him so he can have easier access to you. still, he smacked your ass and spread your ass cheeks a bit wider. there was a sting that stayed on your ass from his slap which made whimpers bubble out of you.

he rubbed his erection against you. you could feel he was big. you wondered if you could handle him. he coated his cock with your arousal before lining himself up to your entrance. the buttons on your uniform blouse dug painfully itself to your stomach.

“be my good girl and take it, yeah?” his voice became low. how he said those words made your skin prickle with goosebumps.

you moaned as he entered you. his girth stretching you out. he didn’t waste a second to thrust in you harshly. you both knew you had occupied the bathroom long enough. someone was bound to come looking for either of you.

tears gathered in your eyes as he pounded in you, chasing your pleasures as fast as possible. it didn't help you were gagged at the mouth. you tried gasping for air, feeling a little light-headed as he gave it his all. the tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every hard thrust he did.

he lifted your head by grabbing your hair, “look at you being a mess, baby. you like being used?”

maybe you did like being used. in the deepest part of you, it was almost like you knew your body found pleasure in letting go and submitting. your enjoyment in being gagged was a testament to it.

in the mirror, you could see how your usually sleek hair was now untidy. your eyes were watery but the mascara was still intact. thank god for waterproof make up. though, your red lipstick was smudged. it was even on the face of this handsome stranger.

you checked him out as he thrusts in you, losing almost control over himself. he had a strong defined nose and jawline. his biceps strained against the sleeve of his shirt. his one hand holding your head steady so you could face the mirror.

his jawline clenched as he slammed his cock to you like a wild animal. you engulfed every little bit of him around your damp cunt walls. the breaths coming from the two of you, ragged and heavy. the clapping from behind were louder than your pants for air.

“holy shit,” he groaned through gritted teeth when you clenched around him. he can feel you were about to cum (and so was he). his cock pulsed while the familiar feeling of an oncoming climax built inside him.

“let’s cum together, baby.”

as if his words gave you permission to, you climaxed along with him. your sounds were being muffled by the scarf in your mouth. he wished he could hear your pretty moans.

his cock was being squeezed by your muscles as if you were milking him. the feeling of his warmth flooded your inner walls triggered more of your orgasm. your fluids mixed with one another. the both of you defiling the cramped space.

this was by far the most exciting thing that happened to you while on the job. it awoke your spirit. this was a different type of exhaustion that washed over you. it was a sinful kind that you found delectable. your body shook but his arm came to clutch around your torso to pull you up against his chest. his strength saving you both.

you writhed in his grip as you both rode out your orgasms. his arm took great pleasure in holding you. he held you as close to himself as possible.

when you went limp, he undid the scarf in your mouth. it joined to the pile by your feet.

you took a large breath, inhaling as much as you could after being gagged. your voice sounded hoarse from unuse as you told him, “it’s my pleasure to welcome you to the mile high club, sir.”

“i hope you enjoyed your flight at in bloom airlines, gentlemen!” you told a group of nine men as they approached near the door. your perfectly lined red lips gave them a grin. customer service was your specialty.

they all replied to you various forms of thanks for the flight's smooth travel and your service. you locked eyes with the one who you got more acquainted than the rest. the one you snuck off to the toilet too many times for the span of your flight.

you entertained yourselves with your bodies. an exclusive amenity just for him. a mile high club privilege. anything he wanted— backshots, blow jobs, cunnilingus —you did all that but you didn't even get his name. he was just ‘sir’.

another kind of smile suddenly threatened to break out of your face; one that held a secret behind it.

he sent you a wink, “best i ever had.”

a/n: inspired by zb1 traveling to hong kong for kcon!!! i hope you enjoyed reading this. i didn't get much fics as i wanted to last week so i hope i can post more for this one but i think i might get busier. not sure, though! i do enjoy being here— writing and interacting. thank you for sticking by and reading through!

divider credit: saradika-graphics

[toby-or-not-toby]

... hear me out guys work with me here. Mr Komos in the monster high movie is implied to be the son of The Edward Hyde/Henry Jekyll, right? Great. Thats established. Cool. So.

Holt and Jackson. In g1 he's the great grandson of EH/HJ. We're going to disregard the great part because the point is more that he's descended from, rather than directly their son. Anyways.

I propose to you: Holt/Jackson being related to Mr Komos. There's no precedent for this beyond the shared scaritage, but also: It would allow them to give Jackson and Holt a new conflict since Clawdeen has the human/monster thing now.

(The conflict in question being attending a school his parent/relative tried to like. Murder. As well as the legacy EH/HJ left by being shunned by monsters and humans and then straight up killed. Have Jackson be what Komos wasn't, where instead of straight up revenge he wants just like... idk, change, for the better, yk? Let him and Clawdeen work together or something.)

This is probs incoherent btw its 2am and the thohght came to my brain in about 30 seconds. So my idea? Half baked. Idc I needed to share the thought with The People. Maybe someone will be inspired by it who has a bigger brain than me? Idk. If anyone sees this feel free to steal my ideas tbh. Idk if its a good idea bc im half consciohs but yk.

[highvern]

Peaches

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: weed mention, alcohol mention, mention of horror movies

Length: ~3.4k

Note: Drunk Goggles first time at the farmers market. this is prequel numero uno, predating Jealousy and Bite the Bullet by a month/month and a half?

Also dedicating this to the most fabulous readers who've been so incredibly sweet since i started this series! @mingyuonthemoon @tomodachiii and @lavendermins kisses to you all

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[WEDNESDAY 11:49PM] MINGYU 🥔: Looked up that farmers market you mentioned MINGYU 🥔: You didn’t tell me it was HUGE YOU: i literally said it was the biggest one in the city but whatever YOU: im going this weekend if you wanna come! MINGYU 🥔: You sure? Don’t wanna impose YOU: i mean its a public event so my opinion doesnt matter MINGYU 🥔: You really know how to make someone feel special YOU: its a talent YOU: but seriously, you should come. you’ll love it. MINGYU 🥔: sounds good :) YOU: ill pick you up at your place around 7:30? MINGYU 🥔: like 7:30 AM YOU: any later and parking is a NIGHTMARE YOU: i promise its worth it!!! if not ill buy your coffee MINGYU 🥔: deal

Mingyu can’t decide if agreeing to go to the farmers market with you was a colossal mistake or a monumental blessing. Not because he’s been forced to wake up at the crack of dawn, or because he thinks he won’t like the market once he gets there, or even because he is stuck with you for the day. But because the way you look in a white sundress, hem gently brushing your knees with every step, one of the spaghetti straps brushing the curve of your shoulder, knocks the air out of his lungs. The frilly linen fabric sways around your figure as a gentle breeze sweeps through, ruffling your hair and the white ribbon you’ve pinned in it to hold some of the tendrils back.

When you picked him up he hadn’t paid attention to anything other than his own grumbling from the early morning sun. But now, as you walk a step in front of him and ook over your shoulder with a soft grin as you approach the entrance to the market, Mingyu’s heart squeezes. 

He knew you were attractive, he had eyes for Christ sake. Been privy to the plethora of guys who had been interested in you in college, including his own fraternity brothers that wanted Mingyu as their wingman. The knowledge you were pretty sat with Mingyu the same way he knew the sky was blue or water was wet, an unconscious truth no one had to tell him. But this morning, Mingyu finds himself smacked in the face with an awareness that makes his palms sweat.

And it only gets worse as the morning ticks away.

Your laughter tinkles like a jingle bell, his heart beating as if he ran miles and miles to hear it. While you both wait in line for coffee, you talk animatedly, hands thrown wide as you describe the layout of the market and almost knock into another customer, making Mingyu chuckle. When you turn around to apologize, the shy smile on your lips sends a hoard of butterflies through his stomach. 

He truly is no better than a kindergartener with a crush on his teacher the way his heart thumps wildly and his words stutter. Hands clammy, stomach in knots; staring moony eyed when a ray of sunlight illuminates your skin just so, providing a warm halo to make you look like an angel.

In an effort to preserve his sanity, Mingyu chalks it up to the natural response any warm blooded man would have to seeing a pretty girl wear a pretty dress. There’s no reason to think anything more of it. 

No reason to think anything more of the recent increase in your time spent together. Purely coincidence that Mingyu finally took DK up on the offer to attend the weekly trivia night you happened to be a regular at. The happy hour specials were good and so was the company of his friends. It didn’t matter that it was preceded by a movie night at his apartment a couple weeks ago, you both coincidentally sitting next to each other on the couch, breathing out snide comments about the horrible movie Jun suggested; or how you ended up staying well after everyone else left, insistent on helping Mingyu clean up, much his own chagrin. And even before that, when you ran into each other at a mutual friend's birthday party and ended up smoking a joint by the firepit in the backyard; unexpectedly chatting the entire night, clutching your stomachs from laughter.

You’re friends, you’ve been friends since high school, and now that you’re adults you simply appreciate the comfort and familiarity that comes from being such a long standing presence in one another’s life. 

Simple as that.

-

Approaching a table tended to by a man that looks old enough to be his grandpa, Mingyu takes note of the wine bottles and various preserves set up. Wednesday night you mentioned the market in reference to the fruit wine a couple sold, excitedly telling everyone about how you knew the answers to the bonus question because of your frequent chats with the wife that runs the stall. Mingyu realizes this must be the people you speak of with such fondness.

“I was wondering when you’d stop by, dear.” The older man at the booth smiled warmly at you, clearly familiar with your presence.

“Sorry it took me longer than usual, Mr. Jung!” You smile, returning the same warmth to the vendor as you nod towards Mingyu. “I was showing my friend around. He’s never been here before.” 

“Not to worry! I saved you a bottle of the peach wine you like just in case we ran out.”

“Did you really? Thank you!” You gush. “Mingyu hasn’t tried it before but I’ve told him all about it.”

Mr. Jung sets the aforementioned bottle on the table before turning around, “Since your boyfriend’s never had it, let me see if I still have any in the sample bottle!” 

“Oh! He’s not my—”

But your objection falls on deaf ears as Mr. Jung turns to dig in the cooler at the back of his booth.

Mingyu can’t help the way his eyes shoot to your face, noticing the warm pink glow tinting the apples of your cheeks that was absent a moment ago, your gaze looking anywhere but him as you shift your weight back and forth. Swallowing, Mingyu finds himself taking an over interest in the jars of jams and jellies that line the table; reading the labels fervently but not absorbing a word. 

Boyfriend. Mingyu thinks, turning the word over and over in his head. Huh.

Thankfully, the older man returns with a small cup of fizzy ocher wine quickly.

“Here you go, son.” He says, passing the cup to Mingyu. “My wife is the one who makes all of the wines! Peaches are her favorite so she spent extra time making sure it was just right.”

Taking a small sip, the saccharine flavor blooms across Mingyu’s tongue. The taste of alcohol barely whispers amongst the delicate notes of peach, honey, and something warm like cinnamon. He can see why you like it so much.

Finishing the cup, he smiles at your curious gaze. “That’s really good.”

“Isn’t it?” Your own grin splits your face as you turn back to Mr. Jung, “How much do I owe you for the bottle?” 

“Since you're one of my best customers, this one’s on the house.”

“Oh, I really can’t!” You object. 

Mingyu keeps smiling, watching as you shake your head to the kind gesture.

“Please, sweetie, it’s really no trouble. My wife told me how you wouldn’t take the bottle last week either but I’m much more stubborn. Do an old couple an honor and let them give you something for all the business you’ve brought us.”

The silent standoff between you and the elderly man would be comical if Mingyu wasn’t hyper aware of how soft your lower lip looks when set in a slight pout, or how the way you narrow your eyes draws attention to how full your lashes are. 

“If you insist.” you finally huff.

“I do,” Mr. Jung smiles, a hint of warm smugness at the way you fold to his request.

“But I’m paying for the jam.”

Your tone leaves no room for questioning as you pick up several jars including a few of the ones Mingyu had pretended to look at earlier. Mr. Jung just shakes his head as you hand over cash for your purchase, swiftly giving you back the extra bills you tried to sneak in for the wine.

“I’ll be back next week, and I’m buying a bottle.” You grumble but take the change.

“Alright dear.” He placates as you turn to leave.

Once you’re a few steps away he turns to Mingyu and whispers. “Young man you better take care of that one, she’s a real treat.”

“She is, isn't she?”

With your head turned the opposite direction, Mingyu doesn’t see the shy smile you're trying to stifle as you keep walking.

-

The rest of the afternoon is filled with bustling from stall to stall, your reusable bags bulging as they slowly fill to the top. Mingyu insists on carrying the heavier one, happy to lug around your finds while subtly showing off his muscles. It also gives him an excuse to watch unabashedly as you practically skip to and fro. 

A warm welcome greets you at several booths, many of the older ladies pointedly asking who your “handsome friend” is, and a few of the older men sizing Mingyu up like overprotective uncles. But Mingyu lets it roll off his back, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of the brain wondering why it doesn’t bother him that people are assuming you’re more than friends. Instead, he focuses on charming as many of them as possible, making conversation and asking them about their products.

Just as you open your mouth to comment on the vintage locket you pointed out to Mingyu, a fat raindrop falls from the sky to burst on your cheek. 

“Did you feel that?” You ask, looking at the swollen gray clouds rushing in to block the afternoon sun.

Glancing at the sky, Mingyu opens his mouth to say he hasn’t felt anything when a large bead peppers his own forehead, racing down to the tip of his nose.

A bone rattling crack of thunder is the only warning you receive as the skies open. 

The market descends into madness; vendors rushing to pull their exposed wares under the cover of flimsy tents threatening to fly away in the gusts of wind. Patrons searching for cover under trees or the outskirts of tents that provide a sliver of protection against the downpour flooding the streets.

You register the warmth of Mingyu’s hand encircling yours, tugging you under the awning of a business behind the rows of tents and tables. You manage to both squeeze into the small space, barely a few inches between your soaking bodies, shivering as the wind whips against you. 

“How far is the car?” Mingyu stutters, teeth chattering against the drop in temperature.

You can’t see beyond the wall of his chest that blocks you in, protecting you from the sheets of water falling from the sky and bouncing off the ground. 

“Ugh…like two-ish blocks.” You try to gauge your location but everything beyond the cover of the awning is a blur. “I think.”

Another ear splitting boom of thunder, tailed by a flash of lightning has you both jumping out your skin and into one another.

“Let’s see if we can wait it out.” Mingyu finally decides.

Five minutes pass with no sign the storm will move on. The sidewalk is flooded, swamping your shoes as it carries leafs and other debris to the storm grate. Several of the people hiding with you decided to brave the storm, quickly disappearing out of sight.

“Wanna run for it?” You ask, peeking up at Mingyu as you shake in your soaked dress.

“Okay.”

Taking a second to organize your belongings, Mingyu bounces on his toes to psych himself up. It's only two blocks but the intensity of the storm means you’ll practically be swimming to the car. When you’re settled, you give him a nod. Once, twice, and then he’s breaking into a sprint towards the parking deck. 

Your feet can barely keep up with his long legs, but you try your best; motivated by the warmth your car will provide and the spare blanket you keep in the trunk. Using an arm to shield your face, Mingyu’s silhouette is blurred as endless waves of water rain down from above. Each step kicks up the puddles at your feet but you can’t care, already saturated to the bone. 

Turning a corner, the entrance to the parking garage finally greets you.

Catching your breath under the cover of concrete and metal, you finally look at each other. Mingyu’s hair is flat against his head, rivulets of water trailing down his neck. His white t shirt essentially see through, the oversized fabric once dwarfing his frame now clinging to his chest and arms. Even his pants suction to his legs, the light blue denim saturated to dark navy. 

You squeal when Mingyu shakes his head vigorously to dispel the remaining water, not unlike a dog that just exited a bath.

“Gyu!” You yell, despite the fact that the few drops that fly your way aren’t going to do anymore than already has been done.

Your hair is plastered to your forehead and neck, tangled at the crown of your head from wind and rain. The once immaculate white linen dress now clutching your body, damp fabric dripping onto the cement where you stand. Sending a silent thank you to the universe that your underwear wasn’t visible, you waddle to your car to retrieve the blanket to dry off.

Storing your now soaked haul in the trunk, you take turns patting yourselves down with the soft worn quilt. The splat of water as you ring out your hair echoes through the nearly empty parking deck. 

Mingyu offers to drive back to your apartment, confident he can navigate the raging storm for the twenty minutes it’ll take. Unwilling to emerge from the cozy warmth of the blanket swaddled around your body, you eagerly agree and toss him the keys.

-

Unfortunately, driving back to your apartment takes nearly double what Mingyu expected. Sheets of rain force him to proceed slowly, the gray of the sky blending with the pavement to make everything indistinguishable as other cars navigate sluggishly. The wind has only worsened, bending trees as thunder shakes the ground and lightning splits the sky.

Mingyu assures you that he doesn’t mind waiting out the rest of the storm at your apartment. He’d rather spend an extra few hours at your home than worry about you driving back from his alone. 

Digging up an old hoodie and sweatpants belonging to a long forgotten ex for Mingyu to wear, you both get cozy on the couch; content to drown out the dreary weather with a movie. Mingyu suggests a horror movie much to your surprise but you indulge him, still feeling guilty that you hadn’t checked the weather before going out this morning.

After less than thirty minutes, the open bottle of peach wine is forgotten on the coffee table next to matching half full glasses. Two sets of eyes are shielded by the hem of the comforter spread across your laps, cowering against one another as the killer jumps across your screen once again to claim another victim.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you can’t think about the way Mingyu arm brushes yours or how his thigh is pressed snuggly against your own. How he’s using your back to shield his face, eyes squinted as he pops up over your shoulder when the movie calms for a second. Each movement sends his breath down the back of your neck, raising goosebumps you attribute to the terror flooding your system, the alternative even scarier than the film.

If he was of sound mind, Mingyu would realize his eyes can trace the tip of your nose down to your lips twisted in a wince as scream after scream pierces your ears. If he wasn’t two seconds from pissing his pants, he’d probably think about how alluring the plush flesh of your lower lip is, or how his nose is filled with the intoxicating scent of lavender shampoo and summer rain.

Another jump scare sends you both off the couch, your own screams echoing off one another.

“That’s it!” You quiver, diving for the remote to turn off the television.

“Oh my god.” Mingyu breaths, focusing on calming his frantic heart as his head tips back on the sofa.

“Why the fuck did you say we should watch that? You didn’t even open your eyes!”

“Jeonghan said it wasn’t that scary!”

Mouth comically wide and eyebrows furrowed, your face in complete disbelief.

“And you just… believed him?” 

“Fair point but hurtful.”

Scrubbing your face with your hand, you sigh. “Let’s just watch something else. My pick.”

“As long as it’s not another scary movie, I don’t care.”

Your choice turns out to be of little consequence. As the afternoon hours bleed into evening, you and Mingyu rattle on like two friends reconnecting after years apart. The bottle of peach wine long consumed, followed by another bottle as conversation flows with each glass. The storm hasn’t let up an inch, continuing to pound against your windows, wind howling through the trees. But the noise is merely a backing track, blending with the long forgotten film dolling on the screen.

“Oh my god!” Mingyu snorts, “I forgot it was Jihyo that had to jump in the fountain.”

You also smile in amusement, “Oh trust me, she wants to keep it that way. I always send her the video on her birthday.”

“Why? It’s not that bad, everyone swam in at least once when we were in college.”

“Speak for yourself!”

“That’s right,” Mingyu nods. “You just went streaking in front of fifty people.”

“It wasn’t fifty people!”

“Close enough!”

“Lest we forget you mooned an entire party freshman year?”

“That’s not fair! We had to!”

“Yeah yeah whatever you say.” You’re cut off by your own yawn.

Checking his phone Mingyu realizes it’s well past midnight, “Damn, it’s late.”

“Oh shit you’re right,”  Moving to the doors that lead to your small balcony you peek into the night, walls of water falling beyond the overhang from the floor above. “If you’re okay with it, you can stay here tonight. It’s worse than this afternoon.”

“Oof, you’re right.” The proximity of his voice startled you. You hadn’t realized Mingyu had moved so close, hovering a respectable distance away to look past you, into the darkness. “Only if you don’t mind!”

Instead of answering, you move to the spare linens housed in the closet hosting your washer and humming dryer filled with rain soaked clothes from earlier. The hoards of blankets on the couch should be enough but your own nights spent dozing on the plush sectional informed you that the fabric was quite itchy after a while. Snagging a pillow and a top sheet, you move back towards Mingyu before he promptly plucks them from your hands.

“I’ve got it.”

“You’re the guest!”

“Barely, we’ve known each other for what? Nine years now?” Mingyu shrugs. “Hardly counts anymore.”

Mingyu continues to brush off any attempt to help set up the couch. When he’s done, he plops down, fingers twining behind his head, displaying the bulky muscles that twist around his arms. His boyish smile and ruffled hair pull at your heartstrings. You simply toss the heaviest knit blanket you own on top of his splayed figure, relishing in the way the weight startled him as he fights to free himself.

“Night!” You call over your shoulder, unaware of the eyes full of curiosity following your retreat to your room.

With the lights out, Mingyu allows his mind to wonder. Boyfriend. he thinks again, staring at the popcorn ceiling above. In the years he’s known you, he can’t recall a time he thought about you romantically. Even the past few weeks you two had been hanging out; Mingyu thought he was seeking you out because he enjoyed your company, relishing in your humor and a shared history. But maybe there's another reason Mingyu hadn’t let himself accept.

Tonight, Mingyu’s dreams are filled with the sweet scent of peaches, soft linen dresses, and a distinct laugh that warms his blood. He tries to stop the girl tugging him along by his hand intertwined with hers, hoping to catch a glance of her face. It’s no use as she continues on, calling his name as she pulls him further and further towards whenever they were headed. He didn’t care much as long as she said his name again and kept her soft palm pressed to his.

And in the morning, when Mingyu wakes to you shuffling around the kitchen; eyes half open and face soft from sleep, padding to the coffee machine in a ratty old T-shirt with your hair a mess, he’s looking at you in an entirely new light.

[milkywayes]

As someone who greatly enjoys your turian HCs and given your recent art, I must ask: How do you think Garrus feels about dressing up? Does Shep enjoy seeing him all gussied up? Was he that teen with the turian equivalent of logo tees and beanies? Did his parents dress up for Hierarchy events given Castis’ tier?

ooooh hell yeah thanks for the questions, i love this. gonna be a long one

my thoughts/HCs are as thus:

generally speaking, at least for heterosexual relationships turian women are the ones to approach a potential partner and the males will attempt attracting them by looking good / having a good reputation and accomplishments. long fringes are supposed to impress, hence why only the men evolved them, but it would make sense to me that they’d try to dress up even more to better their chances. picture men in a turian bar posing and wearing their finest outfits to stand out. hell, even turian armor is kind of fancy compared to what other species don. their civvies are very elaborate. it tracks.

but then there’s garrus, who… is just not very interested in all that. i like imagining that the ‘bad turian’ thing goes beyond not being an obedient soldier. so he does not enjoy dressing up. he’s never actively tried attracting a partner like that, and he got shepard without trying, even if he’s still not sure how he pulled that off. to say he’s out of his depth and feeling awkward is an understatement. he got the high rank in the hierarchy in the least straight-forward way imaginable, probably without precedent. he stumbled his way sideways into this gig by uhhh being himself, which is an uncompromising maverick idealist, and by trying to do right by shepard and their mission. not by acting how other turians expected him to.

shepard enjoys it, which is probably the only redeeming factor to garrus. a good chunk of that enjoyment is mirth because she loves when garrus is feeling awkward. it’s a big contrast to his usual confidence and swagger, which she also loves, but rarity’s a factor and she’s gonna take any entertainment she can get from attending these shit functions. (she’s going in utilitarian dress blues, suit and pants combo herself. no jewelry. you can’t make her. lmfao.) that said, he also looks hot in that getup. no complaints from her. or anyone else in attendance. she could point this out to garrus but he wouldn’t believe her. he can be an arrogant bastard, even after getting the scars, but he’s already feeling insecure about his place in the hierarchy and at the event, so there’s none of that right now. at least not for the first half hour. he catches her ogling him a couple times and that does end up boosting his confidence.

as a teen i think he just wore uniforms. i can’t imagine that turian schools don’t have uniforms. i don’t think he’d have had the interest to modify them, he’d have put that energy elsewhere (weapons mods. lol), so you wouldn’t have been able to tell just from looking at him that he’s a bit of a weirdo. but you’d notice fast enough upon meeting him. maladjusted child/teen garrus is important to me. he was lucky he was cute and got good grades.

as for his parents… castis wouldn’t be on palaven often enough to attend lots of hierarchy functions, and while i think mama vakarian had a very respectable tier for her age, only the real high ups who had to impress and be seen by the public really attend galas and such. the couple they did go to, they’d have dressed up, but maybe not as much as i dressed garrus up in that drawing - castis was no advisor to the primarch, and my headcanon for him says he prefers things to be utilitarian. a ‘let my work speak for itself’ kind of guy. he’ll do all that is required, and he’ll be meticulous about it, but he has no love for extravagance.

the funny thing is, castis and garrus are very alike in some ways but then their respective belief systems diverge so heavily that the things they have in common end up working against each other / their relationship lol. they both live for their ideals, they’re stubborn as all get out, they don’t do things just to appease other people.

garrus has more of a swagger though. and he’ll be extravagant - but mostly when showing off his sniping skills. put dangly, sparkly chains on him and he’ll act like a hapless cat that just had something put on their body against their will.

[brabblesblog]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 9: No hour is ever eternity, but it has its right to weep.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion and Ban host her parents for dinner.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art from @emy-san

“My mother will pry into everything,” Ban mumbled quietly, “including why we haven’t had any children yet. My father will probably ask about our assets - income, investments, connections, all that drivel.” She wasn’t looking forward to seeing them at all, tonight looming large in her mind, but she knew this would be it - one last time, for closure, and then never again.

They were roaming the grounds; Ban needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the palace as the staff readied it for guests. It was nowhere near as involved as even their smallest ball - a very small soirée, by comparison; she wasn’t sure if it could even be considered a soirée with only five people in attendance. Regardless, it didn’t require much in the way of preparation, and she knew their staff were capable and well practiced. This was the most nervous she’d been for any event they’d held, however, quadruple-checking every single thing until Astarion had finally dragged her out.

“Gods. Don’t they sound delightful,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Connections? Is it not enough to have the artisan guilds, including his own, in our pocket? Under our very roof?” He paused, rubbing his chin. “On second thought, Roderich would not necessarily be aware of that. He seemed to have rather woefully failed to keep abreast of current events.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The shop.” He looked at her, thoughtful. “It was worn, dusty and quite unlike how I’d expect someone of his proclivities to treat their ‘pride and joy’.”

This much was true. She’d seen the dilapidated exterior, the dinginess inside, neither of which would’ve been tolerated before she’d left.

“And what of your brother? Any snide remarks I should expect from him?” Astarion huffed a little, glancing up at the sky; it looked rather dull for midday, an unfortunate sign of possible rain.

“He’s likely to hate me for leaving the family,” Ban remarked, “more accurately, he’ll be jealous that I left and he didn’t, but you won’t hear him say that in front of Roderich and Arlette. He’s never had the strength to defy them.”

There would be little snark from her brother; he’d always been the least horrible member of their family. Adrien, her parents’ favorite, who could do no wrong, who was fated for more, to inherit and marry and pass down the most esteemed Glasscraft name. But he’d also been her only friend in the family, the only one compassionate enough to help her treat her wounds, to comfort her, whenever her father was done with whatever method of punishment he’d chosen that day. She wished he could have done more, could have stood up to their parents alongside her, but that was where their paths had diverged.

Astarion snorted. “I will do my utmost to be the picture-perfect rich, powerful, aristocratic husband they so desired you to have. However, if my patience fails me, and their necks come a little too close…”

“Try not to, will you?” Ban said, a sigh escaping her lips. “Be good - for me. I just need tonight to go well and then… with any luck we’ll never have to see them ever again.”

“Seeing as I’m the one who instigated all this in the first place…” Astarion exhaled, “I’m inclined to let you have it your way.” He held his hands up, playful. “No biting, I promise. Well, maybe a little, but…”

“Fangs to yourself, handsome.”

A dramatic, long-suffering sigh preceded the playful smirk on his face. “Of course, love.”

Ban couldn’t help the small smile that crept up at the sight of that. “Look. We cleared today for this. No meetings with the patriars, no haggling with Nine-Fingers - wouldn’t you consider that a win?”

“It would be, were I able to…” His hands rose, resting on either side of her waist, pulling her close for a quick, heated kiss. “… do certain things; alas we both know you are too preoccupied.” When they separated his eyes were tender, but the heat in them was unmistakable.

“Astarion,” she began, a little guiltily, “I’m sorry. My mind just isn’t on-”

“But of course! Besides, the staff are still at work. They’ve insisted on cleaning every room - there’s little privacy to be had today.” A mock sigh, and he let her go.

“And whose fault is that? I seem to remember it being your idea to host them.”

He snorted, but didn’t deign to answer.

“It’ll rain soon,” Astarion mused awhile later, glancing up at the sky again. “We ought to head inside. I’m aware it’s not the most comfortable place for you to be right now, but…” he shrugged. They were both dressed comfortably, but he’d very much rather not get his new loafers dirty on rain-wet soil.

She faced him, dark circles under her eyes prominent in the dull sunlight, nodding. “I mean, of course. I can get back to work with the caterers, pick out plating for tonight and the table napkins and-”

“Ban,” He tangled his fingers in hers, leading her back into the house. “A suggestion from your husband, if you’ll indulge me. Let’s head to bed - I can hold you, knead out all those knots in your back - nothing more, of course.” It would be good for her to unwind, he knew; the looming dinner had caused her no small amount of stress. She’d barely slept in days.

She followed him to their bedroom and Astarion sat on the bed, toeing off his shoes, patting the spot beside him. The moment she was there he pushed away her ponytail, pressing a kiss to her neck, wrapping an arm around her. He laid down, pulling her down with him.

He purposefully shifted his tone lower, softer, seeking to soothe. “You’re alright; it will all be fine, and if it isn’t, say the word and I will make it fine. I’ve got you.”

She was silent for a few moments, then leaned on him, her head tucked in his warm neck, nuzzling between jaw and collarbone. She mumbled something against his skin; it was spoken so softly that it took him a few moments to completely understand it.

“It’s not just that I didn’t trust you,” she said.

His hand paused and he peered down at her. “Are you saying there’s more you’ve yet to tell me, or…”

She shook her head. “What I’ve said is about the sum of it. There were specific instances, of course, which I will tell you when we have time, but what I mean is… not telling you wasn’t only because of our issues.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m surprised,” Astarion mused; Ban’s eyes snapped up to his, evidently not expecting this response. He huffed out a sad laugh. “Love. I ate whatever little pride I had left to tell you all of what I am, where I came from. What I went through.” He saw shame in her eyes and aimed to soothe. “No need to be ashamed, love. It merely slipped your mind.”

“It shouldn’t have,” she countered, “I should have known; of course you’d understand. But it isn’t the only thing, or even the main thing. I…” she hesitated a moment, then continued. “I did not relish you knowing I’m weak. That I could, and did, allow those things to happen to me. That I gave in and let it happen, when I’d always been the one to help you, the one helping everyone. I want to be your rock, not your burden.”

A soft kiss was pressed to her forehead; Astarion huffed out a small, exasperated laugh. “I don’t think myself capable of seeing you or loving you any less, no matter the circumstances, and neither is your strength the reason for that love.” He turned somber, holding her tighter, as if doing so would fully convey the depth of his affection. “Grant me the privilege of being where your heart finds peace, Ban. I would love nothing more.”

Tears filled her eyes and she gave him a small nod. “That I can do. Will do.” She looked away, huddling against his chest. “But then… they made me what I am, for better or for worse. Talking about it also feels like acknowledging they did do something right, at some point.”

“No.” That he wouldn’t abide. He placed an elegant finger under her chin, tilting it so she’d meet his eyes again. “Do not ever say that, because it isn’t true, and by no means will it ever be.”

“But they-”

“They what? Shaped you? You are you in spite of what they’ve done to you, not because of it.” His voice had risen, insistent on driving the thought away from her mind. He saw her open her mouth, about to argue, and he immediately interrupted her again.

“Before you say anything else, do you think what Cazador did made me who I am?”

“In some ways,” Ban said, and he found a measure of joy in the fact that she did so seemingly without fear of his anger.

Astarion nodded. “I don’t disagree. But I am also more than that - more than what he made me. And so are you. You, Ban…” He took a breath, trying to find the words to fully express himself and falling utterly short.

“You are strong. You are kind, compassionate. You tried, when trying was only for the foolish and the brave. You gave me a chance. You loved me when that was - and is - an objectively stupid thing to do. You held onto yourself and onto me when I was unable to, chose our love and-”

He heard her whimper as she hid herself against his chest yet again. He gently rocked her, wanting nothing more than to hold her close and shield her from everything. Her trust was intoxicating, so new and yet so achingly familiar; a haunting reminder of what he had almost lost forever. She kept her head tucked against his heart, her breathing slowly matching his as she melted against his body.

“Are you listening?” he asked, and at her nod he made it a point to take slower breaths, slowing his pulse down so that it soothed her further. He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Only for you,” he reminded her, staring up at the ceiling.

There wasn’t any reply, but there needn’t be. The silence stretched, and Astarion closed his eyes.

“This is really nice,” Ban eventually murmured, her eyes half-closed. It occurred to Astarion that she was utterly exhausted; the fact that she hadn’t complained about them wearing their clothes to bed should have clued him in immediately. He decided not to remind her about the massage and stayed mostly unmoving, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He considered speaking, to say candy-sweet words, but he knew they were unnecessary; they’d long moved past those early days, when his voice was all he could offer her. Instead he closed his own eyes, fingers idly tracing patterns on her head.

Sleep, love.

When she finally stirred, Astarion was still in trance. Soft, light snores wafted down to her from somewhere above her head. Ban gingerly moved his hand from her head, then carefully sat up. The sun told her it was almost sunset. A small wince crossed her features at the realization; she was a little surprised the noise of the preparations hadn’t interrupted their rest. They’d have to prepare themselves soon, but she didn’t want to wake him just yet, figuring she could bathe before he awakened.

She turned to him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed - unneeded, but habitual, comforting. His hand closed, then opened again, as if searching for something; his eyes moved beneath closed lids. Dreaming. She planted a soft kiss against his brow, received a soft mm of contentment in reply, then left the bed, steps as silent as possible so as not to disturb him.

The bath was warm and fragrant and Ban sank into it, eyes closing despite her rising anxiety. Seeing her father was one thing, but her mother was different; there was little doubt she would pry into every aspect of their lives and ask Ban about everything that had transpired since the last time they’d seen her. She wondered what they’d heard of the group who’d fought the Netherbrain, but her parents rarely bothered with events that did not concern the business, and the fight had left the area around the shop mostly unscathed. It was unlikely they knew anything more than what the broadsheets had reported in the days after the city was saved.

Then there were also Astarion’s remarks about Roderich, and the state of the shop. What could have caused her father to let it fall into such disrepair?

“Love.”

Her eyes flew open to see Astarion standing by the tub, nude, a small smile ghosting across his lips. He stepped over the rim of the tub to sink into the water opposite her. The moment he was in he reached for the scented soap and the sponge. “You didn’t wake me,” he complained impishly, working the soap into a lather and starting to scrub himself. “Worse, I wasn’t invited to this bath. I’m hurt.”

She sighed. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and I figured you’d need the rest.”

A wry chuckle answered her as he took her arm, bathing her as well. “I’m not the one waking up in the middle of the night.” He didn’t shy from her sharp glare, meeting it head-on. “And what of it? You can’t sleep. You think of them and dream of them - I can hear it.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Ban.”

Astarion paused his ministrations, the sponge stilling against her collarbone. “You have to let me in,” he finally said, the sponge pressed down against her as the hand emphasized his point. “You are trying and making great strides, but you have to realize this isn’t… embarrassing, or weak. And even if it is, what of it?”

“I don’t think it’s…” she began, the lie forming automatically; Astarion merely fixed her with a pointed look and she sighed.

“I suppose you’re right.” She shrugged. “I understand what you’ve said, but it isn’t that easy to overcome years of thinking that way. My mother prided herself on being a strong, stoic woman. She insisted that being emotional, needing comfort was… frivolous, unneeded, and for the weak; that she did not need anyone else other than herself.”

“An obvious lie, considering she wasn’t even strong enough to stand up for her own children.” The sponge resumed its path, scrubbing Ban’s chest and neck, traveling to the other arm.

She scooted closer, allowing him better reach. “She thought the strong thing to do was to let her husband do what he pleased, to require nothing of him.” She paused briefly to rinse off some of the soap. “They were betrothed at a young age, as is the custom. She loved him, at least at first. He… saw her as a broodmare, to birth his heirs. They had trouble getting pregnant, and she prayed to all the gods for a child, to give him what he so wished for. To give him what he’d begun looking for outside the marriage; without her permission, of course.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Pathetic,” he sneered, gesturing for Ban to turn around so he could scrub her back, “to step outside the marriage for heirs is one of the oldest and least imaginative excuses I could think of.”

“I doubt he cared.” The feel of the sponge against her skin, of Astarion’s hand grasping her shoulder, was soothing. Facing away from him provided her with a little more privacy, allowing her more ease in opening up. “My mother knew, much as he tried to hide it, yet she wouldn’t leave because she thought herself stronger than that. Because that’s what good wives do - listen to their husbands and give them children.”

Astarion’s hand stilled yet again and she heard a pinched, aborted grunt. “Again. Like I did you,” he said, tone acerbic. “And you stayed, like your mother did.”

“I left,” Ban reminded, and to her surprise she heard a relieved exhale.

“I am ever so glad you did, Ban,” he murmured.

Her head whipped around to look at him. Her hair splattered water everywhere, Astarion blinked away the droplets that landed on his eyelashes. He draped her hair over her shoulder to continue soaping the smooth expanse of her back, meeting her gaze.

“You thought I was incapable of reflection?” he teased, “Had you not left, we wouldn’t be here, I think.” The silence stretched as he continued working down her back. “I needed that push, and push you did. I can only be grateful.”

“I thought I broke your heart.”

He finished scrubbing and she leaned against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, fingers interlacing on her belly. He exhaled, thinking, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I prefer to think I broke my own heart.” Astarion wondered if he should say more, if more apologies would be required; loath as he was to do it, he would willingly prostrate himself before her if she required it.

“That time, perhaps; however I do feel like I’ve been breaking it again recently,” she admitted.

Astarion stiffened, realizing what she meant. “You have. You give a little, luring me in with a baited hook, and when I’ve bitten, you simply…” Dexterous fingers moved, miming a yanking motion, inspecting a fish, and discarding it. “...pull me in, only to push me away the moment I do something unpleasant or something that reminds you of Roderich or of my past behavior.” It’s not fair, he thought.

“I punish and reward, is what you’re saying,” she clarified, looking up at him. He could see guilt swimming in those eyes.

“Yes and no - I can appreciate that a lot of it comes from your family, and some of it comes from me,” Astarion began; he could feel her tensing and his hands slid to her shoulders to massage them. “However at times you make me feel like your feelings for me are contingent on how well I behave, and it’s…”

…just like Cazador. A comparison that he was loath to make, but one that was true nevertheless. He recognized the way her wavering affection made him feel - the shame, the fear, the pain - and he couldn’t continue shying away from it. Acknowledging it himself, however, was nowhere near the same as articulating it to her, and the idea of doing so filled him with dread.

He searched instead for the right word, and settled on “...painful.”

“I know you need time, and you deserve time,” Astarion finally said, “But please don’t withhold affection from me. Don’t leave me out in the cold, with silence my only company.”

Gods. She rubbed her face, frustrated. Of course she’d been hurting him; in her focus on not risking herself again she’d been too unwilling to trust his progress, too cautious - to the extent that he thought her love conditional.

“I’m so sorry,” Ban choked out, fighting back tears, “I’ve been doing to you what my parents did to me. I know. I… I’ll do better, I swear. This isn’t an excuse, love, but it’s hard; after having all this drilled in by them, and then… well, shielding myself from you - it’s not easy to unlearn.”

“Don’t you think that I, of all people, would know that, my love?” Astarion sighed, but he was mostly filled with relief and elation. That she acknowledged it, recognized it for what it was - unkind, unfair - and swore to change… it was enough for now, especially in light of the past tenday.

“Apology accepted,” he allowed, adding a little pompousness to color his voice, hoping it would lighten the mood, “I’m nothing if not gracious, after all.” But he also reached to her with his mind, suffusing her with his feelings - his gratitude, acceptance, and understanding.

She laughed a little; it came out broken, an odd mix of sadness and relief. “Too gracious,” she choked out.

“No such thing,” came his answer, quick and reassuring. “Just as you’ve forgiven me, so have I you. There’s little need to measure who did what, as long as we both…” he gestured, unsure of the specific verbiage he needed, “as long as we’re both happy, I suppose.”

She couldn’t contest that, turning to kiss a trail from his jawbone down his neck. Her lips ghosted over the old bite marks, setting off a wave of pleasant shivers throughout his body.

“Then we are in agreement?” he asked, simply to ensure the air was clear.

Ban made a small mhm of assent but didn’t say more. He was relieved, but found himself wanting to introduce more levity. He shifted, untangling his fingers to playfully cup a breast. “Much as forgiveness has been dispensed, darling, my heart still feels broken,” he drawled, “A kiss would be most welcome in soothing it.”

“You’re sure you only want a kiss?” she said, and he huffed out a small laugh.

“Most definitely not. Still, a kiss would be very welcome.” He played with her breast, pinching the nipple between index finger and thumb. Scooting back, she pressed against his cock. He bit his lip, appreciating her teasing, but forced his hips to keep still.

Tilting her head back, Astarion met her lips with his own, a soft caress without urgency. He nibbled at her lower lip, eliciting a quiet moan. Hands reached for his head, grasping still-dry curls to pull him closer. He allowed it, but he felt her fingers begin to move towards his ear; he quickly pulled her hand away.

“There isn’t enough time, you’re preoccupied, and as much as I’d like to take the edge off,” he scolded, “there are far more pressing matters we ought to attend to. I would prefer to make love when you’re wholly here, and not plagued by the spectre of your family.”

“So you’re saying you’re not hard right now? What do I feel back there, then?” she teased, hand sinking beneath the water.

Astarion tried to snatch the hand before it reached him, but she wasn’t really making a play for his cock; he was easily able to wrap his fingers around her wrist. He brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss before sinking his fangs in, drinking languidly.

“That’s for being a tease and for being too godsdamned attractive for your own good,” he murmured, licking the last rivulets of blood before they fell.

Ban laughed, rolling her hips back, rubbing against him lightly. “You are hard.”

“Painfully so,” came the reply, huffed in exasperation.

“I doubt drinking helped you any,” she added, very much amused.

He groaned as she rubbed her ass on him again. “No,” he admitted, “but I needed something.” Astarion was mere seconds away from lifting her and sitting her on his cock, but she thankfully - regretfully, if he was being honest - pulled away.

He grumbled, glaring at her; he felt around the tub for the sponge he’d dropped when he’d reached for her hand. Instead he found a muscled thigh and pinched, just enough to elicit a yelp and a little jump; she splashed his face.

“Ass!”

Astarion chuckled, “And yet you love me.” He’d never said it with such lightness of heart, he thought; it was far too fraught, too sensitive a topic for him until recently. There was a certainty there now, of her love for him, that he was grateful for. However he couldn’t fully suppress the lingering question, the question that plagued him even in these calm, happy moments:

Will she ever love me as deeply and completely as I do her?

A question that shouldn’t haunt him; there was no tangible way to measure love, after all. To attempt to do so would likely only end in heartache, but he couldn’t seem to prevent it from cropping up each time.

His silence as he contemplated this train of thought did not go unnoticed.

“Astarion?”

Her hand touched his cheek, and he blinked twice as he refocused on her. She’d turned to face him while he was lost in his reverie. He saw concern writ large on her features.

“I didn’t mean to taunt you; I wasn’t actually going to grab you, if that’s…” she trailed off, “I’m sorry.”

Realization dawned on him and he vehemently shook his head. “Ban, no. It was perfectly fine; welcomed, even. I was merely lost in some tangent of thought - one of little import.”

True - not the whole of it, but now was not the right time for it.

“Then do you want to…?” Ban ventured; he quickly shook his head.

“Tempting, as you always are, but no. I’d rather focus on tonight’s events; there’s little doubt that it will be complicated, at the very least. You will need all your energy for it.”

Ban nodded. “A very good point.” She turned to face away again, leaning forwards in a silent request; Astarion wistfully raked his eyes over her back before he began to soap it again.

Astarion watched Ban fidget in front of him, tugging at the skirt of her dress.

“This does fit well, right?” Her voice was tentative, anxious as she spun around for his assessment. He’d been her mirror since she’d lost the ability to see her reflection. Sometimes he helped her see herself with the mental link, but right now he merely pursed his lips and rubbed at his chin.

“I think it fits perfectly,” he managed to say. The way it clung to her ass was delightfully distracting and he considered saying so, but he could tell she was nervous. Instead he walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to still her movements. “You look beautiful; you always do, but especially so tonight.”

“Thank you, but are you sure the hem’s not too short? Fath- I mean, Roderich would no doubt comment on it, he would complain and say ‘have you no modesty?’ and-”

He tightened his grip on her shoulder and placed himself in front of her. “Look at me. It doesn’t matter what he thinks; if he so much as utters one word that offends you - that even irritates you - you merely have to say the word and he’s out.” His throat tightened as he spoke. How much had Roderich hurt her, in the small span of years a human child had, for her to be such a stuttering mess right now?

Ban took a few gulping breaths, nodding at him. “Yes, of course. You… thank you.” Another sharp breath took her and she rushed him, burying her face against his chest. His arms wrapped around her tightly, rocking her gently in his embrace.

“I shall go ahead to greet them,” he offered, “You can meet us in the dining room whenever you wish.” He slowly began to pull away, but she gripped the lapels of his suit coat.

“Stay with me,” she begged, unwilling to lift her head from where it was pressed against him. “Please. A little longer.”

Wordlessly he nodded, enveloping her in his arms yet again.

He could only hope it helped.

Astarion lounged on the throne as he waited. He heard the front doors opening, the thump of footsteps, the muffled voice of their chamberlain wafting through to him. He stayed in place, watching as the ballroom doors opened and figures began to enter. He’d carefully arranged himself, legs crossed and head resting on his hand, the picture of insolence and lordly power, exuding what he hoped was an aura of indifference.

He let them approach, making no move to rise or greet them; he counted four - no, three - figures. Their chamberlain, Roderich, and a woman.

Where’s the brother?

���My lord,” the chamberlain began, “Master Glasscraft and his missus are here.” Astarion didn’t deign to rise, eyes raking coldly over Ban’s mother. He could sense her deference to her husband; she hadn’t even looked up yet. A short, plump woman, she all but hid behind Roderich as the man prepared to greet Astarion.

Roderich cleared his throat and at that, Arlette’s eyes rose, raking over Astarion, traveling from the top of his curls to the bottom of his shoes. Her eyes widened and her lips parted a fraction of an inch. He knew that look all too well, remembered seeing it on countless faces, every single time Cazador loaned him out. It made his lip curl in disgust.

“Lord Ancunín,” Roderich began, hesitating for a moment. “Astarion.” The Glasscrafts bowed, obviously rather nervous and unsure.

Astarion fought the urge to snap; that he dared address him so informally without permission rankled. He let it pass, however, sitting up, elbows on his knees. “Roderich,” he nodded. He then turned to Arlette, and also gave her a small nod. “You must be Arlette. Ban has told me so much about you both.”

He finally stood, hands casually smoothening his trousers as he did, relishing the look of discomfort on their faces at his words. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he still towered over the pair, something he found immensely satisfying. “Pleased to have you here. How did you find the grounds, Arlette?”

She tittered. “It’s nice, I suppose. Roses were never something I desired for our garden; they’re thorny.”

“They require care and loving attention. Not things everyone is capable of giving.”

Satisfied with the raised eyebrows his comment caused, he decided to take them to the dining room; at least then he could have some wine to take the edge off their blathering. He descended the dais, gesturing for them to follow him. Before he could summon the chamberlain, however, Ban’s mother decided to get started on her prying.

“If you don’t mind me asking - how long have you and Ban been together?” Arlette’s voice made him turn and he crossed his arms, considering the question.

“A year and a half, if not slightly more,” he answered, mind flicking back to the day they first met. He noticed her frown; she opened her mouth as if to ask something more, but her husband gave her a curt shake of the head, ending her interrogation.

Interesting, Astarion thought to himself. He waved a hand at the chamberlain. “Please tell my wife that her family has arrived. She is free to join us at her leisure.” As he did, he led Ban’s parents out of the ballroom.

Roderich cleared his throat. “Astarion-” he began, wincing when Astarion fixed him with a glare over his shoulder. “You would really let Ban… your wife… hole up in her room while you have guests?”

The moment the words were out, Astarion rounded on him, rage written all over his face. His crimson eyes glittered dangerously, lip curling in a sneer. “I do not presume to tell Ban what to do, Roderich. Do you truly have the gall to attempt to command my wife under our roof?”

The smaller man spluttered, a sound Astarion relished. “I- my lord- I do not! I merely say it as fatherly advice. Ban is-”

“Is what?” he interjected, crossing his arms. He saw Arlette open her mouth as if to speak, but she first looked to her husband for permission. As Roderich nodded, she began.

“My lord, forgive me. In fact, may I call you Astarion? You are, after all, my daughter’s… husband… although I notice you do not wear rings.” Arlette straightened up, bracing herself. “What Roderich means to say is that our daughter can be willful. She is prone to behaviors that are unbecoming of a wife, behaviors especially unbecoming of her stature as your spouse, of a lady.”

“Unbecoming-” Astarion bit back the curse forming on his lips, scoffing instead. “For one, no. I am to be addressed as Lord Ancunín, not Astarion. If I hear that one more time from either of your lips’…” The pair before him recoiled, his words obviously effective.

He let the threat hang, satisfied at their reaction, and pushed on. “Ban is willful. She does things that are unbecoming of your idea of a lady, yes.” Those were in fact the things that made him love her so, but he considered that truth something Roderich and Arlette did not deserve to know. “Those are the things that make her her, and you will not disparage my wife in front of me. Is that understood?”

Small, hurried murmurs of assent answered him. Satisfied, he turned away from them. “Let’s head to the dining room before we all reconsider this reunion, shall we?”

The doors were held open for Ban as she entered the dining room. She did not see Adrien, only Roderich and Arlette, seated in stony, awkward silence across from Astarion. She noticed her mother’s eyes, the way they drifted down to her belly, as expected. Sorry mother, no grandchildren here. She quickly scanned the rest of the room - there was no sign of her brother - then landed on her husband. His hands were steepled beneath his chin, but he placed them flat on the table as he turned to her. His eyes flicked to her and for a moment she saw the steely anger in them, but it quickly melted into tenderness. He rose, crossing the room to take her hand and press a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, low enough that her parents did not hear. He kept her hand in his as he led her to her seat, only releasing her to pull her chair out. As she sat, so too did he, shooting one last warning glare at Roderich and Arlette before he waved a servant over to request dinner be served.

Ban looked Astarion over, noting the furrowed brows and tense shoulders, feeling a surge of relief that he was here. She reached out, snaking her hand around his, holding it in a tight grip. He made no outward sign he’d registered her touch, but his hand squeezed hers back. Satisfied, she turned to her parents.

Arlette was the first to speak, evidently unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. “Ban!” she exclaimed, “I know the last time we saw each other wasn’t… the best, but your father and I are so glad to see you again. You seem to have done well enough, haven’t you?” she asked, shooting Astarion an appreciative glance, “And I’m very proud. We taught you everything you needed to know, and look how far you’ve gone!”

Ban sighed. “I… I have done well for myself.”

She glanced over at her husband and saw his face harden further. Concerned, she reached into his mind. Not yet, love. I need to talk to them. He visibly swallowed down his pique, jaw reluctantly unclenching.

That they’re alive at all, Ban, is merely because you wish it.

She couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped her. Keeping their bond open, she continued addressing her mother. “Done well, but not because of you, or what you two have taught me. Where’s Adrien?”

Arlette took this in stride, smiling to reveal crooked, yellowing teeth that still occasionally haunted Ban’s nightmares. “We shouldn’t argue about that. Have you forgotten? It’s uncouth to be arguing at the table.” She paused, and her gaze slipped away from Ban, settling on the empty plate before her. “Your brother had a prior commitment, and we thought it rude to ask your husband to postpone.”

Ban watched her mother rake her eyes over her belly yet again. “Any plans for children, Ban? You’re not getting any younger. I’m sure your husband wants an heir,” Arlette pressed.

She opened her mouth to retort, but her father interjected. “A little darling boy, Ban, would be a wonderful gift. For you two, and for us as well. He would be a treasure to us all.” He nodded at Arlette.

Ban sighed. “Do you harass Adrien for grandchildren as well, or is this reserved solely for your female child…?”

“Besides,” Astarion chimed in, a devilish grin on his face, “I must confess we have been trying as often and as enthusiastically as possible, but alas…”

Before he could continue, the servant returned with soup, halting any further prying for a few moments. Astarion automatically opened his mind further, sharing his sense of taste with her.

As they began to eat, Roderich spoke up. “As your mother mentioned little beauty, it is indeed uncouth to argue, or discuss such… marital activities, at the table, just as it is uncouth to leave your guests waiting.”

Ban could feel Astarion bristle, a vision flitting to her unwittingly: fangs, glittering in the light of the chandelier, sinking into that repulsive neck so that he’d never call her that again.

“It’s also uncouth to beat your children, as I understand it,” she snipped, and was rewarded by the blush that crept up her father’s face. Astarion barked out a laugh beside her but said nothing, his thoughts conveying amusement and warm affection.

“That, I did for your wellbeing,” Roderich protested, although his voice was weak. “So you’d end up somewhere in life. Successful. As you indeed became.” Ban saw her mother nod vehemently at these words.

Astarion could no longer help himself. “She is not successful because of your frankly atrocious parenting, she is successful in spite of you,” he growled, “And did I not warn you not to disparage my wife?”

Ban saw his lip curling again and hurried to interject before fangs were bared. To Astarion she sent a small plea, asking him to wait and let her get what she needed before he did anything rash. He blinked at her, the curled lip trembling in fury before it lowered.

“Be glad she bids me to be merciful and stay my hand,” he drawled, turning to them, “Else you would be in far more unpleasant circumstances than this.”

Ban cleared her throat. “Mother. Father. It… doesn’t matter what you think. What you did to me and Adrien is unforgivable, and if you think this success was because of you, you’re wrong.”

“How could it not be?” Arlette interjected. “You married someone so attractive. Someone rich. Someone powerful. All these things I taught you how to navigate. How to be a good wife. A good woman. How to know your place, to be strong and to honor your husband. Don’t you see? You married a hero, from wh-”

Her words died off as Astarion slammed a fist down onto the table, absolutely livid. “A hero?”

Roderich attempted to explain, “We asked around, my lord. We heard of your rise to power, of your efforts in saving the city from the Netherbrain.”

“Me. You think I’m the hero of Baldur’s Gate?” Astarion laughed, a deep, full laugh filled with levity - but also incredulity. Ban sampled the flavor of his emotions as they flooded through their connection; there was genuine amusement, but there were also much heavier emotions - his profound admiration for her, and his love. More than anything else, that.

It took him a long moment to recover, his features shifting from mirth to a deep, seething rage. He stood, hands gripping the edge of the table, leering at them. “Ban is the hero of Baldur’s Gate. She was the best of us - and nowhere were any of those insipid ‘lessons’ you subjected her to of any use. She picked us up, one by one, led us through the wilderness, all the way to the city. She burdened herself with every decision and every sacrifice that had to be made. She helped each and every one of us wretched fools,” he growled, his hands tightening on the table until it creaked, “and somehow still managed to save your sorry hides along with everyone else in this godsforsaken city.” He glanced at her, his expression softened briefly, the last part of his tirade saved for her and her alone.

You gave me everything, saved me from slavery and death alike. Loved me.

She offered him a soft smile before he turned back to Roderich and Arlette, the anger firmly back in his features. “You have pushed my patience far beyond the point I’d normally tolerate. The only thing keeping you alive is her - I strongly encourage you to quit while you’re ahead.”

This final warning, with Astarion looming angrily towards them, sufficed to convince the pair to back off. His tirade may have inadvertently revealed his fangs, Ban realized; she was tempted to ask him to back off again, worried.

The thought passed to him and he turned to her, wanting to tell her to let him handle it, when he realized. He leveled his gaze back onto her parents, brushing at his suit coat before sitting back down.

“What prior commitment was so important that Adrien would choose it over being reunited with his long-lost sister?” The cold tone had crept back into his voice, his wrath receding behind an icy veneer. Astarion fingered the stem of his wineglass, the other hand idly tapping the table. “Rather rude, when I invited everyone. Does he not miss his sister?”

That is what you wanted to know, is it not?

He’d read the thought as soon as it came into her mind. She’d felt Adrien would be guaranteed to show up; for one he would have wanted to see Ban. The other reason was purely pragmatic - Roderich would have wanted to introduce him to his powerful brother-in-law, establish connections early. His absence was perplexing.

“How is he, anyway?” Ban interjected before Astarion felt compelled to push further. Adrien was the only one she had a smidgen of concern about, the only one she thought she’d have an honest conversation with tonight; and yet he wasn’t here. Did he resent her? Had he run away, just as she had done?

She noticed Roderich’s jaw clench at the mention of her brother. Curious.

“Adrien, well… he had other commitments, as your mother said,'' Roderich stammered out, eyes darting from Ban to Astarion nervously. It was a lie, Ban was sure, but she couldn’t exactly place why. In her mind Astarion whispered his agreement.

She shook her head. “He didn’t, father. Don’t lie. You never were good at it. Does he not want to see me?”

Arlette let out a loud tch of disdain. “Of course he doesn’t want to see his ungrateful sister. I birthed you. We raised you. Loved you. And what do you do, the first moment we need you to do something in return? You run. You selfish, ungrateful child. After you left, your brother’s betrothal became much more difficult for us to secure. ‘Little beauty’,” she scoffed, “You aren’t even beautiful. All you have is what I taught you, no matter what your poncey husband here says. You know that.”

Ban tried not to let those words seep into her heart, but they hit their mark anyway. She felt herself tremble, felt tears threatening to form. No. Don’t. She’s just riling you up, Ban. Don’t.

It didn’t work. Her eyes blurred as her tears welled up, her breathing became fast and began to hitch. She gripped the edges of her chair, trying to ground herself because no, they can’t see me cry again, they can’t win-

“OUT!”

Astarion’s thunderous voice broke through to her, strong and brave and so, so needed. Her home and her salvation. She watched as he stood, index finger pointed towards the door.

“Out. Before I end your miserable, worthless lives. Get. Out.”

Ban wanted to tell him she hadn’t gotten the truth yet, but she was in no condition to. Astarion snapped a finger, summoning the chamberlain.

“Get them out of my palace, and they are not to be allowed back in under any circumstances.”

The chamberlain hurried to Roderich’s side and gestured politely towards the door. Roderich shot out of his chair and shoved the chamberlain away, glaring at Astarion.

“You may be the man of the house here, but mark my words: you are nothing. I do not know what you are, but I know enough to know you are unholy. A monster,” he spat out.

Astarion laughed at this, gleefully baring his fangs. They glinted in the candlelight; Roderich and Arlette flinched and went pale.

“Then you know how easily I can kill you, drain all your putrid blood and bathe in your innards,” he hissed. “And who would believe you? I walk in the sun. My heart beats. I am warm. I am a patron of the arts. I am well-respected throughout the entire city. I am a lord. And you? A sniveling, washed-out guildsman, bitter over some argument over a commissioned mirror. Any more attempts to approach my wife, to even speak to her without her express permission, and I will crush your reputation.” Astarion smiled, all teeth and danger, the predator on full display. “And if I ever hear any whispers about what lives in this palace, I will assume it has come from you. I will find you where you sleep and I will kill you - and I need no invitation to enter your home, trust me.”

Arlette, finally making the connection, took in her daughter’s features. “No. You…”

Ban smiled with feigned shyness, a smile she’d been taught to perform in polite company. But she let her lips stretch further, baring her own fangs. There was a low thrum of satisfaction in her belly as she watched her parents recoil in horror.

“Go on,” Ban said. “My husband has told you to get out. Be polite and do as my lord bids, hm?”

They seemed to hesitate, and Astarion released another hiss for good measure. Roderich finally conceded, his shoulders sagging slightly. He fixed Astarion with one last, terrified glare, then led Arlette out, the chamberlain guiding them out of the palace.

“That didn’t quite go the way I’d hoped,” she said, turning to Astarion. To her surprise he was right next to her, arms already halfway encircling her. He gave her a long, tight embrace, his nose pressed tightly against her temple, breathing in her scent.

“Are you alright?” he asked. The rancor was gone, and so was the smooth veneer in his voice. All that remained were his worry and his concern, her wellbeing his primary focus.

Ban held him just as tightly, hands fisting into his suit coat. It crumpled within her grasp, the smooth silk and the embroidery providing a texture she found comforting.

“I’m fine, I think. Perhaps I won’t be in a little bit, but right now I’m more concerned about Adrien.”

Astarion peered at her, studying her for a moment. Seemingly satisfied she wasn’t lying, he nodded.

“We’ll have to reconsider our approach, but I agree with you.”

“So you saw it too.” She stood, but her husband was always a step ahead; the chair was pulled out, his hands wrapping around hers before she could even reach for him.

It’s as if you can read my mind, she jested.

There was tender amusement there, mixed in with the clouds of still-roiling anger and worry. He tugged at her arm.

We can discuss everything another time. For now I would like you to rest.

She acquiesced, allowing him to lead her to their room.

That night she fell asleep, body enveloped in his arms, her mind embraced by his.

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

I am happy to announce that 'Whither is thy beloved gone?' is getting professionally edited as well. I shall keep everyone abreast of when these changes go live. Thank you!

Taglist: @tavamarie @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decedentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @@vinegarjello @the0ldman @wisteriaofthegraves @midnight-musings-of-nyx @toni-winchester @icybluepenguin @beepersteeper @hereliesblackdragon @generalstephkenobi

[novacqnes]

omg could u write an au fic where both ellie and the fem!reader are detectives working on a case but like uhm, they’re also- married 🤭 and in one scenario they are undercover in a club and the reader has to act flirty with the bad guy and so ofc ellie is jealous…… that means yes. jealous s e x. uhm. please. i just- want to imagine ellie in a suit LMAO

poison // ellie williams

warning: angst, smut, jealousy, top!ellie, squirting, fingering, strap on usage (fem receiving), mentions of crime (prostitution, human trafficking, drugs)

pairing: ellie williams x fem reader

a/n: …..this is pure genius. i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this ask since you’ve sent it in. i definitely need to delve into detective ellie fics for my own peace of mind. also i don’t usually put a wc in requested fics but this one is kinda lengthy so keep that in mind—

ellie saw red. thick crimson splotches crept into the corners of her vision making it nearly impossible to see— let alone think clearly. green eyes narrowed into the sight on the opposite side of the bar. there, a man and a woman sat playfully bantering back and forth. their words were drowned out by the obnoxiously loud music, but the image was enough for ellie to get the picture. 

to most he was known as philip grant, a pompous ass responsible for running one of the largest prostitution and drug rings in the country. the man was balding, pale, and stocky— he couldn’t have been over 5’2, yet his arrogance preceded him. ellie observed silently. his lips, cracked and brittle, pressed into a menacing grin as he fixated on the woman before him. 

jealousy stirred inside ellie the longer she watched the woman— her wife flirt with grant. the long touches, dramatic laughter, and seductive eyes made her stomach turn, yet there was nothing she could do besides watch. any sort of interference would blow your cover, jeopardizing the lives of everyone in the club— including you. thus ellie opted for bitter jealousy, submerging herself in it as she did her best to trust you. after all, you needed to find some way to nail him or he’d walk free once again.

“i see him, it’s the last table to your right,” ellie whispered, adjusting the buttons of her coat. the two of you sat at a table just a few feet away, dressed to blend in with the elite to attend the club. she wore a jet-black suit that conformed to her body perfectly. yet your focus was pulled in the opposite direction.

 “el, we’ve got to get something from him tonight.”

“i know.” her breath hitched, pressure mounted onto both of your shoulders as time crept by with no true plan. by midnight philip grant would still be a free man and the possibility of changing that was growing scarce. you needed to act fast and without a call to action, ellie was without choices. she reached for her gun, sliding it into her jacket as she rose from her seat.

immediately you hopped up blocking her path, “what the hell are you doing?”

“…..i’m gonna go talk to him?” ellie muttered, her cheeks burning bright pink. shooting the man was not an option. the arrest needed to be swift and quick— which meant no guns nor endangering customers. you swiped the pistol from ellie’s hands, discreetly placing it in your bag. 

you pulled her back towards the table, “you can’t just walk up to him. the moment he sees you coming he’s gonna run— and it’ll be months till we get an opportunity like this again.”

“so what’s your idea?” she sighed, her hands thrown up in defeat. carefully your eyes lingered on the man for just a moment. dozens of girls swarmed, some from the club, others had come with him. they hung on grant’s every word— so much so that if he asked them to jump off a cliff they’d do it in heartbeat. 

“i’ll go.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” ellie sputtered, her eyes doubling in size. 

“listen to me, philip grant is an asshole— a chauvinistic pig that gets off on exploiting women. all i need to do is stroke his ego a bit and he’ll start talking.”

you were right, and ellie knew it but she didn’t like it. she loathed this part of the job. the side that seemingly blurred the lines between reality and fiction. it required you to play a character, and put on a persona in exchange for just a sliver of information. it was something you were good at, yet ellie still detested it. 

“i can do this, alright? i promise if things start to go south i’ll signal and we’ll send the cops in— now tell me, how do i look?” despite your adamance ellie was more than hesitant. yet the plan was already in motion, and there was no time to stand in the way of it.  

“beautiful,” she whispered, allowing the pit deep inside of her to fester. you shot your wife a quick grin, placing a soft look on your face before adjusting your dress. then you whipped out a dark red lipstick that was sure to captivate grant’s attention. 

in one large breath, you sauntered over to the opposite side of the room. as you approached the man a sly grin took hold of your lips. plastering itself there the more he eyed you up and down. his gaze felt like venom. your stomach churned with nausea as it intensified, sending a cold chill through your bones. nevertheless you took the seat in front of him, outstretching your hand.

“mr grant, right? i’m elora.” 

philip grant was an asshole, in every sense of the word. simply seeing you with him was enough to evoke more than jealousy from ellie. she couldn’t hear anything over the loudspeakers so she had to rely on sight, which seemed to worsen her regret. she despised the way he looked at you— as if you were prey, something to be conquered. and you had no choice but to play into it. 

she watched as your arms wrapped around his, pulling him closer to your body. in a matter of minutes, you’d manage to blend in with his women seamlessly, cooing at the man’s words. ellie’s felt nauseated as you doted on the man, pushing the boundary in order to draw more information. she was sure that if she stood by any longer she’d vomit. 

desperately she sought out a sign— anything to signal that she could arrest grant but nothing came. the music ruined any possibility of eavesdropping so she had to opt for visuals and they only made her even more jealous. she fiddled with the silver band on finger, her gaze narrowing on grant’s hand. it trailed from her pocket and to your arm as he slipped you a paper, leaning in dangerously close to whisper.

ellie wanted to gag, his lips nearly brushed your ear. although it was small compared to what she’d witnessed it was enough for her to radio in the cops surrounding the small bar. within a matter of seconds, she stormed over to the two of you, whipping out her handcuffs. 

“wait el—“ but your protests fell on deaf ears. at that moment dozens of officers swarmed the building, closing in. philip tried to push past yet ellie’s hand sent him crashing back down. his face turned beet red and ellie towered over him, more powerful than you’d ever seen her. 

“philip grant you are under arrest for 18 counts of human sex trafficking and the murders of rose and ruby daniels,” she said sternly, locking the metal around his wrists. bewildered, his eyes found yours as if to plead for help yet he was baffled by the lack of surprise on your face. 

“elora? y-you know her? lying bitch you set me up,” he spat, malice laced in each word. he opened his mouth to continue yet you count register a thing. instead, your focus found its way back to ellie. you watched as she passed grant along to the cops, the solemn glare in her eyes remaining. this was a win for both of you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the looming tension that hung over your heads. 

“what’d you find out?” her words were short and she refused to spare you a glance for more than a moment at a time. 

“he told me where he keeps the rest of the girls.” you slipped a sheet of paper into her palm. in it was a full outline of grant’s businesses which was guaranteed to work against him in court. despite uncovering the piece of evidence that would bury him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of annoyance radiating from ellie.

“what?” she asked, growing restless under your prying eyes.

“i told you to wait,” you faltered, “he was gonna tell me about murders before—“

“we got what we came for, y/n. i wasn’t going to sit back and watch you flirt with him all night.” the last thing you wanted to do was fight— especially not about philip grant. yet ellie wasn’t in a position to reason with you. she saw what she wanted too— and that was you flirting with someone that wasn’t her. 

“listen i’m gonna leave this in evidence… just meet me in the car.” with that ellie turned sharply on her heel not even allowing you the chance to respond. still, you did your best to remain cheerful, making a mental note to apologize once you got home. hopefully, the events of the night would be long forgotten for both of your sakes. 

however, this was the opposite of what happened— the car ride back home was dreadful. ellie hardly even looked your way. vivid details of the ordeal seemed to haunt her. the shameless image of you fawning over grant seared its way into her memory and it only upset her even more. it felt like a wall was being built between the two of you and you had no way of tearing it down. unfortunately, when you got home it was no different.

ellie stormed into the apartment ahead, leaving you trailing behind. she made her way into the bedroom and the anger was detectable even from the kitchen. 

“you hungry? i could make something or we could order in?” you called, only to be greeted by the distinct sounds of silence.

you tried a second time yet all of your attempts amounted to nothing. exasperated, you followed pervading noise all the way towards the room down the hall. there ellie sat on a large bed— the place the two of you shared your most intimate moments. on most days it acted as a safe haven but now it seemed more treacherous than ever. 

the air was thick, presumably from the budding tension that only seemed to stir as you approached your wife. her green eyes buzzed with a certain type of poison— jealousy.

“please don’t tell me you’re giving me the silent treatment because of philip grant,” you muttered, shifting under her fierce gaze. it ignited something inside of you that was utterly unfamiliar. it was ardent passion in a way that you’d never experienced. 

she rose from the mattress, stepping towards you until she was just a few inches away. the heat was palpable and it took shape right in between the two of you, blending in with the jealousy that oozed from ellie.

“you know what i hate most about this job?” she whispered, her voice light and delicate like a feather. you hadn’t realized it then but you were just barely touching the wall. and you feared if ellie stepped any closer you’d be right against it. 

“seeing you with other people.” 

you began, “but it doesn’t mean anything—

“did you see the way he looked at you? hm?” she moved towards you, gradually sealing the distance between your bodies. the cold surface of the wall pressed up against your back, offering you little comfort as ellie spoke. her words were pointed and direct, you could almost make out the hurt behind them but it was overshadowed by a more intense feeling. 

“he wanted to fuck you. jesus y/n….the guy was practically frothing at the mouth the entire time and i had to sit there and watch it.” ellie seethed. she placed each of her arms on the opposite of your body, caging you in as her body stood firm against you. thus with every movement, no matter how minuscule you were able to feel the muscles that lay under ellie’s heavy suit. each one molding against you just perfectly.

“can’t really blame 'em’ though, right?” ellie leaned into your ear, pressing her body against yours with much more fervor. she left soft kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck when you felt something prod at your thigh. you bit back a gasp, jerking against the wall as you looked down. 

“you’re just so beautiful….” she cooed, a sharp tinge glimmering in her eyes. her words were gentle although her body told an entirely different story— and you would soon experience the magnitude of it. she hooked her calloused hands under your chin pulling you into a heated kiss. your hands roamed her body stopping at her crotch where you felt a strong bulge. immediately you went to unzip her pants but quickly stopped by ellie herself. 

“n-no— not yet. get on the bed.” 

you followed her orders without complaint. you took your spot on the bed as ellie watched, slowly peeling from her clothes. you followed suit stripping down to nothing but your underwear. once again, you reached for her yet she remained planted in her spot, desire burning in her eyes. you ached to have her near you— to have ellie inside of you.

“i need you ellie— please,” you whined, slowly soaking the thin piece of cloth over your core. 

“yeah?” 

dazed from anticipation you nodded mumbling incoherently. your hands trailed to your pussy, circling over the soft flesh as your wife hovered over you blinded by intense jealousy. she wanted nothing more than to see you beg. more as a reminder to herself than to you. no matter what happened during a case— you were hers and the simple sight of you pleading was enough to confirm that. 

“where do you need me?” ellie teased, running her fingertips along the side of your thigh. she brought her index finger to your underwear, sliding it underneath.

“in—inside me.” you shivered at the cold contact, gripping the sheets as she continued. one worked on your clit, teasing the nub as one more made its way into your cunt. ellie couldn’t help but moan at the feeling— your walls clamped around her digits desperately as she curved them. pressing up into the spongy tissue that was your g-spot. 

“o—oh shit…..”

you pressed your eyes closed relishing in the warmth that spread across your entire lower body. thick beads of sweat formed on your skin the more it persisted. ellie’s hand was slick with your fluids but it wasn’t enough. she picked up the pace drawing intense pleas from your lips that replicated music— yet she wanted to do more.

“tell me what you want, y/n.” her tone was so assertive and it made your head spin. you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to look back. frenzied short hairs clung to the side of her face and her cheeks were flushed, it all read of sweet determination. like she had something to prove. 

“i want you to f-fuck me— with it,” you purred, your hands traveling back to the now-exposed dildo that sat in between her legs. ellie leaned down to kiss you once more before removing her fingers from your heat and bringing them to your lips. in one swift motion, ellie moved her body on top of yours, situating herself comfortably in between your legs. she kissed down your chest, cupping her hands over your toys as she brought each one to her mouth, feverishly sucking. 

she sat up, teasingly running the silicone over your pussy coating the tip. the sensation caused you to jerk back, sending a smirk to ellie’s plush lips. after moments she moved forward, filling you to the hilt.

“is this what you wanted?”

“yes—yes it’s fucking perfect el,” you cried, hot tears welling in the corners of your eyes. she pursued a relentless pace, slamming her hips against you. the rapid movement spread the pleasure all throughout your body, leaving you nearly speechless. 

strings of obscenities filled ellie’s ears as she sunk into you with each merciless stroke. your legs shook from the impact, desperately wrapping against her. the bed rocked along with the two of you, crashing into the wall as ellie fucked you.

you clasped onto her face, cupping it in your palms as you brought her face down. she pressed her forehead against yours, her pants mixing with moans and the filthy sounds of your pussy. 

“don’t stop, fuck me ha—“ your whines became caught in your throat as ellie pulled out, gently moving you into your stomach. she moved behind you, taking her place as she continued the fervent pace— this time with much more aggression. 

your cheeks rubbed harshly against the fabric of the blanket. you weren’t given much time to adjust to the next position before that same pit pleasure took shape inside of you. and it strengthened with each taunting thrust of ellie’s hips. 

she knew you were close, she could practically feel it in the way your body writhed underneath her. thus her movements had much more vigor and purpose behind them. she needed to bring you to unravel and she was going to be the one to do it. thus ellie placed a firm hand by your head to stabilize herself. using her free one to toy with your sensitive clit. 

“close aren’t you?” she hummed. 

“….please let me come” your voice grew weary and your body stiff. streams of pleasure rippled through your body and in a matter of seconds your vision was distorted by black spots. the sweet poisonous pit in your stomach unraveled, drawing deep loud moans from your lips. 

ellie moved from your body. watching in awe as you soaked the white sheets beneath you, drenching them in fluids. shockwaves tore through your body beautifully leaving you a mess on the bed you shared with your wife. she left soft kisses all over your face and neck, slowly easing from your high. 

“so beautiful…..”

as your vision cleared you gazed up at ellie, who hovered over you. the fierceness in her gaze was long gone, replaced with concern as she looked back at you.

neither of you said anything about the ordeal, in fact, you’d almost forgotten about it. instead, you were struck with fatigue. dozing off as ellie doted on you. she removed the wet sheets from the bed, replacing them with new comfortable ones for you to sleep on.

she took her spot snug behind you, burying her face into the crevice of your neck as she basked in your warmth. she adored these moments. especially the intimate one’s where she was able to see aspects of you that only she’d have the pleasure of experiencing. and it was all the reassurance she needed. 

[blues824]

Please forgive me English not mother language

Dormitory leaders with F!s/o that comes from conservative? (Hope I am using that right) house hold! But what I mean is. F!S/o parents still lives in the times were women had no rights nor did they speak their mind or voiced out their opinions! So in that F!s/o was raised to cook, clean home, bear children and take care of her soon future husband and children. She is a bit of a dunce? You could say she was home schooled and did not learn about the outside world and of its changes over the years... yes she does were clothes that over her ankles!

I love whenever someone says English is not their first language but then they have the most comprehensible English to exist. 

Riddle Rosehearts

His mom used to be a stay-at-home mom, but she was a doctor prior to and preceding Riddle’s birth and raising. However, when you are struggling in class, he elects to help you, just to find out about your upbringing. It was no wonder that you were struggling; you weren’t taught to go to school past a certain grade level, and here you are being thrown into a really tough curriculum in a really tough college. 

Not only that, but he’s seen you with the Heartslabyul first years as well as Grim. They push you around (Deuce, less so, but he is enabling), to say the least. So, he steps in and interferes whenever he can, refusing them for you. You looked at him with shock as he told you that you needed to speak up and defend yourself, which led you to quietly explaining to him that women weren’t allowed to speak up back in your world and only really had the purpose of learning how to serve their future husbands.

The whole idea shocked him, since there was no level of inequality like this within Twisted Wonderland. After all, four of the Great Seven were women. Shouldn’t those men back in your world know how to take care of themselves on every front? Bro is just absolutely flabbergasted, as it was an unusual notion. However, he does agree with the whole modesty thing, as he prefers to remain modest as well. But, your modesty goes beyond his, as you cover your ankles and are shocked by how many people in the town below the mountain NRC is built on wear shorts to deal with the hot weather.

Leona Kingscholar

This was something to get used to, as back in his homeland the women were the strongest. The day you stepped on his tail was a strange day because he forgave you so easily (he’s scared of women, remember?), but you were trembling and almost in tears. Leona’s moral code would not let him rest until he consoled you, as much as it annoyed him. However, this isolated incident led to a rather strange relationship between the two of you.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were alright. You pretty much started acting like his wife, and he kind of evolved into the role of your husband. He was your protector, and you made really good food. This was the first time where you finally found comfort, some sort of normalcy, within Twisted Wonderland. However, Leona wanted you to know that he was serving you instead of it being the other way around. He didn’t want to seem like a lazy, deadbeat guy to you. For you, he actually put in effort.

His only goal was for you to find your own freedom, hobbies, etc., and he was not afraid to snap at your ‘friends’ for walking all over you. He’s also not afraid to spoil you, even though he acts like he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t eat anyone else’s food besides yours… not even Ruggie’s. He may not be able to help you with your schoolwork as he always skips classes, but he will make sure you get to each class safely, which gets him to attend his classes by extension.

Azul Ashengrotto

Your clothing is in history textbooks that he read to try and learn about human history, yet you are wearing it? He’s not judging tall, but it is rather unusual. But, you are rather unusual. You seem to be struggling in class, and when the professor assigned him to tutor you (free of charge), he learned about your unfair upbringing. You hadn’t gone to school past the 5th grade. You were very quiet, and when he asked why you weren’t able to, you stated that women were supposed to stay at home and learn to be wives and mothers. The notion was weird to Azul, as the people of the sea had no such system.

He decided that he would take over in teaching you so that you could succeed in NRC’s curriculum, as long as you worked in the Mostro Lounge. Not only would it grant you exposure to the modern world, but only bit by bit as you cook and serve the food and work alongside men as their equal. It was a lot of work, but you seemed to be up to the challenge because you were waiting for an opportunity like this, even back in your own world.

When you actually get romantically involved, he lets you know that you have his full support in anything you wanted to do. He still continued to tutor you, but you became a strong, independent woman. Not even Grim had control over you anymore, and you have even made a threat to Crowley, saying that if he didn’t improve your living conditions free of charge, you would run to the press with the pictures you have taken of Ramshackle and bring down the reputation of Night Raven College.

Kalim Al-Asim

His mom was a stay-at-home mother, but she had the choice to work because she was greatly educated. However, with the many children she had, she opted to raise them as she wanted to have a close relationship with all of her children. You are a different case. He once was paired up with you in a project for a shared class between you two, and you both were completely lost. However, you seemed more distressed about it and he got you to talk about your experience (or lack thereof) in education back in your world. He was shocked that women typically didn’t go past the 5th grade, and the traditions were definitely very strange.

Unfortunately, he is a bit of a dunce himself, so he can’t help you much. However, surely Jamil will help! You didn’t like the imbalance in favors, so you opted to help the Vice Housewarden in any way you could. For example, you would help him in the kitchen, as you were very skilled in the culinary arts due to your time spent in the kitchen. It was better that Jamil watched over you in the kitchen anyway, as he could make sure that Kalim’s meal wasn’t poisoned.

As you are growing into your own independent person, you have Kalim’s support every single step of the way, both financially and emotionally. He is the type of man you would read in romance novels back at home, where he genuinely loves you and wants to provide for you and spoil you. You are working hard and are dedicated to making something of yourself, and your boyfriend here sees that and admires you for it.

Vil Schoenheit

He has never seen anyone wear clothing like yours out of habit, mostly just when they film movies. So, he wants to make you clothes that are a bit more up-to-date. If you want to maintain the same level of modesty, he will respect that and keep it in mind while he’s sewing. If you want to experience and raise the hemline of your skirts or pants, he will gladly do so. Also, if you are struggling with Potionology, he will volunteer to help you. However, you feel bad that he’s doing all of these things for you, so you rise early every single morning just to bring him a healthy breakfast that went along with his current diet to make sure that he had energy for the day.

Because of your mutual agreement, he acts as a protector of sorts. Your first year friends won’t try and walk all over you because you have the Housewarden of Pomefiore backing you up. Grim, Ace, and Deuce were all idiots that would hinder your learning, and he’s actually not wrong. However, you didn’t appreciate how he spoke about your friends, so you told him. It felt liberating to finally speak to someone so openly about how you felt, after your entire life being spent learning to conceal your emotions, thoughts, and feelings.

Whatever you decide your goal to be, Vil will be there to support you. But, he’s the type to not let you quit when things get hard. He knows that you can do it; he knows your capacity. Also, he’s not above threatening Crowley if he decides he wants to push any of his responsibilities on you, as he should be acting like the Headmage rather than a corrupt business CEO that pushes everything on his employees. You were a student, not an employee, and you deserved to be treated the same as your peers.

Idia Shroud

He thought your clothes only currently existed in anime that portrayed the ‘olden days’ and in museums, but from what he could see in his iPad camera in class, you wore it liberally. However, what really got his attention was when you had started treating Ortho like your own child. You were very gentle and motherly towards his younger brother, and it made Idia so flustered because you were very pretty and you come close to his room every single time you walk Ortho back to Ignihyde.

Your relationship started with him teaching you how to use various machines and technology, and you were very embarrassed at your lack of knowledge about these types of things. In turn, you once went over and knocked on his door, carrying various different sweets that you made. Idia was on the brink of fainting when he opened the door to see you… his crush… extending a tray of homemade candies towards him and thanking him for everything he has done for you thus far. With shaking hands, he took the trey from you, just for you to lean forward and place a simple peck on his cheek before leaving. Ortho rushed to catch the tray as it flew in the air while Idia fell to the floor unconscious.

As much as he wishes he could support you in-person, he rarely goes outside due to his family’s curse. However, you didn’t mind sticking by him as it gave you an excuse to be away from Ace, Deuce, and Grim. That’s not to say that you are not growing into your own person and your own hobbies, but in your spare time you retreat to your lover’s room. There, you would do homework and prepare dinner for the two of you. Old habits die hard, I guess.

Malleus Draconia

In case you didn’t know, his grandmother is running the entire land of Briar Valley. His grandmother is a woman, so he never really viewed any gender as ‘superior’. However, when you both met each other, he learned about the patriarchal system back in your homeland (it’s giving Ken). That night was short, but it felt long for both of you as you both talked and learned about each other. That conversation was ingrained into your minds, and you both fell in love at first conversation.

He will gladly assist you whenever you need help with any of the course work. You explained, very embarrassed, that you never went to school past Grade 5. Malleus was very patient, and he explained everything in a polite tone. His retainers were also in the library, covering their faces with books as they spied on the Crowned Prince. Eventually, once you got your work done, you found a book on one of the shelves that outlined the time that you lived in. It was surprising, as there was no such system of oppression like the one in your world, but rather the style of clothing and the beliefs were similar. Malleus read the book from front to back, and by the time he returned the book, he got more insight into your life.

The dragon prince is not afraid to spend money on you so that you can grow independently and dive into your own interests. He holds a lot of monetary influence at NRC, so when Crowley is feeling lazy and wants to put all of his responsibilities on your shoulders, he will threaten to defund the college. Eventually, you start to make promises of your own (because they’re not threats if you use the word 'promise'), and Malleus could not be more proud of you.

[anteroom-of-death]

After the Party

Synopsis: Malcolm and his wife are attending some book event. For now.

A/n: I am a writer. Occasionally. I'm sorry for being shite with the uploads. Love you all. Warnings for mild cum eating and Ollie's general existence. Hahaha.

You fanned yourself discreetly. The heaters were at full-blast inside the cramped room. You could feel the lining of the skirt you wore starting to cling to you. It was starting to squall outside. You had half a mind to go outside and stand in it.

It would be a relief.

Your husband was off, still clutching a handful of files necessary for his job. Dazzling and scaring the masses of government people from multiple parties. And the press. Followed by his dark shadow, Jamie. Whom you quite liked, but at the moment was the bane of your existence since he tried to coup the faith of your husband out of fear of change.

You didn’t understand why you had to come to this party. It was some nutter’s book launch.

A few spouses had also come but they were put off by you for the crime of loving the scariest man in the room. His reputation preceded him too much. Also, your “noticeable” age difference made people fear the worst sometimes.

You would have thought other scandals would have turned their heads by now!

The Reeder boy approached you. He was possibly hell-bent on ruining every time you saw him.

You clutched your glass of Coke tighter.

“Did your father let you out of the house finally?” Reeder mocked, pointing to Malcolm. The irony was he was younger than you.

You blamed jealousy. He obviously got off on whatever Judas or Brutus fantasies he clearly had coming to fruition slowly. He probably loved masturbating to the image of him getting fucked by your husband on top of a print-out of party manifesto or whatever.

You inhaled and breathed out slowly, “Papa let’s me out twice a year for good behavior!” You mocked his slick, posh accent, as you discreetly tried fixing the strap of your bra under the turtleneck you wore.

Malcolm eventually saw you blanching and scowling as Reeder tried to target you more.

“Ah, noticed your glass was getting’ low, pet. Take mine…” He addressed you and swapped glasses with you. Quickly his tone changed, “You! Fuck nut, get your girl a fresh drink. Be useful! For fuck’s sake!” He said as he shoved the boy away from you. Hopefully towards the Tory girl he was apparently trying to honeypot and failing to do so…

You sipped the orange juice quietly and squeaked out a thank you.

“He likes you.” Malcolm hypothesized as he whipped out his phone and checked it. He sent a quick text and shoved it. You noticed Jamie pat his pocket and check it. He looked over at the pair of you.

He slung an arm around you and kissed your forehead.

“I need to use the restroom.” You confessed. “Can you walk me? I don’t want to deal with anyone looking at me like they did last time I got lost.” You stone-faced ground your jaw.

It was fairly easy to get lost in this place.

“Sure.” He shook his head, walking over to Jamie and whispering something in his ear before rejoining you and opening the door for you.

The hallway was empty. Thank goodness.

You exhaled as if you had been holding your breath for the entire time you’d been at the party.

He looked good. Too good. It was always such a sin for him to look like this on this lighting and in the stupid suits his job demanded him to wear.

You left him in the hall and went to the restroom. When you left the stall, he was in there with you.

“This is the ladies…” You rolled your eyes.

“Did you have to wear that?” He gestured to your simple turtleneck and faux leather skirt get-up. Not particularly sexy, the skirt was even floor length!

“I’ve been hard since you fucking got here.” He approached you, as if to illustrate the point. He fingers the fabric of your belt holding the outfit together. “I want to fuck you here.” He pressed you against the sink’s countertop.

He was right, he was hard. It was pressing against both of your abdomens.

His hand found it’s way to the hollow of your throat as he pressed you into a position where you had no choice but to sit on the edge of the counter now. He kissed your cheek and traced his tongue down the line of your jaw.

“What if someone catches us?” You reasoned, despite every fiber of your body wailing to let him take you then and there.

“Oh, let them. They’ll never speak again!” He laughed. His work persona leaking out. The soft sweet house-husband you knew was dead in these lands. Malcolm was dead, long live Tucker.

This is who he was outside the bubble of your home and what little personal lives you both had. Just a small facet of who he was.

You were quickly falling under his spell and were seeing how quickly you could at least slide your tights down and at least slide your panties to the side for this when you had the realization that you might, personally, be embarrassed if someone, especially one of those judgmental bitches that also married into this life walked in.

You pushed him off as he was just getting his cock out.

“Save it ‘til we get home? Please.” You batted your lashes. “I don’t want caught.” You reasoned.

He pulled back and sighed, “Fine. You’re in for it when we get home!” He smeared his face with his hands as if to manually compose himself into something recognizable. He somehow had gotten his belt undone in the brief time that this attack on your face had taken place.

You twisted your tongue and rolled your eyes as you fixed it.

Somehow you felt like this was just the beginning of a very long night. Longer than it already was.

Your social battery was already dead and gone, so this provided you an opportunity to go home anyways.

You washed your hands and exited, him following you like a bat out of hell. Back into that room…

He went back to talking. Seemed like he was making a graceful and acceptable exit from it.

He joined you as he gave you your coat.

The Reeder boy approached, “Awe, is it past curfew?” He shot you a look that seemed both in mocking and envy.

You balled up your fist and went to strike the annoying boy. A strong, familiar hand caught your wrist as you could see Reeder begin to flinch. You could feel your face twist from scowling and rage-filled to annoyed and put out.

“No, not now.” Malcolm ordered you.

“I’ll fucking deal with you on fucking Monday, walking syphilis.” He shoved Ollie into the corner a tad. “Don’t ever hit my wife again.” He spun the event around.

Oliver Reeder, hitting Malcolm Tucker’s wife would keep this gossip mills busy for a while.

You knew that much about your husband’s job. It was simple enough.

As you made your way through the halls and towards the exit, Jamie appeared, as if his leash was yanked by Malcolm’s invisible hand.

“Tell people that Ollie tried to strike (y/n).” Malcolm barked order at him. “He may have also hit on her and groped her. Your choice.”

"Aye, that's me, boss. Nae fuckin' worries. I'll make sure they all know what a sick wee fucker he is... Ta!” He slugged his beer, grasped so oddly in one hand and started whipping put his phone and texting.

You ripped off and chewed your right index fingernail.

The cold air felt wonderful on your sweating form. Too bad that it was shortly interrupted by the called car and driver pulling up. You could have stood there with the flakes hitting your face from that moment until the end of eternity…

Soon enough, you were home.

The minute the key unlocked the deadbolt, he pounced on the back of your neck, rough kisses with the faintest hint of stubble grazing down the back of exposed neck as teeth made purchase with the hollow of nape of your neck.

“You’re such a fucking tease.” He purred as he shoved you through your front door and shoved you into the entrance and parting your legs with his. “Making me wait while my balls are aching. Took me all not to pin you the fuck down and fuck you in the middle of that room.”

He groped your breast roughly through both turtleneck and bra.

So this is what everyone else got? This sharp, crude and dangerous man? You’d never been given of an inch of roughness by the man. He’d be soft and gentle from the first moment your eyes had met.

You flushed deeply and felt your clit throb and a familiar ache wracked through your core. You moaned and felt your body relax against the wall as he unbuckled his pants and bunched up your skirt, tearing aside your tights and underwear as he slid you down the wall. He steadied the two of you with one of his hands on both of yours. He shoved your butt up with his free hand and slid his cock in your increasingly-wet cunt.

“Christ, you feel so fuckin’ great. You’re so tight. Aren’t you? My tight little missus.” He went on as he gripped your hip with one hand and started pounding you frantically.

The words did something to you.

You felt your spine sink as you went rigid elsewhere.

“No, this won’t do.” You heard him mutter after what felt like several minutes. He went over to the sofa, dragging you along by your wrist, held only in his fingers. He clumsily sat as he slung you over his lap.

“Sit on my lap. Be a good girl.” He pulled your hips over and you onto his cock.

He began to bounce you as he pet your hair, his jaw locked as he pushed himself further into you with every bounce. You felt yourself start to grind down with every thrust.

“Such a fucking slut for me. Show me how you want my cock, angel.” His praise had you swooning over backwards as you felt your head roll back and moan.

He kept bucking his hips forward and up as you moaned more. You felt a guiding hand keep you on his cock and your walls get tighter.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned as he shot his load into your aching, well-towards-an-orgasm pussy.

You complained, “No! Don’t pull out!” As he slipped himself out of you and let out a huffy little puff of air.

“Of course. You’re such a good girl for me.” His eyes had a strange glint in them. Debauched. That was the only way you could describe it. He was definitely debauched.

He pulled you down to the ground and tilted a pillow from the couch down and propped your hips up on it.

One of those deft, long fingers reached and stroked your lips and went down, wiping up the leaking cum from your hole, digging in slightly.

He brought the finger to your lips and parted them, cleaning it off with the wetness of your mouth.

He went down and dug out a tad more and repeated the process…

“Now, look at what you’ve done, pet.” He cooed. “Look what a mess you’ve made!” Tucker fading and Malcolm taking his place.

He kissed your lips with a feathery smile.

You would have passed out right then and there…

He slid his way to between your legs, where your cunt was fully on display. You couldn’t see but you could feel him breathing down your thighs as he licked and sucked on your raw, throbbing clit.

He steadied himself by pressing and pulling your thighs apart more.

You felt his teeth bite you roughly. Right at the top of your inner thigh, right where you were most sensitive and your flesh had rolled down into and you bucked your hips further. His face shoved directly into you. The slight stubble striking across the new marks as you felt his nose swipe into your hollows.

You groaned as you felt him commit to going down on you. Seemed like he was intent on cleaning up your mess. You failed upwards as you tried to find his hair to play with as he continued to suck and bite and nibble you to a pathetic moan.

“Please, please.” You felt yourself babble out.

You felt girlish and stupefied.

He stroked your folds and tutted. You groaned a tad more, slipping further from reality.

“If you insist, little one.” You could feel his smile from your vantage-less point.

He continued on until you came.

“Don’t wear that outfit again. I cannae focus. I may have leaked more than pre-cum.” He joked.

You nodded from your dumbfounded spot on the floor he had you in.

You still felt a little full of what remained of his load and like you has fully lost the plot here…

He joined you on the floor, yanking more pillows down and propping up both of your heads. He curled you into his chest and kissed your forehead. Both of you still partially still dressed in your clothes of your roles outside of this safe bubble you had; in that moment you couldn’t feel further from Mrs. Tucker. Just his (y/n).

His phone started buzzing off the hook. You swore you saw him switch it off, for the first time ever.

He pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa.

The snow squall outside raged on.

And you felt very safe and warm.

[robinette-green]

Robin's Spooky AU DCA Romance Fics

These are fics that have creepy critters, spooky settings, monsters and sometimes blood

Spooky Stories from the Daycare: Night of the Fox!: (tag)

Halloween tale full of scares and fluff! Creepy crawlies and candy! Our story is set in Japan in the 80’s! Sun and Moon had decided to have a little adventure out to a cabin for Halloween but they get lost in the woods. Y/N, a kitsune who resides in this forest, is displeased at having trespassers wonder into there territory and will do everything in their power to scare away the two animatronics.

Hellfire to Warm the Heart:

There I was, standing in the rain, my ears still ringing from the door slamming behind me. Everything had gone downhill so fast. First, my job fired me without warning or reason then, unable to find a new job, I was evicted from my apartment due to being unable to pay rent. With my suitcase at my feet, I stared blankety down the street. What was I going to do? I had nowhere to go. My family had cut ties with me years ago, and I didn't have a friend to speak of. Was there a shelter I should go to, or would I be sleeping on the street tonight? "Oh, dear! Are you okay?" I flinched, not expecting anyone to speak to me. Looking around, I saw an expensive black car parked at the curb, and a back window rolled down. As I watched, the back door opened, and a man, preceded by a large black umbrella, exited the car. As he straightened, I took a step back, gazing up at a towering individual standing before me. Dressed in a pale blue suit, this guy had to be almost 7 feet tall, towering over me. His hair was shimmery gold, making him look like a sun. Golden eyes glittered as, with a soft smile, the man asked, "You look to be in a bit of a bind. Would you like some help?"

Stars in the Darkness:

You find yourself living in a cabin in the middle of the woods. After cleaning up the mess from the previous occupant, you find a broken statue that seems to have been living in the forest, covered in moss and lichen. Deciding that it would be wise to put the statue back where it belongs, you fix it up and lug it out through the trees to place it back in its home. This pleases something living in the darkness of the trees, and little gifts start appearing on the porch of the cabin. The creatures in the dark seem to like you. You should be careful not to do anything that would anger them now that you have their attention.

Little Assistant:

MC is the assistant to the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment. As Vanessa kidnaps and kills children while attempting to bring Springtrap back to life, MC is forced to clean up the mess and cover up the disappearances. MC is also tasked with keeping an eye on the Daycare attendants, keeping them in line as they are forced to help kidnapping children. “Did you do it? How do we know if it worked?” “We’ll have to test out some command code on him. Everything uploaded without issue, but they do have minds of their own. He may put up a fight.” I wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, wanting as little to do with this as I could get away with. They had already forced me to help with so much, cleaning up all that mess, all that red, covering up the disappearance. Shuddering, I looked through the glass into the daycare beyond. Deep in the dark, I could see two red eyes glaring out at us, furious. I couldn’t blame him. The virus they had activated in the night mode daycare attendant was going to be used for something horrific.

Two Hunters and a Bloodsucker: (tag)

My life is good for what it is. Except that I’m dead. Well, undead. I’ve been undead for about 15 years now, and I haven’t aged a day. Being a vampire hiding among humans can be difficult at times, mainly dealing with sunlight and avoiding mirrors, but I manage. I’ve been living and working in this little town as the town blacksmith for about 7 years now, and I’ve become a full-fledged member of the little community here. I thought I had been doing a good job hiding my presence among the humans, but one day two of the most well-known vampire hunters came into town. If they find out what I am, they will kill me, but both of them have become intent on becoming my friends and maybe more. How can I keep myself from being discovered when two hunters are trying to romance me?

Stars and Webs (LateNight DayDreams):

Running form those hunting you, you fall into the web of a beast that should be more terrifying than the humans who want to end your life. But the creatures that finds you seems to want to keep you alive rather than eating you for dinner.

Murder's Doll (LateNight DayDreams):

a small child forced to live on the streets is abducted by Eclipse and raised to be sold off as a pawn. the first year of MC's life they live with Eclipse's charges, Sun and Moon and are tutored mercilessly until they are finally sent off to boarding school. after finishing school, MC is married off to an abusive husband but is eventually saved by Sun and Moon.

Colorful Lights (LateNight DayDreams):

You used to be an acrobat, working at a carnival that was a home to you. After a fire and a nasty fall, your home was left to rot. Coming back years later you’re captured by the people who’ve taken over the place. Saved by some old friends, you learn some unsettling truths about them.

Our Feathered Friend (LateNight DayDreams):

Children kept held captive for experimentation Y/N being turned into a harpy Being reunited with lost loves

Living (LateNight DayDreams):

MC is a living doll created by the Mad Scientist Eclipse.

Some of these won't be finished and some are OLD writing of mine. you have been warned. Please don't let that stop you from reading these and enjoying them <3

[butcherlarry]

Weekly Fic (and Meat) Recs 60

I'M BACK! I had a lovely time on PTO! I went home, visited with family, visited with the cattle, celebrated my birthday, attended a banquet, got a wicked sharp meat cleaver (very excited about this), visited a new arboretum, saw birds, took pictures of birds, and survived the solar eclipse! All and all, a good time all around :) Got some reading done too, so there are fic recs from what I read last week and this week on this list. Also, a meat 101 lesson at the end, USDA beef quality grades edition!

The Brothers Wayne by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) - Superbat, wip. An update to the Bruce and Wade Wilson are brothers fic. Some family bonding between the brothers, the only way siblings know how. Beating the shit out of each other :)

Fresh Wounds (Still Cut Deep) by Inkwell1013 - Batfam, complete. A fic inspired by this art from sully-s. Alfred taking care of a newly orphaned Bruce and having no clue what he's doing (except his best).

dead man's party by TheResurrectionist - Batfam, wip. An update to Jason sees ghosts fic (while being haunted by Martha Wayne)

Patroclus by widow_account - Superbat, complete. I shrieked when I saw this fic was completed! I need to go back and reread it again in it's completed glory. Clark is kidnapped and sent to War World to fight. Bruce saves him. Much feels are involved too.

They Also Serve by Ginevra_Benci - Batfam, complete. Alfred wakes up to a surprise, Bruce kidnapping adopting a small angry child (Dick).

Precedent by Cdephiki - Batfam, complete. Damian joins the family early AU! The second fic in the series. This story is about Jason joining the family.

Padam by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) - Superbat, wip. More of college Clark at a gay club. Bruce Wayne has entered the chat :)

Just A Little Bit... by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) - Superbat, wip. More of eldritch Bruce and alien Clark! A plan is in the making to infiltrate Cadmus. Jason and Dick visit Ivy to ask for help

Unreasonable Love by elizabethgee - Superbat, wip. Bruce and Clark start dating and it is found out by the media. This wouldn't be too much of a problem except the fact that this awakens something in Clark's Kryptonian brain and he gets a little possessive protective of his mate boyfriend :)

shiftwork by TheResurrectionist - Bruce Wayne, complete. A neat fic from an outsider's point of view! Bruce visits one of Wanye Enterprise's worksites.

Oh Can't You See What Love Has Done (What it's Doing to Me?) by dio_icaurtica - Superbat, complete. A fic inspired by this post from frownyalfred!

Patchwork Pod by Ktkat9 - Superbat, Batfam, Superfam, wip. More of the mer Bruce fic! Tim and Bruce are recovering from their injuries.

Azure Catching the Moonlight by RenaiRin - Superbat, wip. Superman gets hit with some pink kryptonite. Be sure to read the tags! :D

Show Me How to Lie (You're Getting Better All The Time) by BookwormByNight - Superbat, wip. A Superman from an other universe shows up in the watchtower. He doesn't want to leave and takes a special interest in Bruce for some reason :)

Bruce Doing Mundane Things by aesthetic_pleasure - Superbat, wip. Exactly what it says in the title. Bruce does mundane things and Clark enjoys watching him do them.

Happy reading!

And now, as promised above:

BEEF QUALITY GRADING 101!

Since I live in the USA, my experience with beef quality grading is with the USDA standards. But, most of these rules (kinda) apply to other countries, they might just have different standards of what carcasses make it into what quality grades (for fun, look up USDA beef marbling cards and then Japanese beef quality grading cards. Marbling that would be acceptable for high quality beef in the US would be considered lower quality in Japan!)

What are USDA beef quality grades? Have you ever been in the grocery store, looked at a package of beef steaks (ribeye, sirloin, strip loin, filets, etc.) and saw a sticker on the package that said "USDA PRIME" or "USDA CHOICE"? That's the beef's quality grade! It determines the worth of the carcass. That, in combination with the Yield Grade (how much sellable meat can a processor/retailer/etc. can get off the carcass) gives you the overall price of the carcass.

There are two major factors that go into determining the quality grade of a carcass, the marbling and the maturity. Marbling is the intramuscular fat (fat inside of the muscle). Since marbling contributes to flavor and tenderness, more marbling is better! Below are the USDA marbling standards for beef carcasses:

The other factor is the maturity of the carcass. This is determined by looking at the ossification (cartilage turning into bone) of the dorsal processes (the long spiny fingers along the back bone) along the spine of the carcass. Look at the cartilage caps in the green boxes in the picture below:

The one on the far left is very white. If you were to scratch it with your fingernail, it would feel smooth. This would be considered an young carcass, or "A" maturity. The more those caps fill with bone, the older the carcass. The one on the far right has those caps completely filled with bone, so that would be considered and older carcasses, or "D" maturity. When a carcass passes into "C" maturity (like the one in the middle), that carcass can no longer be graded in to the higher priced quality grades (USDA Standard to Prime).

The maturity matters because as the animal gets older, they develop more connective tissue in the muscles. This decreases the tenderness of the meat, and consumers don't want to pay more money for tough meat. This is also why meat coming out of the middle of the carcass (along the back, so ribeye and loin) are more expensive. Those muscles have less connective tissue, so they are more tender. The tenderloin (Impress your friends by calling it by it's scientific name, psoas major!) is the most tender muscle on the carcass, so that's why it tends to be the most expensive.

Below is a chart showing what maturities and marbling scores are needed to reach what quality grade. For example, a carcass with "B" maturity and "Modest" marbling would be graded as USDA Choice.

USDA Prime is the highest quality grade a carcass can receive (well, actually USDA High Prime, but I can go more into how that's determined if someone asks about it). The lowest qualty grade you see in a retail store would be USDA Standard. The USDA Commercal, Utility, Cutter, and in the verrrrryyyy tiny corner in the bottom right is Canner. These grades are given to older animals, like old cows and bulls. USDA Commercial might be sold whole muscle (boneless) in restaurants after it has been enhanced (pumped with water, salt, sugar brine to make the meat more flavorful and tender). Otherwise, these carcasses that are lower quality grades are ground up for ground beef! Nothing more tender than ground beef! They can also get canned for canned beef. I have had many delicious meals of beef and noodles from canned beef from my family's herd 😋

As I mentioned before, this quality grade, along with the yield grade, determines the price of the carcass. If you want to check those out, click the link below:

USDA AMS daily beef reports

The report for beef carcass price per hundred weight is the second link down, called "Beef Carcass Price Equivalent Index Value". The USDA Agricultural Marketing Service always has these reports and they are always updating them each day. You will see price fluctuations throughout the year. I looks like for April 12th, the most valuable carcass for that day is a carcass that grades USDA Prime, with a Yield Grade of 1-3, and a hcw (hot carcass weight) of 600-900 lbs. A carcass that hit those standards will get you $297.92 per hundred weight (every 100 lbs, you get that much amount of money). So, a 800 lb carcass that is USDA Prime, Yield Grade 3 is worth $2383.36. This would be considered very rare though. Most carcasses in the US are grading USDA Choice, Yield Grades 1-3.

Anyway! I hope you enjoyed that Beef Grading 101! If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask! I love discussing this!

[twig-tea]

Wonderful day in Thailand. but now for the important questions.

Of all the ql thai couples, if you could choose one and they would film a wedding special which would it be?

Rose💜

I'm so happy for Thailand and everyone there who will have that equal status under the law, access to benefits, and for the way (from experience in my own country) having marriage equality makes it feel a little safer and for social stigma to reduce as a result of the legal change! Sorry for being a little slow to the party with my own contribution.

1 5 Wedding Specials I Most Want to See

Until We Meet Again

Dean and Pharm talked about getting married overseas while visiting Pharm's family, but how wonderful would it be for Pharm's grandfather/Korn's father to be a witness to their legal union after being one of the main blockers to their past lives' being together at all? Goosebumps. Imagine if they had it at the aquarium where they had their first date? Where Pharm felt so much residual fear from In about even just holding hands?! Using In's ring and cementing that they will stay by one another's side this time around?!! I would expire.

Diary of Tootsies

I've been a fan since forever, and I would love to see the spectacle that Gus, Golf, Kim, and Natty would plan (and then mess up, and then fix). I would be so happy with it happening for Gus and Win; I'm not a 'they need to get married for it to be a happy ending' person but this story feels like that's their trajectory. I want to see it because i want to see someone actually struggle with whether marriage is what they want/a good thing, which Gus would totally give me. And because I love Jaylerr so much, I want him to show up again and hav Top finally find someone new of his own.

Laws of Attraction

We'll never get it, and we already got the wedding, but since this is entirely my pie-in-the-sky list, I want to see Charn being competitively the first one in line so that he can also be the first divorce--he'll marry Tinn again of course but he understands the importance of setting precedent. I just think this one would be extremely fun (especially if Nawin is around to crash this time). And Organ and Maya will need to be there to flash their already-signed documents in Charn's face to annoy and delight him, of course.

My Ride

Listen, I'm not weeping at the thought of Cheep and Dej (Mork's uncles) finally seeing their relationship to one another recognized under the law, there's just something in my eye. I love Mork and Tawan too and would of course love to see them also have a special, but these two deserve to get there first!

Wedding Plan

Honestly, we got to see some of their international wedding already in the special, but I want to see these girls get to be married back in Thailand, so that Nuea and Lom can attend this time!! Imagine the special where these two couples become the witnesses for each others' legal weddings in Thailand? I will not be able to survive.