#when I think of minimalism this is the sort of shot I think of these are some of my favourite shots

[flem17ng]

It’s a date.

UCLA! jessie fleming x reader

summary: reader starts her first semester at UCLA and meets bruins midfielder, jessie fleming.

content: fluff, short one-shot. author has no knowledge of the American education system.

The first day of university was always going to be hard. New people, new campus, new lecturers and new classes all together. Maybe it was the fact you’d never been this far from home before that made it worse. 

UCLA was your dream school. Quite literally. You remeber looking at the university website back when you where in middle school and imagining yourself there: kicking a ball in the oval, studying in a library, laps in the big pools. the feeling of actually being here was… overwhelming. 

Like all eighteen year olds do, you had launched yourself into this thing head first: packed bags, kissed your dog goodbye and hopped on the plane. And like most eighteen year olds , you where now struck with the intensity of your actions. 

Here you where, miles from home, no connections in the state, standing outside the lecture theatre for your first class. So yes, overwhelming would be the word of choice. 

You looked down at your timetable for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last minute, checking and triple checking that you had got the room right. 

“Environmental Studies: Spheres 101”. The name of the course seemed to taunt you at you stared at it blankly. 

Leave it to you to go to one of the most prestigious sports schools in the world, (doing very minimal sport yourself) and end up doing a course all about what? Water, earth, wind and fire?

You knew it was more important than that of course. You picked environmental engineering for a reason: because you cared about that sort of stuff! 

You took a long breath readying to walk in when-

“Oh shit I am so sorry! God I was not looking where I was going!” The thump in your shoulder didn’t knock you quite as off balance as the thick Canadian accent. You froze for a moment, not knowing whether to be pissed at this stranger’s clumsiness or charmed but the voice that reminded you of home. Your eyes flashed up to meet the source of the voice and decided to be charmed. 

Her eyes where the first thing you noticed: large and brown and…. well charming you suposed. Every other part of the girls face fell neatly into place behind those eyes: perfect, warm and adorned with a lopsided and slightly guilty smile. 

It was then that you realised you hadn’t responded. 

“Oh no don’t worry. I was distracted myself” you rushed out, words melding into a lump as they rushed to get passed your lips. It was worth it as you watched the girls guilt melt away into an easier grin. 

“Another Canadian! I thought I was going to be alone here you know” she laughed “I don’t think I would have survived”. 

You nod eagerly, feeling the other girls  relief. “God same! I’m already off kilter over here”

“Eh. we’ll muddle through” she grinned back giving an animated wink before looking back at the door you where still loitering before. 

“Might need to…” she trailed off at motioned with her chin to the door. 

“Right right yes! I don’t want to be late to learn about the spheres of the environment” you drawled sarcastically. The girl rolled her eyes in agreement. 

“Right!? when I saw that on my timetable I couldn’t believe it! I swear I learned this in 9th grade”. 

“American’s eh?” you tut with a playful smile. God you hoped none of the resident americans would over hear you. 

The girl (you realised you didn’t yet know her name) laughed loudly, her teeth flashing handsomely (Looking at her you realised that “handsome” was a pretty accurate diagnosis: broad shoulders, a freakishly athletic build, sharp jawline. Yes, handsome was the word). Together you walked forward into the lecture hall, thankfully not late before parting ways: her going to sit next to a few other athletic looking girls with tight ponytails, and you going to sit near the front (curse your poor eyesight). 

~

To be brutally honest, after that little interaction, you almost completely forgot about the handsome canadian girl with charming eyes from your environmental engineering course. Almost. You saw her about a few times: in the distance on the playing field, walking around campus. But you hadn’t really talked to her since that first class at the beginning of semester. Everytime you got into class she was already there, sitting next to the Bruins girls, pen in hand, with deadly focus. 

You reasoned that it would be impolite to interrupt her, it would be nosy to try join her little group and it would be downright stalkerish to try track her down across campus. 

Not to mention the university work that was flooding in… it was not stopping for anything, that’s for sure, definitely not your strange hang up over a girl you had one interaction with. 

Your reasoning for this preoccupation was simply that you missed home: Canada seemed so far away especially as the weather only got warmer. This girl was simply a reminder that the faraway moose land was real! Additionally, maybe your brain got confused: a kind interaction plus the familiar Canadian accent equals weird unreasonable attachment. 

You shook your head and tried to refocus your eyes in the screen in front of you. You had been staring at the blank document you so long that your head had started to ache and the hot chocolate you bought before you sat down was now definitely cold. The cafe was one of those tiny ones with maybe three indoor tables and a booming espresso machine that took up most of the counter space by the cash register and drowned out the soft music echoing from the speakers. 

You had found it during the second week of semester and now frequented it most afternoons to try and crank out as many assignments as possible. Routine was important, you must understand that. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed your temple before being rudely startled by a tap of the shoulder. 

“Jeezus! give a girl some warning please!” you snapped before looking up at the offender. Brown eyes stared back at you filled with an amused glint. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this” she laughed. The same laugh that showed off her handsome features and warm glow. 

“Oh hey! It’s um… you!” it wasn’t meant to sound like a stutter but it came out that way anyways. 

“Jessie” she smiled softly, catching your fumble “Jessie Fleming? We have some lectures together?” 

“Yes no! I remember sorry. I just didn’t catch your name” you rambled, feeling suddenly very foolish. She patted your shoulder to pull you out of the spiral. 

“I know. I’m just messing” she sat down in the seat opposite you with a sigh. 

It was then that you really looked at her. She looked very much the same as she had the first time apart from a few key things: her hair was shorter (sitting just above her shoulders whereas before it had hung in a long plat down her back) and her left eye seemed strangely swollen and purple. 

“Um… get into a fight Fleming?” you asked, indicating to her, now obvious, black eye. To your surprise she laughed!

“Oh this old thing! No just a bad tackle during soccer practice” she grinned, poking the swollen lid with a dramatic wince. 

“Soccer… OH! Oh it makes sense now” you lean back in your chair and look at her like you had only just noticed her properly. 

“Fleming! 21! bruins midfielder! God I never made the connection!” you laughed, feeling stupid. Maybe if you had payed more attention to the sport at your SPORT university, you would have found out her name sooner. 

“Oh hush. It’s really nothing” she muttered looking embarrassed. 

“No, shut up Fleming. No it isn’t! I heard a girl in the library talking about your goal in a match a few weeks ago! Boy I know jack shit about sport but I know it was impressive” you hissed back eagerly. 

“No really-“

“Take the damn compliment Jessie”

“Fine! Thank you” she smiled awkwardly with a role of her eyes “It was a pretty good goal I guess”

You smiled and watched her for a long moment as she settled into the seat fully. Your eyes followed her perfect nose, flickered up to her eyebrows before coming to rest at her lips. How could someone look that good so effortlessly?

“Staring is rude” she stated bluntly, as her lips curled into a smirk. You looked away with a jerk, cheeks flaming. 

“I- I was not!”

“Okay…”

“I wasn’t staring! You soccer types, always so big headed!” you mumble, crossing your arms across your chest. You felt childish: of course you had been staring! God how silly that this girl, Jessie, thought you could hold back from staring at her! You’re only human after all. 

“I-“ Jessie started to speak but cut herself off, her mouth hanging open slightly. 

“Yes?”

“I might be out of play for a few weeks. Concussion protocols and all that but… well stop me if this is too forward but, I’d love for you to come to a game? One of my games I mean” her question ended in a rush before she leaned back from the table with big curious eyes. You stared back, dumbfounded. It took a shake of your head to get you to respond. 

“You want me to come to a bruins game?”

“Uhh. Yes?”

“You know I don’t know anything about soccer?”

“I did assume that, yes.”

“But you want me there?”

“Yes.” her tone was soft but firm, determined. “I want you to come to a game please. To watch me play? Or we can watch it together if I’m still out for injury?”

You laugh and clap a hand over your mouth. 

“Are you asking me on a date Jessie Fleming?” you spit out, feeling suddenly emboldened by the other girls flustered expression. Jessie’s cheeks only became redder at your sudden inquiry. 

“Yes please?” came her hopeful squeak. 

You grinned and leaned over the table, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, just under her bruised eye, before sitting back in one swift movement. 

“Ok. But you’re going to have to let me wear your jersey 21. Oh, and explain the offside rule.”

Jessie groaned, but her pink cheeks gave her away. 

“Fine. It’s a date.” 

[hayden-christensen]

OBI-WAN KENOBI (2022) Cinematography by Chung-Hoon Chung

@pscentral event 26: minimalism

[tarjapearce]

What caused Gabriel and Miguel to fight in the Soccer Family AU?

Oh nonny 🫠.

Older Brother

Warnings: Angst, sibling relationships, emotional distress. Hurt.

Summary: Good intentions aren't always welcomed.

Art by: @justanunknownartist on X

'It's only a party, Miguel. Relax.'

That's what Gabriel had said.

'I won't drink too much.' he said but was unable to keep his end of the silent agreement between them, as Miguel helped him to his bedroom.

Someone had contacted him after Gabriel tried to start a fistfight with a random attendee just because the latter took the last shot of tequila.

"Migue" Gabriel hiccuped and stumbled on his steps, giggling as Miguel hauled him on his feet back again, but Gabriel was proving himself difficult cause he was trying to get a hold of his face.

"Gabri-" He pushed his brother's hand away and this tried harder to take a hold once again

"Compórtate, verga!" (Fucking behave)

Gabriel giggled to himself and supported his weight on Miguel's shoulders, only to be thrown later at his bed with such ease it made him even more dizzy for a second. The youngest of the O'Hara didn't think it twice and curled in his bed.

"Miguel"

Gabriel called and tried to fix his drunk gaze in him, unable to decide on which of the Miguels with him he'd talk.  He went for the one that untied his shoes laces and tucked him in.

"Don't tell..." Another drunk hiccup, "Don't tell mom, ok?"

"Ya duérmete, cabrón." Miguel grumbled, more annoyed than anything. He was on his way of meeting you for your weekly corny movie night when a friend of Gabriel contacted him.

Several apologies and Te Quiero later, he drove back to fetch his dear brother that definitely would have an earful of his mind once he was sober enough to understand how bad his alcoholism was getting.

Although Miguel drank, he didn't do it as often as Gabriel did. Partying every weekend, sometimes in between working days and that had earned him a memo back at work.

It was rare and out of his character to get wasted. But Gabriel concerned him.

His red eyes regarded his brother once more, trying to figure what was going on. But communication wasn't a trait born within the O'Hara men. At least not in a proper or healthy way.

Was it a woman that had hurt him again? Probably. Although Gabriel's social butterfly skills was something he sometimes wished to have, Miguel knew it was a double edged weapon. It had granted Gabri a magnet to attract all sorts of people and not all of them were good, like their intentions.

But all Miguel could do at the moment was bringing him a tall glass of water, some painkillers and let him rest.

---

Gabriel's head throbbed. Every breath he inhaled came in synch with the neverending pounding in his head at the minimal movement, but gathered up the courage to sit on the bed to drink the pills and water.

The smell of food wafted past his bedroom's door, tickling his nose, luring him out of the bed. A sudden rush of nauseas flooded his throat and he ran towards the bathroom to soothe his discomfort.

The toilet flushed and he rinsed his mouth to then wash it. Miguel was preparing breakfast, so Gabriel washed his face, trying to give himself a less daunting and hungover look.

Although the smell made his mouth water, his stomach warned him to not eat anything. But coffee, he could do that.

Gabriel inhaled sharply when advancing towards the shelf past Miguel's swallowing frame. He took a mug and poured some of the coffee in it. Sugarless, of course.

The relief would've been almost immediate if Miguel hadn't clinked loudly a spoon on his cup. Gabriel's teeth clenched at the sudden noise.

"C'mon. Was that necessary?"

Miguel chuckled, but it quickly vanished as a frown made it's way on his face.

"Gabriel"

Miguel called but his baby brother groaned annoyed, "Not now, Migue. Please."

"Then when, cabrón?!" Miguel roared and Gabriel tightened his grip on his mug, unable to meet him directly in his eyes.

He had fucked up, that much was true.

"¡Es la tercera puta vez que uno de tus amigos me llama para que te vaya a recoger porque te pusiste hasta el culo de borracho y quieres andar de pendejo madreándote a la gente! ¿Qué verga te pasa?" (it's the third fucking time one of your friends call me cause you've gotten wasted and you wanna fuck around and fight people. The fuck's wrong with you?)

And for Miguel to go full on spanish on him, meant he was sick of it.

"Ya, ya te oí. Cállate. No lo volveré a hacer." (Alright, alright. I heard you. Shut up. Won't do it again.)

"Bullshit. You think I don't know about the memos? About the fucking warnings you get at your work cause you go and present yourself hungover."

"It was one fucking time! One!"

"Still enough for you to start losing your credibility, pendejo!"

Gabriel clicked his tongue and gulped down the coffee.

"Is it because of that woman Kasey?"

She had dumped him yet again matter-of-factly. And oh how well Miguel could read him. Gabriel wasn't friends with rejection after all and he rather indulge things that kept him busy, like alcohol and other new companies than openly talk.

"Dude, fucking stop acting like mom-

Miguel couldn't help but fist his hands on each side of himself, trying to ground himself at the sudden fit of rage that worked hard to get to his brain.

Why? Why his beloved Ma always had to screw things for him even when she wasn't present?

"Why the fuck you always bring her up?"

"Cause that shuts you up! God you're so annoying at times, Miguel. Always wanting to control everything around you!."

"Cause I fucking care! Do you see mom around with you when you get fucking drunk and all full of puke? No, you see me. She's too fucking busy doing her life away from us."

Gabriel's anger rose faster than a self rising flour, increasing it's density with each word Miguel spilled. He wasn't in the mood to be lectured, and his ammo to shut his elder brother was running short.

"I still talk to her, that says alot on it's own."

"But of course you would! She tolerates your shit and still treats you like a baby while I'm the one that deals with the whole mess none of you has the fucking guts to face!"

"None fucking asked you to!"

Oh, but now it was personal. Gabriel regretted a bit too late the words, cause Miguel's eyes narrowed dangerously at him, but once his temper, George's trademark on his blood, shone through; nothing could stop it. Not even the flash of hurt crossing Miguel's eyes.

"You say you care? All I can see is you tearing people apart with your... your fucking snarky replies and being a hypocrite." Gabriel hissed

"Hypocrite maybe, but not ungrateful." Miguel's red irises hardened and turned devoid of any emotion

"I never asked you to do shit for me, Miguel!"

Yet he would crawl to his bed when a storm was too much to bear on his own lonely bed. Yet he'd be the one that would hold and soothe him when Conchata argued nonstop with George and things got two rowdy between them. Yet he was and always been there for him, selflessly, ever since he was able to think on his own.

Miguel was by any mean perfect, but he was there, watching him grow up, supporting him in his own way. Taking the mantle that neither his Ma or Papa were functional enough to wear, despite his young age.

But he couldn't turn back time and bite those words back. Cause that would spare him the deep plunge in his heart at the sight of Miguel turning his back on him, shoulders defeated and jaw clenched. He nodded a couple of times before placing all his attention the now cold breakfast before him.

"I think it's time for you to start looking for a place."

Miguel's deflated tone sent a chill down his spine. Gabriel's mouth and heart was still on fight mode.

"Now you're just being petty."

But even that biting remark didn't make Miguel flinch or look at him. Just earned him a disappointed shake of his head and a chuckle that could be mistaken for a sob.

"No, you ain't worth it. Just taking my new relationship seriously. I've got other things to deal with than doing this on a regular basis with you. I... I think I do deserve a bit of peace too."

Gabriel's eyes bore into Miguel's back as he talked, silently pleading to look at him. But this time, his elder brother didn't spare him a glance, not even a disdainful one. He had hurt more than Miguel's pride.

"Have it your way then."

Gabriel left him. Leaving some minutes later after the fresh altercation.

Ungrateful as he was, Gabriel knew when to give him space. Once he was sure Gabri had been gone, his throat released a shaky breath.

His hands shook as he grabbed his phone, quickly wiping the liquid pain that blurred his sight to then dial your number.

"I'm on my way. Need to..." he cleared his throat. "I need to talk. Ok?" A brief silence, "Hmm. Need anything over there?"

He wiped his face once more and bit his lip for a second.

"Gotcha. Ya te llego." (I'll be there soon)

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Hi! Happy to see another person write for WHB ^^

I would love to hear your thoughts on dominating each of the Kings and what type of sub they'd be :3

Hello!! I’m excited to get these requests!

I did this as hcs so I could add Lucifer (and it would be faster) Lucifer I have minimal interaction with (like Mammon) and he isn’t in the game at the time of writing so I hope I catch his personality right!

(Used their kinks as intros!)

-

Types of subs they are/dominating the Kings

Satan

Canon kink: spanking

He enjoys painplay and occasionally is a bratty sub (sometimes to provoke you into hitting him) he even openly told you to reserve all your anger for him!

He enjoys being dominated, but puts up a front thinking it’ll upset you further (it doesn’t)

It took him a bit to get you to spank him and oddly enough, he can cum just from that, hell, he’ll let you spank him in public, he doesn’t mind the audience

He prefers to be spanked without anything on, he enjoys the skin to skin contact. He’ll get upset if you hold back though

Mammon

Canon kink: pygophilia (sexual interests in basically anything involving someone’s ass)

He enjoys pegging, he will ride you like it’s a workout, all he really want in return is you knead his ass or let him knead yours as a reward

He’s the type to go down on you whenever he senses you’re overly stressed. He takes care of his Master, he’s yours and you’re his

He doesn’t fuss when given orders, he’ll obey your every command within reason and will even straight up offer bits of his hoard to encourage you to indulge in kinks he finds fascinating

He does anything you ask and if you want him to lift you up and carry you while he pleasures your, just say he word!

Leviathan

Canon kink; breath play

He enjoys being choked and can hold his breath for a bit before he needs to tab out, he’ll offer you a noose to make it easier if you cant manage it with your hands alone

He is a needy, bratty sub who thinks he’s a power bottom that can call the shots and gets a lil sassy when you deny him anything

Bath s*x is honestly common since he enjoys what little mess it leaves to be cleaned (even if he’s not cleaning)

He’s not good at returning pleasure and usually you have to threaten his own pleasure to encourage him to do as you say

Beelzebub

Canon kink: scent kink

He loves stealing your used clothes since they have your scent, if you have gym clothes, he takes them if you don’t keep an eye on them, he can get aroused from just your scent alone

He’s easy to please and though he isn’t always the best at obeying, it’s because he tends to forget the what you tell him to do

He cant really take too much teasing, he gets worked up to easily and tries to get off before you can continue the denial

He literally brings you alcohol and drugs when he want to fuck around since they ‘boost the experience’ and he thinks it’s like an offering

Lucifer

Canon kink: Dacryphilia (crying)

He’s not the hardest to make cry, but in public? Nope, not happening his pride won’t let it. But when it’s you two, he wants you to fuck him till he’s crying, overstim, edging, doesn’t matter

He loves it and will be bratty until you have him in tears, though he likes it when you cry too, if it’s for anything other than pleasure, and if someone else makes you cry? He will end them.

He’s not completely submissive nor is he resistant he just sort of…lags when obeying as of testing how much patience you have for him

His wings are a clear ‘no-no’ for touching for anyone but you, they are extremely sensitive and he flat out gets defensive if it’s brought up

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

 Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

 “You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace.  “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

[lazybutsmexy]

... I couldn't control myself. I have no excuses.

Smoke break

Pairing: König x reader (GN)

Word count: 1700+/-

Warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking, blood, König's big hands, you have a stalker, König fixes it.

On AO3

It was a slow Tuesday night at the bar, and you dreaded its end with a passion. Whenever your eyes caught the clock on the wall behind the bar, and realized the hands were not in the same position as the last time you looked, a chill ran down your spine.

Busying yourself with drying an already dry glass, you tried not to think of the man sitting down in a corner of the room, his eyes boring into you in what you could only describe as a predatory manner. You didn't know his name, or what could have put you in his wishlist in the beginning. You only knew he was trouble, alarm bells ringing incessantly in your ears whenever he approached the bar for a refill and tried to lock eyes with you. His incessant stare made your skin crawl and bile to rise up in your throat.

You took another glass, rinsing it under the faucet just so you had a reason to dry it. It was hard not to notice him, and it seemed like he reveled on it too. Aside from him, only two other men were there, sitting by themselves on a table and playing cards while nursing their beers halfheartedly. Behind the bar only your boss was with you, and he was busy counting the earnings of the day. He would be over very soon, you supposed; you could count the amount of clients tonight just out of the top of your head.

Had it been a Friday or Saturday night, you would be much more relieved, being able to focus on the neverending flow of patrons demanding your attention. This guy wouldn't come those nights either, knowing that there would be too many people to admire you from afar how he liked.

But this was a Tuesday night, only an hour left until closing time, and there were no obvious signs of a wave of patrons coming in. The clock's hands moved closer, as if mocking your pleading glare.

The bell on top of the door chimed as someone walked in, drawing your attention away from the wall and onto the newcomer. As soon as recognition hit you, you felt yourself light up as if you had eaten a kilo of fairy lights.

"Hi, König!" You greeted the masked soldier, who slowly made his way to one of the bar stools, "the usual for you?"

"...Yeah, thanks."

You prepared the old fashioned and set it in front of him with a cheeky wink. "This one's on me, 'kay?" You took a couple of seconds to assess his eyes. He looked weary, as if he wished to just be over with his day, but visibly lit up at your offer, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little in what you could only suppose was a smile hidden by his hood.

You were used to his looks by now, as the bar was relatively close to one of the most secretive military bases. All sorts of dangerous people frequented that base, and therefore the bar. You've found them to be rather enjoyable to be around, however, with König being by far your favorite. He was never boisterous or pushy, or tried to use his rank to get in your pants. He just came, had a glass or two over minimal chitchat, then left a hefty tip before disappearing.

"Thank you, you're very kind." He took the glass and you stepped back to give him space to enjoy his drink. In that moment, your eyes met the stalker's, and the rage in them made your skin crawl. You turned away from both men, fiddling with the shot glasses and stealing a glance at the clock, suddenly finding it hard to breathe when only 45 minutes were left until closing.

König also felt it all; the killing intent from the man at the corner, the terror crawling under your skin. It wasn't hard for him to put two and two together. He emptied his glass and noticed the slim hint of disappointment flash in your eyes. His mouth twitched under his hood, you sure wanted him to stay longer, and he didn't have the heart to tell you no this time - not as if he was ever able to tell you no to begin with.

"Uh… refill, please?" König tilted his glass, blinking at the way your eyes sparkled with joy as you took back his empty glass. He tried to not jolt when your fingers brushed his, but thankfully he controlled himself, simply enjoying the tingling sensation at the bottom of his stomach.

As soon as you handed him his refill, your boss made the last call announcement, bringing your mind back to the incessant ticking of the clock behind you. Only half an hour left until closing.

The two men playing cards got up and said their goodbyes, leaving the bar while chatting amongst themselves. The dreaded man in the corner got up and walked up to the bar, and you took in a deep breath to steel yourself while he addressed you with a sick grin, his next words making your skin crawl.

"...See you in thirty, sweetheart."

He walked out the door, but you couldn't hear the chime of the bell over your racing thoughts. König noticed and leaned in, his voice secretive so your boss wouldn't hear, but still caused you to snap your face in his direction.

"Something tells me you don't want to actually see him."

Tears pooled in your eyes as you walked closer to him, confiding your fears to him.

"...He always comes on slow nights," you whispered, and König's heart nearly broke at the shakiness of your voice, "hasn't ever approached me outside, but I know he watches me, no matter how late I leave. Sometimes I'll get one of the guys to walk me to my car, but the boss…he doesn't really care…" You glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was listening in, before you continued. "He has never announced he would be waiting for me, though…why now? Why is he speaking as if I will certainly be with him when I get out…?"

König didn't miss the quiet break in your voice at the end, and you didn't miss the way his first tightened around his glass and his eyes darkened.

He appeared to be lost in thought for a few seconds, but he stretched his hand to cover your shaking, much smaller one, and gave it a squeeze.

"...I'll go outside for a smoke, and wait for you to get out," his voice was quiet but reassuring, and you felt a wave of relief wash over your spine, "I won't let him lay a finger on you."

You just managed a nod and a shaky smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. He downed his drink and got up, putting a few bills in the tip jar and giving you a small nod before walking out. You busied yourself with clearing out the tables and picking up any garbage. The clock signaled the hour when you took your bag from behind the bar and waved your coworkers goodbye, braving yourself for the walk to your car.

As soon as you stepped out, you were greeted with the sight of König standing on the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets as he approached you. The streetlights made him look even more towering, but you offered him a smile, knowing that on the inside he was just a gentle giant - at least to you.

His presence was comforting, his steps slow as he walked by your side. The tiny glimmer of fear wasn't completely gone, in the back of your mind, you knew that man would be back tomorrow night, and try again. But in this moment, you enjoyed König and his company, and revived the feeling of when he took your hand back at the bar.

As you approached your car, you turned to König. "Let me drive you back to base, it's late," a tiny frown appeared in the exposed part of his eyes, and you quickly added with a cheeky grin, "I promise I'll go straight home after, though."

He appeared to contemplate his options before answering with a nod, opening the driver door for you. You got in and sat yourself, barely containing the happiness of being able to spend some extra time with König, even if it was for a four to five minutes drive.

The drive was mostly quiet, consisting of you retelling some dumb things that happened during your shifts the last few days, and him looking straight at you as you spoke.

A couple of streets before base, you stopped at a red light, and looked at him with a sheepish grin. "König, could you hand me the cigarettes and lighter from my bag? I really need a smoke after tonight."

He snorted what you only assumed was a chuckle and stretched his arm in the backseat, easily fishing your bag and fetching said contents for you. Once a stick sat in your lips, you offered him the box and lighter, which he stared at for a second before looking straight into your eyes.

"...I don't smoke, (Y/n)"

You blinked at him and frowned in confusion, "...but, back at the bar, you went out for a-..." You interrupted yourself when you caught a glimpse of his hands, which were resting on his lap. Even under the red light, you could notice.

His knuckles were covered in blood.

It took a few more seconds for the realization to sink in, and König felt those seconds drag like hours. Had he done wrong?

When you looked into his eyes, though, tears of relief threatened to spill, your cigarette falling from your mouth as you took his bloody hand and held it close to your chest.

"Thank you, König," you offered with a watery smile, and he used his free hand to bring your head closer to his, letting him press his forehead to yours and stare straight into your eyes. The light changed to green, but in the empty streets, nobody cared. You drank into the way the light made his eyes look like emeralds, and his finger caressed your neck and jaw.

"...I told you I wouldn't let him lay a finger on you."

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Evermore Part 3

Summary: It's been 7 years since the love of your life left you behind for his career. When he decides to come back, is it too late to start anew? Will you decide to start over or realize what's been right in front of you this whole time?

Warnings: 18+. AFAB!Reader. Angst and more angst. Curse words. Alcohol use mentioned. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is given the nickname Peach.

Word Count: 2.6K

Masterlist

“Hey Peach.”

Steve was still standing in the kitchen when he heard the brief interaction, “shit,” he muttered. Immediately abandoning the food he had been working on, heading toward the doorway where the three of you now stood.

He came up behind you moving the door wider to accommodate his protective presence, gently laying a hand to your lower back. "Munson." He nodded, lips set in a thin line and eyes boring into the other man.

"Harrington," he murmured but never breaking his gaze from you.

You eyed him, still unbelieving that he was here and not some phantom conjured up from your mind. You had enough sense left to realize you didn’t want Maddie to overhear anything not meant for little ears. You knelt to her level, gaining her attention as she turned around. "Hey baby, why don't you go with daddy so he can make you some breakfast?”  

"Okay!" she gave in easily, as Steve took her small hand and examined you with worrying apprehension. You gave him a small nod and brief smile, letting him know you could handle it. Sighing to himself, he turned, leading them both back toward the kitchen. Maddie looked back with a wave at Eddie, "bye mister!"

Eddie smiled and gave her a sheepish wave and wiggle of his ringed fingers. "Bye!" 

You watched as they rounded the corner, turning to him abruptly moving yourself out of earshot and onto to the porch, shutting the door behind you. Effectively crowding his space, he stepped back making room for you both. 

“Uh, cute kid.” He half whispered.

"Eddie, what are you doing here?" you sighed, already sounded exasperated by his mere presence.

He started shuffling on his feet, fidgeting with his rings again, trying to put his swirling thoughts into words. “I… Uh…”

“Oh my God!” you suddenly gasped, your hand flying to cover your mouth. “What’s happened to Wayne?” thoughts immediately drifting to the worst possible situation as it seemed the only reasonable explanation as to why the metalhead was standing before you.

He raised his hands in protest and shook his head, curls swaying side to side. “No, no he’s fine.”

“Thank God!” moving your hand to your chest, trying to control the beating of your heart. It felt like it might leap out of your chest at any moment, not just from the thought of something happening to Wayne but Eddie’s sudden appearance shot your pulse into overdrive.

“Then… wh… why are you here?” defensively crossing your arms across your chest.

“I uh… just wanted to talk.” He stated flatly, breathing a heavy sigh.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Talk? You want to talk? It’s been almost 7 years since I’ve seen your face and you think you can just show up out of the blue? What on Earth could you possibly need to speak to me about? This is truly unbelievable, even for you Eddie!”

He shifted his gaze to the ground, unable to hold eye contact, feeling the embarrassment of how absurd it sounded, even to himself. Feeling cornered, your tone immediately making his mind shift into the defense.   

“Well, Peach, I see this was clearly a mistake. You’ve got your hands full with your kid. You and Harrington still keeping it cozy. Look, I,” he started but you interrupted him once more before he could even begin with any sort of real explanation for his impromptu visit.

“No.” You spat, harsher than you had intended as your blood began to boil and you couldn’t keep the vitriol from spewing. Years of pent-up emotions seemingly fighting their way to the surface all at once. “You don’t get to do this Eddie.” Pushing your finger into his chest as you spoke, making him flinch with the abruptness.

“You don’t get to come here with some condescending attitude like you know anything about my life. In case you forgot, you left me! And you’re pissed because Steve’s here? News flash, he’s been here! He actually gave a shit about me when you didn’t.” You turned then, reaching for the knob.

He lightly gripped your forearm before your hand reached its target. The heat of his touch mixed with the cool of his rings sent a shiver through you.

“Wait, look, I’m sorry. You’re right, please. Just give me 5 minutes. I know it was wrong to just show up, but I just had to see you.” He wasn’t below groveling. Begging you to just hear him out. If only you’d give him the chance that he didn’t deserve.

“No Eddie! You can’t just expect me to sit here and listen to whatever shit reasoning you have for showing up unannounced. You don’t get to come back whenever you please and expect me to just fall at your feet. I’m not some star-struck groupie that’s head over heels for rockstar Eddie Munson. You’re not a rockstar here, you’re just some guy that broke my heart. Where were you when I needed to see you? Huh?” You looked right into his eyes when you spoke, making sure he heard you loud and clear.  His pleading gaze dashed further into despair. Eyes glossy from lack of sleep and nearly on the brink of tears.

You really regarded him then. Looking like he hadn’t slept in days, noting the dark circles beginning to form under his eyes, his cheeks looked more sunken than normal. He didn’t look at all like the Eddie you remembered, full of life. This person was someone entirely different. Even with all the history the two of you shared, this was a stranger before you now. Life had been good to him, but it wasn’t always kind. The last couple of months have pushed him to the brink of exhaustion in more ways than one.

He relinquished his grip, leaving you free to open the door, promptly making your way in and slamming it in his face. In this moment, he finally realized just how badly he had fucked up. He hadn’t expected what an impact seeing you would have on him. With one more desperate attempt, he used his fist to bang on the door.

“Please Peach!” he pleaded, his forehead leaning on the door.

“Leave Eddie, or I’ll call Hopper to come escort you off my property!” your stern voice muffled slightly through the door.

Your palms and forehead rested on the coolness of wood, a stark contrast to the heat that seemed to radiate from you. Trying to collect yourself, your breathing became a little more ragged, as hot tears threatened to spill from your lashes. You were thankful you held your composure long enough that he hadn’t seen the cracks that were still there. You preferred him to see an indifferent, uncaring version of you. He had been your first love, first everything if you were being honest and that’s something that you can never truly just “get over.”

Steve approached you hesitantly, the way one would approach a wounded animal. Unsure how you would react. Not used to seeing you in such a state, he knew you hid your emotions well, and this was all too crushing. His heart broke instantly.

“Peach?” he spoke lowly, voice coming out a little hesitant.

At first you didn’t move, keeping your eyes shut, taking another deep breath before turning to your best friend, eyes already starting to rim red as you reached out to him seeking some semblance of refuge.

He immediately drew you into his arms, engulfing you with the comfort you so desperately craved. You pressed your face into his chest as you clawed at his shirt, fisting it in your hands trying to anchor yourself. Choked, muffled sobs reverberated through you as your tears soaked through his shirt.

“It’s ok, I’m here.” He whispered into your hair, as he started swaying, the same slow rhythm he would use while calming Maddie. Placing a chaste kiss to your temple, “You’re okay,” he started repeating.

You stayed like that for a few moments, letting Steve dote on you, trying to bring you back from the brink. You were only shaken from this trance when you heard Maddie’s gentle voice jolt you back to the present.

“Daddy? Aunt Peach?” You saw the worry etched on her small face when you pried yourself away from his embrace, trying to wipe the remnants of your tear-stained cheeks as he reluctantly released his arms that encircled your frame. Making your way over to the young girl, instantly pulling her to you and giving her a bone crushing hug.

“Hey baby! It’s okay,” you spoke in a low, hushed tone. Speaking the same words Steve had used to calm you.

She looked into your eyes and placed her small hands on your cheeks. She scowled, “why are you crying Aunt Peach? Was that boy mean?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, sniffling and willing the tears to stop.

“No baby, he wasn’t mean. It just made me sad to see him. Adults are just… complicated.”

She scowled once more, eyebrows knitted together seemingly trying to decipher what those words meant.

Steve came to the rescue, before she decided to start asking more questions. He took her from you, “alright my girl, let’s go finish your breakfast. You’ve got a big day with Aunt Robbie lined up!”

“Aunt Robbie!” she cheered, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing his cheek with an overexaggerated smack.

You watched them walk away, seemingly carefree and laughing, leaving you where you stood suddenly feeling cold and empty. Arms now wrapping around yourself as if you were trying to shield what’s left of your heart.  

After Robin had been filled in on everything that had gone down that morning, she dropped what she was doing to pick up Maddie for a girl’s day to give the two of you time to spend alone. Everyone in your small group of friends had been privy to what happened between you and Eddie, so it was no surprise she didn’t try to pry. She simply hugged you as tightly as she could and whispered, “call me, if you need anything.” Kissing your cheek as she left.

Now huddled under your blanket, Steve joined you on the couch stealing some of the cover that you gladly shared.

“You ok?” his warm hazel orbs worrying over your form, his knee nudging yours, pressing himself closer to you.

“All honesty, I’m not sure how to feel right now.” You chewed your bottom lip thinking about your next words carefully. You sighed, looking up to the ceiling tears threatening to spill once again.

He reached for your hand, with a gentle squeeze. Ever patient, never pushy, waiting for you to talk when you were ready.

“I keep replaying this morning in my head. Why did he have to come back? It’s finally convenient for him to talk?” You shook your head, “I just don’t get it.”

“I don’t know why he chose to come back now Peach, but he’s here and there isn’t anything we can do about it, but I can see what’s going on in that brain of yours. I doubt he’s trying to torment you. That’s not Munson’s style. At least it wasn’t back then. The way you guys’ left things it was bound to happen one of these days. Not that anyone expected it to take him this long to come crawling back.”

You kissed his cheek and laid your head on his shoulder. “Stevie, I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

He returned your kiss with one to the top of your head, as he spoke gently into your hair “and that’s ok. No one said you had to.”

“The funny thing is, he thought Maddie was our daughter. Got all defensive about it, like he has any right! Acting jealous like he used to about you when we were younger,” you laughed out. “I didn’t correct him though.”

Steve huffed a small laugh, but his voice held no humor when he spoke. “She’s basically yours, you know? Been here longer than her own mom now.”

“I know Stevie, but no one can ever replace her mom.”

He grabbed the remote, turning a movie on that you hadn’t finished from the night before, ending the conversation because he knew where it was headed. Efficiently distracting you from reality for the time being. Just you and Steve in this bubble you had made, that held only the two of you and the rest of the world faded away. He had a way of making you feel safe and loved that no one else had ever matched. Your Stevie that would give anything to save you from another heartbreak.

­­­­­­

When Eddie had fallen asleep, your face was all he could picture, he dreamed of that day that tortured him repeatedly, always on replay when he let his guard down.

He woke up 3 hours after his head had hit the pillow and hadn’t been able to drift back off. He didn’t want to shut his eyes if all his mind could conjure were visions of the past. Mistakes and regrets rattled around his brain until he could lay there no longer.

Still slightly buzzed from the Jack he had finished off, he padded off to start some coffee, wild locks swaying with each step. Still in the wee hours of the early morning, the sun not yet ready to rise, the house was still and dark. He tiptoed past Wayne’s room trying his best not to disturb him.

He decided to drive out to Lover’s Lake, with coffee in hand sitting on the hood of the rental, he watched the sun rise above the glossy surface. Lighting everything around him, bathing the new day with the sun’s golden rays. It was peaceful. Nothing like the hustle and bustle of the big city, and exactly what he had been missing.

“Fuck it,” he said to himself.

It was a rash decision to go to your house. But it was as if his body was stuck on autopilot, with an overwhelming need to see you, acting as if he were hijacked by some unknown force watching it all unfold.

When you slammed the door in his face, and turned him away he stood there stunned, unable to move or think, until he heard the muffled sobs. He had done that to you. He had intruded into your life without any regard for how it would affect you.  

“So stupid.” He muttered to himself and rubbed his face. “So fucking stupid, Munson!”

He wanted to be the one to shush your crying and wipe away the tears. But instead, knowing that Steve would come in to save the day, he did what he does best when he can’t face the things that make him uncomfortable. He turned heel and ran back to the waiting car. Driving out of your neighborhood like a bat out of hell seemingly trying to outrun all the feelings that came along with seeing you face to face.

He couldn’t go back to Wayne’s yet; he knew the old man would notice his demeaner and start asking a million questions. The truth would eventually find its way to him, and Eddie knew he would never hear the end of it. He wasn’t even sure if Wayne knew the whole story between you two, never mentioning it but he had a sinking suspicion that he did.

Hawkins was just beginning to wake up on a sleepy Sunday morning. With nowhere to go, he sat in the parking lot of the Hideout. It wouldn’t be open for another few hours, so he was stuck. Stuck in his feelings. Stuck reliving the past.

He should never have come back.

Taglist: @josephquinncore @theawkwardbutterfly @munsonmecrazy @jadedhillon @pettydonuts @angelina16torres-blog @justheretoreadleavemealone @heyyimmisunderstood @micheledawn1975 @devilslittlebabyxx @luciferiorbxtch @bebe07011 @yunnie-f1 @akiratoro420 @evansslutt @sheerfreesia007 @tlclick73 @bakugouswh0r3

[bingiessm]

OKAY More Bridgerton season 3 trailer thoughts, these are both sort of random, partially analysis, partially conspiracy-y. The second part is more direct analysis of two shots in the trailer though.

Okay, so because of this trailer, I don't know for sure if Benedict's season will be season 4--or, at least, I am curious as to how they will bring about his romance this season to set up season 4 after so little inkling as to his romance. Francesca dominates this trailer in terms of romance--literally the first shot in this trailer of anyone in the Bridgerton family is of Francesca--not even Colin, who's season it is.

The spotlight is also completely on her and--as we see in this trailer--a spotlight means quite a lot in terms of romance. (ex: Penelope and Debling dancing with the spotlight just on her, and the Cupid/Psyche spotlight on the dance floor, etc.)

Benedict is not featured romantically at all. Actually, he is not seen in the second part of the trailer, which is when there is a shift to romance. Also in almost all promos, he is not seen in a romantic light, but rather a playful one as compared to Francesca, who is debuting and dancing with suitors, etc. Could they be hiding this for the actual season? Oh, for sure, I definitely think so. But, also considering how seasons are going and the balance they might want to have with their Bridgerton leads, they might not want to do 3 seasons in a row with the Bridgerton brothers as the main leads? Just a thought, though.

Francesca's story just might end up being the foil to Colin/Penelope's story this season, which would be interesting. I also wonder how that will develop if Benedict is the lead for Season 4. We have to wait and see.

---------

SECOND THOUGHT: You did not need this shot of this actress in this edit--it is a choice to have her here.

This is a sort of longer shot--these two are a whole 4 seconds. That might not seem like a lot of time, but for two shots with minimal movement--two close up/OTS (over the shoulder) shots--within a less than 3 minute trailer, that is a lot of time.

I have seen some people online argue that they wanted to show that this wasn't Penelope and that they are trying to show him being more of a "charmer" as he returns from his trip to highlight his glow-up--as this section of the trailer does. This is true, BUT you already had her in the frame in that first shot and she is clearly not Penelope. It would have been enough to just have him kiss her hand if you wanted to demonstrate this. Maybe they want to show that he doesn't charm everyone--he isn't the typical "rake"--and just wanted to focus on one woman? Sure. But, they could have had a wider shot--they could have included others that weren't marriage-able women, like this character's family. Instead, they have a whole frame dominated by one actress who we do not know--a reverse of the first shot that keeps the focus on THEIR dynamic, THEIR faces, not on Colin's relationship with women in general.

The audio for this sequence is also just the music for these full 4 seconds. It is a choice to not have dialogue. When you don't have dialogue, the audience pays more attention to what they have available--the visuals. This draws direct attention to these two.

Listen, I am not saying 100% that she is going to be a huge part of this season, BUT I don't think she'll just be a one-off, maybe slightly more featured. I could be wrong, but everything is a choice in film and especially when releasing a trailer for a series, you are deliberate in what you do and do not show.

One other note, the next audio that comes up is Benedict talking about Colin's "sturdiness," which immediately associates the two. Yes, this is to focus on Colin's change, but hey it's there and we all are looking for hints as to who Benedict's love interest will be.

Okay, second Bridgerton ramble done, thank you! Also, who is this actress? She is beautiful!

[missmaywemeetagain]

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

A/N: Somehow, against all odds in this absolute chaos of a week, I managed to bang out the "Army Elvis" prompt for this week today, like a maniac. I am both shocked and amazed that I wrote a smutty one-shot without overthinking it but also be warned this is hardly edited or revised, nor even really thought out! 😂

Thanks always to my sister wives in chaos and crime: @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis and @from-memphis-with-love

TW: Smut! Orgasms! Basically no plot!

Rating: Mature 18+ || Word Count: 2.7k

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

He wants to fuck you. Oh lord how he wants to fuck you, from the moment you walk in the room and sit across the aisle from him.

Maybe it’s the curve of your calves and the way they disappear under your pencil skirt. Maybe it’s how your jacket notches in at your waist, accentuating your ample hips. Or perhaps it’s the fact that even with the conservative uniform and minimal to-do with your hair and make-up (as per regulations, of course), you still are absolutely gorgeous.

Or I’m just horny, Elvis thinks sardonically, shifting in his seat.

The movement catches your eye, and he watches curiously as you do a bit of a double take, eyes widening slightly in recognition before your head whips straight ahead.

He smirks to himself at that. It never gets old, the light that goes on in women’s eyes when they take him in in person. And he certainly isn’t getting much of it lately, being effectively shackled here in Germany, clad in his drab green Army fatigues.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he thinks as he pictures the fans that gather at all hours outside the house he’s renting while he’s here, about the girls he invites in. But it’s not quite the same, not the same at all, because his fame is tenuous and teetering here. Part of him is certain that they’ve all forgotten about him at home, despite the Colonel’s reports to the contrary, despite the new movie contracts and albums he is set to record as soon as he returns. However, the sliver of fear about his fate has burrowed deep these past two years and poisons him slowly, each day he is gone.

But now he’s counting days and weeks instead of months and years, and he can nearly taste being home. His fear and the antsy feeling that permeates him is overcome by anxious excitement now, so he’s feeling better than he has in a long time.

And here he is, getting his Sergeant stripes, and that fills him with a different sort of pride altogether.

So, perhaps it is all these factors combined that have him wanting to jump across the aisle, pull you into his arms, and kiss you silly.

He’s never seen you before and doesn’t know your name until they call you up to present you with your earned rank. Feeling a bit lecherous, he admires the view of your ass as you walk to the front and the heaving of your breast as they pin your stripes. Your pretty eyes catch his unabashedly heated gaze and pink floods your cheeks as he locks you in.

Elvis knows what he’s doing. While much of it is a natural sort of gift, he’s also honed his seductive abilities quite a bit in the last four years and gets paid a lot of money because of it. He’s also well aware that he looks good, filled out in a manly way but slimmed down in all the right areas, and right now, he’s not above using his looks to get your attention. And he so does want your attention, as much as he knows by virtue of your uniform and rank, you are completely off limits. He’s not stupid—he’s too close to the end for a court martial. Though he may not be able to fuck you the way he wants, it doesn’t mean he can’t have a little bit of fun.

Crossing his arms, he brings one hand to his mouth, letting his thumb catch on his full bottom lip and his mouth fall open slightly. Then he gazes at you with a pointed but dreamy stare, his eyes blinking slowly.

He watches you gulp and fidget at front of the room, all of which could be explained away by nerves of being put on the spot, but he knows he’s hit jackpot because there’s a little fire stoked in those lovely eyes now.

Tilting his head and raising a brow, he makes a private show of looking you up and down as you walk tenuously back to your seat. Giving him a glare of admonishment, you very purposefully do not look at him once you are seated again, but your hands wring in your lap, your leg crossing over towards him.

He’s flustered you. Warmth rolls over him, pooling in his pelvis, and through the rest of the ceremony, he tries not to think of bending you over your chair, yanking up your skirt, and sinking deep into your silky heat.

His cock twitches at the thought.

Later, fate intervenes on his behalf when he realizes you’ve been seated with him at the dinner banquet following the ceremony. He shakes your hand, introducing himself, letting his fingers squeeze and his thumb graze your palm a little too intimately. The gamut of emotions that flashes over your face before you bring down a stoic smile makes him chuckle.

He guides you to sit next to him, and while you hesitate at first, he knows he’s already won because of the way your eyes widen at the suggestion.

Now that you are close, his body goes into overdrive, and he is drunk on the sweetness of your perfume and the smoothness of your skin. He realizes he’s likely being too obvious in his flirtations but can’t bring himself to reign it in. The other men and women at the table have either consciously or subconsciously deferred to him and his charms, leaving no one to compete for your attention. He lays it on thick, wanting to eat you right up.

Elvis is hyperaware of every time you glance his direction, which is happening more often as he pulls you deeper into conversation, your cool exterior thawing bit by bit. But the way your eyes dilate and how you lick your lips when he brings the bottle of cola in front of him to his mouth has a zing of arousal shooting down his spine and straight into his cock.

Oh.

Nothing if not responsive, Elvis tongues the lip of the bottle before taking a slow drag of the sweet, fizzy soda. Your eyes are fixated now on his mouth, on the bottle, and he watches you catch your lower lip in your teeth as you stare.

Heat courses through him as he pulls the bottle away, tongue rolling over his bottom lip to catch the lingering drops of sugar caught there. You swallow visibly, and he doesn’t stop his teasing, unable to keep his lip from quirking into a delighted smirk at your attentions. Your eyes fly back up to his, as if just realizing you’ve been caught, and you flush a charming shade of red before clearing your throat and looking away quickly.

But every time he raises the bottle to his lips, your eyes catch like a moth to a flame. This time they follow his hand down as he sets the bottle on the table. Condensation gathers droplets on the cool glass and he relishes the smooth, wet feeling as he strokes the bottle with his thumb.

You fidget in your seat. It takes him a second to understand why, but once he does, he feels his cock chub up, caught mercilessly in his briefs and dress pants. The little, mischievous devil in him takes great pleasure watching you watch him make a show of gripping the bottle in his whole hand, slowly thumbing over the opening at the top again and again.

You choke a little and reach for your water, taking a deep drag and blinking rapidly, as if trying to come out of the spell he seems to have you under. You attempt to throw yourself into the conversation at the table, ignoring him with all your might, your body tense in your seat.

A challenge, he thinks, smiling.

Slowly, Elvis presses his knee into the side of your thigh, loving the way you nearly jump out of your seat in surprise at the contact. It’s like a bolt of electricity between you, and he starts to strain against his underwear.

Now that he has your attention, he places his hand back around the cola bottle, lewdly gripping it and slowly twisting his hand down and back up the glass. It’s truly not that far off from his actual size, so the motion feels almost too familiar, too easy. Your mouth pops open at the suggestive gesture and it takes everything in him to not lap his tongue into that delicate little mouth of yours. He matches his rhythm, stroking his knee against your leg, which also happens to provide some delicious friction in his pants. He feels you tense, squeezing your thighs together, and he cannot help but think of your little pink snatch likely staining your panties with slick right at this very moment.

Elvis almost groans aloud at that, catching it in his throat at the last second, but you seem to hear it and your eyes fly to his. Your pupils are blown out and cheeks are hot, and he can almost smell the arousal on you. Goddamn it, he wants to make you come, right here at the table, just for him, in front of everyone, who, wrapped up in their own conversations seem none the wiser at the seduction that is happening before them.

He’s hardly touching you but feels a surge of power when you fidget again, caught like willing prey in his stare. He can’t touch you more than he already is because that would get him in trouble, but if he can’t lay you across this table and fuck you senseless, he’s going to do it the only way he can.

His ministrations on the bottle are serving to arouse him just as much as you, each stroke making his cock twitch and strain and stiffen. Your eyes dart from his to the bottle, back and forth, your breath shallow and rapid. His eyes are heavy on you, unyielding, and look upon you as though you were under him, as though he were trapped and undulating in the heat of what he just knows is your perfect, untouched cunt.

You look back at him as though you know exactly what he’s thinking, as though your tight little hole is snug around him, sweet as honey, treating him right. Your hands clutch at your silverware, your napkin, anything you can get your hands on that isn’t him, and he knows you are well on your way to where he wants you because he can feel how your legs move back and forth, creating the friction you so desperately need between them.

He wonders if he can get away with touching you under the tablecloth, with sticking his hand into those wet panties of yours to play with your swollen and sensitive nub, but your skirt is too long and tight, and your jacket hides the waistband. No, he’s gonna have to be satisfied with eye-fucking you and jerking off this cola bottle.

Your chest starts to vibrate with tension as you try desperately to hold back the short little gasps emanating from your lips and he knows then that you are set to explode. You brace your elbows on the table, hiding the lower part of your face with your napkin, as if wiping your mouth, and he feels your hips buck. You do a helluva job not moaning and rolling your eyes back as you come for him, but he sees you drift somewhere else for a moment in your ecstasy, your eyes going blank as you pant as measured as you can into your napkin-shield.

Watching you unravel so gracefully and so untouched has his own orgasm sneaking up on him. The fact that he made you come just by looking at you but also at the element of public indecency involved has him clutching the cola bottle so hard he might break it. He wants to palm his dick with his other hand, but he knows he can’t be subtle about it and kind of likes the fact you’re making him come untouched, too.

Elvis manages to hold on until you come down from your high enough to look at him with dreamy, satiated eyes and that finally sends him over the edge. His cock pulses heavy and hard, springing against the confines of his slacks, his eyes drifting closed and lips parting as he shivers through his orgasm as quietly as he can. Holy fucking hell.

Your shy, knowing smile is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, and he can’t help but smile right back at you in kind. Your rosy cheeks and gleaming eyes make him feel giddy. His face feels red hot and he can’t help but bring the cold cola bottle to his face to cool it off. You choke back a laugh.

“You alright there, Sergeant Presley?” another soldier questions him.

“Ohhhh, I’m fine,” he drawls, amused, “Just feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here is all, in this getup.”

For once, he’s glad of his regulation briefs, as they kept him from shooting his load straight down his pant leg, but he doesn’t have to look down to know by the sheer force and amount of his release that he’s soaking through the front of his pants. His only consolation is that he knows you must be soaked through your panties, too.

If he can get his jacket on, he’ll be okay because it’s long and will cover the mess, but how he’s going to do so without the entire hall seeing he just jizzed his pants, he’s not so sure. It might not be a problem for the average Joe, but people can’t help but watch his every move, whether he wants them to or not. He realizes in his haze of horniness that maybe he didn’t really think this through.

You seem to realize his predicament, however, pretty eyes widening after looking down in his lap. You snap your head up quickly and he can sense your wheels turning. He starts to panic a little when you don’t let him in on the plan, though, as you start telling some story that he can’t seem to pay attention to with the sticky, rapidly cooling mess in his underwear.

Before he knows what’s happening, you are sweeping your arm to the side in a dramatic retelling, knocking the half-full bottle of cola over, directly into his lap.

He yelps in surprise as the dark cola soaks into his slacks, right over the other stain that had begun to set.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Sergeant Presley!” you cry apologetically, quite convincingly, and in other circumstances, he might try to get you into the movies with your level of commitment as you place your napkin into his lap.

He chuckles, “Oh, it’s fine, darlin’, it’s just a little soda. After all, I was going on about how warm I was gettin’, so you cooled me right off.” He gives you a wink at his obvious double entendre, and you purse your lips to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’m awfully embarrassed,” you say quietly, fully leaning into the role. “Please send me your dry cleaning bill. It’s the least I can do.” Pulling a little pad out of your clutch, you scribble something down on the paper, tear it off, fold it, and hand it to him.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s no big thing,” he says, but takes the paper anyway, sensing that you have written something other than your dry cleaner’s information on it. He motions for your pen and paper. “Can I?”

You nod and hand them over. In his chicken scratch handwriting, he scrawls a note:

If you ever find yourself in Memphis someday, honey, come to Graceland for a visit. Ask for ‘Sarge.’ I’d love to have ya.

Love, Sergeant Elvis Presley

He finishes by adding one of the numbers at Graceland and hands the pad back to her. Wishful thinking, but maybe someday, when it’s not a court-martialed offense, he’ll be able to show you the good time you deserve.

He excuses himself, then, sloshing in his soggy, ruined pants, waiting until he gets to the car to read your note.

Sergeant Presley,

One must watch out for those pesky cola bottles…Try vinegar and cold water for that stain…wouldn’t want it to set!  

Corporal Y/N  Y/L/N

He laughs heartily as the car pulls away.

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[animeyanderelover]

I’m currently in Europe so I’m awake for once when requests are open!

May I request how Ciel, Sebastian, and Reiji Sakamaki’s would treat a s/o who’s body is really fragile (they bruise easily, have fragile bones, etc.). Thank you very much! 💖

I actually planned a little special for my 6k celebration but I’m still so loaded with requests that I think that I’ll have to cancel that and do it a bit later😵‍💫.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, overprotective behavior, abduction

S/o with a very fragile body

Ciel Phantomhive

☕️Ciel’s condition was of a rather delicate status during his early childhood days too. His asthma used to be quite bad, there were days where he couldn’t leave the house or his room. So despite his strict and sometimes apathetic attitude he can understand his darling’s frustration and anger regarding the hindrance that is their body. Unable to do so many things simply because it’ll only result in large and painful bruises or even a few broken bones. Whilst the Phantomhive heir bears more sympathy for you though, that doesn’t mean by a long shot that he’ll let you risk anything. He’s overprotective and his paranoia worsens because of your risky condition. He probably feels the constant need to know where you are and if he’s in the mansion, he wants you in his field of vision.

☕️A doctor is constantly checking on your condition and is always kept close in case something should happen. He’ll also force you to consume medicine and vitamins to strengthen your immune system and overall condition. Ciel will also be really pissed if one of his clumsy servants accidentally hurts you. He holds them dear somewhere in his heart, knows that all of them are primarily here for their skills to kill and protect him. That all doesn’t stop him from lashing out on them if their chaotic antics hurt you, especially because of your delicate body. He argues heavily with you when you insist to do something which he knows your body won’t handle and at one point just snaps, slight paranoia shining through.

☕️He feels sorry afterwards but knows that he’s in the right. Ciel tries to be softer and more spoiling to you in other areas as a sort of attempt to distract you from the sadness of the inability of your own body. Your room is designed to be comfy and cozy with minimal risk of you hurting yourself. There are events where you two do go out but you’re never allowed to stray away from him as he keeps an eye on your condition sharply. When he catches yet another bruise on your body, he will end up interrogating you how and where you got it. The whole mansion is over time (y/n)-proofed for you only to decrease chances of you hurting yourself. He treats you like glass at most times.

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛It’s pure and unaltered overprotective instincts speaking out of the demon because his human mate is such a delicate thing. He feels the constant need to be around you to protect you from everything that could even bruise your skin or hurt and damage you even the slightest bit. When he catches a good glimpse of your bruises and scratches the first time, you swear that you hear a low growl rumbling deep inside his chest. He still has a contract with his master but at times he seems slightly tense, subtle glances outside and at the clock. As soon as the demon is free to go, he’s rushing to you to check on you. It isn’t very often that he’s ever made a great fuss about someone but he does exactly that when he’s with you.

🐈‍⬛The demon becomes essentially your doctor who bandages every little injury and makes ointment himself to help the bruises you have. He is able to sense your disappointment and sadness because your body holds you back from doing the most basic things but Sebastian is firm in his decision to minimize the risk of you hurting yourself. Whether you like it or not, you’re his mate and he can’t let you risk your health. Sebastian keeps you fairly isolated and to himself as he’s coddling over your fragile condition. He could almost enjoy this in a way, him as your sole caretaker, if it wouldn’t be for the constant injuries. It isn’t normal nor healthy which only makes him more protective, worried for your wellbeing. He’d like to call himself patient but it’s likely he’s tempted to kidnap you faster because of your weak physical body.

🐈‍⬛He’s clingy, barely leaves you alone when he’s with you and is staring at you just to ensure that nothing happens. Your sadness doesn’t fly over his head though as he tries to entertain you otherwise. He gets you books, reads to you, if you enjoy music he’ll play something for you. The demon himself is more careful with his own physical affection simply because he knows that you can’t handle much. Normally he’d love to bruise you with bites and kisses but he has to hold back as you are unable to endure that. He still needs some skin-ship so he often holds you softly in his arms. He’s quite aggressive if someone accidentally hurts you, even if just by accidents since his overprotective instincts just ring loudly the moment you get harmed.

Reiji Sakamaki

☕️Reiji is the worst one in here which is essentially boiled down to two main reasons. The first one is that he’s such a perfectionist and has high expectations on his s/o. Surely they’re special because otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten obsessed with them. Their frail body is such a big thorn in his eyes though and he’s not one to hide his obvious displeasure because of it. Especially in the beginning he openly shows his dissatisfaction and it makes you feel down because you know that he’s blaming you too for not having done more to fix your body. The vampire dedicates his time into brewing together medicine to increase your physical health and you’re forced to consume it daily.

☕️He even watches you just to make sure that you really take it. You’re on a strict schedule as it is. A healthy diet, physical workouts to slowly strengthen your bones and the time where you go to bed and get enough rest. Reiji is a controlling individual and wants his partner to be perfect in every aspect. Another big problem is that Reiji is a sadist and will punish his s/o if they misbehave. He’s not as dumb and impulsive as to let that get the better of him if he’s confronted with your weak body. If he goes too harsh, chances are that he will cause you permanent damage and he does not wish to be responsible if he ruins you. He will still lecture and teach you better if you behave like an ungrateful brat. You should thank him for even bothering with a helpless case like you.

☕️He’s huge in degrading you for your condition and making you feel like you’re a burden because of it. Harshly sucking your blood so that it hurts is also always an option although he makes sure that you always consume enough nutrition to ensure a healthy blood flow. You end up with large bruises on your neck and shoulder though whenever he does this. Examines your body all the time for new bruises and is always questioning you sternly when he sees a new one. All your clothes are covering you up completely to hide all the bruises because he doesn’t want his brothers to look and make unnecessary comments. He is more lovely when he softens up, treats you nicer and far more delicate, indulges in little wishes of yours as he stops blaming you for your fragile body.

[skyward-floored]

Hello!!

Um…

I really loved that one fic you wrote called “caged” with fable and legend, and I also really liked the sequel. I love how you described the scenes, it was really fun to read!

I saw that you were talking with another user about how legend got into the castle, and you mentioned that he probably got in through the secret passage way that he knows from alttp

I was wondering if maybe you were thinking about writing a prequel to that fic?

Maybe about how the chain lands in Legends Hyrule and they see Hyrule castle looming in the distance, perhaps under a spell of some kind and legend immediately runs towards it to find he can’t enter normally and he tells the chain that he does know of a way in. So they enter through the secret passageway and perhaps legend gets some flashbacks to alttp as they’re fighting monsters (or maybe brainwashed guards) and looking for fable.

It’s just a suggestion tho! I’m aware you have other stuff to do, so…

Uh anyways, I really liked this years whumptober fics a Lot too, they were all amazing! You are really such a talented writer!

That’s all, hugs!!🫂🫂🫂

I hope you have a nice day

So I wasn’t really thinking about writing a prequel at all, and I don’t do requests really but... well. The idea intrigued me, and I sat down and started writing, and this came out 😅

It’s minimally edited and certainly not my best work, but hey, it’s something. I hope you enjoy the little prequel anon, and thank you for the kind words :)

Caged

The sequel (Aftermath)

———————————————————

Again.

Again.

It was all Legend could think of as he stared at the castle in the distance, dread and anger and too many emotions for him to name making his hands shake.

They’d just exited a portal, landing in his Kakariko, and the relief of being back in his own time was immediately overshadowed by the oppressive dark magic in the air. Impa had found them soon after, and explained with a worried look in her eyes about a wizard who had tricked them, and overtaken the castle.

With Zelda inside.

The blood had begun to roar in Legend’s ears as Impa explained further, but he was barely listening anymore, his head spinning and chest tight with anger.

She’s in danger again, the kingdom’s in trouble again, and I wasn’t here to protect—

“Legend, what should we—?”

He took off.

He ignored the shouts of the others, the calls for him to wait up, and booked it towards the castle, his pegasus boots making it impossible for the other heroes to keep up with him. Rain had begun to fall at some point, but Legend didn’t let it stop him, not even when he nearly wiped out in a puddle.

He reached the castle gates in mere minutes, and banged a fist on the doors. They were shut tight though, sealed with magic that Legend knew he wouldn’t be able to break. But he pounded against them anyway, took out one of his rods and blasted at it, tried his rings and items and all sorts of things before finally kicking at them with an angry yell.

The others had caught up to him by then, and they joined his side, split evenly between looking at him and looking up at the gates.

“How are we going to get in?” Wind asked a little hesitantly, and Legend sighed, swiping some drops of rain off his face.

“I know a way.”

He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but it looked like it was the only way they could get inside.

Legend led them all around to the east side of the castle, the group’s weapons drawn and eyes squinted through the rain for any enemies. It was only a passing shower, not a torrential thunderstorm like the last time he’d used this passage, but the similarities still made Legend tense.

History sure does love repeating itself.

More then one concerned look was shot his way as they went, but Legend ignored them, as well as the memories that were trying to claw their way to the forefront of his mind. He had a job to do and a princess to save, and he wasn’t going to get lost in his head.

Even though this was at least the fourth time he’d done this and he was so tired of evil striking at his kingdom and the people he loved and having to stop them again and again. He wasn’t going to think about it.

Not now.

They didn’t run into any monsters on the way to the other side of the castle, which made Legend suspicious, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He quickly revealed the secret passage that would lead them inside, and gestured the others in.

“That’s convenient,” Wild commented, and Warriors studied the passage in interest.

“Are you the only one who uses this tunnel? Seems like a security risk.”

“Only a few people know it exists,” Legend replied, then dropped in so he wouldn’t have to continue the conversation.

Legend took the lead as they began to walk down the tunnel, and kept himself several paces in front of the others, his shoulders slowly hitching upward.

Water dripped as they walked along the passage, running on the edges and making the floor damp. There weren’t any monsters in this spot either, which made it easy for Legend to stride as quickly as possible past the spot where his uncle had breathed his last.

He hated being down here. He hated the reason he was down here and the slimy feel of the floor under his boots, and the smell in the air and the squeak of rats he hated it.

And was it his imagination, or was he smelling blood?

“Legend?”

Legend breathed in sharply as a hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked over at Twilight, the older hero giving him a searching look. They were nearly to where the dungeons connected, he didn’t want to stop now.

“You alright?” Twilight asked, and Legend let out a bitter laugh.

“Sure, I love coming home to find out the kingdom got taken over in my absence. And nobody knows what happened to my Zelda, and getting to tromp around in the sewers, I’m having the time of my life, thanks,” he snapped. “What’s one more crisis for the kingdom of Hyrule?”

Twilight’s hand didn’t leave his shoulder. “Legend.”

Legend stopped in his tracks and glared back at Twilight, gripping his sword so tightly he was sure it was leaving lines in his palms. “What.”

“We’ll save her, Legend,” Twilight said firmly, and gave his shoulder a bracing squeeze. “You’re not alone. You’ve got us this time— whatever this wizard is capable of is no match for all nine of us. We’ll save Zelda, and the kingdom. We’ll stop this together.”

Legend stared, then looked behind Twilight to where the rest of the Links were standing, and they all gave him equally determined looks. Their eyes were bright and fierce, and full of just as much resolve to save Zelda as his own were.

Legend felt his eyes sting, but he forced himself to blink the tears back, and nodded at Twilight, breathing out as some of the emotions storming in his chest eased a bit.

Twilight released his shoulder, and Legend turned back around, waving them all onward.

“Only a bit further to the dungeons. We’ll check for Zelda there first, but if she’s not there, we’ll... we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Legend said firmly. “Finding her is our biggest objective. The wizard comes second.”

The others nodded as they crossed through a doorway, and Legend squared his shoulders, shoving away the rest of his anxiety and terror and digging up the courage in his chest that had gotten him through six adventures already.

We’re coming Zelda, hold on, he thought desperately, shouting a warning back to the others as they reached the dungeons, and an enemy’s sword nearly took his head off.

Please be okay.

[roosterbruiser]

𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 ☿ 𝟓

☿ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐧) ☿ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You film your first scene. Jake wants to celebrate at the disco. ☿ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.5k ☿ 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 ☿ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 ☿ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☿ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭--𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝟎𝐬--𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟑𝐫𝐝, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗 𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐂𝐀

Expansions by Lonnie Liston Smith is playing while Rooster fucks you in front of a camera for the first time. 

You’re bracing yourself on a flimsy school desk, panties and plaid skirt at your ankles and white button-down entirely undone and exposing your torso. Rooster’s naked all except for a pair of thick framed glasses and a tie, which is Dennis’ attempt to make Rooster look like a schoolteacher. 

At the very least, the set is clean and small. You’re inside a warehouse of sorts outside of LA, on a proper sound stage. It’s warm--not as warm as it is outside, but warm enough that they keep having to throw your hair back out of your face. You’re not sure if it’s the lights or the amount of people crowding the room or the smoke or the excitement that’s making it so warm--you don’t really have time to think about it.

This sex doesn’t feel very different for you--not entirely. Yes, there is a camera and there is a crew. People are smoking cigarettes and cigars and sipping on bourbon while they watch Rooster fuck you. There are bright lights above you and you’re wearing just about the ugliest school girl uniform you can imagine--which you would never wear. You’ve been going at this for hours now, only stopping to eat tuna salad and rehydrate. But otherwise, the sex feels fucking good. It feels really fucking good.

You’re turned on--you are always kind of turned on--but this time it feels especially gratifying. Hours of cunnilingus and handjobs and fingering and position switches and now you’re finally able to close Rooster inside of you, hold him against you as he fucks you. You were aching for it before he sunk into you. He could tell how bad you really wanted it, that you weren’t acting, that you weren’t like the other girls with the faux fuck-me eyes he usually shot with. And honestly, it made him all the more harder. Even if he knows that he’s going home with you, that you’re going to be living with him, he can’t get enough of you. He’ll seize any opportunity to fuck you. 

“Gonna have to earn that -A, baby,” Rooster says, gripping the bend of your hips as he pounds himself into you. He watches your entire body jolt as you take every thrust, watches your eyelashes flutter and your pigtails quiver. “Think I just give out grades for free, huh?” 

“No, Mr. Bates--oh, fuck--I’m gonna be a good girl and-and earn it,” you moan out, pushing yourself against Rooster’s body. 

“Perfect,” Dennis grunts from his spot beside the camera, shaking his head in wonder as Rooster drives his cock into you over and over again. “Why don’t we spank a few times? Nothing serious,” Dennis says. 

Rooster pauses momentarily, gasping when you clench around him and glance at him over your shoulder. Your sweet face is adorned with minimal makeup, which is supposed to aid in you looking young. And you do look young--because you are young.

“That okay, kid?” 

It’s a courtesy Rooster gives all his scene partners, but he doesn’t call the rest of them kid.

You nod, swallowing hard.

“More than okay,” you answer, biting your lip.  

You’ve never been spanked before, not sexually. But you’re not going to let that show: you’re a professional now. Dennis loves you, has been fawning over you and bragging about you all fucking day, and you’re gonna show him that you’re fucking down. You’re down for anything. You’re Cherry fucking Arsan and you don’t say no

“Told you she’s got a beautiful mouth,” Dennis mutters to the cameraman, cutting a cigar and striking a match. “Tell her she’s being punished, Rooster. She’s been bad.”

This is when Rooster is usually on autopilot. He thrusts, kisses, curls, pumps, pants, licks, spits, pinches, grabs, gropes while thinking about what he’s going to have to drink when he gets home or if the Bills are gonna be in the Superbowl this year. But he can’t go on autopilot with you--which is something he discovered only a few hours ago. He is achingly inside of his own body when he’s with you, feeling every single bit of your flesh and muscle and wetness, filling you up. 

What’s peculiar is that while he’s thoroughly enjoying fucking you, he’s looking forward to when this is all said and done. He’s gonna take you to In-N-Out and buy you a burger, take the long way home through the winding palm tree-lined valley, take a shower with you, invite some friends over, light up some cigars, and just spend the night talking. You’re a conversationalist, someone who seems to know a little bit about everything, someone who is always listening with wide eyes and a bitten lip. 

“Won’t be too rough,” Rooster tells you through grit teeth, squeezing your hip. 

You don’t really mind if he is, though--but you smile all the same, humming. 

“I’ve been so bad, Mr. Bates,” you moan out, throwing your head back. “Are you gonna hit me with your paddle?” 

“I broke my paddle on another student,” Rooster answers and you pretend to gasp. You’re doing very well--better than anyone could’ve expected. “I’ve gotta use my hand on you, girl.”

When his hand first comes down, it’s at the same time he delivers a particularly deep thrust. The shock sends you forward, jolts the desk. The pain is there--a sting, heat pooling in your cheek. But then he smooths his hand over the spot, very subtly so that only you can detect it, and grips your hip again. 

“Oh, that’s so good,” you whimper, which is entirely true and real. You like it. You like being spanked. “Fuck, Mr. Bates. Please, do it again.”

Rooster bites down hard on his lip, glancing at Dennis, who nods rapidly at Rooster and motions for him to do it again. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, your knees just about ready to buckle, when he spanks you again. The slap is loud--its bark worse than its bite--and again, he smooths his hand over the spot and gives you a delicious relief. 

“Fuck,” you whine, panting. You feel like this is getting you close, a heat rising up from your toes and spreading all across your skin. “Fuck.”

Rooster’s throat is tight with arousal. You sound fucking pitiful, like you need release, like you want something that only he can give. He knows that sound, has become acquainted with it.  

So, he reaches down and presses his hand between your legs, letting his pointer and middle finger circle your clit. You jolt again, but then press yourself into him further and arch your back. 

“Just like that,” Dennis encourages, eyes widening at the breath caught in your mouth and the way your hips buck to meet Rooster’s thrusts. “Keep doing her like that, Rooster. Just like that.”

Rooster wants to talk to you the way he does when you’re fucking at home--wants to say your name and tell you that he wants you to cum. He wants to be closer to you, wants to let his body rest over yours. He wishes that you were facing him, that he could take your nipple in his mouth. But this is okay for now--he’s okay with watching your knuckles turn white and listening to those beautiful sounds falling from your parted lips. 

“Shit, you gonna make her cum?” Dennis laughs jovially, shaking his head in wonder. “Tell him how close you are, Cherry.” 

“I’m so close, Mr. Bates,” you pant, chest heaving. You want to reach back and hold him, but something keeps your fingers firmly curled around the desk instead. 

Rooster is still steadily pounding into you, eyes trained on that red handprint on your cheek, fingers circling your clit as you clench around him and cry out desperately. 

“Fuckin Hell,” Dennis mumbles to his assistant. “How good do they look, huh? Fucking perfect.”

When Rooster cums, letting his chest rest against your delicate back as he pulses and spills inside of you, you’re grinning and gasping. He’s holding onto you tightly, his hands sore from coming down on your rear so relentlessly at the direction of Dennis. You’re sore, too--but you don’t mind it. 

Everyone starts to clap for you, Dennis releasing an ear-piercing wolf-whistle that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention.  

“How was I?” you whisper to Rooster, catching his gaze. His glasses are sliding down his nose, his tie loose around his flushed throat. He swallows hard, laughing, then presses a kiss to the middle of your shoulder blades. “Was I outta sight?” 

“You were fab, baby,” Rooster tells you. He pulls away from you just enough to let his cock slide out and then holds your waist as you straighten up. “Really somethin’.” 

When you stand up and look out at all the men in front of you, all the mustaches and sideburns and corduroy and hairy chests and glassy eyes, something tingles in your belly. It’s like moving into a new home, understanding that things are unfamiliar now but will soon become a common fixture in your life. And as they all clap for you, grinning, you know this is something you’re going to see often. 

So, with cum dripping down your legs, you take a bow. 

Rooster’s still holding onto your waist, shaking his head softly as your pigtails swing wildly. He’s seen that grin of yours before--he likes it. It’s toothy and real, very wide and sweet. But something in his chest feels heavy when he realizes that you’re giving it to all of these jackoffs. 

“She’s my new moneymaker!” Dennis calls gleefully, hobbling over to you and holding your naked waist with his beefy hand. “Cherry, you’re a fucking goddess, baby!” 

When Dennis’ hand lands on your rear, where he gives a few lewd squeezes, you don’t pull away from him. You don’t do anything except grin and laugh. But Rooster sees it--sees him groping you. 

“Stellar,” Rooster says softly, nudging himself against you and away from Dennis. Dennis pretends not to notice and you just beam up at Rooster. “Let’s rock and roll, Cherry.” 

You feel like you’re on top of the fucking world. 

Rooster drives home with the top down and lets the warm air kiss your face and throat as you throw your arms in the air and cry out your name: I’m Cherry fucking Arsan! Every single nerve in your body is alight with excitement, with pleasure. Dennis handed you a check for $1700 and it’s tucked in your bra now--you swear even the paper is hot, burning your skin. 

“Oh, I feel fucking amazing right now!” You shout, pushing the straps of your tank-top down so your perfect tan won’t be broken up by thin straps of pale skin. “Oh, God, baby! This is the life you’ve been living since you were eighteen? Goddamn! I missed the fucking memo! I just wanna--ugh, I wanna fucking scream!” 

Rooster, with his shades and another expensive turtleneck intact now, chuckles with a grin adorning his lips. He has a hand on your thigh, where he’s rubbing circles there with his thumb, and Joni Mitchell on the radio. 

“Scream, then!” He tells you. 

You look at him--all that beautiful man in this beautiful car under the beautiful sky. You think about the check in your bra. You think about opening up your own bank account. You think about taking another bump of coke. You think about fucking Rooster whenever you want to. 

And then you fucking scream. Arms up, chest tight, throat open, mouth wide, eyes shut--you scream into the wide open air all around you. Rooster’s in stitches, his ears ringing, as your holler echoes all along the valley.

“Christ, kid!” Rooster laughs, squeezing your thigh. “You’ve got a set of lungs on you!” 

Your entire body feels loose now as you lean over to rest your head on Rooster’s shoulder. You smell like sweat and sex, which is a scent that Rooster is so accustomed to now that he hardly even realizes it.

“Oh, I know,” you giggle, plucking the shades off his face and putting them on to shield you from the sun overhead. “I’m a screamer.”

Rooster smirks. 

“Oh, I know,” he teases. He’s squinting at the sun now, but you look too darling in his oversized glasses to take them back. “Thought we could grab some burgers and have some company tonight. How’s that sound?” 

You know that by company he means the usual crowd--which means Jake, which means another bump if he’s feeling generous. At the very thought of it, saliva pools under your tongue. 

“Sounds groovy to me, baby!” 

Rooster’s happy--he’s really, really happy. You’re snuggled up right beside him, singing along to Joni Mitchell, wearing his sunglasses, blinking at the sun, his scent thick on your skin. You’re happy, too--you’ve got more money in your bra than your daddy’s ever seen all at once, you’ve just been fucked, you’re gonna do a bump with Jake, and the sun is shining. 

It’s a perfect day. It feels like the makings of a perfect life.

Jake is already waiting for you and Rooster in the living room. He let himself in a few hours ago, helped himself to a couple beers, turned on a record, and has been laying out on the couch waiting to hear that front door open. 

And when he hears those familiar sounds, he sits straight up with a grin on his face, searching for you. There you are, just beside Rooster, dressed in a little pink tank top and a pair of clogs. Your hair is wild--Jake can tell Rooster rode home with the top down--and your cheeks are pink with delight. You’re carrying an In-N-Out cup, which you’re still slurping from, and you’re laughing at something Rooster said. 

“Where’s mine?” Jake asks, eyebrows raised. 

Both you and Rooster’s gazes snap in his direction immediately, Rooter taking a subtle step in front of you and puffing out his chest before he realizes oh, it’s just Jake.

“Jake!” You call out, dropping the milkshake on the tile as you skitter towards the couch with your arms wide open. 

You’ve grown very fond of Jake since you’ve met him--he’s clicked into your life just as easily and quickly as Rooster has. And Jake has grown just as fond of you, stopping by Rooster’s pad more often than before.

Something stings Rooster’s cheek watching you skip over to Jake like you are.

But then he bites his lip hard and looks at the tile, shaking his head.  

“Cherry, you spilled your milkshake!” Rooster whines, grabbing the discarded cup. 

Strawberry clops onto the tile that Rooster just had cleaned, but when he looks up and sees you grinning apologetically over your shoulder as your clogs echo throughout the house, he knows he won’t stay mad.  

“Get your pretty little ass over here, girl!” Jake insists, opening his arms for you. 

Jake assists in holding onto your waist and hoisting you over the back of the couch and on top of his body, where you fall into a fit of giggles as you kiss his face and tangle your hands in his hair. He’s warm and soft--he smells like weed and patchouli. 

Rooster crosses the house to throw the shake away, grabbing some paper towels as you and Jake kiss each other hello fervently. 

“Did you miss me or something, baby?” Jake asks. 

He watches the column of your throat as you laugh and sigh happily, your head tipped back. There’s a spot of shake just by the corner of your mouth and before you can answer him, he leans up and licks it off. 

“Strawberry?” He asks, smacking his tongue. 

“Mhm,” you tell him. “Want some more, baby?” 

You offer him the little bit of your hair that dripped in the shake and he sucks it clean while you bite your lip. 

“You two are gnarly,” Rooster sighs, slumping down on the sofa behind you.

He wishes that he was under you--but he knows that he’s being selfish. He gets you all of the time. Hell, he just got you for four hours. He got all of you for four fucking hours. And, somehow, he got paid for it.  

“Perfect for each other,” you tease, squeezing Jake’s pecs. “How’d you get in?”

“Rooster never locks the back door,” Jake says, nudging Rooster. “Not even after all that freaky deaky East Area Rapist shit.”

Rooster rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Do you know how far away Sacramento is, man? A whole fucking plane ride away. And we’re in one of the wealthiest suburbs in Los Angeles,” Rooster retorts. “Of course I never lock the backdoor.”

Jake pretends to mock Rooster and you laugh, sinking your weight onto him. 

“How was it, baby? Gimme the skinny,” Jake says, pushing your hair behind your ears as you situate yourself on his lap, hands on his chest. “Don’t spare any details.”

“It was fucking groovy! Just, like, hours of fucking and then a round of applause and a paycheck at the end of it,” you tell Jake, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “Look at this.” 

You reach into your bra, grab the check, then wave it in front of Jake’s face with a flush over your chest and throat. Jake feigns impression, letting a low whistle fill the room as he reads the paper. 

“You’re a rich lady!” He grins. 

“Won’t need us to buy your threads anymore,” Rooster sighs, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Gonna get rid of us?” 

You scoff, letting yourself fall back until your head is on Rooster’s lap with your hips still planted over Jake’s. 

“Nah,” you tell Rooster, tracing the smile that’s biting his lips with a careful finger. “Need you to show me how to open a bank account. And someone to buy me caviar.” 

Rooster bites down softly on your finger and you laugh, kissing his arms and chest. 

“Was it just you two?” Jake asks, drifting his finger from your belly button up your chest. 

You shiver at his touch--you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to being touched so much all the time. You love it. It makes you feel like you’re living in a dream, something wrapped in cotton and confetti.

“Yeah, man,” Rooster answers. “It was her first gig. Dennis wouldn’t throw her to the wolves like that.” 

He’s not telling the truth--Dennis would throw you to the wolves like that and very easily, too. Dennis tossed around the idea of today’s shoot featuring Rooster and three other men--all of which would run a train on you. But Rooster carefully coaxed Dennis away from the idea over coffee a few days ago, convincing Dennis that just you and Rooster would sell just as much as a gang-bang. 

He doesn’t want to scare you, though--not when you’re already diving head first into this industry and his life. He’s guilty, almost, knowing that he isn’t telling the full truth. But he figures that as long as he’s around, you’ll be okay. You’ll be good. He’s too fond of you to let anything bad happen. And, anyway, wasn’t he the one that sat behind you and let you sign that contract? 

Jake knows Rooster is bullshitting, at least a little bit. But it isn’t his prerogative to shed light on his friend’s discrepancy. 

“Well, we’ve gotta celebrate somehow,” Jake tells you, squeezing your hips.

“I already had my first In-N-Out burger,” you grin, patting your belly. “What else could I possibly want?” 

Rooster pinches your cheek and you grin up at him. You’re teasing him--he loves that you’re always teasing him.  

“Let’s go to Bell Bottoms!” Jake says suddenly, a grin devouring his face. When you perch a brow at him, when Rooster sighs, he continues, “It’s the best disco joint in LA.”

At the sheer notion of going to the disco, your body is on fire. You’ve always wanted to go to the disco: dancing, drinking, sweating, singing, fucking. It all sounds so fucking glamorous. Your toes are numb just thinking about stepping into that foggy joint, just thinking about grinding yourself between Jake and Rooster.

But Rooster doesn’t like the disco. 

He’s frowning, watching your body tense with excitement, watching Jake grin at you and twirl your hair around his fingers. 

“Oh,” Jake suddenly says, catching Rooster’s less-than-enthused gaze. He glances at you and then nods to Rooster’s frown. “Forgot the old man doesn’t like the disco.” 

Fuck. 

You shoot around, bottom lip puckered and eyes wide. You scramble to move yourself onto Rooster’s lap, straddling him, sinking your fingers into his hair. Helplessly, he holds onto your hips and lets your weight sway him. 

“C’mon, Daddy Warbucks,” you whine, nudging your nose against his, “take your little orphan out for a spin! C’mon! I’ve got boogie shoes now!” 

“We’ll make it worth your while,” Jake adds from behind you, smiling at Rooster. “And by that I mean the first round is on Cherry!” 

You nod vehemently--you have the money now and you intend to spend it on the people that you love. And you love Jake and Rooster; you love them so much that your heart could burst.

Rooster contemplates for a moment, still frowning. You’re kissing all over his face now like a puppy, muttering out little please’s as you cuddle up against his warm form. 

“C’mon,” Jake encourages, smoothing his mustache. “She’s never been to the disco! Take this girl dancing!”

Rooster looks at you, pouting and smiling all at the same time, and then sighs. How could he ever say no to you? This might be an issue. 

“Alright,” Rooster relents, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take you dancing, kid.”

Just as you finish shimmying your mascara on your lashes, Rooster appears in the mirror behind you. He’s wearing a suede jacket and a tight-knit sweater, his shades low on his nose and his curls gelled. 

“Well, well, well,” you tease, smiling at him through your reflection, “you clean up mighty nice, Rooster.” 

He crosses his arms, leaning against the door. He would tease you back if he could get his voice to work--but he can’t, not when you look as fucking beautiful as you do right now. Your eyes are glittery and big, your cheeks are pink, your chest is glimmering, your heels are high, and your hair is perfectly straight. You look much older right now than you did earlier on set--thank God. Rooster doesn’t like it when you look like such a young thing. 

“So I’ve been told,” he finally breathes, letting his eyes drag down your body. “You look dynamite, baby.” 

You shake your ass at him a bit, grinning. You’re so excited that your nerves are vibrating. It was difficult to apply your eyeshadow with the tremble in your hands, but you did it. And now you’re almost bouncing. 

“Thanks,” you tell him, carefully applying lip gloss. “Like the dress?” 

Your dress is the color of a tangerine, made entirely of sequins. The neckline dips low and the hem stops short on your thighs. But the sleeves--the sleeves fan out elegantly into bells. It’s a perfect dress, one that you bought without even trying on because you just knew. 

“Shit yeah,” Rooster grunts, smoothing his fingers down your arm. 

You grin.

He watches you silently, just breathing you in. Everybody’s gonna want you at Bell Bottoms. Everybody already wants you anywhere, everywhere. And he knows that you aren’t his to keep--you’re not anyone’s to keep--but he wants to keep you here, in his house, close to him. 

“How many times’ve we fucked now?” Rooster asks softly. 

Humming, you scrunch your brows. 

“Well, what do you classify as fucking?” 

“Full penetration,” Rooster answers. 

You laugh. 

“Hmm,” you start, tutting. “Well, there was the first time in the office--you know, with Dennis. And then, what, about a dozen times since? Twice on New Years. Once today, right? So, like, I don’t know. A steady fifteen? Twenty?” 

He hums, swallowing. He can hear Jake in the living room, rummaging through the bar and making himself some cocktail that he shouldn’t be mixing with all the cocaine he’s ingested. 

“Right,” Rooster nods. He steadies himself on his feet, clearing his throat. “So, you like fucking me then, right?”

He hasn’t ever asked anyone that in his life because he’s always just known. And, really, he knows that you do enjoy fucking him. He’s asking because of earlier. He’s asking because you dropped everything in your hands to run to Jake, to kiss Jake, to love on Jake. And it isn’t necessarily that he’s jealous--but envious. He’s envious. You haven't truly gotten the opportunity to miss Rooster yet and he knows that. But his heart is heavy now and he wants to hear you say it: you like fucking him. 

You pause immediately, letting your eyes fall to his in the mirror. He’s looking at you completely earnestly, maybe even a bit sheepishly. But he isn’t letting his gaze falter, isn’t letting his eyes fall from your pretty ones. 

“Roo,” you start softly, finally facing him and letting your back rest against the sink, “I don’t like fucking you. I love fucking you.”

His cheeks grow warm with delight. But you’re looking at him very seriously, your brows knit and your head tilted. You’re very serious about what you’ve just said--because you’re very serious about sex. 

“Just had to make sure I was going your speed,” Rooster says, trying to sound casual. He doesn’t, though. “Don’t want you to have to fuck, you know, an old man.”

You feel it then--guilt. It’s like a warm glass of water being poured down the front of your dress and settling in a puddle at your heels. 

“Oh, baby,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. He’s still blinking sheepishly, his heart sitting in his throat, as you stroke his face gently. “I don’t have to fuck anyone. Not outside of work, right? I want to fuck you. I always want to fuck you, baby.”

You’re telling the truth. Rooster is the best sex you’ve ever had in your life and it doesn’t really come close. Sure, you like fucking Jake and you liked fucking all those other men back home. But with Rooster it’s different--he’s attentive and driven, almost gentlemanly in his insistence that you cum before he does.

Rooster is searching your face: your knit brows, your pouty lips, your glassy eyes. He knows you’re telling the truth. He’s embarrassed for a moment that he even asked and gave himself away, but then you’re pressing your lips against his, curling your fingers in his hair. 

“You’re the fucking man,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and sultry against his mouth. 

He moans without even meaning to, his fingers digging into the rough sequins on your hips. Jesus fucking Christ--just to hear it fall from your lips, it makes his spine tingle. You recognize the chill, you see the way his eyes flutter shut, you see the way his breathing stutters. He likes it. What man wouldn’t like his ego stroked just a little bit?

“Oh, Cherry,” he mutters against your lips, smiling softly. His mustache rubs against your Cupid’s bow just right, getting mucked with gloss. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t want to ask you to say it again--but he wants to hear it again. Just the notion that the coolest fucking girl he knows thinks so highly of him makes his entire lower half go practically numb. 

“You’re the fucking man, Bradley,” you tell him, really meaning it. You’ve used his real name very sparingly since he gave it to you a couple days ago--you just think Rooster suits him. But when he hears you say it, his head tips back and his jaw goes slack. “I mean it, baby, I’m not fucking with you.” 

You can feel his hardening cock pressing against your dress now and it makes you smile. Just your words, just your breath, just this dress and it’s enough to make him hard. And that thought makes you wet again, makes your thighs press together. 

Maybe you’re aroused, too, because of how fervently you mean it. You don’t like to stroke men’s egos if you think you’re not going to get anything from them. You like being fucked by men and you like penises, but you don’t necessarily like men. But Rooster--God, he might be one of the best people you’ve ever met. You know already, just like you know every day that California is where you’re supposed to be, that you’re going to know him for a long time. And he’s the fucking man. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bradley mutters, pressing your body against his. He’s thinking about the very first night you were here, when he picked your name, when you told him to imagine you were having sex again, when you got him started and left him out to dry. “You’re a fucking minx.”

“You’re not an old man,” you tell him, kissing his lips gently. His mouth is warm and wet and your gloss is transferring to his lips now. “But you’re my old man, right?”

You don’t know what you mean other than this is how you’re asking him if he’ll take care of you. You want him to take care of you--you want it more than anything in the world, you think.  

He isn’t sure what you’re asking. But he nods, pulling you tight against his body. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” he says against your lips. 

You like to hear men say that to you--but Rooster might be the first. Now you’re the one with a quivering chin, with a tingle running up your spine. Fuck.

By the time Jake comes round to your room, his hair freshly combed and his nose freshly blown, you’re pressing lingering kisses all along Bradley’s bare thighs and swallowing his thick ropes of cum. He’s leaning back against the door, his hands tangled in your hair, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every thick breath he takes. 

“I leave for a couple minutes and the two of you go at it again?” Jake asks, grinning at you and leaning against the doorframe. 

You press your face against Bradley’s warm thigh and sigh into all his expansive skin covering all that hard muscle. Even just blowing him, even just letting the head of his cock press into the back of your throat, even just swallowing his cum--it makes you feel closer to him. It makes you feel good. 

Rooster still has blood rushing past his ears from cumming so hard. It happened quickly, which isn’t something that happens often. You’re good with your mouth, though--too good almost.

“Fuck off,” Rooster grunts, panting still. He’s stroking your hair now as you just rest against his thigh. “Make yourself useful and get the car started, huh?” 

At that, Rooster tosses Hangman the keys. Hangman looks down at you, waiting for you to grin up at him or invite him on his knees beside you--but your eyes are shut. You’re just resting against the bare skin of Bradley’s thigh like it’s where you belong. You don’t even mind that you’re on your knees. 

Then it’s quiet again. It’s just you and Rooster and your lip gloss is smeared and he’s almost naked before you. There’s no hurry, there’s no rush. Things are just calm. He’s petting your hair, smoothing his palm over your silky hair over and over again. 

“Thank you,” you mumble to him, glancing up at him. 

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and sweet. 

Rooster’s throat is tight. 

“Kid, why are you thanking me?” He laughs, swiping his thumb across your jaw. “I should be thanking you.”

No one has ever thanked you for blowing them before. Your heart feels fuzzy, fuzzy and warm. You don’t know why you do it--why you wrap your arms around his leg and hug him close to your body, but you do. He doesn’t say anything about the sequins digging into his thighs and doesn’t think it’s strange that you’re hugging him. 

But when he’s all the way up there and you’re all the way down there, you look smaller than you ever have in his eyes before. A small and beautiful thing, holding him against you, relishing in the feeling of his leg hair against your soft cheek.

You’ve hugged a man’s leg like this before. Just one time, not very long ago. Except he was not naked and you did not have a pretty dress on. You were crying and he was, too. It doesn’t matter now, though, because with each day that flits past, you’re certain that you’ll never see that man again. Your daddy will stay in Nebraska and you’ll stay here.   

“Roo,” you whisper, “I wanna die in California.” 

His breath catches between his teeth. You say it with such calmness--you aren’t sad, you aren’t mourning. You’re just telling him something. 

“You will,” he says softly. “Eighty years from now.” 

You hum for a moment. Eighty years of this. Eighty years of his skin against yours. Eighty years of falling in love and getting fucked and eating burgers and getting paychecks. 

You sit back finally, lean your cheek into his palm. His eyes are soft, swimming with fondness. But he’s trying to read that strange serene expression all over your face. 

Softly, he wipes the wet mascara from under your eyes. When you kiss his fingers, rubbing your face against his hand like a loving cat, he nearly weeps at the softness that overwhelms his being. 

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” You ask, lashes battering against your cheeks. 

Men don’t stay with you forever. Not usually. Not before. 

“Where else would I go, kid?” He whispers. 

That’s a good enough answer for now. You’re the one that pulls his pants up, you’re the one that fastens his belt and zips his zipper. You’re the one that helps him tuck his sweater back into his pants.

“You know earlier, when I said thank you?” You ask as he helps you to your feet. He pulls you against his body, nodding gently as you cup his cheek. “I mean it. Thank you. For, you know…everything.” 

“It’s all gravy, baby,” he says, his breath fanning out over your face. 

Your thumb is rubbing the rough skin of his cheek soothingly like you’ve always been doing this.

“Good. Because I don’t think you can get rid of me.” 

Bell Bottoms is busy. Wall to wall, floor to mirrored ceiling, there are people dancing. It’s a sea of sweaty bodies dressed in corduroy and suede and silk and satin. It’s too dark to make out anyone’s face, too dark to differentiate one person from the other. 

It’s a smaller building--which Jake tells you makes it more exclusive. The bouncer, a big hulking man with a big hulking beard, claps Jake on the shoulder and lets all three of you past the velvet rope. And inside, everything is purple, red, green, yellow, blue, pink. It’s a kaleidoscope of neon, dazzling the velvet walls and the silver mirror balls on the ceiling.

Get Down Tonight by KC & The Sunshine Band is pulsing through the speakers. It’s so loud that you can feel every single word in your chest, in the soles of your feet. 

“I’ll grab us some drinks,” Rooster yells into your ear, manually stuffing your hand into Jake’s as Jake looks around excitedly, bobbing on his feet. Then he comes close to Jake’s ear and shouts, “Don’t let her go, man, alright?” 

And then Rooster is gone, shuffling through the sweaty bodies and hair and stepping in puddles of tequila that have been sloshed onto the floor. 

“Alright, baby,” Jake calls to you, holding both your hands in his and pulling your body against his. He’s high--excited, jittery. You look fucking beautiful in the dim glow of the room, like you’re a sculpture they had made for this exact spot. “You wanna bump?” 

Sinking your teeth into your lip, you nod excitedly. You’ve been waiting for him to ask. 

Honey, honey, me and you / And do the things / Ah, do the things / That we like to do

He shuffles the two of you against the wall and cages you in with his body. You’re grinning, kissing his face and sneaking peeks over his shoulder at the hustling crowd, the very lining of your stomach vibrating with excitement.

Jake’s happy that you want another bump--Bradley won’t ever get high with him and neither will any of the other friends. Maybe they’re all too old--or they think they’re too old--but you seem to be just the right age. Excited, young, new.

He tangles with the buttermints canister for a moment before he dabs his finger inside of it and then brings it to your lips. You’re already ready, grinning, barring your teeth for him. 

“You’re so fucking foxy,” he mutters, pressing his finger against your gums. 

There’s some sort of blissful relief in the movement of his finger in your mouth. The familiar taste of his skin and the new taste of flower petals on your tongue--you love it. You aren’t sure if you love it because it gets you high or if it’s because Jake is touching you. 

“There you go, baby,” he mutters to you, eyes heavy-lidded. “That’s gonna feel real nice when you’re dancing, huh?” 

Oh, do a little dance / Make a little love / Get down tonight, get down tonight 

When Bradley wanders back to the spot he left you, holding three glasses in his big hands, he can’t find you or Jake. But it only takes a moment or two before he sees you on the dance floor: you’re easy to spot when you’re the life of the party. 

And boy, are you the life of the party.

You’re in the middle of the neon dance floor, your dress reflecting every bit of technicolor that shines on you sporadically. You’re dancing like your life depends on it, throwing your hair back, leaving your throat open and your face serious. Every single swing of your hips, sway of your shoulders, bounce of your breasts--it’s enchanting. 

Jake’s right there with you, hands on your waist as you two grind against each other and everyone around you. He’s fucking high--he feels great and he knows you do, too. You’re a good dancer and he knows he is, too. He feels like the two of you are made for each other. 

Do a little dance / Make a little love / Get down tonight (Whoo), get down tonight (Baby)

And again, Rooster gets that feeling when he looks at you. You look tougher than everyone here--more beautiful, too. He thinks about you saying you want to die in California and his toes grow cold. He sits in a booth, leaves your drink close to his, and starts sipping on his Tom Collins. 

“I feel so fucking good,” you call to Jake, hands over his shoulders. Your heart is pounding and you’re sweating, but you feel like you can do anything right now. “Do I look so fucking good?” 

Jake grins, nodding fervently. 

“You’re the hottest fucking thing this dance floor’s ever seen!”

You laugh loudly, tipping your head back. 

Everyone is singing along and grooving, jiving. Everyone is touching you seemingly, the entire crowd moving in tandem. And when people touch you, you feel like they love you. Everybody loves Cherry Arsan. And Cherry Arsan loves everybody, too. 

“Let’s never leave each other,” you tell Jake, all the affection sitting hot in your chest suddenly spilling out of your mouth. Your eyes are teary as you hold his cheeks in your hands, still moving your shoulders along with the song. “Let’s just always be like this, alright?” 

“I wouldn’t leave you,” Jake says, his heart racing. “I fucking love you, Cherry!”

A certain pleasure prickles your skin at the words. 

He loves you--he means it. You know that.

“Say it again,” you moan, biting your lip. 

“I fucking love you,” Jake grins, peppering your face with kisses. 

It’s all you’ve really ever wanted--to be loved, adored. 

And because he’s high and he feels invincible and because you’re high and anything goes, you let him lift you. He wraps his arms around your thighs and you laugh wildly, bracing yourself against his shoulders. And then you’re up above everyone else, spinning, your head tipped back. 

You can see your reflection in the disco ball above you, all one thousand little squares of you. You’re fucking beautiful. Jake sinks his face into your belly and inhales you, grinning. He feels you flex with delighted laughter and holds you tighter. 

Then your head lulls at the perfect moment--you see Rooster sitting at a booth by himself, three glasses before him. He’s watching you, a smile tugging at his lips. You wave at him wildly, blowing him kisses and throwing your hair behind you. 

“I love you!” You call to Rooster, but it’s lost in the sound of the music. He doesn’t hear you. But you keep calling it to him. “I fucking love you!”

It’s well past three in the morning when Rooster carries you inside the house, Jake trailing behind him with a broken Elvis song falling from his lips. No one is entirely sober, least of all you and Jake. 

Almost all your makeup has melted off and your hair is matted to your face where you sweated from dancing all night. Jake’s holding your shoes and you’re softly scratching the back of Rooster’s neck, head on his shoulder, with your legs wrapped around his hips. 

“Wanna another drink?” Jake asks you, slurring slightly, as he toes his shoes off and closes the front door behind him. 

Rooster scoffs. 

“Man, you need to sleep it off,” Rooster says, frowning when you nod at Jake. “You, too, Saturday Night Fever.” 

“S’Wednesday,” you retort brokenly, yawning. 

Rooster rolls his eyes, carrying you to the couch as you kiss his neck. 

“It’s Thursday, baby,” he corrects. 

Jake is already rummaging around the bar, still singing to himself. He’s fading fast, he can feel it. But he wants to keep the party going--wants to feel all that life thrumming in his body, pulsing through his veins. 

“Got anymore Aperol?” Jake asks, vision bleary as he knocks into a few bottles ineffectively. 

Rooster sits on the sofa, expecting you to climb off him and sprawl you--you don’t, though. You just stay connected to him, your breaths hot and damp against his shoulder. He hugs you close to him, humming. You’re gonna have a Hell of a time tomorrow. 

“No,” Rooster lies. He wants Jake to just settle in for the night. “Why don’t you go take a shower, man? You’ll sober up.” 

“Don’t want to sober up,” Jake sighs, grabbing a glass and pouring the first liquor he can paw in it. “Sobriety’s for squares.” 

“I approve this message,” you mutter, blindly throwing a thumbs up in the air. 

Rooster scoffs. 

You sit up a bit, just enough to press your forehead against Rooster’s. You’re crashing--fading fast, he can tell. Now that the blow has worn off and the alcohol has settled in your belly, you’re almost done for. Your eyes are heavy and your limbs ache and your feet are sore, but you’re still so happy. 

“You didn’t dance with me,” you whine, pressing your fingers into Rooster’s cheeks.

“I don’t dance, kid,” Rooster says gently, stroking your flushed cheek.

“But don’t you break all the rules for me?” You pout, tracing his amused smile.

Jake sinks into the sofa beside the two of you, sipping on lukewarm peppermint schnapps. It’s even warmer going down, spreading across his belly. 

“Sometimes I do,” Rooster says softly, swiping the smudged lip gloss off your chin.

“Jakey danced with me,” you grin lazily, glancing at Jake, who’s humming with his eyes fallen shut. “He said he loved me, didn’t you?” 

“Fuck, yeah,” Jake grins, peeking an eye open to tussle your hair.

Rooster’s heart skitters for a moment. 

“See,” you pout, turning back to Rooster. You hold onto his shoulders, rub your nose into his. “Jake dances with me and he loves me. Don’t you love me, baby?” 

Rooster swallows thickly. 

“Of course I love you, baby,” he answers. 

He’s thinking about when the three of you sat on this sofa not long ago--when you and Rooster admitted to never being in love, when Jake talked about Gentry. He’s thinking about the way he watches you lay on Jake, the way you slinked away from him and into his arms. And he holds you tighter now, pressing his lips to yours. You taste like salt and sweat and vodka, your lips plump with sleep. 

He isn’t gonna let go of you tonight. He’s gonna stay right here, holding you against him. Because he does--of course he does--love you. He is almost entirely sure of it. Maybe not in the way he thought he would love someone, but in a way that makes his eyes heavy with salt.

“I know it,” you mutter to him, stroking his curls. “I know it.”

☿ 𝐚/𝐧: omg!!! the disco!! in this economy?? it's more likely than you think!!

☿ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

☿ 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠

☿ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬

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[fan-goddess]

Daring Youth

Pairing: Ettore x reader

Chapter Summary: Ettore suddenly gets hit with the realisation of what It exactly is that he wants. You.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, p in v sex, praise kink, f oral, dacryphilia, exhibition, breeding kink, teasing, fingering, choking, breath play, kinda ooc Ettore. If I missed any let me know!

Other Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five,

Taglist: @chainsawsangel, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @bel-bottoms, @omgbrcat, @targaryenrealnessdarling, @humanpurposes, @mushu-09, @toodlesxcuddles, @pendragora, @sylasthegrim

Authors Note: thank you all for joining on this fucked up Ettore story journey. This’ll be the final canon part of this universe before I announce the one shot non-cannon areas of this universe where you can ask whatever you want about this universe. Hope you enjoy reading this, even though I’m for some reason not a hundred percent satisfied with how it’s written 😅😊

Even as he’s waking up, the tastes of your cunt and your skin won’t leave him. The feel of his skin on yours leaves him constantly hard in his underwear. His cock, now unsatisfied with the usually pleasurable enough human warmth of his hand, practically jerks alive at the mere memory of you last night.

That morning, he couldn’t help but find himself staring at you. Admiring you even. The slightest sight of his mark that he left on you was visible from your shirt and it brought a satisfying feeling to bloom in his chest.

Yet when you lock eyes with him, it’s like there’s nothing there. It was like you just didn’t even see him, and it makes him very annoyed. It makes him really fucking pissed off actually. Where was the person he visited last night? The person who desperately clung to him while he willingly allowed himself to shove his seed in you? The you in front of him, is not the you last night. It’s like your this, fake imposter.

Even as you go past him to deposit your rubbish, you still don’t spare him another glance. He’s forced to watch as you walk away from him, his eyes seething deep into your skin. The thoughts of a punishment that come to mind leaves him smirking in his cups as he innocently sips on some unknown drink given to him.

The thoughts though definitely darken in variety as he looks for you. That small festering thing inside of his head whispering all sorts of ways to make you pay and to make you loyal to him when he can’t find you. His cock straining the more deeper his mind thinks into these fantasies.

When he does find you, purely by accident, his cocks seems to somehow stirs even more at the sight of your oblivious state. Your back turned to him while he quietly enters the small room and shuts the door behind him. Now, you’re locked in here with him.

You say something to him, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he murmurs illegible things to himself as he gets on his knees and tastes you. The feeling of your juices coating his tongue, and the feeling of your hands gripping his hair so hard it teeters on painful, nearly makes him lose it all there and then.

His hand joins though in the need to truly drink from you, and when he finally feels the wave of your pleasure flood his mouth as you cum, he honestly feels like he could drink straight from your cunt everyday if you let him. It was like the taste of you was akin to some type of addictive alcoholic drink that he honestly could never get enough of.

It’s so addictive. So addictive in game that Ettore can’t help but make sure to clean the rest of your cum from his face and his fingers so that he can truly savour the taste of you. Plus, when he pulls the minimal clothing he wears down to reveal himself to you, his ego swells at the sight of your hooded eyes looking at him all wanting and wanton. Like some common breeding bitch ready for the taking.

When he finally pushes himself inside of you though, he can feel his face scrunching up at the feeling of you sucking him in. It leaves him with that feeling of pure liquid heat running down the length of his spine. Scratch what he said earlier. It seems your entire body is addictive as hell, not just the taste of your cunt.

He practically has to try and muffle the sounds he so desperately wants to cry out as he fucks you harder and harder on the machine. Though soon, he finds his thrusts becoming sluggish and uncoordinated as he chases that feeling of his orgasm that creeps up on him.

As he looks down, it’s the sight of your arousal forming a creamy ring aroung his cock while he fucks you welcomes him, and Ettore has to admit that he has never seen a more arousing sight in his life. It practically begs for him to commit it to memory.

“I’m close” he hears you whine. He only looks up for a moment to admire you, your eyes almost looking as if they’re about to cry from the pleasure whilst your mouth opens in a silent moan.

Yet the sight in front of him is not enough. It’s not more ethereal than the sight of him impaling you over and over again and truly marking you his.

It’s a fleeing though that makes him sober for a minute. A thought that makes him realise he doesn’t want these moments to end. But he pushes them away quickly by laying a hand to the base of your throat and squeezing slightly in an admittedly possessive manner, and another trails to your arousal flooded cunt to draw lazy shapes on your swollen clit.

He wants to last. He wants to savour this feeling of you consuming his entire being whole. But once again he’s distracted from these deep longings. Only this time not by his own choice. This time he’s brought back to life by the feeling of you yanking his head up to your level and sinking your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. At the sudden extreme combination of pain and pleasure, that is what leaves Ettore moaning out loud at the sensation whilst his cum all of a sudden begins to flood and paint the your warm cunt.

It’s silent those moments after, the mixed breathes of him and you being the only things he can hear, and strangely he strongly hates it. The sensations of everything get to him. The sound of the lightbulb that leaves the whole room in a dim light, the feeling of the supposedly high-tech washing machine that makes him feel like his body is shaking. All of it feels like it’s getting louder and louder in this confined room. But then, Ettore finds himself wrapping his arms around you slightly, and as the warmth of your body consumes him it all seems to go away.

All Ettore can find himself able to focuse on, is the oddly satisfying softness of your skin, and the strangely satisfying feeling of your breath tickling his neck. It mixes with that slight stinging sensation from where you bit him, and it honestly near makes him laugh from fondness. Maybe he’s not the only possessive one in whatever the hell the two of you doing is…

That’s the moment when the softness of it all hits him. Him, of all people, is having his hair played with by a woman he’s just had some fucking amazing consensual sex with. He doesn’t fucking deserve it, he realises, nor do you deserve him…

It’s why he needs to leave you right now.

The realisation making his head feel like it’s going a million miles an hour while he dresses himself quickly and pretty much runs from the room, back to his room where he stays till morning the next day.

It felt strange to try and ignore you like you didn’t exist. During breakfast, he could feel your glares on him like a iron poker, and it’s a sick thrill as he welcomes the attention that you were willing to give him with practically open arms.

He could see the other girls on the ship talking to you, and with your attention taken away he couldn’t help but feel disgustingly wistful as he stared.

Though as you moved to dispose of your tray, his eyes roam greedily at your body your shirt rides up to display some your skin to him. Yet as hes staring he all of a sudden sees the medium sized bruising flesh of your middle body.

What the fuck was that?

He saw it only a few seconds before your arm went back down, and the shirt lifted down like a curtain in the middle of a show. Even still though, Ettore could already feel his blood boiling all over.

The bruise from what he had seen had already darkened to a colour similar to the darkness that loomed outside of the ships windows, and much to his relief, the bruise had no distinguishable shape.

As far as he could tell, it held no resemblance to a hand. Though that fact somehow managed to relieve him and anger him in one turn. Cause Ettore knows he didn’t grip your hips whilst he fucked you. The feeling of your thighs in his hands was imprinted in his memory so well he could replay the moment with his eyes closed, and yet the morning after there’s a substantial bruise there for him to see.

You couldn’t have fucked another guy after he left, could you? He fucking hopes you didn’t. He shares a quarters with two other men that he couldn’t be bothered to know the name of. The other man though, the one that Ettore knows is named Monte. Apparently he has his own private quarters for some fucking reason.

Though as he thinks about it, Ettore doesn’t know where Monte had been that night. Monte had the opportunity to touch you, and it really fucking annoys him. So much that he’s at the point where he’s debating on chasing you down to find out how the bruise happened.

He’d originally planned on leaving it till later. He wanted to calm down before he ruined everything, but then he saw the fleeting look you gave him. As you left, you looked behind and locked eyes with him, before rubbing the bruise and leaving. That… that is what set him off entirely.

It’s what made him leave his half eaten food at the table before storming after you. Whilst his eyes were dead set on your retreating figure, he could see the eyes of the women looking at him while they whispered.

Let them talk… he thought. Let them know it is you who belongs to only him and no one else. It’s a one off thought, but he hopes Monte sees him going after you too. Maybe he’ll get it in his thick head to not be such an interfering cockblock…

You turn around and look at him when you pause at the end of some corridor, probably heard his thundering footsteps. Your eyes turn hard with what Ettore thinks is hatred, and yet when they see his own eyes fuelled by hatred and anger, something else bubbles within them. Lust.

“Who the fuck left you that mark?” He snarls as he gets close enough to you. His fingers curl against the shirt to reveal your bruise, and he holds the offending fabric in his hand as if he wanted to tear it straight from your body.

“What are you talking about Ettore? Nobody gave me-“

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” The anger and rage that Ettore feels blinds him for a mere moment, and yet that is enough time for him to grab you by the waist and slam you against the wall behind you, no doubt disorienting you for a few seconds. Though if he felt any kind of regret from what he just did, then it must have been smothered by his rage.

His hand winds itself in your hair, and he makes sure to grip it so you can’t get away. The need to know overpowering any sense of his current humanity, if he ever had any in the first place.

Though when he locks eyes with yours, and he sees the tears that have begun to form from the sudden pain, he can’t help but feel his heart clenching at the sight. Though the thought is quickly pushed from his mind as he distracts himself from it by smashing his lips onto yours for the first time ever.

It’s rough and if he’s honest to himself it’s also down right feral. The way his teeth carelessly knock into your own, and how they sink into his lips, causing a deep groan echo through the empty halls.

Each of the two of yours hands are greedy on each other’s bodies, with no flesh being left untouched.

When Ettore detaches himself from your lips though to sink his teeth into the unclaimed side of your neck, whilst he simultaneously pushing deep into the bruise on your hip you so dutifully denied, the sound of your pain practically makes him shiver in delight all through his spine.

He can’t deny that he gets the urge to claim you in this very hallway. To make your moans and sounds of pleasure echo so loud that people like the woman who tried to help you, or even fucking Monte of all people, knows that you belong to him, and will always belong to him. But when he looks into your tear soaked eyes, his heart and his cock seem to ache in sync, which knocks all sense of coherence out the ships doors practically immediately.

His hand grasp around your wrists as he leads you to his room. The two men he shares with are always complaining about how long and hard their chores given to them are, but it’s practically near the start of the day.

Everyone will be too busy with their assignments to walk down the hall to hear the two of you…

As soon as they pass the door frame, Ettore can’t resist himself any more from claiming your lips again. And whilst the taste of your mouth currently drives him insane, there’s another taste he wishes to have smeared across his tongue aswell that’ll no doubt make him fucking feral.

His hands move to rip and tear at your clothing, so fast that practically no time has passed before he’s got you laid bare for him on his bed. Your legs already widening themselves to reveal your already dripping cunt to him.

“Desperate slut…” He murmurs with a smirk as his fingers trace over your inner thigh and ghosts over where you obviously desire him most.

He wants you to beg for him though. Some dark thing thats has taken root inside of him wants you to beg for him to touch you. To know that you want him to defile your body just as much as he wants to.

So after he’s teased your entrance with the ghost of his breath and the pad of his thumb a couple times, he’s very glad to hear the stumblings of pathetic sounding begs practically pouring from your swollen lips like a singing canary.

“Good girl.” He mutters, before quickly moving close to your cunt and sucking on your clit whilst he shoves his fingers as deep as he can inside of you to find the spot that makes women see stars. When his fingers do catch on that tough patch inside of you, judging by your sudden reactions he knows he’s found it.

The grip you had on his hair tightens as you keep him practically immobile between your thighs, and the moans and whines that sound from you seem to almost go up a pitch.

The time he spends between your though feels shorter than he’d like. As the next thing he knows he’s feeling as though he’s practically suffocating in your warmth as your cum dribbles into his open and willing mouth.

Ettore almost wishes he could spend more time licking the remnants of your juices that have leaked from your body. But the ache in his shorts reminds him of what he wants to do. No. What he needs to do.

So he does it.

Ettore pushes down his black shorts to reveal his aching cock, and lines himself up with your dripping entrance. It’s a glorious sight alright, but it’ll get a whole lot better once he’s stuffing his cock in you.

“Please…” He hears you murmur. “Please Ettore… Please fuck me…” and who is he to deny you? With a satisfied smirk, Ettore pushes his cock as deep as he can with a light groan, and relishes in the light pain the length of your nails gives him as you grip him.

Ettore has never had a woman whose been willing to fuck him before. Yet the feeling of your clenching cunt and the sounds of your willing body submitting to him is easily better than anything he’s ever felt in his whole life.

When he looks down to admire you, he can see you biting on your swollen red lips, and can’t resist himself from practically caging you with his body to kiss you again.

The sounds of your muffled moans echoes enough so if anyone was walking down the corridor, they would most definitely hear you. When he releases you and pulls away to look at you, a sick thrill runs down the length of his spine when he sees a small trail of saliva connecting his mouth to yours.

“Move…” You whimper. The dewy eyes that stare at him make him want to practically tear you apart from the inside out.

“What’s the magic word now brat?”

“Please…”

“Good girl” It was all he needed to hear before he began thrusting inside your wet heat like a mad man. Iron hot pleasure running down the length of his spine driving him insane with want and desire. The want to claim you. The desire to give you a much more permanent version of a claiming. A child who has your same dewey eyes.

Mindless moans release from both parties as the desire for release is chased. Ettore though finds himself chasing the feeling of your nails digging into the skin of his back as he thrusts into you harshly and without mercy. It felt as though he wanted to merge with you and become one.

A hand of Ettores finds itself wrapped around the length of your neck, and the feeling of satisfaction is immense as your nails dig into his skin deeper. If Ettore focused on what you were doing, he’d no doubt practically feel the scars of raised red skin already forming.

Another hand trails to your clit where he begins to repeat harsh circles. And when Ettore looks down to admire the sight, he has to refrain himself from cumming there and then when he sees the light white ring of your fluids on his cock as he thrusts deeper and deeper.

“You want to be my good slut huh? Then cum on my fucking cock and maybe I’ll give you my own cum to fill you until your fucking dripping of me…”

Your hips buck up to meet his thrusts as you seem moan in excitement, and your eyes almost seem to have glazed over in some kind of pleasure induced haze. In Ettores eyes, it was all he needed to hear and see before he ruined you for good.

His movements got rougher as his hips smacked into your own. The grip Ettore has on your neck tightens only by a little to make you almost breathless for him. When he looks up for a split second at the doorway, a fleeting thought hits where he almost wishes to meet the eyes of someone watching him defile you. The feeling of his cock aching at the thought drawing him back to the truly gorgeous sight in front of him.

“Fuck Ettore s-so good…” You moan. It’s practically said with a slur on your lips and he can’t help but love it. His little cock slut all cock drunk on his dick. How it’s meant to be.

Though whilst he’s admiring the sight, you seem to have tightened up on him too. Your grip leaves no doubt bloodied indents on his back that were sure to leave questions for the other passengers that for your sake only will remain unanswered.

Your eyes are screwed shut so tightly that small lines of tears trail down your cheeks, and the only way he knows that is due to the fact they seem to shine under the harsh light. Your legs aswell feel as though they’re practically vibrating against his skin, possibly due to all the sensational that he’s giving you all at once.

It’s not surprising for either of them that after all that, Ettore finds himself moaning out loud at the feeling of your walls clenching and pulling him in as you cum, effectively pushing him over the edge aswell with a deep groan.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck oh shiiiiit” You whine. It’s so loud he almost wants to shove a pillow over your head to get you to shut the fuck up. But then it’d ruin the whole thing and he can’t have that at all.

When you’ve recovered though from your high, you almost seem to curl up on him. He’s still inside you, even though he’s softened down by now, yet even so he’s happy about it as now his cum won’t be able to effectively leak out of you.

It’s a strange feeling when his arms move to keep you close. Like an overprotective hug. Yet it’s so awkward Ettore doesn’t know what to do and let’s you take the lead. You push him so he’s laying on his back, an act he feels he should punish later on, and move your head to rest between his neck and his chest.

Ettore hates to admit it, but it’s very strangely comforting to have you so close so willingly.

His hand rests on the top of your head, and a single thumb brushed the loose hair away from your face. It’s oddly domestic, and yet he can’t help but find himself unable to hate himself for it right now.

The two of you continue to lay there. Your breaths evening out as you seem drift off, and they leave goosebumps on his skin in their wake.

Ettore however, stays wide awake. The erratic heartbeats that radiate through his whole body make it impossibly to sweetly savour the moment in peace.

Only a single stray thought managed to remain inside him that kept him from pushing you off and running to who knows where.

I think I may somehow be in love with you…

[twitterpated-passion]

Matched | Monster Boyfriend

You liked to say that you had a normal life. It wasn't interesting, but it wasn't bland. You got through school with minimal mishaps, you had a job and you were thinking of getting your masters. And despite some obvious 'gifted kid' burnout symptoms pulling at you every now and again, you liked the life you lived. Most of the time, at least.

Now?

Now you couldn't say your life was normal even if you were being held at gun point.

-<><><><><><><>-

It all started with that stupid 'volunteer' start up group that suddenly came into play and forced a handful of people from selected cities to sign up. You were one of the (un)lucky few that got chosen, given only a day to pack before they picked you up in front of your apartment building and drove you out of the city.

Only the worst thoughts creeped in your head, telling you that you should've ran the moment you were chosen. It was only natural to feel that way, not a single person told you what the start up group was for and every time you tried to ask you were greeted with silence or a small 'Don't worry about it' from the driver.

You did, in fact, worry about it. You worried about it until someone finally let you know what was happening.

The person who let you know was the first person you saw when you walked into the building, a greeter of sorts in an oversized lab coat with their glasses on the tip of their nose. They perked up when they saw you and quickly pulled you away from the driver to lead you down a hall. "Welcome! You're right on time!"

"No one else chosen came with me though," you said. "And no one was in the entrance."

The person laughed, nodding. "Mhm! That's because it's your time. Others have come and gone before you, and they'll come after you. It's just not their scheduled time."

You shot them a confused look, which they didn't notice, waving their hands in the air to motion to everything. "I'm sure you heard already about what you're doing right?"

"No," you shook your head. "I was told not to worry about it. What am I doing?"

Their jaw slacked as they looked at you with a shocked expression. "Jeez...someone's getting fired."

They shook their head and shoved their hands in their coat pockets. "Anyway- what you signed up for is a very important start up group. I'm sure you're aware of the treaty made with King Ralin? Right?"

"Somewhat? It trended for a week and then disappeared off of the face of the Earth." They nodded. "What about it?"

"Well, in every country, a group of individuals are picked out for the group. The numbers vary on size, but that's not the point. Given that you were chosen, you get to go in your own little pod and rocket up into space, right on their planet. We're trying to ease human and alien relations smoothly, and if this goes well, we're hoping that King Ralin will send some of his people down here!" The scientist seemed so excited while explaining this to you, and a frown appeared on their face as they tilted their head at you. "What? Is something wrong?"

"You want me to be a test subject," you said. "I'm supposed to squeeze my ass into a pod and rocket up into space just to act buddy-buddy with aliens who probably aren't used to humans and might just hate my guts?"

"When you put it like that," they pouted, looking away from you. "It won't be as bad as you think. We've already established that no harm is going to come to the start up group or the aliens. So even if they hate you, they can't hurt you."

"What about the need for oxygen?"

"You ask that like aliens don't also breathe air. Your safety is already confirmed. You have nothing to worry about."

You weren't too sure you believed them.

-<><><><><><><>-

It's been exactly two months and five days since you went in that pod and arrived on planet 'Actae'. How you pronounce that in their language was unbeknownst to you, so you've just been calling it planet 'A' in your mind or whenever you needed to talk to another human about the planet.

It wasn't bad, you were able to admit that. Most of the aliens you met seemed to be more than happy to see humans for the first time, and you were able to quickly make friends with two of them, though, they worked with you in the Capital's library, so it mainly came with constantly seeing each other.

And that's where you were when you met him.

Prince Fonir, a cocky son of a bitch who loved to do nothing but tease you relentlessly every time he decided to 'grace' you with his presence. Though, all he did was make you regret choosing the library job no matter how much it suited you.

And unfortunately, today wasn't the day that he stayed home at the castle. Instead, he was mindlessly browsing through the fiction section, looking at the mixture of books that came from both Earth and Actae.

Even if he did, in fact, infuriate you, you couldn't help but stare, eyes glued to the graceful movements of his hands, to the way his long, baby pink hair would cover his face when he dipped his head down ever so slightly to get a better look at the book. You didn't realize how bad it was until you realized that the big pools of galaxies that were his eyes were looking at you as well, a cocky grin on his face, as he tucked the book under his long arm and sauntered over.

You busied yourself, a huff leaving your lips as his light olive green hands placed the book down. "You know, it's rather rude to stare, especially at royalty."

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the book and using your pointer finger to pull it towards yourself. You lifted the small scanner and pressed it to the book, hearing the high-pitched beep before pushing it back to him and answering, "Really? I wouldn't know, but I don't exactly care either. Isn't being stared at the job of royalty?"

You met his eyes bravely, eyebrow raised. "Which brings me to ask; don't you have anything better to do? You come here twice a week and do nothing but try to stir something. Don't you have your own library, your highness?"

"I do," he admitted. "But my library doesn't have a Jarïle for a librarian."

Your brows furrowed trying to figure out what he had just called you in his language, but nothing clicked, and you breathed a huff through your nose. Forcing yourself not to rub the bridge of your nose to try and ease a little of your annoyance out, you clicked your tongue and took one look at the screen-less computer in front of you. "Next month on the second. Bring in the book then or before. I'm not afraid of charging a prince a late fee."

He loomed over the computer and met your eyes once more before tucking the book under his arm again and turning on his heel, walking towards the front doors. You watched him leave, happy this encounter was shorter than the rest and that you could return to your own book faster.

But what he called you was still repeating in your mind, you doubt you could pronounce it correctly without five hundred tries, but when Jorik came out of the back room, you quickly approached her. "Jorik! I need your help."

She tilted her head, pushing her braid behind her with a small chuckle. "What do you need help with?"

You opened your mouth, but closed it quickly, contemplating on actually asking, and if she'll even know what you mean, considering how much you're probably going to botch the word. But, you ask her anyway. "What's a...jarile...?"

Her smile faltered as a confused expression overtook her face, her pale blue eyes narrowing slightly before she asked, "Do you mean jarïle?"

"Yea," you confirmed, hand moving to bashfully scratch the back of your neck. "What does it mean?"

"It means fire starter," she answered. "Where'd you hear that?"

"The Prince was in...again." You didn't hide the annoyance that bubbled in your tone suddenly, Jorik already well introduced to your dislike to the royal. She looked around however, smile faltering until you wave your hand in front of her face. "He left, don't worry."

She shook her head and focused her gaze back on you, raising an eyebrow. "What about Prince Fonir?"

"He was the one that called me it," you said, a small scoff coming out when you were done. "The hell is his issue with me anyway? I'm just trying to get through the day, just like everyone else."

"Korlae." You shut up at the nickname. It meant honey, but Jorik liked how it sounded in her language more. You couldn't blame her. "Jarïle is an affectionate term."

You blinked, pulling your head back slightly. "What?"

Jorik let out a soft laugh, the sound slightly echoing in the quiet space. With a nod, she walked herself over to the stool, sitting on it to lower herself to be eye to eye with you. "You've never called someone you like a fire starter? Trouble?"

"You act like I've had a partner," you said, sitting in the stool beside hers, lifting it up just a bit. "Don't you guys have matchmakers though?"

She was quiet for a moment, brows furrowed before they lift and hide behind her bangs when she realized. "Oh! K-Kinda? They find our soulmate. I don't know how they do it, but it's a day of celebration for us. It only happens once, when we turn twenty-three in human years."

She smiled fondly. "I only have a few months until it's my turn. Soran has a year for his. And Prince Fonir's is in a week, it's going to be huge. Everyone wants to know who the lucky Horæl is."

"Remind me what that means?" You knew she knew what you meant, and she chuckled at your lack of an attempt at saying it.

"It's basically our equivalent of 'alien'. Like how humans call other humans...humans." Another chuckle left her. "Anyway, they're going to play it all over the planet, since, Prince Fonir is going to take the crown when he's twenty-five. It's important to know who'll rule beside him."

"Yea..." You said, voice drifting off when you're reminded of the similarities for the royals back on Earth and on Actae. "I get it."

"Good, because I'm gonna invite both you and Soran over to watch it with me. I don't think I'll be able to watch it alone." You smiled at how excited she seemed over it, pushing back how annoyed he made you to grab her hand with a nod.

"'Course, I wouldn't miss it for the world, Jorik."

-<><><><><><><>-

The library -like other places- was closed on Prince Fonir's birthday, so instead of having to work and going with Jorik and Soran to Jorik's apartment, you were able to go straight to it. Fortunately for you, she lived fifteen minutes away from your apartment, just a couple blocks down.

You were hardly able to knock before the door swung open and Jorik loomed over you with an excited grin spread across her face. "You made it just in time, it's about to start!"

She yanked you inside and shut the door behind her, ushering you towards the large couch that sat in the living room area of her loft. "You can sit beside Soran."

With a nod, you do, waving over to Soran as he smiled at you and lifted his hands to sign, 'She's pretty excited.'

You chuckled, nodding in response before glancing over at the Horæl who's happily tapping her foot against the floor, the sound creating an unrhythmic melody. "Is it because of the Prince or because she really likes this ceremony?"

You looked back at him, eyes focused on his hands when he responded, 'Both.'

"Ah," is all you were able to say back before the 'be right back' sign on the holographic tv screen switched to show the castle, the crowd around it immense, everyone -humans and Horæls alike- wanting to see who was paired with Fonir .

It switched to inside the castle, showing a gaggle of nobles standing in the throne room. None of them paid the camera that was practically in their faces any mind, all of them chatting amongst each other, or keeping to themselves. There was no noise of it though, only a narrator explaining the importance of the ceremony.

Everything seemed to quiet down though when King Ralin stepped out, his usual event outfit on, just without the cloak he carried on his shoulders. Then, when he stepped out of the way, Prince Fonir came out from the same doorway.

All you could do was stare as the camera focused on him, following his every move as his hands picked at his outfit, the usual monotoned colors he wore exchanged for bright, flashy colors. Purple, pink and gold.

His hair was let down and the two braids pulled to the back of his head kept his hair from his face, since the crown he was wearing wouldn't have helped. Pink touched his cheeks and ears, and his eyes were trained on the ground.

He was nervous.

A light nudge to your foot pulled you out of you thoughts, and you snapped your head away from the tv, looking at Jorik. "For someone who hates him, you seem to like staring at him. Your cheeks are red, Korlae."

Your heart skipped a beat and you shook your head, letting out a small scoff. "I was just seeing how nervous he is."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't all that you saw.

She merely gave you a once over and turned back to the tv, letting you do the same. You were greeted with Fonir standing in front of his father's throne, fists against his sides as the nobles stepped to the side, giving both him and King Ralin space to get the ceremony going.

Two other Horæls came out of the doorway opposite to the one the Prince and King came out of, but they were dressed just as flashy, and if Jorik's excited little noise was anything to go by, you would've assumed that they were officials. They looked older than both King Ralin and Fonir, which amazed you, since King Ralin was definitely older than he looked.

One bowed their head to Fonir before he lifted his arms and allowed them to push up his sleeves, baring his forearms to the other official. The other one produced something like a pen, but when the camera focused on what the official was doing with said pen-like tool, you watched it shallowly cut his wrist three times, though no blood surfaces.

You turn to Soran with a confused expression and lucky enough, he seems to catch it, hands moving fast as he explained, 'The knife takes the blood and they put it in a pen that creates an eternal symbol.'

"...Oh," you said, eyebrows raising slightly as you turned back to the tv. The unrhythmic tapping returned as the three of you watched as Fonir's bright blue blood falls into a pen, the process looking extremely drawn out until it's filled completely.

Fonir's eyes are closed tightly, and you remember the dramatic endeavor you went through when he accidentally got a papercut one day at the library. To say he was good with pain would be a complete lie.

You wanna do the same as him however, when you finally realize how interested you are in knowing who the Horæl'll be. You shouldn't even care, if anything you could be a little happy, it'd get him out of the library more often than not. But you did, even if you weren't sure why.

The symbol basically drew itself on his wrist, covering the already healing cuts and forming something odd, a mandala looking symbol that you couldn't get a good look of, but yet you still glanced over at Jorik because you were in serious need of an explanation. But when she looked at you and Soran, you were met with the same confused look.

"You never actually told me how they found the soulmate, Jorik..." You said, but as she opened her mouth to answer, you heard a gasp from a certain Prince.

You couldn't move your head faster to face the screen, eyes focused on what's in front of you as you, Jorik and Soran watched him look at the symbol with wide eyes. There were whispers in the background in the castle, and the camera stayed where it was when Fonir leaned to his father to whisper something to him.

You saw King Ralin's eyes widen, just like Fonir's was seconds ago. Then you heard one of the official's speak, their voice loud and commanding when they announced, "The symbol belongs to a human."

The air around you seemed to stop as Jorik's tapping silenced and a throaty noise left Soran.

Prince Fonir was paired with the impossible.

-<><><><><><><>-

Every human that was sent to Actae, two hundred to be exact, were ordered to go to the castle the moment the cameras shut off, said order being sent specifically to your phone, rather than everyone's. A shaky breath left you when you read the message over and over.

"So..." Jorik started after a while, "you have a chance-"

"I'm not going to think about that," you cut her off. "I'm just gonna go to the castle and then I'm gonna watch it happen with one of the others."

You stood, shoving your phone into your pocket before walking to the door. "Maybe it's a misunderstanding. Maybe, and here's a thought, Fonir doesn't have a match."

A sigh breached your lips and you opened the door, looking back as you stepped out. "I call you when I find out."

Jorik nodded and Soran gave you a small smile, which you returned before walking out fully and shutting the door behind you.

You walked the distance to the castle, ignoring the looks you got as you were walking. They weren't bad per-se, but you could tell some of them didn't really like the possibility of a human ruling over them.

Not that you blamed them. It's only been three months since the first humans came to Actae, it's already a big change, and to know that one of them is going to rule with the Prince when he turns twenty-five is an even bigger change.

The stares only got worse when you arrived at the castle, your hands holding your arms as you walked in and avoided the looks of the maids that walked through the halls. The only one that didn't stare was the one leading to the throne room, explaining what to do when you walked in. "Stand straight and look them in the eyes when they talk to you, use your right hand to shake theirs and nod your head to bow. Speak when spoken to and when they let you all go, you can return to your home. But only when they allow you to leave."

She turned to you and waited for you to nod in understanding before she pushed the door open. You straightened your posture and walked in, fingers digging into your arm as you saw the other humans, all of them off to the side. You made haste joining them.

When you decided to look at anything other than your peers, you gazed over to the throne and met Fonir's eyes, and for once, you felt something other than annoyance when you saw the small smile on his face. He looked almost relieved to see you, his left hand holding his right wrist, as if he was hiding it.

You looked to your sides, and then back at him when you decided to do the one thing you know you'll just deny when it was brought up later. You lifted your hand from your arm and gave him a small wave. He did the same after a quick glance towards his father, confirming that he was still talking to the officials.

It didn't take long for the others to show up, no one really wanting to make the King to the new planet they're living on upset. It made you feel a little better when you noticed that everyone else was nervous, or at least happy you weren't the only one that looked like they might about cave in on themselves.

Fonir stood behind his father when it was made known that you were all there, and they stood in the middle of the room, the Prince's eyes trained on the ground again. You stared at the King and forced your shoulders back, listening to him when he started to speak, "I'm certain you all know why you're here, one of you happens to be my son's match."

'Getting straight to the point...thank god," you thought, appreciating King Ralin not beating around the bush.

"I thought this would be a simple process, considering no one else had been paired with a human before the 'start-up', but, as it turns out, not everything can be as simple as you want it." There was a small laugh that left his lips and he clasped his hands together. "And because I would hate keeping everyone here for hours, anyone who volunteers and is not the match, can leave as soon as it's confirmed. If we find the match before everyone gets a chance, everyone but the match can leave immediately."

Fonir glanced up and took one large swoop of the crowd, then his eyes fell back onto you. You felt his stare, but it quickly turned away from you when the first volunteer happened to walk up to him, bowing.

You didn't want to look, but yet, you did. You watched as the first five got rejected, you watched as one took longer than the others only to fail and you watched as Fonir got impatient.

His eyes met yours again, and the silent look of pleading on his face made you go after the fifteenth person, raising your hand slowly and silently. You only walked up to him when the King nodded and you nodded your head at Fonir, finally getting a good look at the symbol.

It was a mandala alright, but, the longer you looked at it, the more familiar it got. You lifted your hand from its position on your arm and traced it, stopping only when you felt a searing pain in your left wrist. You hissed and stepped back, tearing your hand away from him before grasping your wrist, pressing against your wrist.

Fonir's eyes were wide as he watched you, your face contorted in pain as you tightly held your wrist, the pressure easing it just a little. "Jarïle," you heard him start through deafened ears, "...move your hand."

You could hardly hear the whispers that came after Fonir spoke, and all you could feel was the burning in your wrist until you saw a green hand slowly clasp over yours. You leaned into the cool touch letting him pull your hand away, only to reveal the same symbol that was on his wrist. Though, instead of it being drawn, it was burned into your skin, like it was made with a branding iron.

King Ralin was at Fonir's side in no time at all, pale white eyes looking back and forth between your marks. "...That's never happened before."

"Being matched with a human hasn't happened either, Fonir," his father pointed out. "I suppose you found your match."

The collective whispers seemed to quiet down immediately when it was announced and the next thing you knew was that King Ralin was wishing everyone but you a farewell and to 'have a safe trip home'. Then the throne room's doors were shut and you were left alone with the two.

Silence blanketed over the three of you and you pulled your hand away from Fonir, eyes falling to the floor as you heard echoed footsteps and then Ralin's voice, "So, I assume you two have already met."

You nodded, but Fonir talked before you could, "They work at the Capital's library, father."

You lifted your head slightly, only to see the King's eyes as he looked at you, a small smile on his face. You pulled your left arm behind your back to nod at him slightly, the burning feeling in your arm slowly dispersing with each moment. His smile widened and his short, neon pink hair tipped to the side when he tilted his head. "Are you sure jarïle is the right nickname for them, Fonir?"

You felt Fonir's eyes on you again, and you met his eyes. "I think it suits them a lot."

Everything you had on your tongue died when you saw him look at you, and you hated how you were anything but annoyed at it. You didn't like the butterflies that formed in your stomach when he gave you a small smile and winked. And you didn't like how you knew that his teasing would just come back tenfold because of this.

"It's just going to get worse," you finally responded after a long moment, and his smile widened at it.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Jarïle." The King laughed and rested a hand on Fonir's shoulder. You appreciated the genuine happiness from Ralin. It was a change from Earth's leaders. Though, he was actually doing a good job.

"I'll leave you two to discuss. We'll all talk at dinner tonight about what the future holds for the both of you. Alright?" You glanced up at him, noticing the 'alright' was more for you, than Fonir. You nodded after a small pause, giving him a slight smile. "Great. I'll see you two later."

Fonir gave his father a small wave before his hand was back on yours and he slowly pulled you to the throne. "So, this is..."

He didn't continue, so you did for him. "Tragic? Dreadful? Terrible? Horrible? Am I getting warmer?"

"Ice cold," he responded simply. "It's something."

"What's something supposed to mean?"

"It's something to get used to." His hand let go of yours and moved back so he could sit on the edge of the throne. "I didn't know being matched to me was that bad for you, Jarïle."

He was teasing you. You could hear it in his voice.

You wanted to bite back, but all you responded with was, "I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"How? By simply saying something that you could've very well been thinking? Don't tell me you expected to be matched with me, much less a human."

"I wasn't," He confirmed. "But that's because it hasn't happened. I'm more than happy to be the first of something."

You bit the inside of your cheek, thumb running along the mark on your wrist, pressing down every so slightly to test if it still hurt. "How's this gonna work?"

"What?"

"Us. Am I gonna have to quit my job and just...sit idle until you take the throne? Are we just going to play nice in front of camera and the moment it turns off things just go back to normal?" He gave you a look, eyebrow cocked in confusion.

"And what's 'back to normal'?"

"You having an issue with me," You said, exasperated, knowing for a fact that it was obvious. "Ever since I came here, you've done nothing but try to stir stuff by teasing the living fuck out of me. Then you go ahead and decide to call me an affectionate term like we're friends and- and if you even thought that was ok, I would assume you'd be friend-"

He cut you off, covering your mouth with his hand. "That was me being friendly. You seriously thought I had an issue with you?"

You froze in your spot, not fighting him when he pulled you between his legs. "You're the first person that's treated me normally, even going as far as to threaten me with late fees. Jarïle, you're possibly the only human I'd feel completely comfortable being matched with. Everyone else treats me like I'm...like-...well never mind the word for it. You're not afraid to be you in front of me."

You tasted iron after biting down on the inside of your cheek harshly, but the pain of it didn't even process, your mind only trying to go through everything he said. "...Do you mean they treat you like china?"

"Is that all you got out of that?" He groaned. "Yes, I meant that, but c'mon, that can't be the only thing you have to say about what I said."

"It's not," you confessed. "I'm just...having a hard time understanding how I got how you felt about me so wrong. I'm usually good at reading people."

"Humans," Fonir corrected. "You're good at reading humans."

You felt like a child being scolded with how he was looking at you, for the tone that took hold every time he talked. But despite that, you still had at least some gall to ask, "...Would you be more comfortable if you got matched with a Horæl? You only mentioned human when you said that."

The braids that pushed his hair back earlier were doing nothing at that moment, framing his face as his crown was nowhere to be seen, but he still had the touch of nervousness he had earlier, and you wondered why he was the one nervous. "I didn't think they needed to be included."

"So you would be?"

"You like assuming things, don't you," he asked, and the slight smile that appeared on his face relaxed you ever-so-slightly. "Horæls also treat me like china, Jarïle. Even more than humans."

You nodded, eyes drifting from him before his hand grasped your chin and brought you back to him. "We have two years until I come of age to take the throne. Does that seem like enough time for you?"

"Do I have to quit my job?" Fonir chuckled in response.

"I don't see why you have to. Maybe when we start ruling, but you're free to do whatever you like." We. The word had your thoughts racing and freezing all at the same time. He wanted to do it with you, even after you actively disliking him, even when you thought he disliked you too.

He must've noticed the zoned out look on your face because he waved his free hand in front of it and tilted his head. "What's on your mind, Jarïle?"

"You said we when you were talking about ruling," you answered, voice quiet. "I thought you were the most irritating person alive and here you are...being overly nice to me."

"Well, considering that my teasing didn't do anything to make me seem nice, I might as well try a new approach," he joked. "And we're a match. Why wouldn't I say we?"

"I wouldn't expect you to want to rule with me," you said bluntly, though your voice was still just as quiet. "I've only been here for like...two and a half months and suddenly in two years I'm gonna rule? No one is going to like that."

"I like it," Fonir admits. "You can learn a lot in two years and...believe me when I say it, you're going to learn a lot if my father has any say."

"And here I thought, King Ralin was nice," you jested, allowing an unsure smile to grace your lips. It only got bigger when you saw him laugh, the sound ringing in your ears like a melody.

"My father is nice, but when it comes to the kingdom...he's pretty strict. We're going to be going through the same things, trust me."

You didn't think before your hand grabbed his, giving the slender thing a small squeeze. "I do."

The smile Fonir gave you when you said that sent your heart to the stars, and another laugh left him. "You spend two months hating my guts and here you are, saying you trust me."

"I found your smug expression and teasing annoying...I never hated your guts though."

He hums, a pleased expression on his face. "I guess today we're both learning something. Neither of us hate each other."

You nodded. "I guess we don't."

His hand squeezed yours as the other hand stayed on your chin, thumb right below your bottom lip even though you knew he could very well touch it if he wanted to. His touch was just as cool as earlier, which you appreciated given the lingering burning feeling in your arm and in your face, even if it was mainly in your cheeks.

Though, right as the moment had started, it ended just as fast, your phone ringing loudly from your back pocket. A groan flew from your lips as Fonir pulled his hands away, your hand making it to the phone that resided in your pants before seeing the contact picture, eyes widening when you see Jorik's face. "Shit, I forgot to call her."

"What? Forgot to call who?" You didn't answer him, simply answering the phone before bringing it to your ear.

"Hey," you said, carrying the 'y' for a few seconds.

"Out of two hundred humans, you happened to be the one that was his match." You winced at her words.

"...Word really carries around fast."

"Of course it does! You're the Prince's Jarïle! Not only did he know you before the meeting, he called you a pet name! Korlae, you're big now."

A breath left you, and you nodded, though you knew full well she couldn't see you. "Yea, I'm aware of that. Look, I was in the middle of something before you called..."

"Yea? Like what?" You met Fonir's eyes and used your pointer finger to tap your phone and then point to him, a silent question of if he wanted to take it.

When he caught on, a mischievous grin grew on his face and he nodded, letting you hand him your phone as he pulled it to his ear. He seemed to listen to Jorik for a long, drawn out moment before glancing at you. The both of you shrug at each other, though his was in response of you doing it to him.

"Hello?" Fonir said, unsure if doing so was even ok, but when you heard the faint talking stop, you let out a snort. He took it as a sign to keep going however, "I'm the something they were in the middle of...Jorik, right?"

You watched Fonir's eyes widen as he pressed his lips together and pulled back your phone, shoulders shaking with silenced laughter. "Did she..."

You drifted off, but the second you saw him nod you barked out a laugh, hand covering your mouth as you tried to muffle the sound. "Your friend just hung up on me."

Your hand dropped and you tipped your head forward, nodding as you cackled. "I've had people who were afraid to talk to me, but- but they hung up on me!"

With another nod, you knew that you weren't going to let Jorik forget what she did any time soon, especially when you heard your phone ring again.

-<><><><><><><>-

You sat at a table in the Capital's library, eyes focused on an Actaean history book as your tutor -who Ralin was very happy to give you- piled more books onto your already gigantic stack, sitting across from you. You refused to glance up at her, already knowing that there was going to be a smug smile on her face.

She wasn't mean, not in the slightest, but she was good at making you feel bad about knowing almost nothing about the planet and its history, which in turn made you feel stressed about ruling and that made you feel bad that Fonir got matched with someone so...stupid. And almost as if he knew you were thinking poorly of yourself, he came in, fast food bag in his long, slender hand. Your first-in-line.

That was the moment you glanced up, a relieved look overtaking your face as he glanced at the books, then over to you with a small smile. "Uiloi, you're working them to the bone. I cannot rule with a skeleton."

"There's only a year and a half left before you turn twenty-five, your highness."

"And in that time, and even after it, they can learn the boring history of this planet. Go take a break, get a drink from the shop down the street." It sounded like a suggestion, but his tone made it apparent that it wasn't, and so Uiloi was quick in standing and leaving the library.

Fonir set the bag down, pushing it in front of you before he moved the stack of books to the far side of the table, sitting in the seat next to you. You shot him a thankful smile and pushed your book aside. "Thanks..."

"You can tell her to stop, Jarïle, she's supposed to listen to you."

"I'd feel bad," you admitted. "...It doesn't seem like it's my place to order anyone around, much less the people that actually come from here."

Fonir pouted, hand grasping your chin gently before he leaned down just enough to leave a chaste kiss on your nose. "That'll pass when you get used to it all, it's only been six months, Jarïle."

"What if it doesn't pass?"

"Then I guess I'll have to be right beside you to reassure you that it's ok," he answered, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Out of everyone on my planet and yours, I'm extremely lucky for it to be you that I'm matched with."

"We met eight-" He cut you off, finger against your lips.

"Does it really matter how long it's been?" You wanted to argue, say that it does, but when you saw his expression and the soft look in his eyes, you knew you couldn't. Because it really didn't matter. Not to you at least.

After a begrudging huff, you shook your head, watching as the smile on his face grew and letting him leave another quick kiss, this time on your temple. "You wouldn't have won that argument even if you tried, Jarïle."

"I know," you said, breathing out through your nose. "I can never truly win an argument against you, you're too stubborn to accept that you were wrong."

"As are you, my little future ruler." Clicking your tongue, you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Shut it with the little alright? You guys are just freakishly tall." Fonir held a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"That's hurtful, Jarïle. Maybe we're the normal ones and you humans are the freakishly small ones, huh?" His dramatic tone made you laugh, one of your hands pushing the book in front of you away to grab at the fast food bag as the other pushed his arm gently. He smiled down at you, a proud expression on his face as he watched your attention divert to the bag now fully in front of you. “I could’ve had the cooks make something for you, you know?”

You shook your head, already halfway done pulling out the greasy fries in its little cardboard container. “I couldn’t make them do that.”

A sigh left him at your words, and you glanced over at Fonir. “What?”

“You think someone would take the fact that they’re going to be crowned royal in the near future and use it for their own good.” You snorted. “Like actual cooked meals rather than human’s ‘quick food’.”

“Hon’,” you started, “you should’ve seen what I ate in college. It was worse than fast food.”

His brows furrowed in response before he pursed his lips. “You worry me, Jarïle.”

Now it was your turn to look proud, a grin spreading across your face. “Gotta keep you on your toes, Princey.”

“You have many years in the future to do that, Jarïle, but I have to insist that when we’re wedded, you take care of yourself.”

“You saying fast food isn’t taking care of myself?” You knew it wasn’t, fast food actually got worse after it was able to move up here but you quickly got past it when you realized how cheap it was, especially when you refused to hear Fonir out about paying.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." You huffed a laugh and shook your head. It was cute how much he doted on you after such a short amount of time.

A knock against the table drew both of your attention towards the person that did it, your eyes drifting over Soran's form, meeting his smile with your own. "Hey, Sor'."

He waved, bowing his head towards Fonir before he looked at you again and jerked a thumb over his shoulder before pulling his hand back to sign, 'Jorik needs help with the book scanner, sorry to interrupt.'

You bit your lip, glancing over at Fonir before popping a fry in your mouth and standing. "I'll gotta help Jorik real quick."

You didn't think twice when you leaned down and pecked his cheek, only pulling back to round the table and walk beside Soran. "Say anything about the kiss and I'll fight you, Sor'."

'I didn't even do anything,' he signed quickly, eyebrows furrowed. 'So quick to assume.'

You glanced up to his face after you got what he was signing, cocking an eyebrow just slightly. "You want to say something about it, don't you."

There was a pause, but eventually he nodded, casting his gaze away from you when the both of you went behind the front desk. "Knew it."

"Knew what?" Jorik asked, simultaneously tapping a book against the scanner.

'Our modest librarian gave their match a scandalous kiss on the cheek,' Soran was quick to sign, not bothering to hide the teasing expression on his face.

Jorik set the book down to gasp dramatically. "Not a kiss on the cheek! Such a travesty, I thought you were better, Korlae."

You swatted at the both of them, swiping the book from the counter before knocking the scanner on the top. When you placed the book back under, ignoring the laugh that came from Jorik at your reaction, you heard the high-pitched beep. "There."

"How'd you-"

"You just gotta bop it on the top. It's like tech on Earth, if it doesn't work, you just have to abuse it a little." You shrugged, sneaking past Soran to the open side of the desk. "If you need anymore help, you know where to find me."

"And your Prince."

"Yes, and my Prince," you said without thinking, the words processing in your head as you swiftly shook it. "The Prince. I meant the Prince. Just call him by his name, Jorik."

“Sure you meant that, Korlae. Totally. Just like you two haven’t been conjoined at the hip with him ever since you were matched with him,” Jorik said, eyes boring two holes into you with a disbelieving but playful expression. “I’m surprised no one has caught you making out yet.”

Your eyes widened, a flush spreading across your cheeks as your face grew warm. “Jorik I’m going to wring your-“

“Ah ah,” she mock scolded you, waving a finger in the air. “None of that. Don’t make me bring over your beloved.”

You held your hands up, arms outreached as your fingers curled into your palms, an exasperated huff leaving you before you turned on your heel and left the desk.

You walked back to the table, falling into your chair with a heaving sigh as Fonir looked up from a book, one that wasn’t from the pile of history books, which means he must’ve grabbed it when you were gone. “What’s wrong, Jarïle? You seem upset.”

“I’m fine, Fonir,” you said, hand moving to pat his. “Jorik’s was just teasing me.”

“About?” You met his eyes, and it only took a couple seconds before it clicked. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “We’re apparently conjoined at the hip.”

He glanced down at his book and shut it after another second. “I wouldn’t say that she’s wrong saying it.”

“So you think it too?” You couldn’t help but ask it, but you knew the answer already.

“Well,” he started, holding onto the ‘l’ for a short moment, “we could spend more time together. You’re welcome to live at the castle.”

“Marry me first,” you laughed. “Give me a reason to make my commute to work longer, ‘kay?”

Fonir grabbed your hand, tipping his head down to kiss the back of it. “I fully intend on doing that…in a year.”

“You’re so quick for me to move in, but you won’t marry me.”

“I assumed that you’d want more time living separately. And it’d give you six months to get used to it all before your life is changed.”

“Because my life was completely normal now?” He shot you a look, and you merely leaned up to kiss his cheek again. “Normal’s boring anyway, match.”

You felt Fonir’s normally cool skin heat under your lips, and you pulled back to see the neon green flush along his cheeks. You knew what got him to be like that. It was you calling him match, that little nickname you jokingly called him three months ago. But when you saw how flushed and flustered it made him, you kept it.

“Match,” he repeated, just for you to nod. “My match.”

“Forever and ever, Fonir.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Part two

[lunehong]

Tethered

college student! Jongho X college student! fem oc

Soulmate AU, just cuteness and fluff

warnings : mentions of anxiety, illness, pregnancy.

word count : 6.9k

synopsis : what happens when your soulmate bond is finally activated but it doesn't fall under any of the existing types? Jongho and Yunhee try to establish their connection with no clue and minimal examples to follow. Would they succeed in meeting each other and seal the bond or would they fall gradually ill?

a/n : okay so my first ever oneshot, and I'm glad I could write one for our baby bear jjong cuz there aren't many jongho fics on here PLUS I miss him so much :(( I hope he's recovering well and also his birthday is coming up next month! feedback is always appreciated!

----- A reblog would mean the world to me <33 ------

Yesterday was Yunhee’s 18th birthday, which meant that she was finally an adult according to society’s standards. It also meant that she could watch netflix shows that were adult rated without feeling guilty about her age and of course, call chronically online minors out on their behaviour as someone who’d automatically be deemed more mature and responsible.

However, this also entailed that her soulmate bond was activated. 

Yunhee did feel a tingly sensation and the butterflies in her stomach like the others said she would, but after that everything went back to normal. No tattoos were etched onto her body, nor did she see a flash of her soulmate’s face in her mind and there was no response when she thought of a bunch of things to test if they had telepathy. 

She really didn’t know what went wrong but it made her anxious. Also the fact that she had no way of knowing if something happened to her soulmate, as their soulmate bond was still unidentified. 

“You should really calm down, Yunhee.” said Minha, her best friend of 7 years. 

“What if I don’t find him soon enough? We have to meet each other as soon as possible after our soulmate bond has been activated or else we’d both gradually fall ill! Don’t you remember what happened to Nina and her boyfriend?” Yunhee muttered anxiously. 

“It has only been a day! I don’t understand why you’re panicking so much. Give it a week and if there’s still nothing after that, then we can panic.” She concluded.

Taking her best friend’s advice, Yunhee decided to leave the matters into her soulmate’s hands, thinking if she was frantically trying out different confirmation methods, it was safe to assume that he was also doing the same. 

“Dude, I’m telling you, your soulmate bond is telepathy! There isn’t any other type that matches!”  Wooyoung exclaimed, while flailing his hands around to prove his point. 

“But I haven’t heard anything from my soulmate so far! Nor do I know if the things I thought reached her!” Jongho yelled back. 

“Okay… Well, try again later! Don’t give up on this, because I’m a hundred percent sure it’s telepathy of some sort even if it isn’t the common one.” Wooyoung got up to leave. 

“How are you so sure? Are you a soulmate specialist or something?” Jongho scoffed at him. 

Wooyoung smiled at that. “Remember how my soulmate bond was telepathy?” Jongho nodded, “I never told anyone this but, mine wasn’t your typical telepathy… It was one-sided.”

“What? No way!” Jongho stared at him in disbelief.

“Yes, our bond was such that I couldn’t hear anything from her but she could hear everything I thought about. I was ready to give up when I got this idea and decided to give it a last shot.” Wooyoung continued.

“What did you do?” Jongho asked.

“I sat down and started revealing my full name, my social media handles, my address and other details in my head, so if there really was anyone listening they’d know how to find me. She showed up on my doorstep with my favourite snacks not long after. The rest is history.” Wooyoung grinned while recalling the memory. 

“How the hell did we not know this before? It’s literally a story worth telling!” 

“Yes, I’m aware but the topic never came up and I can’t just randomly reveal that my soulmate bond was flawed you know?” Wooyoung tried to reason with Jongho. 

“Okay, fine I got it. I’ll try thinking of different things and hope it’ll reach my soulmate somehow” Jongho sighed, giving in.

“That’s the spirit! Let me and the other guys know if you feel anything and I’ll see you later. Bye!” 

Jongho headed to bed early that day, feeling exhausted. As he was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, an idea came to him. ‘What if I focus on one topic to think about instead of multiple things at once? It might be a more organised approach and less strenuous for my brain.’ 

So he sat up and started consciously thinking about one topic, but phrased them in various ways. 

‘What is your name?’ He waited a bit but there wasn’t a response. 

“At least I know this won't work,” he said out loud. 

‘Can you tell me your name?’

 No response.

“Okay, that’s crossed out too then. How else can I phrase it…”

 If anyone saw him then, they’d think he had gone mad by the way he was talking to himself.

‘Could you speak your name?’

‘Could you spell your name?’

‘Could you trace your name on your hand?’

Jongho tried phrasing it as many ways as he could, even if some sounded ridiculous. 

‘Telleth me thy name.’

 He paused before laughing at himself. 

“So, Shakespearean English is crossed out too it seems.” 

When he ran out of all the ‘tell’, ‘spell’, ‘speak’ and ‘think’ questions he took a different route. 

‘Can you write your name?’

No response. 

Jongho yawned, feeling sleepy. Lying back down on the bed, he tried thinking of a few more sentences before deciding to continue again the next day. 

‘Could you write your name on paper?’ 

No response. 

“Okay, then” he said.

‘Write your name down on paper for me please?’ 

He paused, just about to fall asleep. 

That was when the most unexpected thing happened to him.

Yunhee was tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep. She had just finished her college assignment, due the next day and all the stress she took for it made her extremely tired. 

Assuming sleep would come easy to her, she finished her nighttime routine and headed to bed. But alas, sleep was nowhere to be found. It was one of those days where her body was tired but her mind was wide awake and she despised when that happened because it meant that she would not be able to fall asleep anytime soon. 

She started counting sheep in her head as a last resort.

 When she was on her 29th sheep, Yunhee heard something resonate in her head. The first noise sounded like an incoherent crackle and she almost dismissed it as her mind playing tricks, when she clearly heard a soothing male voice telling her to write her name on paper. 

She sat up on her bed abruptly and tried to reach out to the guy, but to no avail. Her heart was beating very fast at the prospect of finally receiving a telepathic message. She was able to hear her soulmate’s voice and it was a feeling like no other. 

After waiting a bit, she decided to do what the voice told her to: write her name on paper. 

Yunhee got up, retrieving her notebook and a pen from the desk. Sitting back down on the bed once again, she opened the notebook to an empty page and scribbled her name on it. She also wrote “What is your name?” underneath.

She waited for a bit in case another message came through but there were no other responses. 

Yunhee was completely unable to sleep that night. 

Jongho couldn’t believe what he just saw. It was like a flash that only lasted for a few seconds, but he saw a vision through someone else’s eyes. He saw a hand pick up a light blue notebook with the words “hakuna matata” written in a corner with golden ink. The hand also picked up a pen and wrote down something in the notebook. What it wrote, Jongho couldn’t make out because the writing became hazy and blurry. He could only read out ‘Park’ and the writing underneath that said ‘what is your name?’.

He was sure the person wrote her name down but he could only read her surname. 

Jongho felt something unexplainable in his gut. He was finally able to reach his soulmate, even though he couldn’t see her name. Thinking about the vision brought out a sense of longing inside him. He wanted to see more, feel more and know more about her, but he didn’t yet know how.

 ‘At least this is progress’ he thought. ‘I need to tell the others about this and figure out what I should do next.’

The doorbell rang but the sound went unheard by the group of guys inside the apartment. The person standing outside got impatient after a while, and had to bang on the door to gain everyone’s attention. 

“Geez, Hongjoong-hyung why are you banging on the door like that? The bell exists for a reason.” Wooyoung tsked while opening the door for him.

“I rang the bell like 10 times already! None of you brats could hear it over the noise pollution! I swear y’all can be heard from down the hallway!” Hongjoong yelled at him. 

“Cut us some slack though, Hongjoong. We met up after almost a month!” Seonghwa reasoned with him. 

The seven guys excluding Jongho made themselves comfortable in Jongho’s living room, catching up with each other. Meanwhile, the resident of the apartment arranged some refreshments for the eight of them, bringing them over to the living area before plopping down between Yeosang and Mingi. 

“So let’s come to the reason why I called you guys here–” 

“You called us for a reason!?” San fake gasped. 

“You wouldn’t have invited us if you didn’t have a use for us!?” Yunho butted in. 

“Guys let the poor boy speak! I can kinda guess what it’s about.” Wooyoung tried to defend Jongho. 

“Yes, thank you Wooyoung-hyung. The reason why I called you here is because I was able to contact my soulmate yesterday and I still don’t know what type of bond this is.” 

At the revelation, everyone started yelling over each other and asking questions, of which Jongho was unable to decipher a single sentence.

The seven looked like a bunch of chattering baby birds that wanted food from its mother. He sighed and shook his head, thinking how the people in front of him were supposed to be older in age. 

“Guys, one at a time!” he yelled. 

“Okay, so it’s telepathy right?” Wooyoung asked.

“Yes and no.” Jongho paused to sort out what he wanted to say, “It’s telepathy, yes, because I consciously thought of something and it went through. But, only one kind of conscious thought out of all the other ones I tried to send, elicited a response.”

“That’s…weird?” Hongjoong muttered. 

“And not just that, hyung. The response I received was in the form of a glimpse, showing me a vision through my soulmate’s eyes!”

“What?” exclaimed Mingi.

“So, it’s not just telepathy, it’s specific and supposedly one sided, while you receive sporadic glimpses through your soulmate’s eyes. That’s a very odd combination.” Wooyoung said, in deep thought. 

“This is more complicated than yours was, hyung.” Jongho muttered.

“What do you mean?” Yeosang questioned, being able to hear what he said. 

Jongho proceeded to tell them all the details regarding what he thought and what he saw in the glimpse, meanwhile not forgetting to expose Wooyoung and how he hid such crucial information about his own experience. The rest reprimanded Wooyoung for it, making him sulk, but they also collectively tried to figure out exactly how the bond worked. 

“What happened!” Minha burst into Yunhee’s place, panting like she just ran a marathon. 

“Why hello there best friend, why do you look as if you got chased by a dog?” Hayoon, their other best friend, asked sarcastically. 

“Dude? I came here as fast as I could! I got Yunhee’s text a while ago that said ‘EMERGENCY’ in all caps! I thought some code blue shit happened to her!” Minha exclaimed.

“Wow, and I thought the text I received was bad… she sent, ‘come over, I have something to say’ that made me rush here because I thought she was pregnant or something, which would’ve been really bad considering her soulmate bond just activated.” Hayoon laughed. 

At that very moment, Yunhee walked in with tubs of ice cream, suddenly feeling like she entered a lion’s den. The two girls yelled at her for being so dramatic over nothing but calmed down once she handed them their favourite ice cream. 

“So, the reason I sent those ‘dramatic’ texts as you two so eloquently put it, is because I got contacted by my soulmate and I freaked out.” Yunhee revealed while rolling her eyes.

“What?” Minha yelled. 

“When? How?” Hayoon followed. 

“At night yesterday! I was trying to sleep after finishing the assignment and that’s when I heard his voice in my head telling me to write my name on paper. I don’t know why that was so specific but yeah I did as he said.” 

“Did you hear anything in return?” Hayoon inquired.

“No, unfortunately. That was the only thing that came through.” Yunhee sulked. 

“But hey! You got contacted by your soulmate! So we are sure that nothing happened to him and he’s probably trying to figure out how the bond works as well right?” Minha tried to cheer her up like the mom she was, unable to see her kid sad.

“Yeah, that’s true. I hope he figures it out though because I’m at a dead end here.” 

“I’m sure he’ll figure it out! We currently have nothing to do but trust him and cheer him on. So don’t stress too much, Yuns. Stay alert and just wait for him to make the connection again.” Hayoon exclaimed, in a cheery voice. 

“Exactly! Let’s trust him on this one and we can think more about it when he manages to contact you again. Meanwhile, tell us how he sounded! What did you feel?” Minha shook Yunhee in excitement. 

So, the three girls spent the rest of their time discussing the interaction and other’s soulmate experiences while they enjoyed their ice cream.

Jongho recalled the conversation that he had with the guys earlier, who managed to come up with a few hypothetical situations for him to experiment. 

He sat down on his desk with a notebook before him, taking notes like he would for a science class. The guys did have a few different ideas but Hongjoong’s idea made the most sense to Jongho. 

Hongjoong proposed that the message that went through was a command rather than a suggestion or a question. And what Jongho received as a glimpse was the completion of said task that got sent as a command. 

So what Jongho had to do was make his soulmate do tasks for him and if it worked out every time, then eventually find a way for them to meet face to face. 

He relaxed himself and thought of a task for her to do. 

“Okay, so I know that I’d probably not be able to know her name or see what she looks like through the bond so I can’t ask anything related to that.” He spoke out loud. 

After thinking for a while, Jongho got an idea. He decided to send his soulmate to her favourite cafe and order her favourite drink. In this way he’ll be able to figure out which cafe she frequented and what drink she liked as well. 

‘Go to your favourite cafe and order your favourite drink first thing in the morning.’ He thought, hoping that his soulmate heard it. 

“Did it sound too rude? But I can’t send anything other than a command and commands don’t particularly sound nice though.” He spoke to himself again while scratching his head.

Before he could overthink more, Jongho wrote down what he said and headed to bed as he had classes to attend the next day. 

Taking a last minute impulsive decision, Minha and Hayoon chose to stay the night at Yunhee’s house. The three slept over at each other’s places quite often, making it a regular occurrence in their lives. Yunhee let her mother know about it and she told her to grab the extra mattress that they had for such occasions. 

While she was dragging the mattress to her room, she heard a crackle resonate in her mind like the last time. Yunhee dropped the mattress, focusing intently to see if her soulmate’s voice came through. 

Minha was walking back with a glass of water when she spotted her by the living room standing as if she saw a ghost while the mattress was abandoned on the floor.

“Yuns, what happened–” 

“Shush! I think I’m getting another message.” Yunhee quickly cut her off. 

Indeed, the soothing voice she heard the first time spoke to her again, making the darn butterflies in her stomach return to torment her. She unconsciously smiled, the emotions that hearing her soulmate’s voice evoked in her being all very new. 

Minha stared at her from the side, relating with the lovesick look on her friend’s face all too well. 

“Go to your favourite cafe… and order your favourite drink first thing in the morning?” Yunhee repeated what her soulmate said to her out loud. She looked at Minha, tilting her head in obvious confusion.  

“That’s what he said?” Minha looked equally perplexed. 

“What is taking you two so long– why are y’all standing there with the mattress on the floor?” Hayoon came out of her room to check on the two. 

Minha told her what happened while they dragged the mattress to Yunhee’s room. They sat down to think why her soulmate would send in yet another oddly specific message asking her to do something. 

“You know what I think?” Hayoon said in a serious tone, unlike her usual carefree demeanour, “The only form of message he can send are the ones that tell Yunhee to do something. ‘Cause think about it! He probably already tried saying the common stuff like ‘what is your name’ or ‘where do you live’ like we telepathy types did, but in our case all the things we tried to send went through.” 

 Yunhee and Minha looked at each other for a few seconds before directing their attention back to Hayoon, who was raising her eyebrows at them. 

“Wow dude, what’s up with you? You’re actually making sense today!” Yunhee exclaimed with fake enthusiasm while patting Hayoon on the shoulder, who rolled her eyes and pointed her middle finger towards Yunhee in return.

“Yeah! But Yoon’s right. Can’t relate though, ‘cause I was the tattoo type but she has a point. And I also think that he can somehow sense if you have done the given task or not or else he wouldn’t have any way of knowing if his messages are going through.” Minha added while laughing at Hayoon.

“I mean, the task is simple enough. I do visit cafe Aurora before heading to class anyway, so it won’t be anything out of the ordinary, I guess.” Yunhee muttered. 

The three girls started their movie marathon, when Minha’s phone rang. It was a facetime call from her soulmate Changbin, who was also their childhood friend since middle school. 

When Minha turned 18, which was three months back, she invited all her friends to attend the party, including Changbin. He was out of town that week so he couldn’t attend her birthday party. 

The tattoo that appeared on Minha’s wrist was supposed to be the first thing her soulmate told her after it was activated, which said, “Happy birthday! Sorry I couldn’t make it, Min.” 

 Minha looked absolutely bewildered while Yunhee and Hayoon laughed at it like maniacs. She got teased by the other two the entire day, while she tried to appear nonchalant about it. 

When they were younger, Minha never liked the concept of soulmates and always complained about the idea of getting paired up with a complete stranger for the rest of their lives as it seemed unnerving to her. But when she realised that her soulmate might be good old Changbin, she didn’t hate the idea anymore. It was true that Minha never saw him as anything more than a friend but he was an amazing guy and she did think he’d make a good partner. 

At night she received a call from him and indeed, the first thing he said was “Happy birthday! Sorry I couldn’t make it, Min.” 

Minha laughed and said, “Thanks, idiot.” when it dawned upon Changbin as well that his soulmate was none other than Minha.

 They met up when Changbin returned (he basically scrambled to return as fast as he could) and made it official.

 Among Yunhee’s friends, Minha and Changbin were probably the fastest soulmates to seal the bond which made a lot of them jealous because of how easy it was for them to find each other. 

Back to the present, Changbin facetimed Minha who received the call. 

“Hey Min, are you staying over at Yunhee’s today?” 

“Yep. Sudden decision.”

“Oh okay, have fun! And pass the phone to Yunhee please.” Changbin spoke. 

Yunhee peeked from the back and waved at him. 

“You! What were you thinking when you sent a text like that, dumbass? Who sends ‘EMERGENCY’ and dips without explaining what happened?” He exclaimed.

“Ugh, okay fine sorry. I won’t send texts like that again. I got nagged enough by these two, I don’t need you to add anything to it, Binnie.” Yunhee whined. 

“At least you’re fine and dandy so I’ll spare your ass today. How's the soulmate situation going?” 

They told him everything that happened and gossiped with him for a few more minutes before hanging up. 

Yunhee left to talk to her parents about something, only to come back to the room with her brows furrowed at the screen of her phone. 

“Uh, Yoonie? Why is Eric texting me saying if I decided to keep the baby or not, and if I did he’ll help me convince my soulmate to keep it too?” 

At this, Hayoon and Minha looked at each other, before they burst out laughing. Yunhee was still looking at them in bewilderment but the two were not being able to stop. 

After two minutes of them laughing without break and Yunhee standing like the clown that she was, they finally stopped. 

“Remember the text that you sent me? I showed it to Eric and he was the one who said ‘why does she sound like she’s going to announce her pregnancy or something’ and we realised that it could be a possibility, because dude, everyone knows that you write paragraphs when you text. So, such a thing was not to be taken lightly.” Hayoon shrugged.

At this Yunhee threw a pillow at her, yelling how her love life was as barren as the Sahara desert (because she couldn’t fall for anyone else when the thought of having a soulmate later in life hit her) and how she and her soulmate shared the same braincell. 

“Come on! At least he’s supportive!” Hayoon defended Eric.

“Yeah yeah, I can see that. Let me call him and explain the whole thing, or else he’ll start preparing to be an uncle.”

Eric was Hayoon’s soulmate that she met 3 weeks after her 18th birthday. They were the telepathy type, being able to contact each other almost immediately after the soulmate bond was activated.

The two had a few bumps on the road, as Eric wasn’t cooperative in the beginning. The reason being that he liked this other girl and he couldn’t accept the fact that his soulmate was someone else. But the said girl found her soulmate a week after, which finally pushed Eric to move on and seek his own soulmate. 

Minha and Yunhee didn’t like him, as he made their best friend suffer and put her at risk of getting ill due to the unsealed bond, but he redeemed himself eventually. Now they were a pretty wholesome couple.

After clearing the misunderstanding, they resumed the movie marathon, falling asleep in the midst of it. 

Jongho didn’t feel like getting up. It was a cold winter morning, which made sleeping under the warmth of the duvet all the more enticing. But he had to wake up as he had an important class to attend that day. 

He reached college early, so he was waiting inside the classroom when he saw it.

a glimpse of an awfully familiar cafe. He was able to hear her voice this time, when she spoke to order a regular hot mocha. A shiver ran down his body when he heard it, realising how sweet her voice sounded to him. Keeping his emotions at bay, he noticed two very familiar faces through the glimpse before it ended. 

“Cafe Aurora, huh.” He smiled to himself. His soulmate was nearer to him than he thought. 

As he entered through the door in a hurry to get away from the cold, Jongho noticed that the cafe was busier than usual. He figured that it was due to the freezing weather outside, while the cafe provided the warmth everyone including himself was seeking. 

Upon reaching the front he spotted Soobin behind the cashier counter, taking orders like he usually does with a smile on his face. Beomgyu was in the middle calling out names and distributing drinks while San was at the back making them for the customers. 

He eventually spotted Jongho and called another worker to take his place, so that he could go greet his friend. 

“Jongho? Fancy seeing you here.” San spoke up in a playful tone. 

“Why? Can’t I visit my dear hyung during his shift?” Jongho retaliated. 

“No, of course you can but you usually don’t frequent this place. Remember when you told me it was far from your house and you already found another place to get your iced americano from?” San raised his eyebrows making Jongho avert his gaze.

“Okay, fine! You got me there. I came here to ask you something.” he pouted. 

“Ei, don’t feel bad! I was teasing you! But do visit me more often from now okay? What did you want to ask?” San laughed while patting his back.

“So, I saw another glimpse this morning. I’ll tell you the details later but I think Hongjoong hyung’s theory worked. Can you tell me if you remember any girl, possibly a regular here, ordering hot mocha around 8 am?” 

“I make the drinks dude, I wouldn’t know. Hey, Gyu? Can you come over for a sec?” San yelled. 

Beomgyu, who finally got to breathe after distributing the drinks, clicked his tongue and walked over to where the two were standing. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Do you remember any regular female customer that came today around 8 am to order a hot mocha?” San asked him.

“Okay first of all, I have been distributing over hundreds of drinks, at least 30 of which were hot mochas. And if we are talking about 8 am then a lot of people came in to get their morning fix before college so I don’t think I can help you.” He paused.

“You could check the server but I doubt that would be of any help either, because a lot of female regular customers order hot mochas in the morning so…” Beomgyu shrugged. 

“Okay thanks, Gyu. We’ll figure something out.” San sighed.

“Why? Did anyone take a drink without paying again?” Beomgyu inquired in a concerned voice. 

“No, no. We’re trying to find Jongho’s soulmate.” San and Jongho laughed at Beomgyu’s expression.

“Oh, thank god. Good luck searching for her, bro.” Beomgyu gave Jongho a thumbs up before resuming his work. 

San looked at Jongho, who was deep in thought. 

“How’d you know she came to Aurora?” 

“Oh, come on hyung, I’d recognise the interior anywhere! Plus, she gave her order to Soobin and you were at the back making drinks. I saw you two in the glimpse.” Jongho poked San in the shoulders, making him swat his hand away. 

“Moreover, I think I found out how the bond works. So, I’ll increase contact and try to get her to meet me somehow.”

“That’s the spirit! I know you’ll succeed Jongho-yah.” San said with a proud look on his face. 

He asked Jongho if he still wanted to order an iced americano in a weather like that, to which he said yes. San shook his head at the boy but proceeded to make him what he wanted, yelling how he wouldn’t take any responsibility if Jongho caught a cold later. 

He just smiled and gestured at him to continue making the drink.

Two days have passed since Yunhee received the last message from her soulmate. She was trying not to think about it, distracting herself with other things but every now and then her mind would fleet to the honey-like voice which evoked an unexplainable sense of longing in her. She wanted to hear his voice again.

During breaks, the trio made a point to gather whenever their schedules coincided, to catch up and complain about college, even though it was just their freshman year. 

Yunhee was walking towards their hangout spot with Hayoon when she felt like another message was coming through. She stopped walking and tapped Hayoon on the shoulder to do the same. 

The now familiar voice reverberated in her head saying “Write the name of your favourite flower on your notebook.” 

She stood there with a faraway look in her eyes, while the girl beside her extended and retracted her hand awkwardly, not knowing if she should shake her best friend or not. 

Hayoon didn’t have to suffer in indecisiveness for long, as Minha approached them and did the job for her by back hugging Yunhee, bringing her out of her trance.

“Why are you two standing here? Let’s go.” 

“Wait, Yunhee received another telepathic message. What is it bro?” Hayoon asked Yunhee. 

“He asked me to write the name of my favourite flower. What is he up to?” 

“It’s just flowers Yunhee, he probably wanted to know basic stuff like that so that he can be prepared when he finally meets you.” Minha reasoned.

“Okay let’s go sit, so that I can write it down.” 

The three headed to their hangout place. As soon as Yunhee sat down, she reached for her bag to bring the notebook out. She opened it and wrote, ‘sunflowers, but pink roses are great too’ after much thought. 

The other two teased her saying they already knew she was going to write sunflowers so she really didn’t have to ponder so much, but Yunhee disagreed by saying how she found all flowers pretty so it was hard for her to pick one.

The following day, Yunhee received another message that asked her to write yes in the notebook if she was available on the weekend and no if she wasn’t. 

She ended up writing a ‘YES’ in capital letters on her notebook that probably covered the whole page, out of sheer excitement. 

Jongho on the other hand received a glimpse of it, laughing at how adorable she was. It was as though he felt the excitement of his soulmate and that made him more eager and impatient to meet her. 

Yunhee immediately informed Hayoon and Minha about it, who were equally thrilled for their best friend and promised to help her get ready for the occasion. 

Weekend arrived faster than the two soulmates anticipated. Jongho made sure to send her a message saying “Go to cafe Aurora at 4pm” before he started preparing to meet her. 

He got ready at three and sent a message to his group chat asking which flower he should pick between sunflowers and pink roses. Most of them suggested him to buy both and get them arranged in a nice bouquet. 

What Jongho didn’t know, however, was that the seven were already camping at cafe Aurora (excluding San because it was his shift anyway) to watch the scene unfold. 

Yunhee finally finished getting ready with the help of her two best friends. She opted for a classy but casual look: flared jeans, puffy sleeved black top, minimal pearl accessories and light makeup. 

She kept stressing and overthinking about the entire situation like the worrywart she was. At first Minha and Hayoon were trying to reassure her and alleviate her concerns but after a while it became frustrating for them so they nagged her and threw her out of the house before it was too late.

Yunhee, although still anxious about the whole meeting up with her soulmate situation, took deep breaths and reminded herself how much she had been wanting to meet her soulmate for the past few days. After calming down a bit, she headed towards the cafe. 

Jongho arrived at the cafe, the bouquet of flowers in hand. It seemed as though he attracted quite a bit of attention, because of how big the assortment of flowers looked due to the big and vibrant sunflowers. He didn’t think much of it however, opting to find a suitable seat while he waited for his soulmate to arrive. 

San on the other hand, went inside the storage room upon Jongho’s arrival to alert the other six who were hiding in there. The guys were trying to find a suitable position to peek in through the door; bickering in low voices to prevent being seen. Yunho had to hold his hand over Wooyoung’s mouth in case he yelled unintentionally and gave out their position. 

Meanwhile, San explained the whole situation to Beomgyu and Soobin, who finally understood what was going on.

“Here goes nothing.” Yunhee muttered to herself while she pushed the door to the cafe open. Upon entering she noticed that the cafe was moderately busy– an unusual sight for her as she always visited early in the morning during the rush hour, when all the seats were occupied and a huge queue present.

She didn’t know what to look for as her soulmate hadn’t really mentioned anything that would help her identify him in the crowd, but she hoped that her ‘soulmate senses’ would assist her with it (if such a thing existed).

Soobin noticed her standing awkwardly by the door and called her.

“Hello! Yunhee, right?” he said. 

“Oh, hi! Yeah, I usually drop by before going to college. I’m glad you remember my name!” Yunhee was grateful to him for striking up a conversation. 

“You seemed like you were searching for someone. Do you perhaps need some help?” He inquired. 

“I was, actually! To be honest, I don’t know what he looks like.” she paused. “It’s… my soulmate and today is supposed to be our first meeting.” Yunhee said truthfully.

Upon hearing what she said, Soobin immediately yelled at San to come to the counter, who was standing at the back. 

Yunhee saw Soobin whisper something to his ear and he looked at her with his eyebrows raised in shock. He then moved back to allow the guy to stand in his place.

“Hi! I’m San and I usually handle making beverages at the back. Soobin here just told me that you are looking for your soulmate, is that right?” He asked politely. 

“Nice to meet you! And yeah, I am.” She replied. 

“Looks like we’ll meet each other more often from now on, Ms.Yunhee.” San said while smiling. “And you might want to look there, on the right side, where a guy is sitting with a huge bouquet of flowers. Good luck!” He instructed while pointing towards the table. 

Yunhee approached said table and immediately noticed the assortment of sunflowers and pink roses along with a few other flowers. She tapped on the table to get the guy’s attention, who was on his phone with his back to her.

Jongho looked up, only to find, arguably, the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes upon. He seemed to be in a trance, everything but the girl in front of him becoming a blur.

Yunhee wasn’t faring any better, feeling like her heart was beating out of her chest as she stared at the guy that was supposed to be her soulmate. 

Both of them felt like something clicked in place, like the final piece in a puzzle that they didn’t even know was missing all this time.

Jongho recovered first, standing up to move the bouquet so that Yunhee could sit in the seat in front of him. Once she settled down, he swiftly handed the flowers to her, to which she thanked him in a bashful way. 

“I did think your choice of flower was unique, but now that I saw you face to face, it suits you.” Jongho said, after clearing his voice. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks.” Yunhee replied. 

“I’m Jongho. Choi Jongho. Sophomore in college.” 

“Park Yunhee. Freshman.” 

“Yunhee… a pretty name for an even prettier person it seems.” Jongho replied playfully, making her blush. 

They carried their conversation, feeling quite relaxed and comfortable after a while. Yunhee asked him a bunch of different questions, as she couldn’t do that with their bond earlier and Jongho patiently answered every query that she had with a smile on his face, not missing to ask her some in return. 

The more they communicated, the more they realised how similar their values and preferences were, which dispelled all the concerns they had about liking each other.

Jongho got up to collect their order when he noticed the six heads peeking through a door in the distance. He made his way towards the door and swung it open, to see the six guys trying to hide behind carton boxes. 

Jongho folded his arms and glared at them while they stuttered trying to explain the situation. Meanwhile, San pretended he did not see anything and continued his work.

Being discovered already, the guys came out from the storage room and greeted Yunhee, who was taken aback at first but reciprocated their enthusiasm almost immediately. 

She could see how embarrassed Jongho looked because of them so she tried to console him by saying that her friends were like this too and they’d all get along really well once they met. 

The guys started leaving one by one, seeing how Jongho’s death glare was still quite evident and they didn’t want to be at the receiving end of their youngest’s wrath. 

Jongho sighed and apologised to Yunhee again for his friends’ sudden intrusion to which she was fine with and said that it was quite nice to meet the people he was close to.

They finished their beverages and chose to take a walk outside before heading home. 

As they were walking along the pavement, Jongho felt a sudden urge to hold her hand. He tried to appear nonchalant and brushed his hand with hers, to which Yunhee responded by grabbing his hand while looking the other way. 

As someone who hated skinship with all his being, Jongho didn’t quite fathom why he felt the need to initiate physical contact with the girl walking beside him. Something as simple as holding hands was making his emotions go haywire. 

'So this is what having a soulmate feels like.' Jongho thought. 

“Right? I always felt like it was a foreign concept to me, which I couldn’t relate to at all when the people around me shared their stories. But now that I’m experiencing it for myself, I get what they were saying.” Yunhee replied, while swinging their joint hands back and forth. 

Jongho looked at her, perplexed about how she knew what he was thinking when their soulmate bond was supposed to dissipate once they met; not to mention it wasn’t regular telepathy to begin with.

Yunhee glanced back at him, to see his head tilted endearingly towards her in confusion.

“You said that out loud, Jongho.” She pointed out while giggling at his expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t realise that.” Jongho turned his head away to hide his embarrassment but Yunhee noticed how red his ears were, making her chuckle again. He figured that he really loved how her laugh sounded. 

After their impromptu stroll, Jongho took Yunhee home. 

They were at the gate, when the girl turned around and held both of Jongho’s hands.

“I had a lovely time today, so thank you so much for that. Thank you for not giving up on me even after knowing how complicated it was trying to find how our bond worked, as I completely started depending on you after not having a single clue about it. I know that our life was kind of on the line too but still I’d like to express my gratitude. And also… thanks for not turning out a jerk I guess?” Yunhee ended with a mischievous smile, making Jongho laugh. 

“Then I’d also like to express my gratitude for the fact that you chose to trust me on this and I’m so glad that you’re my soulmate.” Jongho smiled warmly while squeezing her hands tighter. “Also, thanks for not being a snobbish Karen.” He ended with a wink. 

Both Yunhee and Jongho felt all warm inside just by looking at each other. Every emotion that they felt just by doing the bare minimum seemed heightened and it was a complete new experience for both of them. 

The day ended as Yunhee hugged Jongho despite him telling her he hated skinship, and surprisingly Jongho didn’t mind it and hugged her back. 

Yunhee promised to introduce her parents and friends to him some other day, to which Jongho wholeheartedly agreed, saying he’d do the same. 

At last they parted ways, Yunhee entering her house and Jongho on his way home even though they didn’t want the day to end. 

Unspoken promises of a life together at each other's side lingered on. A life, where they were bound to be together, chosen as each other’s counterparts by fate itself. No matter how many lives they lived, the red string of fate would always bring the destined souls to one another; such was the way of the universe.

[blueskittlesart]

i think you should be allowed to complain about whatever you want forever (and as someone who has been absolutely dying a thousand deaths over the currently planned live action how to train your dragon movie i completely understand this flavor of anguish)

sure sometimes positivity can be good, but sometimes u gotta start eating the walls and yelling to the sky about your misery (it’s cathartic <3). i am so very sorry you are joining the “bad live action movie made purely for money that has no shot of capturing what i love about this media” club, and i hope that at some point in the future it will be able to hurt at least a little less

it's like. idk. like i know that im at best a niche internet microcelebrity but it does kind of feel like im at the point where im being held to a weirdly high standard for. posts on a dying blogging website. like as far as i'm concerned i've never marketed this as an overtly positive space. i complain constantly. i've built this blog around media analysis and critical reads of the things i enjoy, whether those reads are positive or negative. but it's gotten to the point where any time i post an even minimally divisive opinion i get someone who is angry that i even dared to have an opinion at all. i've been very open on this blog about what these games mean to me and how much of my life is tied up in them. I became an artist in part because of my love for them. they have driven the success of my career over the past 5 years. I don't think it's unreasonable for me to be disappointed when something like this happens even if it's "just a game" or "just a movie" especially when my entire brand of content is posting about the game in question. i feel sort of insane. like, you all understand that i'm a person, right? that when i post things they come from my real human brain with real human thoughts and emotions? That i'm not curating my thoughts and opinions for you to consume? I'm just posting. i have a big audience but i am still just posting. and no one understands more than me how insane it is that i'm saying all this in response to posts on my legend of zelda fan blog. but like. i need you all to understand that you can't just tell people to not feel something that they are feeling and expect them to react positively to that, no matter what the context is.

anyways none of this is directed at you the asker im just using you as a vessel lmao but thank you for your support. i am nothing if not a hater and i will continue to be a hater until the end of time god bless 🙏🙏🙏