#why the grand like is hard to access when its RIGHT THERE

[howtotrainyouragents]

It is infuriating how absurdly simple the One Piece world design is, yet how it completely holds up to the entire story

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Taste of Sugar (Part 1 of 2)

Alastor x reader (Hazbin Hotel)

Part 1 rated M, Part 2 rated E 18+ for adult content

TW part 1: Light jealousy, trauma related to past food insecurity, trauma recovery.

TW Part 2: Explicate smut, see part 2 for details.

Almost 4k words for part one. Ps- Fuck you Nonny, this is what you get for trying to tell me what I'll write

~<3 Love, Kit.

As you work through the trauma of your life and starving to death, you dismantle your stash of snacks for what you hope will be the final time. Snack cakes, cookies and crackers are given to everyone around you, except one resident in the hotel whom you knew wouldn't enjoy or consume the treats. Then, as the flow of treats tricked to a stop, stash dismantled, small brown boxes containing treats began to appear at your door. Simple, delicious and seemingly homemade treats without so much as a note.

He watched and he waited, each week for your offer. Each week, no offer came and again he left his gift at your door. Why would you not think of him? Why would you not see him? What did he have to do for you to consider him?

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

A Taste of Sugar

You found yourself in Hell after a rather uneventful death that made of for its lack of excitement with lasting trauma. Now, sitting in a circle in a hotel that functioned more like a rehabilitation center and refuge than actual hotel, you were expected to recount it to the fellow residents that had become more like friends. 

It was Charlie’s latest grand idea of how to build trust and bonds between the group and process negative feelings that could hold each of you back from redemption. You didn’t think that was how redemption worked but whatever, it wasn’t your reputation on the line and it got you a safe room to sleep in and three meals a day. 

The others had grand stories of murders, crimes and addictions that all landed them in the grave, one way or another, often taking others with them. They had spoken of dark indulgences. 

Now they teased you, your crimes amounting to nothing compared to theirs. Damned for the simple crime of being born poor and attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to survive. 

You had died fairly young, having lived most of your life on the streets only to starve to death, alone, cold and in the dark. The shelters were full and the food banks near useless without somewhere to cook the food. Stealing food could only get you so far when you had little to choose from. You died dreaming of a warm meal, cooked at home. You died begging to world for a simple snack cake to quiet the pain in your stomach. You died alone, cold and hungry. 

The divine didn’t seem to care that you only stole what you thought you needed to survive. Really, not even that considering you starved to death. Maybe you didn’t pray enough. Maybe you didn’t go to the right church. Maybe you didn’t give away what little food you had often enough. 

Explaining that felt like shining a spotlight on every way you failed. You failed in life and you failed in death. Not good enough to get into heaven and yet you were also not bad enough to have a respected place in hell. Weak, unless and fueled by fear of once again going without. 

“So, that’s why you’ve always got snacks?” Angel pointed out, making you blush hard in shame. The trauma of your life hand a lasting grip around your actions even in death. 

“I’m trying to be better about it,” You felt shame in how you tended to hoard snacks in your room, rarely actually doing more than a little nibbling at them. Charlie did a great job of ensuring all residents had access to three meals a day, though someone was almost always missing from one meal or another. “I know I don’t have to worry about starving here, it’s just hard.” 

In the shadows of the hall, red eyes watched the group. A smile stretched in the distance as they discussed how the traumas of life leaked into the afterlife and the ways you could move past your traumas. 

He couldn’t say why he was drawn to you. You were little more than a lost doe and yet you plagued his mind. He wanted to cast you out so you’ll leave his thoughts as much as he wanted to keep you as a little pet for his own amusements. There was time enough to figure out what to do about the conflicting urges. For now, he can simply watch from a distance, from the shadows.

Rosie had told him that in her expert opinion he was ‘catching feelings’ when he had lamented his inability to settle on a course of action. That aggravated him more than anything else, well almost. The utter glee at the concept was more annoying by just a touch. 

He was above romantic sentiments just as he was above the carnal desires of the flesh. Rosie was mistaken, Alastor decided as he also made the decision that he would do nothing about you. There was no reason to let you plague him any longer. Simply look away, move on with his days and it would pass. 

Without the desire to do anything about this strange draw to you, Alastor settled on watching you from across the room. He watched as you ate, as you threw out the occasional small package of snacks.Turns out, he wasn’t very good at looking away from you. 

It didn’t escape him how you would frown, discussing your decision with Angel. You had decided you would no longer hoard snacks and oh, how proud of you the group was. 

You were growing. Healing. Blooming. 

If you’d talk to him, he’d tell you that very thing. Yes, he decided as you gave away snacks that he would tell you just how proud he was of you when you presented him with a part of your stash. 

He watched and he waited as you gave out cakes, crackers and cookies to everyone else. 

But never to him. No, it was always Angel and the other residents you shared your spoils with. Not once had you sought him out to offer him a cracker, cake or cookie. Not that he indulged in processed snacks or sweets on anything but the rarest occasion but that didn’t stop his shadow from bristling in annoyance behind him. 

He wanted to be offered. To be recognized. To be thought of. To be noticed. 

But he didn’t have feelings for you, he told himself. And that’s what he kept telling himself as the purging of your stash came to an end, drawer empty and flow of snacks becoming a trickle, an occasional treat purchased with the intention of sharing.

Oh, how you’d healed. 

~~~~~<3

The first time it happened, you nearly stepped on it. Someone had left a simple plain cardboard box in front of your room door without so much as a note attached to it. Inside were two equally simple cookies. Nothing large, nothing fancy. 

Setting them on your desk, you debated eating them or not. They looked good but when you had asked around, no one knew where they had come from. 

“Guess you’ve got a secret admirer,” Angel had teased you. “If the cookies are good, you should date them.” 

You didn’t know how you’d pull that off without knowing who left them though. Surely they were safe to eat, it’s not like random people came and left the hotel.

What’s the worst that could happen, if they were drugged? You were safe in your room. If they made you sick you had a private bathroom. You were already dead so what’s the harm?

The cookies were good, it turned out. You had nibbled on them over a few days, spreading out the treat. It seemed as soon as they were gone though, a new box appeared at the door. This time with a handful of crackers, some sliced cheese, fruit and sliced cured meat.

This continued for months, treats that were simple, modest and only enough to last for a few days. No matter how quickly or slowly you had consumed the gift, the night you discarded the empty box always brought a new box in the morning. 

~~~~~<3 

You leaned against the counter watching Alastor work. It was late and though you were not hungry, you often found yourself in the kitchen. Just being able to go down and look at the food you had access to had been helping you resist the urge to hoard food in your room when ever you felt that anxiety claw at you. 

It helped too, that you had been able to look forward to the small snack boxes that showed up. 

“Something on your mind, Dear?” Alastor didn’t look to you as he spoke, instead keeping his eyes on ingredients he was measuring out. 

You hadn’t expected to find him in the kitchen. It was late and those who didn’t leave to party were asleep. Husk was even passed out at the bar. 

“Not really,” You said after a moment. 

“The food is all here,” Alastor said with a hum, “If that’s what you’re here to check.” 

“Oh, No! I-”

“We’ve all got our quirks.” Alastor cut you off, pouring water into a bowl and adding yeast. 

“What are you making?” You asked rather than face admitting that he was right about what you were there to do.

“Beignets,” Alastor said, mildly annoyed.

“Those are like donuts, right?” You asked, hoping that you had imagined the sound. 

“Indeed, they’re similar.” Alastor kept his words curt. 

“For breakfast tomorrow?” 

“At this hour, it’s today.” Alastor swallowed his annoyance at the endless questions and lied, “Yes, for breakfast.”

“I’ll go, sorry for bothering you.” You stepped backward as you took the hint, smile falling from your face. 

“No,” He answered too fast, bitter sigh huffing through his always present smile, “I’ll need someone to try the test one.” 

“Oh.” 

You sat, watching Alastor work. He mixed flour into the liquid. This was a way you had never seen Alastor before. It crossed your mind that he probably didn’t let many see him with his coat and gloves off, smile turned soft and flour dusting his dark hands. 

But he was letting you. 

His coat was draped over the back of the chair you sat in, brushing against your skin as you shifted positions. His gloves were folded neatly and discarded on the table. He worked with his sleeves rolled up and a tune filling the air as he alternated between humming and softly singing to himself. 

It was beautiful. You were engrossed watching him work. The sound of his voice seemed to wrap around you, caressing you with warmth. 

You’d never spent much time with Alastor. You knew he was a deer, like yourself but until now, you’d thought his only deer trait had been the antlers and ears atop his head. It hadn’t occurred to you that he would have a little fluffy tail to match your own. 

It should have, you had fluffy ears to match his though with your longer hair, it was more obvious that they were indeed ears. You watched as his red and black tail moved with him as he put the dough in the icebox to chill.

“What now?” You asked, leaning back from him. 

“We wait, my little doe,” Alastor sat front of you across the table, leaning into your space across the small table.

“For how long?” You ask, not sure what to make of spending so much time with him. 

“A while,” Alastor said, “But I assure you the wait is well worth it.” 

“But you don’t like sweets.”

“You know what I like?” Alastor’s dark hand, stained by blood that could never be washed away dramatically rose to rest over his heart with a flourish as he leaned forward even more. “I’m ever so flattered.” 

You stuttered, not sure how to backtrack. Alastor laughed at your flustered stuttering before taking pity on you, pointing a long claw tipped finger so close to you that you swore he was going to stab you with his nail. 

“You, my dear, do enjoy sweets however.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, face warm. He knew that you cared for sweets. You were tired but seeing this relaxed side of him was thrilling. That chased away most of the fatigue, driving you to stay and find someway to push the conversation along. 

“I didn’t know you liked to cook,” You struggled to decide how to fill the silence.

“I’ve always found it rather enjoyable.” Alastor cocked his head to the side as he watched you. “My mother taught me.” 

“That must have been nice.” You weren’t sure what to say, having never really gotten to experience the love of a mother yourself. 

“It was.” Alastor watched as you leaned forward, resting your head on your arms. There was something about you that he couldn’t put down. “Did your mother not teach you to cook?” 

Your ears sagged atop your head at the question, earning a raised eyebrow from the man across from you. “She didn’t teach me much of anything. I was on my own since I was fourteen.” 

“Oh, Dear,” Alastor said as if he didn’t know that already, “How dreadful.” 

“I never really had enough food for learning to cook to be a thing.” You shrugged your shoulders, not lifting your head as you stretched out your arm to use it as a pillow. You shifted, allowing you to face him even as you used the side of the table to lounge on. 

“But you do now.” Alastor pointed out as he sat with you in a kitchen full of food.

“Full of Charlie’s and the hotel’s food.” You said, “I couldn’t risk wasting it. It’s enough that everyone shares with me what they make and,” You shake your head awkwardly against your arm, cutting off the thought.

“And?” Alastor pressed. 

“Someone’s been leaving little boxes of treats at my door. I wish I knew who it was.” 

“Why?” Alastor leaned back now, putting distance between the two of you, “Does the origin of a gift matter?” 

“I-” Your eyes teared up as your voice strangled in your throat. You sat up, not sure why you were being so open with him. 

“You~?” Alastor asked in a sing song tone as a tear slipped from your eye and ran down. His eyes followed it as it cut a path down your cheek. It was maddening to him, what you made him feel. How watching that tear captured his attention, yet he raged at the fact that it was born from pain in your heart.

“I’ve never had anyone give me treats like that.” You said, wiping the tear away much to his disappointment. 

“Never? Surely a suiter gifted you treats while courting for your attention.” Oh, why did saying that raise bile in his throat? 

“I’ve never-” You laugh, not sure why the idea of discussing this with Alastor made you feel uneasy. “There was never any suiters. No boys. No one.” 

“I struggle to believe that.” Alastor laughed as he stood from his chair, “Come my dear, wash your hands and join me.” 

You didn’t know what he wanted but Alastor was a man to be obeyed. While you were both deer, he had far more power than you could ever dream to possess. If he wanted to demand your help, you had little choice but to comply. 

Sure, the hotel offered a sense of safety but if Alastor wanted to squash you like a bug, shared demonic traits or not, there was nothing that could stop him. Well, Charlie would but she was asleep. 

Alastor had the counter floured and a small portion of dough out as you joined him, drying your hands. “Where’s the rest?” 

“That’ll be fried up in the morning, if it passes our test.”

He pulled you in front of the counter before stepping close behind you. It was hard to ignore the overwhelming presence of him looming over your shoulder as he reached around to grab the rolling pin only to pass it to you.

“Roll it out until I say,” He directed as he covered the pin in flour only to place it in your hands. 

As you worked, his hands rested on either side of you against the counter, boxing you in from behind while not touching you at all. It was hard for you to ignore how close he was. 

It was like the man was taking over your mind, something you hadn’t expected considering you hadn’t given him much thought in the months before. The smell of his cologne seemed to surround, making your head light. You weren’t sure why you were reacting to him like this but it left your nerves buzzing. 

Now all you could think of was the way his breath caressed over your ears, the way his hands looked without the gloves, dusted with flour, the sound of his voice as he hummed and the smell of his cologne. 

“There.” Alastor said, taking the pin from you and replacing it with a dough cutter. “Squares, about the size of your fist.” 

Cool air swept around you as Alastor moved away, checking the pot of oil heating on the stove. You’d only just begun to relax under his looming presence and now he was gone and damnit, you missed it. 

There was just enough dough to form two squares with some left over. Alastor scooped them up before dropping them in the oil. You stood next to him, watching as the oil came to life around the dough. 

“How long do we cook them?” You asked over the sound of the violently bubbling oil.

“Not long.” Alastor said from too close behind you once again as inky black shadow imps swept up the flour and crumbs, wiping down the counters.

On the counter, he set a plate with a rack over it and next to that was a sifter atop a container of powdered sugar. You were boxed in by Alastor as he rested his hands on either side of the fryer, looking over your shoulder as he once again boxed you in. 

“Now.” He said softly, “Scoop them out and put them on the rack.” 

You were timid, scared of being burned as you fished for the squares with the spoon made of wire. 

“Hurry, hurry!” Alastor cried, voice carrying a musical note as he only made your nerves worse, “You don’t want them to burn!” 

Finally, you got them out. Oil dripped off the puffed up pastries as they quickly drained the excess oil off. Alastor grabbed the sifter only to put it in your hands. He moved you as if you were a puppet, placing the sifter in your hands over the rack, steam wafting up to caress your hand. You stood still as he poured a few spoonfuls of powdered sugar into the basket. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He teased. “You can manage to turn the handle, can’t you?” 

“Yeah,” You stammered over the word, mind buzzing with the anxiety of having Alastor, the powerful, blood thirsty Radio Demon spending so much time in your immediate space. Your hands shook as you turned the small metal handle, causing the wire bar inside the sifter to spin, agitating the powdered sugar and helping it fall in a smooth, clump free shower over a square. 

Alastor used his hand on your forearm to move the sifter over the other pastry when he had decided there was enough dusting on the first. You didn’t know if there was any science to how much sugar each got or if he was simply measuring with his long dead heart. 

Once both were covered enough for his taste, he plucked the sifter from your fingers and set it aside. 

“What now?” You asked, unsure still of what was going on. 

“Now you try one.” Alastor said, plucking a square up. When you went to grab the other, he roughly shoved the rack out of your reach. 

“What? Why did you do that?!” Your brow furrowed as you looked at the rack, now well out of reach before looking back at the man standing too close to you. “How can I try it if you won’t let me grab it?”

“Open.” Alastor commanded as he ripped the corner off the beignet in his hand. 

“Wha-” Your question was cut off by the soft, warm, sweet taste that invaded your mouth somewhat forcefully. 

It was delicious. 

“Well?” Alastor asked as you swallowed the bite. 

You hadn’t noticed Alastor rip off another chunk of beignet but found it pushed between your lips the moment you attempted to praise the taste. This time, instead of retreating, his thumb rested against your lower lip as you took in the bite. 

His nails were long and pointed claws, not the thick claws that encased the fingertips of his gloves, but still dangerous. The sharp point of his thumbnail poked between your lips as he watched you chew for a few moments. 

You were spellbound by the way he looked down at you. What exactly was happening, you had no fucking clue but the air between you and Alastor was thick with something you couldn’t begin to understand. 

His touch left your lip to rip another chunk off the beignet slowly as you watched him. His dark bloodstained hands were covered in the white powdered sugar and flour, softening their appearance.

“It’s good,” You whispered as he slowly brought another bite to your lips. 

This time he offered it, waiting for you to open your mouth and take what he was offering on your own, knowing full well who was offering it. Somehow, it felt like something far more than a midnight snack was being offered to you but what?

“It’s been you,” You said, not asked as Alastor presented another bite that you took willingly as soon as you spoke. 

His thumb again lingered on your lips, sugar damp with oil and sticky on his skin smearing. 

“Yes,” Alastor said after a pause to toss the remaining portion of the beignet on the counter and wiping the hand that had been holding it on a hand towel on the counter, cleaning it of some of the sugar. Yet his other hand didn’t leave you. His thumb remained on your lower lip, feeling every twitch and breath. 

“Why?” You whispered, his thumb slipping against your lip and coming dangerously close to falling into your mouth. 

“You never offered me anything of your stash,” Alastor spoke softly.

“You don’t like sweets,” You hadn’t wanted to waste his time when you had made the decision to dismantle your stash. It had been a emotionally difficult choice, one that you had made before and never stuck to for long until now. “Or junk food.”

“You ignored me.” Alastor’s thumb slipped, running along her lower lip but never leaving it. “I thought if you had better options…”

“I’d share them with you?” Your voice was coming out so soft now, Alastor’s tall ears cocked forward to better pick up your words. 

“But you didn’t.” 

“I didn’t share them with anyone.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to share them with anyone.”

“Why?” 

“I wanted to keep them all to myself. They were too good to share. I-” 

Alastor’s thumb slipped into your mouth, cutting off whatever you had been about to say. Sticky sweetness exploded across your tongue as his thumb caressed it. You could feel the point of his nail against your tongue, a hint of danger coated in sweet sugar. 

Your mind was numb as you caressed the pad of his thumb, rolling the tip of your tongue under his nail softly. You were not sure what he wanted from you. The idea of overstepping Alastor’s unspoken boundaries was terrifying. This was uncharted waters. A side of Alastor you had never seen or even dared to dream of seeing. 

Alastor watched you as you stood near frozen. “Under some circumstances, I enjoy a sweet.” 

~~~~~<3

See part 2 for the smut.

[hyukalyptus]

the willow tree — prince!yeonjun x servant!oc (mira)

cw. brief mention of the death of a grandparent, chubby!reader (rarely self conscious), exes to ???, unsupportive parents, dual POV, classism, mira is described as chubby and has long wavy hair, mira often wears dresses/thongs/etc, smut, sir kink, sneakin around, pet names (darling, babe, baby, love, my girl), lots of cunnilingus/bjs/handjobs, more specific content warnings before each chapter, NSFW/MDNI!!! notes. this has taken me forever!! i know i've been talking about this for so long and i really hope you love it. the poll said to post everything at once, but i put chapter headers so you wouldn't lose your place since its so goddamn long. anyway, enjoy!! wc. 26K im so sry

cw. yeonjun is a bit of a jerk in a flashback, classism, yj is an environmental activist and if u are a climate change denier, feel free to block <3, mira (oc) is described as chubby, yeonjun sneaks into mira's room (but not in a pervy way).

YEONJUN'S POV

Open your heart to the adventure ahead. I glare back at the cheesy quote slapped across the page-a-day calendar resting on my desk Mother gifted me last Christmas. The phrases usually amount to nothing more than fortune cookie wisdom or elementary classroom poster encouragements, and today's offering is no exception.

It’s plastered in meetings and to-dos I have today. One meeting is with a new landscape architect for the garden, another with Gemma about the upcoming quarterly dinner, and another with our ambassador about an upcoming international environmental meeting I’m attending later this year. 

Philanthropy has always been a forte of mine. No matter the cause, I can persuade the richest of the rich to contribute to the cause, I host grand fundraising events, and love speaking for what I care about. My pursuits have evolved over time, ranging from childhood health to advocating for mental wellness and combating food scarcity. 

It’s been difficult to choose what I cared about most, but I simply can’t commit all of my focus to every cause, no matter how hard I try. Within the last few years, my focus has been the environment—an urgent matter demanding action, even if I’m not a major contributor to the problem. Nonetheless, I certainly have influence over large corporations that do, not to mention my political influence. I've also cultivated a deep appreciation for the arts, advocating for universal access. Last year, I facilitated the donation of $125,000 worth of instruments to local public schools.

Outside of work, I like learning new instruments and artforms—right now, pottery and piano—and reading. And I love to travel. I always fly commercial—never private. 

“Honey, be in the common room in fifteen minutes,” Mother—the Queen—says at my door. She glows as her deep ruby chiffon dress flows with her movements, exuding royal, elegance, and authority. She finishes putting in her gold earring before adding, “We have a new hire.” 

Ah, the customary introduction of new staff. I finish watering the peace lily on my window bench before heading down the hallway.

Our castle is opulent yet sophisticated and contemporary. I genuinely love the peacock-green walls, the gold trim, the myriad of photos on the walls—memories of the Queen presenting awards, snapshots from my trips, simple portraits. Despite the grandeur of it all, it’s home.

The common room is large and well-lit thanks to the floor to ceiling windows. Lots of comfortable seating scatters the floor for when guests are over. A large Morisot painting hangs on the wall opposite the windows—brushstrokes full of energy and splashes of rich greens and blues. But it’s the simplicity I love about it. It’s why I bought it. 

“Good morning, Your Majesties,” Gemma states as she enters the room, fifteen staff people following behind her. Everyone does their obligatory bows and curtsies, something I never particularly liked. But I understand the purpose behind it. 

The staff stand in a straight line facing us, Gemma being the stiffest of all—she commands the room, adores perfection, and keeps everything in order. She isn’t my personal favorite staff person, but I don’t know what we’d do without her. 

They’re all wearing their boring uniforms—half are in drab grey frocks with white aprons and the other half are in drab grey suits. I’d rather they wear whatever they want.

Formal introductions like these aren’t to my taste. I like getting to know the staff on our own terms. Organically. But this is important to Gemma. It’s a sort of initiation, a welcome into the family. So I let her do what she needs to do, but I’m busy reminding myself of my to-do list.

Email Princess Everly about the upcoming benefitReschedule interview with Philanthropy DailyOutline Climate Week keynote speech

“As you know,” Gemma startles me out of my thoughts. “We’ve welcomed a new person to our team. I want everyone to give her a warm welcome.” Walking to the end of the line, she introduces her, “This is Mira.” 

Mira smiles softly with a curtsy that I’m assuming she learned to do in the kitchen moments earlier. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am,” she says, tilting her head toward Mother. “And you too, Sir.”

“Nice to—oh.” My mouth hangs open. What am I supposed to say again? Oh right, “Um…it’s nice to meet you too,” I finally murmur. That was embarrassing. 

Everything flashes across the movie screen in my mind—memories with her. The girl I fell in love with when I was a stupid teenager. The girl who stole my first kiss. The girl that was so sweet to me and treated me like any other kid because that’s all I was—a kid.

But she wasn’t just a girl to me. She was the first—only—person I was in love with. The girl I snuck out of the castle at night to go stargazing with. The girl I told all my secrets to. The girl I never thought I’d see again. How could I have forgotten her? 

Do you remember me?

Perhaps that’s all I was to her, though—a boy. Another insignificant teenage romance. Then again…how could she forget? We’d talk for hours about spending our lives together. She’d even picked out her favorite room in the castle that we’d move into together when the time came. It’s now the music room, complete with a piano among other instruments. 

We’d sit under her favorite willow tree in the garden eating red bean buns she’d brought back from the next town over when she’d visit her cousins. 

Have you forgotten? To be fair, It has been six…seven years. Wow. 

The room soon clears, except for Mira and myself. She paces around and smooths her skirt.

“Oh!” Mira gasps. “I’m so sorry. I thought everyone had left,” she says with an awkward curtsy. Simply shaking my head, I stay put. “...Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?”

“Nope…uh, no,” I start, fiddling with the edge of one of the couches before finally speaking up again. “Where are you from?” I’m testing the waters. Trying to see if she remembers me without coming straight out and asking. Honestly, I do this with all our staff: ask where they’re from, get to know them a bit. I don’t like having robots I know nothing about doing everything for me. 

“I’m originally from the next town over.”

Hm. Am I wrong? Maybe she simply looks a lot like my Mira. And has the same name. And the same gorgeous brown eyes. Perhaps I shouldn’t refer to her as my Mira anymore. 

“I’ve lived here since I was a kid though,” she adds. Ah, okay. That seems like something I should’ve known. Nodding, I open my mouth to say something else, but Mother calls me from a distance.

“Yep.” I stand up straight as a pin, turning to exit the room. “Be right there.” 

-

Rummaging through my drawers, I finally find it. The necklace I’d bought Mira all those years ago—a delicate circle pendant with an “M” stamped in the middle hanging from a delicate gold chain. She wore it everyday for six months. I can’t remember how I ended up with it, though. 

So, she’s real. At least that’s true. What should I do with it? I pace up and down the hallways clutching it, brainstorming about what to do with it. Perhaps I should simply walk up to her and ask her about it. Should I wrap it for her and give it to her as a present? Should I give it to Gemma to return to her?

“Oh, Gemma, I’m sorry,” I say, apologizing for almost bumping into her. 

“Not a problem, sir.” She curtsies and begins to walk away, but—

“Gemma?” She turns, holding her hands behind her back, awaiting my instruction. “Can you tell me where the new hire stays? I want to make sure I’ve got everyone’s rooms in order in my head.”

“Mira?” I nod. “She lives in room number six, sir.”

“Thank you.” I smile, but she simply waits. Ah— “Dismissed.” 

As I nonchalantly make my way to the staff wing, I keep an eye out for anyone who might be watching. Not that anyone would question me, but I don’t like people in my business. I eventually find her room in the same hallway as everyone else’s—a basic wooden door painted white with a brass “6” nailed to it—I hesitate before knocking softly. No response. I try again, slightly louder. Still nothing. On the third attempt, I test the door handle and find it unlocked. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m just gonna get in, put the necklace somewhere, then get out. I won’t bother any of her stuff. 

But her room is so sweet. Plain and organized since she just moved in. A single photograph of her and her parents with who I’m assuming is her grandmother rests on the dresser. The bed’s made neatly. There’s a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. 

Ah, the bedside table drawer. That should be a good spot, but I find things that are way too personal in there and decide against it, respecting her privacy despite the fact that I’m breaking and entering. 

Hm…where to put it? Sock drawer? The windowsill catches my eye—a perfect blend of visibility and subtlety. I approach it, careful not to disturb anything, and hang the necklace on the window latch. It’s hiding in plain sight but still easy to find and doesn’t show that I rummaged through her drawers, which is a plus.

Now, we wait. 

-

A week passes. Radio silence. I haven’t gone back to her room to see if it's still hanging on her window, but I haven’t seen it around her neck either. Perhaps she threw it away and I should give up. 

Trudging through my bedroom door, I loosen my tie and toss my phone and wallet onto my bed. I attempt to rub the tiredness out of my eyes, but I’m exhausted. Thankfully, my dinner is already waiting for me on my dresser under a cloche. 

Next to my plate is a glass of ice water dripping in condensation along with a napkin and a set of cutlery. And resting right next to my fork is Mira’s necklace. The sight of it sends a jolt through my system. I knew she came into my room somewhat regularly—all the staff do—but thinking about her in my room makes me tingle. 

I sink onto the edge of my bed with a sigh as the chain slips through my fingers. When I first gave it to her seven years ago, her eyes lit up and her smile made everything feel right. I knew we were supposed to be together. That all seems so distant now.

Why didn’t she simply get rid of it? 

Maybe she hasn’t given up entirely and neither should I. 

It goes back and forth between us for a few weeks. After I found it on my dresser, I slipped it into her apron pocket. Then I found it between the pages of my notebook. The day after I wrapped it around the sugar bowl’s lid handle, it appeared wrapped around the handlebar of my bike. 

We never spoke a word of it. 

Every time I found it, it made me smile, but I knew this couldn't continue forever. I need to see her, to talk to her, to find out what was really going on. Does she want to talk to me? Does she hate me? Does she even remember me?

The next morning, I slip a note under her door. 

Meet me under the willow tree at 8. - Y

Every minute of the day feels like an eternity as I wait for evening to arrive. Doubt gnaws at me, but the thought of seeing and speaking to Mira keeps me sane. 

The evening air is cool and crisp. The sun has dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep blue. Waiting under the willow tree, I think about the many times Mira and I have sat under here and talked for hours, watching the stars as the branches swayed in the wind. We’d talk about our days, places we wanted to visit together, how I wanted to tell everyone about us but she was too hesitant. 

Minutes start to feel like hours as I wait, the silence around me amplifying my racing thoughts. What if she never comes? What if she didn’t get the note? What if she’s avoiding me? Does she hate me?

Finally, soft footsteps approach and I turn to see Mira, her silhouette framed by the dim garden lights. She walks slowly, like she’s dragging it out as long as possible. As she comes up to me, her eyes search mine. My heart races, there’s a lump in my throat. 

"Mira," I start, my voice barely above a whisper. She curtsies. “You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s my job, Sir,” she says flatly. Rocking back on my heels, I press my lips together. 

"I thought I’d return this straight to you,” I say, holding up the necklace. “It seems like it keeps getting lost.” I chuckle nervously, trying to break the tension.

“Thanks,” she replies flatly as she accepts the necklace. Oh my god, she’s gorgeous. I thought I’d memorized every detail about her, but seeing her now under the lamppost, it’s like I’m rediscovering her all over again. She’s beautifully chubby and always has been. Her long, dark brunette hair has a tint of red that makes it look like cinnamon. The wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants paired with an old pair of flip flops tells me she either forgot about our meeting and got dressed in a hurry or wants to get this over with. Or perhaps both. 

“What can I help you with, Sir?” Awkward silence. 

“Mira,” I whisper, her name a fragile plea on my lips. She stares at the ground, avoiding my eyes. What was she expecting? For me to never bring us up? Of course I’d talk to her about it. “Mira Ashenrose, right?” She hums quietly. “I realized I never asked your last name since you started working here.” 

The silence between us is thick with tension. Memories flood my mind and I hope the same is happening to her. The last time we were here, we laid with each other for hours, so long that the sun started rising. She fit so perfectly in my arms. 

“I can’t forget you, Mira,” I say, stepping closer. “Why are you avoiding…us?” The space between us is charged as electricity swirls around us. “Remember us? All those nights we went stargazing? Our picnics? Those daisy chains you made me? You can’t tell me you don’t—”

“Of course I remember,” she interrupts, tears glistening in her eyes. My heart aches at the sight. “I remember everything, Yeonjun.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “I remember falling asleep under this willow tree with you. I remember dancing with you. I remember kissing you before sneaking back into my house. I remember everything, okay?” Her voice trembles. “But that doesn’t mean I want to.” 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?”

She looks utterly heartbroken. “Don’t do this to me, Yeonjun. Stop being cruel.”

Her words punch me in the gut and everything comes rushing back. The reason we ended. I’d asked her to our annual ball—our first public appearance together. The Queen would find out. My royal friends would find out. The whole country would find out. She was a wreck for weeks leading up to it, but I reassured her every chance I got that it would be okay. 

She was—and still is—smart, incredibly beautiful, but most of all, I loved her. Why should anyone care if she wasn’t a royal as long as I was in love with her? That should’ve been enough. 

"Yeonjun, darling," my mother's voice sliced through the delicate hum of the ballroom. "I'd like you to meet Princess Penelope. She's your esteemed companion for the evening." Always so professional. 

“Nice to meet you,” I said, offering a strained greeting to Penelope before turning to face my mother.  "May I have a word with you in private?"

Graciously excusing herself, she left me to confront my mother amidst the grandeur of the ballroom. "Why would you do this? I told you I didn’t want to be set up.”

"I understand, Yeonjun," my mother replied with a tight-lipped smile. "But it's time you started considering your future—"

"My future?" I scoffed. "I'm eighteen."

"Exactly," she countered, her tone firm. "You need to think about a suitable partner. Someone who embodies the qualities of a Queen—dignity, wisdom, influence. And most importantly: royal,” she pointed a finger at me. “I won’t be around forever, darling.”

“Do they really need to be royal?”

My mother's smile widened, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

I swallowed what I really needed to say. There’s no way I’d win an argument anyway. With a resigned nod, I returned to Princess Penelope, the weight of my mother's expectations—and I suppose my entire country’s—heavy on my shoulders. So heavy I’d forgotten—

“Mira,” I said under my breath. There she was, staring at me in disbelief as I danced with Princess Penelope. Ignoring the questioning from Penelope, I abandoned her mid-step and made a beeline for Mira, my heart pounding with a mixture of dread and urgency. "Mira, wait!" I called out, desperation lacing my voice as I chased after her out of the ballroom and into the moonlit courtyard.

"Why, Yeonjun?" Mira's voice cracked as she finally turned to face me, tears staining her cheeks. "Why would you do this?"

"I had no choice," I confessed, my mother’s expectations running circles in my mind. “My mother made me.” 

"You could've told me," Mira interjected, her voice trembling.

"When?" I demanded, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I only found out thirty minutes ago—"

"You could've texted me.”

"I can't risk—"

"What, people finding out about us?" Mira's voice rose with each word, her anguish palpable in the cool night air. “Are you ever going to tell The Queen about us?” Squeezing the bridge of my nose, my eyes twist shut. “Well?” 

Looking at her—possibly for the last time—she looked absolutely beautiful. Her gown was perfect. Soft lavender satin that caught the light as it cascaded down the skirt, a glimmer of fuschia reflecting in the light. I wanted nothing but to hug her, to feel the satin on my fingertips. The sweetheart neckline was gorgeous on her, accentuating her frame perfectly. The M necklace rested around her neck. Her hair was absolutely perfect—she’d been trying out styles for weeks and the final choice was supposed to be a surprise.

“Answer me, Yeonjun.”

I couldn’t do that anymore. Mother meant what she said to me earlier that night: they must be royal. “Just go home,” I said, turning to leave her there alone. Breaking her heart was the best thing to do in the moment. If I could never truly be with her, breaking it off right then and there was the easiest thing for both of us. 

“What? Why—”

“What do you expect, Mira? You’re not royalty. You’re nothing,” I said. “Now go home.”

Too stunned to speak, I stare at her in disbelief. How could I have been so evil to her? What was I thinking? Why did I forget that? Must’ve blocked it from my memory. And now that I’m older, I’d never let some stupid outdated rule like that stand in our way. 

“I’m so—”

“Save it,” she says flatly. “I should’ve thrown away the necklace the first time I found it.” Straightening her posture, she wipes the final tear rolling down her cheek, shaking her head to rid of the emotions. “Let’s pretend this whole thing never happened, yeah?” 

Fine. If someone did that to me, if someone told me I was nothing after telling them they were in love with me for six months, I’d probably feel the same way, if I’m honest. 

As I accept my fate, I turn to walk away, but halt in my footsteps. “No,” I start. “I don’t want to forget this—that we ever happened.” She stays standing there, arms crossed, trying to control her breathing. But I hover over her, waiting for a response. “Please. I miss—”

“Don’t.” She snaps, shaking her head. “Don’t even think about starting that bullshit with me…Sir.”

“I told you, Mother set me up with her.”

“I don’t care about that. You told me I was nothing.” Speechless again, I can’t move. “You never even tried to contact me again and you expect me to give you a second chance?”

“That was seven years ago.”

“So?”

“I’m…we’re both so different. I used to be a stupid teenager. I would never— Please—”

“Please, what? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t—” Honestly, I thought maybe we could pick up where we left off, but I don’t know if that’s possible at this point. I hadn’t felt lonely until she showed up, drowning in my endless to do lists, barely ever hanging out with anyone that wasn’t on my staff or another royal. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe think about that first.”

cw. eating food. 

MIRA'S POV

On my days off, I hide away in a gazebo in a quiet part of the garden and sketch. It’s a nice place to escape to, away from everyone while staying close to home. Home. It’s still hard to believe this castle is my home, even if I am just a servant. 

The gazebo sits against a stone wall on one side—one of those that looks so old you wonder how it's still standing, withered with moss growing between the stones, vines going up and around it. The bench theoretically offers lots of seating, but most of it is covered in pots, plants, and gardening supplies. It’s more storage than an intended place to rest. 

My spot was bare when I found it and it gives me a full view of the grounds. To the right, our village is on full display—colorful, quaint, and inviting. To the left, a thick forest stands tall, leaves rustling with the wind.

Someone’s foot crunches the gravel as they walk toward me and my little corner, but I don’t react. As long as I stay relatively still and quiet, no one bothers me. I continue my sketch of those cute squirrels running around together under the willow tree I’ve always loved. Although it’s left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth recently. 

But the presence of a person looms behind me. Can’t I have one quiet day to myself? Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. They’ll leave eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. 

“...Mira?” A familiar voice says, slow and undeniably warm. 

“Oh.” I stand up straight, giving my obligatory curtsy Gemma has ingrained in me since day one. 

“I told you not to do that,” Yeonjun—Prince Yeonjun—says. He’s dressed casually today, cute even. But don’t you dare tell anyone I said that. A simple maroon cashmere sweater that fits perfectly with his dark wash jeans that barely gather at his ankles, exposing his black vans. A short necklace of black beads sits around his neck. One of those outfits you’d see him wearing in a magazine with a caption like, ‘Royals – they’re just like us!’ 

“And I told you, it’s my job,” I say, returning to my seat, continuing my drawing. 

“Not right now though,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s your day off, right?”

“You have my schedule memorized?” 

“No,” he chuckles, running his fingers through his shiny, black hair that I can practically feel on my fingertips. “Why else would you be hiding in my corner?”

“I figured you followed me—your corner?” 

“I wasn’t following you,” he says, walking closer before rocking back on his heels as he stops. “I read here sometimes.” He holds up a book. “You thought this spot just happened to be clear on its own?” I hum, scooting over and patting the bench next me. “You’re really okay with me here? I don’t want to bother you,” he says, as genuine as one can sound. But I’m still surprised. Sure, he’s not the demanding type, but I don’t know if I’d act the same if I were royalty. 

“To be fair, I was here first,” I say smugly. Although, he is still my boss. It doesn’t matter that we know each other from that past. I add a quick, “...Sir.” for good measure. “Go ahead and sit.”

“Don’t you hate me?” He asks and I chuckle, but when I look up, I see he’s serious. 

“No, I don’t hate you,” I say. “I’ve moved on, Yeonjun.”

Shrugging, he sits near me, opening his book. I tried to get a peek at the title, but I never got the chance without being too obvious. As he sits next to me, I must admit his presence adds a peaceful comfort to what would typically be a relatively silent, if not boring, morning. There’s even a sort of completeness. Birds seem to be chirping more harmoniously. The clouds have disappeared. Oh, what am I saying? That’s ridiculous. That’s a coincidence, Mira. 

“You still draw?” He perks up, pulling me from my thoughts. 

“Of course,” I answer immediately. 

“What are you working on?” Straightening on the bench, I riffle through some papers quickly, trying to hide any potentially embarrassing sketches I don’t want him to see. 

“Just sketches.”

He nods, curiosity etched on his face. “Can I see?” 

“Uh,” I clear my throat. “Sure,” I say, sitting one of my feet on the ground, turning toward him. Our knees brush each other for a moment, but I quickly move it out of his way. Smiling, he examines my drawing of my favorite willow tree I finished yesterday before bed. My cheeks flush as I remember why it was on my mind while drawing, but I hope he doesn’t draw that conclusion. 

“Ah, you’ve gotten so much better.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I chuckle. 

“I just mean,” he looks at me, eyebrows raised in defense. “I can tell you’ve been working on it, I dunno. How else would I say that?”

“That’s fine,” I say. Awkwardness fills the air as I shift my weight around. 

“I’ve been doing pottery, you know.”

I do know. But I’m not supposed to be listening in on their conversations at dinner. I can’t help I’m nosy. I simply ask, “Really?” Humming, he pulls out his phone. 

“This one just came out of the kiln.” He hands me his phone—I wonder what world secrets are on Prince Yeonjun’s phone—to show me a beautifully hand thrown vase. The body is smooth and cylindrical with a slightly tapered neck that gracefully flares out at the top. White glaze covers the surface, contrasting with the thick organic strokes of black glaze. Small, oval handles are attached on both sides. “I just learned how to do handles.” 

“Oh my gosh, Yeonjun…” My breath is taken away. I had no idea he was such an incredible artist. It looks like it was plucked straight out of a museum. “It’s gorgeous.” He always was one to do things perfectly—an all-or-nothing kinda guy. 

“Thanks,” he smiles, pressing his lips together. 

“Show off,” I say, lightly nudging his arm with my elbow.  

An hour or so passes and I’ve switched sitting positions several times, eventually landing on a classic leaned-back-against-the-wall position with my feet up on the bench so I can use my knees and thighs as a desk. He’s barely moved an inch though, sitting happily with his back pressed against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, reading. 

I barely notice my toes absent-mindedly tucking themselves under his thigh like I used to do when we were—

“Oh!” A servant that I haven’t learned the name of yet stumbles in on us, carrying a tray full of food. “I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay,” Yeonjun says, but I’m doing everything I can to hide my face. This can’t get back to the other servants. They’re all such gossips, which I guiltily love, but that doesn’t mean I want them gossiping about me. “Come on over, Natalie.”

“I swear I didn’t tell her about your spot, Sir,” Natalie says nervously.

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay,” he offers a gentle smile, reaching out for the tray, dismissing her after she curtsies, scurrying off quickly. “Don’t worry,” Yeonjun says to me. “She keeps all my secrets—she’s the only one that knows I come out here. She won’t say anything about,” he trails off, gesturing his hand between us.

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Alright,” he sighs. “You hungry?”

“No.” My stomach growls at the worst possible moment. 

“I kinda feel like you are.” I ignore him, focusing on my drawing. “I asked her to bring another meal. You can have it if you want.” 

Peeking over my sketchbook, the tray is fully decked out in sandwiches that look absolutely delicious; sides of mac and cheese and fruits, complete with two glasses of water and a little flower.

“I suppose I’m pretty hungry.” My stomach growls again at the sight of it. “Oh, ignore that; she’s been fussy all day.” I scooch closer to him hesitantly accepting the offer. 

“Mira,” Yeonjun starts. I hum, reaching for a pineapple slice. “Why are all the staff afraid of me?”

“Huh?” I look up at him.

“You saw how nervous Natalie was just thinking I might be mad at her.”

“I think you forget you’re a literal prince,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Are you scared of me?”

Hm. That’s an interesting question. No, of course I’m not scared of you. Why would I be? But perhaps the real answer is Yes, but in the way that everyone makes fun of when people say it out loud. Honestly, I am afraid. Afraid of falling for him again. Getting my heart broken again. We’ve barely talked since I started working here, but I know how convincing he can be. If I’m not careful, he’ll have me wrapped around his finger by next week. 

And let’s not forget he told me I was nothing. That kind of thing doesn’t simply go away. 

I wonder if he’s ever said something like that to one of the servants. Does he think all non-royalty are nothing? No, he wouldn’t be like that anymore. But how would I really know?

Shrugging, I finally say, “No.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

I roll my eyes, “I don’t know, Jjun—” I catch myself as that dumb nickname comes out of my stupid fucking mouth. What’s wrong with me? He looks at me with wide eyes. “Uh, Yeonjun…Sir.” Let’s just pretend like nothing happened. “You said some hurtful stuff to me. Have you said anything like that to one of them?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You could ask a servant if they’re scared of you.”

“I just did,” he points out. Right. I’m…a servant. I keep forgetting that bit when we’re alone. When we’re alone, it's like we’re friends. It’s casual and comfortable. See? What did I tell you? A few hours of silence followed by a few minutes of talking and I’m right back to where I was seven years ago. Stop being so pathetic. 

“Ah.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” I chuckle. “You’re right. But maybe ask a servant that seems like they’re scared of you. They’re probably scared of Gemma more than anything.”

As we wrap up our lunch, his phone buzzes—a calendar reminder probably. 

"I have to get going," he announces, moving efficiently to gather the remnants of our meal onto the tray. But as he stands to leave, an inexplicable urge pulls at me, begging him to stay. Please don’t do this, Mira. Don’t be stupid. 

With a gentle smile, he suggests, "I'll talk to you later?" It's then that I realize I’ve been staring at him in silence for the past who knows how long. "Oh, you have a leaf in your hair." I attempt to remove it myself, but without a mirror, it’s proving to be difficult. "Here," he offers, leaning down. My mind screams at me to resist, but his closeness sends a rush of warmth through my body. With gentle precision, he plucks the leaf away, discarding it casually.

Yet, instead of stepping away, he stays close. I pretend not to notice the magnetic pull between us. Stop it. Admit it. You want him to stay. Straightening my posture, we’re almost leaning into each other, like we’re about to—no. Our gazes dart between each other's lips, ghosts of his touch haunting my senses. Does he still taste the same?

The cool breeze snaps me back to reality. What were you thinking? "Thanks," I mumble, retreating to reestablish a distinct boundary.

"No worries," he replies. The fading sound of his footsteps on gravel leaves me facepalming.

How can I be this close to him without seeing him? Without falling for him again? There’s only one thing to do. 

Avoid him at all costs.

cw. sexual tension, suggestive.  

MIRA'S POV

“Didn’t you finish Mother’s painting in two weeks?” Prince Yeonjun asks, leaning against the doorframe to the sunroom. It’s become my makeshift painting studio. Once the Queen found out I sometimes do art, she thought it’d be a good idea to commission me for new portraits to replace the old ones in the Great Hall. I like painting and I need the money so I of course said yes. 

“Mm-hmm,” I nod, finishing up the final touches on the pattern of his royal cloak. “I’ve been busier recently,” I lie. In the painting, he sits with an arm resting atop a piano against a backdrop of rich velvet curtains like the ones in the living room. The intricate details of his uniform are perfect if I do say so myself. His face, though, is a grey blob with a basic sketch. I work off photographs for the most part, but for faces, I like them sitting right in front of me to get every detail.

But him sitting a foot away from me while I carefully analyze every detail of his face for hours does not sound like a good idea right now. Even if it does sound appealing. 

“You almost ready for me?” 

I should get it over with, but my hands are tired and I have a lot of tasks for my actual job to do before the end of the day.

“Tomorrow,” I say, walking my paintbrushes to the sink. “Does that work for you?” He’s quiet, so I look over my shoulder to make sure he heard me. Pushing himself off the doorframe, he shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“Y-yeah,” he says. “That should work.”

“Okay.” I wipe my paintbrushes with a towel. “Meet here after lunch?” Smiling gently, he nods. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to my real job. See you tomorrow,” I say with a curtsy. 

Tomorrow comes way too fast. I brush my teeth, floss, use mouthwash, and chew some gum to get rid of any trace of my lunch. Dragging my feet down the hallway, I can’t get there slow enough. 

“Ah, Mira,” he says with a smile that warms me from the inside out. I respond with a simple hello, but I’m already burning up as I gather my brushes and paints while he watches me in silence. I realize I’d forgotten to curtsy, but I decide to omit it this time considering he hates it so much. 

“The Queen sat on this stool when I painted her,” I say, moving the stool into place. “You might need to adjust the height.” While he does that, I mix a base for his skin. Starting by mixing the primary colors to get a deep brown, I add a good amount of white to lighten it up then a good amount of yellow and a touch of red for warmth. “Sit still,” I giggle, holding my palette knife next to his cheek. His shoulders rise and fall with his breathing while I add more brown to darken it a bit. Clasping my hands together, I say, “Alright, I’ll be painting for at least two hours, so do anything else you need to do.” 

“I’m good.” 

Shrugging, I adjust my easel so he’s in my sightline but not too close.

Two minutes into painting, he asks, “So how’s your day been?”

“Good. You?” 

“Good,” he responds. I truly don’t mind silence between us two, but I must admit this silence is deafening. “Do you work in silence or can you talk?”

I giggle and say, “I can talk. Or you can play music if you want.” 

“How about both?” I nod. “Alexa, play classical music to focus,” he pauses, waiting for it to respond and start playing. “Tell me what you’re working on.”

“Well,” I start, swishing my brush into some clean water. “I’d already had a basic sketch of your face, but I made some skin tones first. A base, a highlight, and a shadow,” I say, showing him my palette. “Then I’ll go in and fine tune everything.” 

Time passes by—I’ve honestly always liked simply existing near him. We used to do this all the time back when we were dating. Sit near each other and just be. Quietly. Like the other day in the garden when I was drawing and he was reading. It’s peaceful. I can focus. 

It smells like that day in here—soil and paint. Whoever keeps up with these plants is great at their job. They’re gorgeous even in the winter.

“Now I’m working on your eyes,” I say matter-of-factly. Part of me starts with his eyes to get it over with and avoid them as soon as I can, but the other part counts myself lucky that I have reason to stare at them for the next thirty minutes or so. I mix a deep, cool brown and dip my pinkie into it to hold it up next to his eye. “I’m, um,” I glance down. “I’m gonna touch your face.” My pinkie rests on the apple of his cheek so I can get as close as I can to his eye without touching it. “Open your eyes.” 

Damn. Those eyes are like mirrors reflecting my deepest emotions. The world around us fades. I almost drop my palette. Glimpses of our history, our laughter, tears, and dreams we’ve shared together swirl around in them. They take my breath away. 

Realizing we’re staring at each other, I snap out of it, jerking my hand away from him and dive into painting them instead of gazing into them. 

“First try?” I hum in question. “You got the color of my eyes right on the first try?” My ears warm up.

“Well, you know…” I say, my head hanging low. “They’re the same as the Queen’s.” Lie. The Queen’s are much warmer. Hues of deep mahogany and amber; they’re vibrant with hints of gold and copper that catch the light. They glow in the sun. His, on the other hand, are intensely dark. Deep and rich like shadowy moonlight. You could get lost in them like a maze at night. They’re like reading a book by candlelight. They’re gorgeous. 

“Why do I need to be here again?” He asks and I look jokingly offended. “I mean, you worked off photos up until now.”

“So I can get the details of your face I might otherwise miss,” I say, closely examining his face. “Like this freckle,” I say, poking the freckle on his right cheek with the end of my paintbrush that I would never miss in a million years. It’s one of my favorites. “Or this little birthmark.” He’s got the slightest purple splotch on his cheek that again, I’d never miss. 

“You’re painting those?”

“Of course,” I say. “They’re part of you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him grazing his fingertips over his cheek, smiling to himself. “Move closer.” Examining his features even closer, I’m a few inches from his face. I, again, realize I’m staring at his face and my heartbeat quickens. I snap back and say, “Um…sorry.”

“You’re okay.”

But this keeps happening. I keep getting close to him, our hearts beating together as our breath gets sharp. And fuck, I miss him. I can’t help but think about if I were doing this for fun, not as a staff person. I used to draw him all the time. 

And now, here he is, grown up, mature, tall, and utterly handsome as I’m forced to paint a larger-than-life portrait of the guy I used to love and thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. I was such a stupid eighteen-year-old. 

He doesn’t stop staring at me. Not when I add details to his nose. Not when I clean my brush. Not when I observe my painting from a distance. I catch his glare. 

“Can you stop staring at me like that?” I ask, a smile teasing my lips. 

“Like what?”

“Like…” I cock my head to the side. 

“Like you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?” Ah, fuck you. The warmth that rushes through my body is overwhelming and I swear my knees are ready to buckle. My hands tremble as I fight the urge to drop everything. “I don’t think I can stop that, Mira,” he adds softly. 

“You can’t say shit like that to me, Yeonjun,” I manage to say, my smile stubbornly betraying my attempt to stay cool. I keep my eyes on the brush, pretending I’m not seconds away from screaming. 

“Why not?” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“Because…” I finally look over at him, incredibly close to me, eyes flitting all over my face, indiscreetly hovering on my lips. Admittedly, my eyes do the same: land on his lips and suddenly the only thing I’m thinking about is kissing him. “Because…” I repeat, trying to get me to do literally anything but kiss him in this moment, but we both know that’s the only thing either of us want. Each other. To be together. 

I try to remember what his lips feel like. Strong and passionate. At least they used to be. 

How have they changed now that he’s older and has most likely gone through a few serious partners and several hook-ups? Are they softer and more loving now that he’s not a dumb ego-ridden eighteen-year-old? Are they even stronger now that he’s found himself and has solidified his position as a Prince? I wonder. No. Don’t do this. Oh, but why not? 

In one ear, the wise and cautious version of me begs me to refrain from kissing him. Don’t do this, Mira. Remember how heartbroken you were. Mixing romance with your boss is a terrible idea. 

The more rebellious, lust-ridden version of me counters, Look how much hotter he’s gotten. Just make out with him. The Queen is your boss, not him. You could always make out with him, maybe even fuck him, and pretend like nothing happened. 

Wise Mira gasps, That’s mean! 

Right, Lustful Mira says. But he was mean to her. 

Listen to me, Wise Mira chirps up. Don’t kiss him at all. 

Lustful Mira chimes in again, But Mira…look how absolutely delicious his lips look. You want him. He clearly wants you. Don’t you wanna—

“Because I said so.”

He chuckles, “Fair enough.” 

cw. brief mentions of alcohol, cunnilingus, fingering, mira briefly feels self conscious about her body and pubic hair, mira lies to a stranger, begging, yj sneaks into a room she's in, sir kink. 

MIRA'S POV

"What are you wearing friday?" Hyomin casually asks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she effortlessly dusts the coffee table while I clean the windows—the newbie’s job. 

"Aren't we supposed to wear our uniforms?"

"Oh no, darling! The quarterly dinners are the sacred day we break free from the uniform chains—as long as it’s formal." Hyomin is one of few servants I genuinely like. Most of the others are constantly trying to play the game to move up the ladder—none of them really want to be friends. 

The ones that aren’t too busy playing the game are too on edge, following each rule to the letter. 

Yeonjun—Prince Yeonjun, I correct myself for the millionth time—unexpectedly knocks on the door. I, Hyomin, and Natalie perform our obligatory curtsies, even though I know he hates it. If we don’t though, Gemma fusses at us, which he also knows, so he plays along.

"Excuse me," he says, clearing his throat. "Could I trouble someone for a refill on my coffee?"

Natalie, always willing to volunteer, seizes the opportunity and responds quickly. "Certainly, Sir." She breezes by the coffee table to scoop up the metal coffee pot resting on it, returning to the Prince to pour him a fresh mug. 

Our eyes catch each other, a small yet obnoxiously noticeable smile appears on both our faces. Hyomin nudges my arm and mumbles, "And you've gotta wear something extra special for him, right?" What? My eyes widen, shock and annoyance evident in my expression. Shooting a piercing glare at her, I’m rendered momentarily speechless. Hyomin persists, her voice low, "Oh, don't act all innocent. I've seen how you two look at each other.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A mischievous smile plays on her lips, "It's adorable, really. The blushing, the hair-tucking when he says hello, the clumsy encounters,” she says, tilting her head toward him. “Look how red his ears are.” I must admit, they are pretty pink. “We all talk about it, you know.”

“Did Natalie say something?”

“No,” she says confused, but her look soon turns suspicious. “Why would she?” Damn it. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? I avoid eye contact, hoping she��ll give up, but I doubt she ever will. “Mira, why would Natalie say something?”

“No idea.” 

She hums knowingly. "Yeah, right. You two are so obviously dating, it’s ridiculous,” she says, folding the decorative blanket that hangs on the back of the couch while he leaves the room. “We're all waiting for the announcement."

“We are not dating.”

Persistent as ever, Hyomin challenges again, "Look me in the eye right now and swear you haven’t at least kissed him."

I stand tall, smoothing the skirt of my uniform, then take a deep breath and lock eyes with her. “I swear I haven’t kissed him.”

Hyomin narrows her gaze, searching for any crack in my expression. My stomach churns, and before I can stop it, the words spill out in an unfiltered confession.

“…in seven years.”

Damn it. How did she get that out of me?

“What?”

“Shh—!”

“But wh-what do you mean?” She giggles, eager to hear what I’m assuming is the best gossip in years. Although, with royals, there has to have been something juicier than a teenage romance, right?

Motioning for secrecy, I say, “Promise you won’t say anything to the other servants. Please.” Hyomin nods, an expression that practically screams, Spill it. “We knew each other when we were teenagers. We dated then, okay? We broke up seven years ago. I’ve barely spoken to him since.” 

“Oh. My. God. Oh my god, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!”

“Calm down.” I hold my hands up. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? It’s a huge deal,” she exclaims. “Y’all are totally still into each other.” 

“I mean, he’s cute,” I say. “But that ship has sailed.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.” I nod. “We’re just too different.”

“I dunno, I think—”

“Nope.”

“I just mean—”

“Drop it, Hyomin. It will never happen.” My words carry a finality to the discussion.

“Fine,” she concedes, folding her dust rag to place on the table. “The question still stands—what are you wearing Friday?”

Shrugging, I shake my head, “I don’t have anything formal.”

“A perfect excuse for a shopping trip—let’s go into town tomorrow,” she suggests. “I’ll get someone to cover for us for the lunch service.” 

-

“Ah, look at you!” Hyomin cheers. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

“I can’t remember the last time I got this dressed up.” Actually, I do. That night. The night he broke my heart. But I’m not thinking about that right now. In fact, I won’t be thinking about Yeonjun at all tonight. 

Walking down the stairs into the royal hall, the silk of my dress rustles gently as it shimmers in the light. It’s a gorgeous deep viridian that cascades to the floor, creating an ethereal effect with every move I make. The bodice is fitted perfectly, with boning that snatches my waist and makes my tits look amazing. The off-the-shoulder straps elegantly drape across my arms. To complete the look, I’m wearing gold dangle earrings and my hair is styled in loose waves that cascade down one of my shoulders. Around my neck is a delicate circle pendant with a moon stamped into it. 

It’s simply beautiful in here. I’d helped set it up this morning, but seeing the guests dressed up, hearing the musicians playing, the grandeur of it all—it takes my breath away. The air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation with an occasional loud laugh. 

One couple glides along the dancefloor in each other’s arms, both of their dresses flowing gracefully across the dancefloor. A group of young people wearing crowns and tiaras clink their glasses near the champagne tower. Someone else checks their jacket at the front door. 

Deep emerald velvet curtains drape along the walls, adding even more drama. Every detail of the Hall has been meticulously curated to evoke a sense of luxury. 

“Excuse me,” someone says as they brush my shoulder. “Oh.” It’s Yeon—Prince Yeonjun. “Hello.” I nod to him before my obligatory curtsy. Not even trying to hide the fact that he looks me up and down, he makes my cheeks burn. “You look…” He clears his throat. “Um, really pretty.” Well, there goes me not thinking about him at all tonight. How could I put him out of my mind when he looks like this? Positively sexy as hell in his prince uniform. So regal, rich, and powerful. 

“Thank you, Sir,” I say. I catch Hyomin out of the corner of my eye looking stiff as a board with her mouth hanging open. 

Extending his arm out, he asks me, “Care to dance?”

God, I’d fucking love to. How did he do this to me so quickly? We have one nice conversation, maybe a few glances in the hallway and suddenly he’s making my heart race like he did when we were dating. “I don’t think it would look very good for either of us if you were dancing with one of your servants.” Is that even true? I don’t know. 

He nods, pressing his lips together. “I’ll see you later then?”

“When?” I ask as he raises an eyebrow. I hope I didn’t sound too desperate. “I just mean, I don’t know why we would see each other.”

“Right,” he says. “Well, have a good evening.” He nods gently at me and then to Hyomin before walking away. 

Turning to Hyomin, she looks at me with a wide smile and knowing glare. She’s such a smug bitch. “Oh my god,” she gasps under her breath, drawing the edge of her wine glass to her lips. “Look at Prince Sipho over there.” Tilting her head to the side, she adds, “He may be even dreamier than Yeonjun.”

I scoff in my head, but I’d never tell anyone that. Instead, I murmur, “Where?”

“Right over there,” she smirks, tipping her head toward a literal tall, dark, and handsome man. Commanding the room with his height, he undeniably catches my gaze—not an eye contact that stops time in its tracks, but one where we can’t take our eyes off each other. 

Prince Sipho pushes his way through the crowd toward me, but I can’t help but wonder where Yeonjun is. Actually, why do I care at all? Shaking the thought out of my mind, I welcome this new prince’s hand reaching for my own as he delicately touches my knuckles with the poutiest part of his lips. I suppose he’s too much of a gentleman to fully press them to my skin. 

“May I have this dance?” He asks, looking up at me through his eye lashes. So formal. Quickly glancing at Hyomin, she gives me an eager nod. I guess the servants will have something to gossip about later. At least that’ll replace the conversations about me and Yeonjun. 

“Yes, you may,” I say, returning the formality. We do all the obligatory dancing things—hand on my waist, mine around his neck, holding each other’s free hands. Slowly stepping with the classy romantic music of the string quintet, he admittedly looks stunning in his formal wear—baby blue with gold trim. The baby blue brings out the radiant sapphire undertones of his deep brown skin, the gold showcasing the warmth of his amber irises. 

“So,” he starts, his voice deep and rumbling. “Who am I dancing with?” 

Without any hesitation, I lie, “Charlotte.”

“Well, Charlotte,” he says. “You’re on Prince Yeonjun’s staff?” I blink up at him with confusion etched on my face. How did he— “The rose?” He asks, tilting his head toward my chest where a delicate ivory rose is pinned to my dress to differentiate us from the guests in case someone needs something from us. 

“Ah,” I giggle. “Yes. Yes, I am.” Where is he anyway? No. I’m not dancing with Prince Sipho to make Yeonjun jealous—I’m dancing with him because he’s hot, seems sweet, and seems to think I’m hot too. Why would he be watching anyway? This is his party. He’s probably busy schmoozing with some high-stakes donors or some other royals. 

Prince Sipho’s hand glides down to the spot right above my ass—he’s really testing the boundaries, huh? I love it. But guilt twinges my heart. Half of me hopes he isn’t watching this and the other half hopes he is. I don’t know which is worse. 

A loud crash brings the room to a halt and I try to locate where the accident is, but Hyomin waves me over. “Damn it,” I murmur. “I’ve gotta go…clean that up. Excuse me.”

After rushing to clean up the broken glass, I return the broom to the closet that’s three times the size of my bedroom. I take my time putting it back—a break from the hustle and bustle of the party is very much needed right now. The click of the deadbolt jolts my heart. 

A million things run through my mind. A creep is in here with me. Hyomin locked it from the outside and forgot about me and now I’m locked in until someone remembers to come get me. How long am I gonna be in here? Is someone in here with me?

“Hello.”

“Oh,” I say, relieved. “Hello, Sir.” I curtsy, tilting my head toward Prince Yeonjun as he steps into the light. Why is he in here anyway? I’ve been trying so hard to avoid him since the garden when we almost—nevermind. But he’s weaseled his way into my life. Telling the Queen I paint so I’d paint those portraits of them—yeah, I saw right through that bullshit. Bumping into me earlier tonight. But there’s nowhere to run now. We’re utterly alone. 

That’s terrifying. 

He’s never looked at me like this. Dark pupils dilated with lust and desire. It makes my heart race and I stumble back, tripping over some old cardboard boxes, but I catch myself on the countertop. 

Walking toward me, he keeps his hands in his pockets, but manages to box me in, cornering me and standing tall over me, intimidating and somehow…safe. I know he’d never hurt me. Physically at least. But I also can’t wait to see what he does next. 

“So it’s okay for you to dance with Prince Sipho but not me?” His voice grumbles with the low hum of the music right outside the door. 

“I’m not one of his servants,” I say matter-of-factly. “Why do you care anyway?” I ask cheekily as he creeps closer and closer. So close I’m fully backed into this counter now, almost sitting on top of it. “What are you—” 

“Can I kiss you?”

“No,” I answer quickly. 

“Mira…” he sighs. “How can you expect me not to kiss you when you look like that?” That makes me feel things all throughout my body that I definitely shouldn’t be feeling for ex-boyfriends, especially an ex-boyfriend that’s also my boss. And the prince of my country. 

My mouth parts and I swear I tried my best not to lick my lips. “Don’t kiss my mouth,” I say. I told Hyomin I haven’t kissed him in seven years. At least that’ll still be true after whatever happens next. 

Reaching for my hand with his white-glove-clad one, he places a gentle yet devastatingly sensual kiss to the back of it, looking up at me through his eyelashes like Prince Sipho did moments ago. But he had nowhere near the effect Yeonjun has on me. I bet he can smell the nail polish from when Hyomin painted it on my nails a few hours ago. As his perfect pouty lips kiss my hand, I can’t help but wonder how those lips would feel in other places. 

“You look—” he stops for another kiss on my palm. “Absolutely—” then the pulse-point of my wrist. “Stunning.” Then inside my elbow. Making his way up higher, my breath hitches in the back of my throat. “As usual,” he adds. 

That fucker. 

He’s always been like this. Silky smooth then sugary sweet. It gives me whiplash. 

Eventually, his lips explore my collarbone. “You’re so warm.” I don’t know how I got up here, but I’m fully sitting on the counter now. His hands are all over me—brushing my upper arms, grazing the smooth satin of the dress that covers my thighs, digging into the folds of my hips. 

How did this happen? How did I go from dancing with one Prince—a perfectly nice and gentlemanly prince—to sharing this romantic…something with Prince Yeonjun? Something because it’s not a kiss, it’s not more than a kiss, but it’s certainly not less than a kiss. It’s…something. 

His palm brushes the side of my breast and he stops himself from pushing any further before he whispers in my ear, “Can I touch you?”

“I think you already are.”

Firmly squeezing my tit over my dress, I groan as my back arches. Oh my fucking god. Is this real?

Something in his body language switches at the sound of my groaning and he drops everything to get to his knees. He pushes the skirt of my dress up and past my thighs, looking up at me for permission.

Is he…? 

My pussy clenches around nothing at the sheer thought of those gorgeous plump lips around my clit. I let him explore further with his lips without any hesitation whatsoever. Then they’re inside my thighs, slowly moving closer where I desperately need him. Nerves fill my stomach. Flashbacks of other guys going to taste me and not liking what they find enter my mind. Is that gonna happen with him? Is he gonna be turned off by my hair? My stretch marks? The way my fat thighs cover his ears?

As much as my inner feminist hates those thoughts, there’s always that twinge of embarrassment that I still haven’t managed to work through. 

“Yeonjun…” I sigh. “You don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?” He asks. “Do you want me to?” Obviously. I nod. Pressing his lips to the outside of my panties, he breathes me in and I realize he’s never been this close to me. Ever. 

Sure, we’ve kissed, but we were teenagers, we had no idea what we were doing. It never got this far. Never got past the occasional makeout session on my picnic blanket under the willow tree. “You smell so good.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious. You smell delicious.” 

Lips delicate and careful, he takes his time. I never thought this is how it would be with him. I always thought of him as the kind of guy to get straight to it. At least that’s how I imagined it—him embracing me because he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed me right then and there. Whisking me off to his bedroom to undress me, never careful, never delicate. 

But I love it. Love taking a deep breath, letting my head lull back onto the wall behind me, my entire body relaxing. The feeling of a tongue flicking my clit for the first time in months, and the first time it’s his tongue. I card my hand through his hair, gripping some strands between my fingers. Mouth dropping open, I sigh, looking down at him, eyes closed, fully entranced by my taste. Thank fuck he knows exactly what he’s doing now. 

The softness of his white cotton gloves feels like heaven against the heat of my thighs, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want his bare hands on me. 

Like a mind-reader, he plucks his gloves off, one finger at a time, putting me under a spell as he goes. I stare at him as he loosens the glove by pulling on the pointer finger, then the middle, the ring, his pinky, then tugging it all the way off. It’s so sexy. I think I caught a small smirk, but it's just dark enough for it to be hidden. 

The tip of his finger teases my entrance and I can tell— “Fuck,” he gasps. “You’re so wet, darling.”

Don’t call me that. But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud…I’m not even sure I’d mean it if I did. He finally pushes his finger all the way inside me, curling the tip of it to find just the right spot that makes me absolutely moan. He lets go of my skirt to grip my thighs, finally feeling him squeeze and touch me after all these years of wanting him. I beg myself not to stop him and make him touch me everywhere before continuing. 

My pointer fingers graces his and he intertwines his fingers with mine. Something this intimate only happens between lovers, right? Holding hands while fucking in the closet when there’s a party right outside the door? I can’t decide if this is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done or if it’s the most romantic thing. 

Arguing with myself internally, a second finger breaches my entrance, filling me even more so than before. He’s incredible…almost skillful with his fingers. It’s sexy. And exciting. 

Expertly flicking his tongue, he finds the perfect spot with his fingertips, forcing me to buck my hips…fuck I’m so close already. How did he do this to me?

“Please…”

Everything comes to a halt. “Please what?”

“Fuck, Yeonjun, don’t do that to me.” 

“Don’t do what to you? Get you to talk to me?” I look down, defeated. How am I supposed to respond to that? Is that the only reason he’s doing this? Because I’ve been avoiding him and this was the only way he could think of to get me to talk to him? “Tell me what you want. What are you asking for?” Oh. It’s like that. Okay. 

“Please…” It’s already unbelievable that we’re doing this in a closet with a party going on outside. Prince Yeonjun is on his knees for me. And he’s making me beg? I can hardly take it. “Uh…” I stutter, trying to close my legs instinctively. He backs off, eyebrows furrowed. He’s worried about me. I didn’t mean it like that. “You’re not finished yet, are you?” I ask, pushing him back closer with my heel. 

“I’ll finish when you tell me what you want.”

Gracing my finger under his chin, I force him to look at me in the eye before saying, “Make me come. I need it so bad. Please.”  

Cocking his head to the side, he says, “I’ve always wanted to hear you beg for me.” 

My chest heaves as he dives back in for more, flicking his tongue the way I love, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. 

“Fuck, you feel good.” 

“You are delicious.” I’d love it if he could talk to me the way I—and hopefully he—likes. Dirty, up close and in my ear, but this’ll have to do for now. He can get to the real good stuff later. Will there be a later though? 

A white-hot feeling that someone hasn’t made me feel in quite some time quickly approaches. Deep in the pit of my stomach, it bubbles as my body tenses, breath shallow and quick. It builds and builds until all I want to hear him say is Come for me, darling. I know you’re so close. But I know he won’t. He has to stick to the matter at hand. 

With a sharp inhale, I moan and whimper, euphoria washing over me as my thighs tighten around his head. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this good. He’s incredibly talented—like I said, he’s an all or nothing kinda guy and I love that about him. 

“Fuck. Oh my god,” I gasp, my hips rolling needing more, more, more. Goddamn, I’m in trouble. “Holy shit.” I trail off, my breathing shallow. My eyes squeeze shut as my head drops back before my body starts flinching. “Thank you, Sir.”

My body goes slack as he slows down. Once I catch my breath, my eyes flutter open to see him looking at me with a cheeky smirk. He’s so fucking smug. 

“Sir?” 

Shit. That is just about the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve been correcting myself for weeks, reminding myself to call him Prince Yeonjun, Your Majesty, Sir. I know he hates when I call him that, even in normal scenarios. I can’t imagine how mad he is now that I’ve called him that while giving me an orgasm. Not just any orgasm, though. One of the best I’ve had in months. All while wearing our formal wear too. Fuck, he looks so sexy in his uniform. Especially with it slightly disheveled, hair messy, gloves off. 

“It must’ve slipped.”

He simply stands, darkness and lust still in his eyes as his hands grip my hips, squeezing harshly before moving them up further to my waist. His right hand trails up even higher, cupping my face to force my ear to line up with his lips. “Call me that again next time.” Next time? There’s gonna be a next time? “Got it?”

Speechless, I compose myself before whispering, “Yes, Sir.”  

cw. cunnilingus, mentions of previous bjs and hand jobs, mira is described as chubby/fat/curvy in a good way, hickeys, biting, masturbation.

YEONJUN'S POV

“Mira,” I say simply as she walks by me looking gorgeous as always. Since our little rendezvous in the butler’s closet last month, we’ve “seen” each other several times since, each meeting ending with at least one of us coming. Nothing beyond oral and hand stuff—we still haven’t kissed or seen each other fully naked yet—but even so, it’s been amazing. She’s so good at it all. The teasing, the touching, the talking, all of it. I don’t think I can pick a favorite moment.

Maybe when she asked me to give her hickeys on the inside of her thighs. Her whispering, Give me hickeys, please…wanna look down and imagine you’re there after you’re gone. Oof. Chills. 

Or maybe when she laid her back against my chest and I rubbed her clit so perfectly, she dug her nails into my forearm for dear life, so hard it broke skin. I had to wear long sleeves for three days. 

Perhaps her seeing my cock for the first time, eyes wide as she said Oh my god, Sir. You have a beautiful cock. No one’s ever called me beautiful before, let alone my dick. That made me giddier than I even thought possible. 

“Yeon—Sir,” she quickly corrects herself in case anyone’s listening. Glancing around, we’re the only ones nearby. “You look nice. New uniform jacket?” I nod. 

Tonight’s occasion is much less grand than our first night together. A simple gathering with a few royals. It was the high-stakes donors I was hoping to get some money from tonight, but they’re all donationed-out it seems. 

“You look…” I look over her, never subtle about ogling her. “Absolutely stunning. New dress?” She subtly tilts her head. I stuff my hands in my pockets. What’s the point of delaying it any more? “I need to taste you again.”

“Already? You ate me out yesterday.”

“What can I say?” I chuckle. “I’ve got a craving.” She takes a deep breath before nodding at me, not changing her facial expression. “Closet, five minutes?” 

The closet isn’t the only place we’ve had our meetings but it is definitely our most frequented spot. Honorable mentions include the library, the sunroom, and under the willow tree where she laid back against me. That was only once but it was magical. 

As she turns away, I can’t help but wonder what the rest of her looks like. She’s got what feels like the most perfect ass, but I still haven’t gotten a good look at it. And her tits…good lord what I’d give to bury my face between her bare tits. 

“Prince Yeonjun?”

“Ah, Prince Sipho,” I say, returning his bow. “Nice to see you again.” He holds his hands behind him and maintains his intimidating eye contact. “I hope you’re enjoying dinner.”

“Can I ask for a favor?” He asks, almost urgently. 

“Sure.”

“I saw you were talking to Charlotte,” he says. “I danced with her last month and I never got her phone number.” His expression softens. “I realize how awkward and potentially inappropriate this is considering she’s on your staff. Would you mind providing me with her phone number?”

“I’m sorry,” I begin. “I don’t think I know a Charlotte.”

“You were just speaking with her,” he says matter-of-factly. “Right over there.” He tilts his head in the direction of…Mira? Happily prancing off in the direction of the closet. Our closet. Oh no. 

I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. Someone was bound to be interested in her at some point. I just didn’t think my competition would be another handsome prince. What am I saying? Competition? Stop being such an ass.

“You can ask her yourself, you know.” 

“Fair enough.”

“I don’t think now’s a good time though,” I rush to say, stopping him in his tracks before he turns around. “She’s busy. I just sent her to do a task.”

“Then I suppose you should give me her number now, then?”

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I finally speak up to say, “I’ll talk to her first. You know, make sure she’s comfortable with me giving out her phone number.”

“Of course.” He tilts his head and walks away. My mind races with questions. Did he sweep her off her feet? Have they slept together? Or worse: have they kissed? Why does he think her name is Charlotte? But I’ve gotta get back to the matter at hand.

“You’re already ready for me, hm?” I ask, seeing her proudly sitting on the countertop, waiting for me. She nods cutely, wiggling her feet back and forth. Locking the door, I take my gloves off one finger at a time before stuffing them in my pocket for safe keeping. Then I loosen my collar a bit, something I know she thinks is hot, so I always make a show out of it just for her. 

As I step closer, she grips the edge of the counter so tightly the veins on the back of her hand pop out. She crosses her ankles and looks down briefly but puts on a brave face to stare me in the eye. Wrapping my arms around her, I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in. 

“You smell so good.” I’ve noticed she’s started wearing a specific perfume for special occasions—the gala last month, dinners like these, she even wore it once when she shyly asked me to eat her out again on a random Tuesday. 

“Thank you, Sir.” Never taking my lips off her neck, I feel all over her, albeit over her dress, but she feels lovely. Dropping to my knees, I lift her skirt up to access her thighs with my lips, placing kisses everywhere. And there they are—those gorgeous hickeys I gave her last week. Still there. I swipe my thumb across one before biting her skin gently.

“Can I ask you something?” She hums as I move closer and closer to her center. Glancing up at her, her eyelids have fluttered shut and her hands are in my hair. “Do you know Prince Sipho?” Her hands stop.

“I know of him,” she says plainly. “Why?”

“No reason,” I say, nudging her thigh with my nose to encourage her to open wider. I add, “Said he danced with you and I guess he likes you.” I place a kiss on the outside of her thong right between her pussy lips. “Asked me for your phone number.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“...Oh.” She leans back, resting her hands behind her back for support. Is that a good oh or a bad oh?

“He thinks your name’s Charlotte though.” I chuckle. “What’s that about?”

“I don’t know,” she says awkwardly while I dig my fingers into her thong, pulling it down her legs, still watching her body language carefully. “That’s weird.” 

“Mira.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, but still welcomes my lips around her pussy. “I dunno—I wasn’t interested so I gave him a fake name. Doesn’t everyone do that?”

“Mm…I suppose,” I say, spreading her lips to flick my tongue against her clit. Fuck, she tastes amazing. Every fucking time. Her hand flies to my hair again, taking quick breaths. “Why wouldn’t you be interested in him?” 

“Can we not talk about Prince Sipho while you’re eating me out, please?”

“I was just curious.” 

Why wouldn’t she be interested, though? He’s definitely her type—tall, handsome, smart, royal. 

Images of them dancing together, arms wrapped around each other, his hand sliding further down her back make my vision red. 

Maybe she’s interested in someone else with those same qualities, perhaps even more devastatingly handsome than him. And hilarious, might I add. 

But thinking about her dancing with Sipho while thinking about me makes me giddy. When else does she think about me? When she’s eating breakfast? Doing her chores? Getting ready to go to bed? In the shower? When she touches herself? Oh. That sends shivers down my spine. 

“How often do you think about me, Mira?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when do you think about me?”

She takes a deep breath, letting her head fall back against the wall, the slightest smile flashing over her lips before she says, “When I’m horny.”

“So you think about me when you touch yourself?” 

Her fingers stop again and she looks up, eyes wide like I caught her doing something she shouldn’t have been. I’d never let her see it, but I’m giggling on the inside. She’s so cute. 

“Um,” she clears her throat. “I guess, yeah.” There’s a looming awkward silence while I keep licking her. She’s trying not to react to how good it feels. Trying not to give in. 

“Well, go on.”

“What?” Mira asks. 

“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me exactly what you think about.” She takes a deep breath to collect herself, like she’s trying to hold back her noises and movements. I don’t like that she feels the need to do that with me. If anything, I crave hearing and feeling them. “It’s okay, you can tell me anything.”

Her breath hitches, eyes flitting away before locking back to mine. "I think about you touching me," she admits quietly, but I can tell she’s gaining confidence. "The way you did the first time.” She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I think about your hands on my body," she continues. "The way you knew exactly where to touch me, how to make me feel..."

"How to make you feel what?" I prompt, my hands gently caressing her thighs, urging her to keep going while my mouth is nowhere near her pussy.

"How to make me feel good," she breathes out, her eyes closing as she loses herself in the memory and the feeling of my tongue on her clit. 

“Do you miss it? ” I ask, my breath hot against her skin. "Do you miss me when I’m gone and can’t make you feel good?”

She nods, her breath sharp and quick. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice trembling with desire. "I miss it so much." My hands continue to explore her body, relearning every curve and contour, desperate to rip this dress off her, but we haven’t crossed that boundary yet. 

"What else do you think about?" I ask, my voice a gentle command.

“The way you taste.”

"And how do I taste?" I ask, my lips ghosting over her skin, teasing her with the promise of more.

"Salty," she whispers, her voice hitching. I can’t tell if she means— “That’s a good thing.” I smile against her skin, relieved while my hands squeeze her thighs. “But I mostly think about your mouth. How good you are at this. Those hickeys you gave me have certainly come in handy.” 

“How so?” I slide two fingers inside her and her breath gets quicker. 

Groaning, she says, “Looking down at them turns me on so much.” She swipes her hand across them. “Thinking about us sneaking around like this. It makes me feel…dirty.” She giggles. “Is that cheesy?” I shake my head and start licking her clit again. “They need to stop assigning me tasks while you’re around.” I hum in question. “The other day they made me clean the studio while you were in your pottery lesson—why it couldn’t wait, I don’t know—but it was too much,” she says. “Watching you with your sleeves pushed up, your hands on the clay, oh my god, you were so hot. You had me hot and bothered all day long.”

I genuinely had no idea. She does a great job of hiding that. Little does she know, I was stealing glances of her that whole lesson—I don’t remember a single word my instructor said. The only thing I was looking at was her body, her curvy thighs, full breasts, squishy tummy, the greatest ass I’ve ever seen and I haven’t even seen it bare yet. “What did you do afterward?”

She hesitates, tensing up, holding back. “I don’t wanna say.”

I stop in my tracks. “Tell me.”

“No,” she whines. “Don’t make me.” Refusing to speak or look down at me, I pull away from her, looking at her like, I’m not gonna keep going until you tell me. With an insatiable eye roll, she finally speaks up, “I thought about you.” I look at her again like, That’s not enough and you know it. “Fine,” she says. Of course, if this truly bothered her, she knows our safe word. Tapping her fingers on the counter before bashfully looking away, she admits, “I thought about you while I touched myself.”

Satisfied, I give her a kitten lick on her clit, making her gasp. 

“I, uh…I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, at the hickeys you gave me.” I start licking more and more, rewarding her for talking. “I thought about what it would look like if someone walked in on us while you did this to me. Or what someone would think if they saw the hickeys you gave me.”

Her hips start to roll and I know I can’t speak anymore. Because that would mean taking my mouth off her pussy, which neither of us want. Instead, my grip on the fat of her thighs gets harsher and I stay steady with my mouth, knowing this is the exact speed and pressure she needs. 

“I thought about you ripping my dress off but then slowing down to take my thong and bra off,” she says. Well, that’s new. We’ve never mentioned anything further than this. Does she want something more than this? 

“About you pressing your bare chest against mine,” she adds breathlessly. “You licking my tits.” Her thoughts and words start speeding up, like she’s telling me not to stop no matter what. “You tapping my clit with your cock.” Oh my god. She wants to do things like that with me? Fuck. I can’t show how giddy that makes me, not right now at least. 

Her hands hold onto my hair for dear life. Her moans pitch up and increase speed, like a chant, getting louder and louder. “You fucking me from behind,” she says. “Fucking me so good I can hardly take it.” She’s so close. “Until—until…” She's panting, clearly right on the verge of reaching her orgasm. “I’m coming so good for you,” she whispers breathlessly. I can feel it when her thighs tremble, when her clit pulsates against my tongue, when her nails dig into my scalp. 

Catching her breath after she comes, she finishes off with a sweet, “Thank you, Sir.”

cw. more yeonjun environmental activist, suggestive, cheesy idk. 

MIRA'S POV

“I can’t believe you did this,” I spit at Yeonjun, messily packing my old beat up carry-on. He refolds one of my t-shirts and hands it to me. 

“I thought you’d be excited to go.” 

Scoffing, I put a fist on my hip and face him. “I’m going as your servant.” He rolls his eyes before shoving his hands in his pockets. “All the other servants already think there’s something going on between us. Requesting me for your dumb business trip is gonna look suspicious.”

“Dumb?” He’s visibly offended. “This is an important business trip for me.”

“Still. They won’t shut up about this for months and you know it.”

“I thought you said there was nothing to talk about,” he says smugly, but I ignore him. “Look, I knew you wouldn’t act all servant-y the whole time, okay? Mother insists I take someone, but I’m a grown-up. I can do things on my own,” he says. “I knew you would be…normal, I don’t know. You wouldn’t curtsy, be on edge, or call me Sir.”

I stop in my tracks to look him in the eye and ask, “Except for when you want me to, right?” I hadn’t thought about what we might do at the hotel while we’re gone. Would he invite me to his room so he could taste me? Would he surprise me with a knock on my door? Would he text me to meet him somewhere else? I don’t know but I admit I’m excited to find out. 

The next morning, I hoist my suitcase into the trunk of the town car while the chauffeur, Eston, opens the door for me. I’m greeted with a sleepy “Morning,” from Yeonjun as he hands me a travel mug full of coffee that I didn’t ask for, but I’m definitely grateful for. 

“We’re taking the same car?”

“Of course,” he says. “Less cars on the road.”

Oh my god, he looks so cute with his sleepy eyes and messy hair. Although he flies commercial everywhere he goes, he wears every disguise possible: hat, face mask, hoodie with the hood up, you name it. We get to go through security privately though, which is nice. 

After our long flight, I want nothing more than to crash into a nice, warm bed—actually, any bed will do. It’s still light, but it’s evening and I’m ready to go to bed early. While he handles check-in, I scroll through my phone—international data plan paid for by the Queen, thank you very much. 

On the elevator, I ask , “Which floor am I on?” 

“Seven.” I nod, reaching for the seven button on the elevator, but it only goes up to six. There’s only one above it, which is labeled ‘Penthouse.’

Wait. “Did you only get one room?”

“Well…”

“Yeonjun!” I scream-whisper. “What is wrong with you? What did you think—”

He holds his hands up to clarify, “It has two rooms, okay? I wasn’t trying to…I dunno, make anything happen. It seemed easier.” 

The room is truly magnificent. Luxurious gold silk drapes frame the windows to let light flood the room. Sofas and armchairs surround a marble fireplace—cozy yet regal, just how Yeonjun likes it. An intricately carved coffee table sits in the middle of the room holding a vase of fresh flowers. There’s even a piano sitting in the corner. 

The view from the terrace takes my breath away. The gorgeous blues of Lake Geneva and the snow-capped alps are gorgeous. The air is crisp and clean and refreshes my lungs from the inside out. I lean on the railing, letting the cool breeze brush against my face as calmness washes over me.

“Gorgeous, huh?” Yeonjun asks as he stands beside me, his eyes scanning the horizon. 

“This is fucking incredible,” I say, my gaze never waiving from the beauty of the landscape. 

“I knew you’d like it,” he says. I glance over at him and he gives me a warm smile. 

“You’ve been here?”

“I’ve never stayed in this hotel, but I’ve been to Geneva, yes.” 

There’s a silence. Like we both know we want to do something, but we’re unsure of exactly what. Go in for a hug? No. Let him wrap his arm around me? No. Kiss him? Absolutely not. We can’t fall into that relationship space. The tension presses down on us, unspoken but palpable.

“Well, I’m exhausted,” he says, breaking the silence. “Did you wanna take a shower first or…?” 

“You can go ahead,” I say as I walk through the room, planning to unpack a bit first. Extending my suitcase’s handle, I ask, “Where’s the other room?” He grimaces, avoiding my gaze. “What?”

“Don’t be mad,” he starts, but I’m already visibly mad. “I must’ve looked at the website wrong.” I brace for the inevitable while he braces for my reaction. “This is it.”

“Seriously, Yeonjun? One bed?.” This is not gonna turn into a cheesy only-one-bed-left story. Nope. I won’t let it. “You better get me another room.”

“I already called and they’re out.” I’m fuming. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says. My face softens. I didn’t necessarily want that. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Yeonjun,” I say, guilt in my voice. 

“Mira, it’s fine. Really. It was my mistake, so I’ll take the couch.” 

“Okay,” I say. “I guess you can’t do stuff on your own, then, huh?”

-

The next morning, I wake up in this giant bed. Alone. The smell of coffee is already wafting through the air. Stretching under the covers, I sit up to see Yeonjun on the terrace, reading a newspaper. Not on his phone—a literal printed newspaper. I don't even know where he got it. 

An adorable little prince sitting there with his luxurious silk PJs, fuzzy slippers, messy hair, and the cutest pair of glasses anyone’s ever seen. Before joining him, I pull a hoodie over my tank top.

“Aren’t I supposed to get you your coffee?” I ask, admiring the view of the lake. 

“When you wake up on time, yes,” he says, not looking up from his paper while he pushes up his glasses. 

“I…I’m sorry,” I say, forcing myself back into my professional persona. 

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckles, sitting his coffee on the coaster and looking at me. “I wasn’t trying to be bossy. You seemed like you needed sleep. And I can get my own coffee,” he says. “Besides, today is a day off. You can get me coffee tomorrow.” I nod. “Did you have plans today?”

“I dunno…maybe I’ll draw by the lake or something.” 

“I’m kayaking on the lake and having a picnic lunch if you want to join me,” he suggests. “You can bring your sketchbook.”

-

The lake shimmers like a bed of gems, crystal-clear waters reflecting the sunlight in brilliant shades of blue. As we paddle alongside each other, our rowing is rhythmic until we reach a small pebbled shore on the other side of the lake.

Yeonjun jumps out first, standing up in the water to pull his kayak to shore. He’s so charming with his crocs and shorts short enough to expose his muscular thighs. The t-shirt he’s got on is somehow the hottest thing I’ve ever seen him wear, perfectly accentuating his pecs and clinging to his biceps. And the cutest lake hat sits on his head, making me absolutely giddy. 

Without having to ask, he pulls my kayak in so I don’t need to step in the water or pull it up myself. He offers his hand to me with a smile, my fingers lingering a bit too long after I stand to my feet. 

While I set up the blanket on the pebbled shore, I ask, “What’s tomorrow’s meeting about?”

His eyes light up while he unpacks our picnic. "Tomorrow's meeting is with the Global Environment Facility," he begins, settling back against the kayak, pouring some juice into two glasses. "We're discussing several things, but we’ll be focusing on keeping our water clean.” He tilts his head toward the sparkling Lake Geneva in front of us, its pristine waters a reminder of the importance of this endeavor. "Access to clean water is a fundamental human right," he says passionately. “But there’s so much…crap in them. You know 26% of the world doesn’t have access to safe drinking water?” My eyes widen. “And so many beautiful oceans and rivers and lakes like this one keep getting trashed.” 

His dedication is contagious, and I find myself leaning in, captivated by his words. "It's more than policies and proposals," he continues. "It's about creating real, tangible changes that will protect our planet.” He smiles, a mix of determination and hope in his expression. "I mean, I dunno…it’s a big goal I guess,” he says, glancing down in embarrassment. 

“Seems like you’re actually doing something about it.”

“We’re at least trying to make change happen.”

Sitting on the blanket, I fest my legs out in front of me with my hands supporting me from behind. He hands me a glass while he sits criss-cross next to me. “You seem really passionate about it,” I say. 

“I am,” he nods.

A comfortable silence settles over us as we enjoy our meal. Afterward, he takes his book out of his backpack, reclining back to rest his head against the kayak. I take out my sketchbook and pencils, setting it up against my knees and thighs. 

I try to focus on capturing the serenity of the lake, but my eyes keep drifting to him. His presence is so comforting and I’m reminded of that every time we’re alone like this. Watching him, I can’t help but think about what it would feel like to rest my cheek against his chest. Warm. Strong. Safe. 

“Yeonjun?”

“Hm?” He looks up at me from under his hat, but I don’t know what to say. After a few seconds of silence, he sits up completely and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I stutter, returning to my drawing. 

An hour or so passes—I’ve made great progress on my drawing and it seems like he made a nice dent in his book, but the sun’s setting fast. 

“We should probably go soon,” he notes. “We shouldn’t kayak in the dark and it’ll probably take an hour to get back.”

-

“Everything okay?” Yeonjun asks, startling me on the terrace. I hum, avoiding looking at him. He looks too good after showers—hair damp and skin pink from the hot water—so I better not take a peek. I’ve clipped my wet hair up—it holds its waves better that way. 

“I’m finishing up this drawing I started at the lake. Adding some watercolor.” 

“Is that me?” He asks, pulling the other seat around to sit next to me. 

“Yeah,” I nod awkwardly. “I just drew what I saw.” I say, giving in and glancing at him while he smiles to himself as he examines the art. 

Seconds pass before he adds, “I had a lot of fun today.”

“Me too,” I say, my arms crossed. He’s so, so close to me. 

“Yeah?” I hum. “Since you showed me this,” he says, gesturing to the drawing. “I’ll show you this picture I took of you,” he says, reaching for his phone in his pocket. Leaning even closer to me, I feel his warmth. I must say I look pretty. My hair’s windswept, I have a nice pink in my cheeks, and I look genuinely happy looking out over the water. His fingers mindlessly touch mine while he looks at me. “Thank you for coming with me,” he says. “You know, on the picnic.”

“No worries,” I say. 

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” he says, not moving an inch. Oh my god, he looks so kissable right now. I can’t believe how long we’ve gone without kissing each other even once. I didn’t think we’d last one week after we started…whatever we’re doing. Hooking up? 

Regardless, I’m relieved. We should not be starting something right now. He’s my boss. My boss and my ex that broke my heart. 

But we’re leaning in closer and closer, like we’re about to—don’t you dare. I catch myself first. 

“You can, uh…you can sleep in the bed with me if you want,” I whisper. He shakes his head and starts to protest. “Really, it’s okay. Swear. It’s a huge bed.”

cw. brief mention of the death of a grandparent, yeonjun environmental activist, eating food.

YEONJUN'S POV

As I make my way toward the grand conference hall, the weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders like a heavy cloak. Today's meeting is a pivotal moment in my advocacy work and I need to be right on. I love this though. Speaking for what I believe in. Convincing people. And admittedly, sounding smart, which I am.

Glancing over my shoulder, Mira follows close behind me, which is what she’s meant to be doing. It still sends shivers down my spine. Our return to our professional roles after our idyllic kayaking excursion feels strange, but duty calls and we both have our parts to play. I square my shoulders and quicken my pace, the marble floors echoing under my feet. 

With a final glance back at Mira, she offers an encouraging smile and asks, “Ready?” I take a deep breath. “You’re gonna be great.” She opens the door and I step into the grandeur of the conference room. The air is charged with energy, a palpable sense of purpose radiating throughout the room. 

Taking my place at the head of the table, pride and excitement surges through me. This is it—the moment I’ve been preparing for, the chance to make a real difference.

-

Coming back home—hotel room—I’m exhausted but exhilarated. As I’m about to collapse onto the couch, a knock at the living room entryway wakes me up. 

“You hungry?” Mira asks, flipping through the room service menu. 

“Order whatever you like.”

“What would you like?”

“Anything’s fine. I’m not picky.”

After she places the order on the phone, we chat about the meeting a bit, but it isn’t long before the conversation gets lighter. We laugh about our kayaking adventure yesterday, recalling the near-disaster when I almost tripped into the water face first. The room service arrives promptly, and we dig into our meal. 

"So, tell me," she says between bites of her spaghetti, "what got you interested in environmental advocacy in the first place?"

I lean back, chewing the bite of pizza in thought. "I guess it started when I was a kid. You remember how much I loved nature even back then.” She nods. “Whenever I got stressed, I’d go outside—you know, for a walk, camping, whatever, and one day, I looked around and only saw wealthy people and it was one of those moments where I realized how lucky I am,” I say, not breaking eye contact. “Access to nature is a fundamental human right. It’s already inaccessible to many and it’s only getting worse.”

She nods. “It's easy to take it for granted.”

“It was something I’d never thought about,” I chuckle. “I was a fucking prick back then.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, a little too easily. She’s not wrong though.

“As I got older, I started to see the impact of pollution and climate change. I knew I had to do something, even if it was just a small part."

We continue talking late into the night, sharing stories and dreams, discovering new facets of each other's personalities. It’s in these quiet moments I cherish that I get to see some real parts of her, like in the garden, when she painted my portrait, when we went kayaking. 

“What’s something you’re passionate about?” I ask. She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Nah, come on, you gotta be passionate about something.” Shrugging, she shakes her head. “How about your art?”

Smiling to herself, she asks, “What about it?”

“Why are you an artist?”

She leans back, tracing patterns of the fabric on the couch with her finger. "This is cheesy but when I look around, I see colors, shapes, emotions. When I draw or paint or whatever, it's like I'm putting pieces together, creating something whole. It’s not about making something beautiful, but capturing a moment or a feeling, things I can’t say out loud,” she says, glancing around the room bashfully. “Or whatever.”

“Not or whatever. You need to give yourself more credit.”

She nods shyly, looking down with a grin. "I remember this painting I did. It was of an old barn, you know, out of town a bit. Everyone thought it was just a pretty picture of decay. But it was about resilience, how even in decay, there’s a story that refuses to be forgotten, even if it can’t speak for itself or if no one’s listening but me.” I nod. “That’s what I really love. Finding those moments that only a few people notice. It’s like saying, ‘Hey, I see you and I feel this too.’” That’s amazing. She’s never spoken so candidly like this with me before. “Like when you asked if I was gonna paint your freckle and your birthmark, like, of course I am! That’s a part of you and I see you, you know?”

I chuckle with her. “Do you have a favorite piece?”

She thinks for a moment. “Probably a painting I did of my grandmother’s hands. She was a seamstress, and her hands were always so busy, always creating. When she wasn’t sewing, she was sketching, measuring, creating patterns. It was my way of honoring her, capturing her essence. Her hands have so many stories to tell.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “She was the one person in my family I really wanted you to meet back then.”

“Invite her over for dinner some time,” I suggest. 

“She, uh,” She clears her throat. “She passed a couple years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” She waves her hand. “I would’ve loved to have met her.”

“It’s okay.” But her eyes are tearing up just a bit. She blinks them away and adds, “She meant so much to me, but I guess that’s…how things go.”

“Where’s that painting now?”

“It’s back home, like, my home home, not the castle.” 

“I’d love to see it.”

“I’ll find it the next time I go back home and bring it back with me.” As the conversation winds down, we sit in comfortable silence as the city lights cast a soft glow through the window. "I should probably let you get some rest," Mira says, breaking the silence.

I nod, feeling a pang of reluctance. "Yeah, we have another busy day tomorrow."

She stands up, but before she leaves, she turns to me, her expression gentle. "Goodnight, Yeonjun. And thank you for tonight. It was nice to just...talk."

"It was,” I reply. “Let's do it again sometime."

cw. cunnilingus, protected sex, mira’s body is described as squishy/chubby in a good way, mention of moles and vvv brief mention of armpits, toys, body worship, masturbation, pet names (darling, love, babe, baby).

YEONJUN'S POV

After another grueling meeting, I’ve ditched my tie and unbuttoned a few of my shirt buttons while Mira has completely changed into lounge clothes back at the hotel room. Out of the corner of my eye, I sense her watching me, leaning up against the wall. But I let it slide. I don’t think she realizes how often she does it. 

“How did today’s meeting go?” She asks. 

“You were there.”

“I know, but how did it go from your perspective?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day's events fresh in my mind. "It was intense," I start, a mix of relief and excitement in my voice. "We covered a lot of ground. Like I said, we talked about keeping waters clean.”

“Did you all come up with any new ideas?"

"Actually, yes," I say, a spark of enthusiasm igniting. "We talked about implementing advanced watershed management and enhancing wastewater treatment technologies. But what really stood out was the proposal for a global initiative to reduce industrial runoff. It's ambitious, but the potential impact is huge."

She nods, clearly intrigued. "Was everyone on board?"

"For the most part," I reply, recalling the lively debates. "There were a few moments of contention, especially when it came to funding, so I’ll be doing a lot of fundraising for awhile, but everyone agreed they seem like good ideas.”

Mira's smile is warm and encouraging. "I'm glad it went well.” Her words, simple yet heartfelt, warm me up. She finally pipes up again to add, “You looked hot up there.” 

I chuckle. “Yeah?” She nods. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she starts, walking closer to me. “How smart and passionate you are. That’s hot.” That is exactly what I was hoping she’d say. I kept catching myself stealing glances of her during the meetings. It was hard to tell if she was looking at me to look at me or because that’s technically her job. Even if it is her job, I can tell between her different looks—her checking in look, her secretly admiring me look, and her I need you and I need you now look, which might be my favorite.

The look she’s got on her face is starting to lean toward that last one, but she’s not quite there yet. I only observe, let her fall into that place if she wants to.

“Well, thank you,” I tilt my head in her direction before the piano behind her catches my attention. “You know, I’ve been taking piano lessons.” She hums. Sometimes I forget it's also her job to know everything about me—everything about my schedule and activities at least. “You still like classical music, right?” She nods gently, a slight smile constantly on her lips. 

I’m not the best at piano, so I start fumbling through Moonlight Sonata. Giggling through every wrong note, she brushes some hair away from my face. 

“Ah, I need the sheet music,” I say quietly. Wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs, I know she’s still staring at me with look number three: I need you and I need you now. All professionalism has gone out the window. The biker shorts she’s wearing outlines her stomach perfectly, her thighs barely bulge at the hem, and her tank top accentuates her breasts beautifully. She’s a stunner. 

I reach for her hand and drag my thumb across her knuckles. My hands rest against the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer so she steps between my legs, my hand moving to her backside, squeezing her so deliciously. Her hands rest on my shoulders as I bury my nose between her breasts, taking a deep breath. She always smells so goddamn amazing. 

“I need you,” she whispers as her fingertips drag across my scalp. 

“I know, darling.”

“No,” she chuckles. “I need more from you this time,” she says breathlessly. I stand up straight, looking down at her as she looks at me through her eyelashes. “I need you inside me. Please.” 

“Of course,” I say, diving straight for her lips, but she turns her head, so my lips crash into her cheek. 

“Did I say you could kiss me?” Picking her up, I let my face rest in her chest again as I carry her to the bed, praying I don’t trip over anything along the way. As I sit her down on the mattress, she says, “Kiss me everywhere but my mouth, okay? Everywhere.” 

I don’t wanna argue with the no kissing rule right now, so I simply nod, covering her neck with kisses while I tug her shorts off her legs. Holding her leg by her ankle, I press my lips to it, trailing it all the way up to her thigh while her hand slips under her thong. I’m looking over her body, closing my eyes for a few seconds at a time, but I can feel her eyes on me. 

“Everywhere, babe,” she reminds me. Babe? I decide not to mention it—don’t ruin the moment. I slowly lift her shirt, but she gets impatient and takes it off herself, throwing it somewhere before tugging at the hem of mine, hinting at me to ditch it. 

My lips land right above her bra, kissing and nipping the tops of her breasts. I literally can’t wait to see her completely, so I waste no time in snapping it off and taking a second to admire her. Then, I gently kiss her neck and feel her whole body with my hands. Warm, soft, welcoming, curvy, squishy, perfect. 

When I squeeze her tit for the first time, she moans, arching her back while I sloppily stamp her collarbone with my lips. I want nothing more than to lick her nipples—it’s all I’ve thought about for the last few days—but…I dunno. I’m nervous. 

“Jjun…please,” she starts. There’s that nickname. It made my heart sing when she accidentally called me that a couple months ago. It used to slip past her lips so easily when we were together all those years ago, but now she stays so formal. “Lick my nipples, please.” 

Tongue flicking her nipple, her eyes roll back as her body follows. As I kiss further down her body toward her tummy, she reaches for my hair and pulls, making both our breath quicken. She takes the liberty of taking off her own thong and I get rid of my pants. 

We’ve been desperate for this. Desperate to actually feel each other’s bodies. Not clothing-clad bodies, but bare, vulnerable, warm bodies that want each other. And I can’t get enough. I thought I could taste her forever, but now that I’ve gotten my hands on her, on her squishy, chubby body, I’ll never be able to keep my hands off her.

She starts to get impatient, but I’m not finished with her yet. Landing back on top of her, I say, “Lemme just…kiss on ya for a second, okay?”

“Not my—”

“Not your mouth, I know,” I say, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, trailing down her jaw and sneaking in to nuzzle her neck. Whispering into her ear, I tell her, “I love making you gasp like that.” She chuckles, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, but I grab them and put them over her head to continue kissing her everywhere, tasting each bit of her with the tip of my tongue before pressing my lips to her. Her collarbone, her shoulders, her underarms. Everywhere.

She’s got the cutest mole on her side of her breast I kiss three times before moving on. 

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips when I gently kiss under her breasts. I lick a stripe up her chest between them, making eye contact with her, followed by a harsh bite of one of them. Reaching for her arm, I kiss her palm, then gently suck on the tip of her pointer finger. 

“Remember when you painted that portrait of me?”

“How could I forget?”

“When you put this pinky on my face,” I say, sucking on the tip of it. “I thought I was gonna explode. Feeling you so close to me like that. You looked so pretty that day too. With the sun shining in through the window and the plants around you.” Okay, shut up dork, too many feelings. I squeeze her tits harshly, burying my face in them. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.” 

Rubbing up and down her sides, she scrunches her shoulders, letting out a giggle. I kiss and bite her tummy—I’ve always loved her stomach, but especially so when she wears biker shorts. The way the fabric pulls, creating an outline of her tummy with rays of fabric going toward her hips. It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. And to finally see her bare tummy right here in front of me, there’s no way I’m not gonna cover it in kisses. 

“Why are you being all touchy?”

Why wouldn’t I be? Spreading her lips, she looks absolutely delicious. I lick her clit, earning one of the most gorgeous moans I’ve ever heard come out of her mouth. 

“I told you, Sir,” she says. “I want all of you this time.” 

“I know. I’m just tasting you, darling.” I glance up at her. “You thought I was gonna fuck you and not taste you first?” 

Grinding against my mouth, she can hardly take it before she starts begging. “Please, please, please, Yeonjun. I need your cock inside me. Please. I need it so bad.” 

“You’ve never had to beg like this before, hm?”

“Nope,” she says. “People usually do what I ask.” Standing, I leave her briefly for a condom that’s in my toiletries bag in the bathroom. When I come back, she asks, “Prepared, huh?” I nod awkwardly. “Wait, wait,” she stops me from rolling the condom down myself. “Let me see you.” I stand back, letting her look at me in awe before she reaches her hands out, rubbing all over my chest and stomach, kissing my hips, squeezing my balls and licking my nipple, making me gasp. 

Taking a deep breath, I admit, “I want to fuck you so bad, Mira.”

Sitting up on her knees, she reaches for my hand and places it on her breast before leaning into my ear to whisper, “Then fuck me, Sir.” Then, she takes the condom and rolls it down my cock, drawing out the process as long as she possibly can. “Your cock is so fucking beautiful,” she says. “I’m still not over it.”

She lays on her back and spreads her legs while I think of all the things I wanna do to her. I really wanna kiss her, but I can’t. She’s right. We shouldn’t. Resting between her legs, I rub my hands over her body again, taking my time contemplating, even if she protests, claiming I’m teasing her too much. But she teased me, so now I get to tease her. 

Honestly, I can’t believe this is happening. I thought we’d never get past oral in the closet. I line myself up with her entrance, bending to press my lips to her neck and whisper, “Are you sure?” 

“Yeonjun,” she says, placing a hand on my cheek to force me to look at her. “I’m sure. Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

As I push into her slowly, my whole world comes crumbling down around me. She is perfection. The way she wraps around me like a warm blanket, her eyes full of pleasure sparkling up at mine, the noises she’s making. Nothing else matters anymore but her. 

She breathes out like she’s relieved and says, “I’ve been waiting for this for seven years.” My head reels. Our arms wrap around each other as I find a slow and steady pace. Everything is her. She fits right in my arms as her nails claw at my back and her legs wrap around my waist to make sure I won't go anywhere, which I won’t. But I need to see the way her body moves. 

Sitting up, I stare down at her, pumping in and out, her tits bouncing with every move I make. Finding her clit with my thumb, the noise she makes in response is intoxicating. She arches her back, squeezing her own tit, which is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

“That’s my girl.” Can I call her that? I don’t care. I’m going to. 

She giggles and scratches my thigh, whispering, “You feel so good. Faster?” And I can’t help but comply, speeding up my thrusts but maintaining control. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up though. I want…need to go faster and she’s asking me to, but I also want to take things slow, be with her forever. “Faster, please,” she almost sounds like she’s in tears. 

I don’t go much faster, though. This has to be perfect. I can’t be too much. But—

“Hey, stop for a second,” she says genuinely and I oblige, slipping out of her to sit back on my knees. She sits up and reaches for my hands. “Come here,” she says, pulling me closer so our chests are grazing each other’s. “Are you okay?” I nod enthusiastically. “It seems like you’re holding back.” 

“I just…you feel so good and I don’t wanna get carried away. And I don’t know your, like, limits.”

“You can fuck me so hard—no, I want you to fuck me so hard. You don’t have to hold back, okay?” She reaches down and squeezes my cock, waiting for a reaction from me. “I’ve been waiting for this cock and I need you to fuck me and don’t stop until I’m begging you to.” She smiles. “Unless you ever wanna stop, of course.” I nod. “Did you wanna take it slow?”

Without giving my brain time to process, I flip her onto her stomach, yanking her up by her hips so she’s on her knees, ass up. I gather her hair in a makeshift ponytail before thrusting into her so hard it takes her breath away. She feels indescribable—a radiating ache overcomes me and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let her go after this. 

My thrusts reach a speed finally fast enough for her as she’s whimpering on my cock, shuddering from the feeling of me buried deep inside her. The room fills with the sound of my thighs smacking her ass, making ripples roll down her cheeks. My hand tingles wanting to spank her, but that’s a bit much, no? But she said not to hold back.

I decide to indulge myself, spanking her harshly, my hand making a loud smack, earning an irresistible moan from her. She whispers, “Thank you.”

“Thank you, who?”

“Thank you, Sir,” she whimpers. I spank her again, rubbing it to soothe the sting. I’m fucking her so fast and hard that we’re both sweating, skin getting sticky and slick. Pushing on the small of her back to deepen her arch, I find an even deeper spot inside her. “Ohmygod—” Mira gasps. 

“You sound so sexy,” I groan. I don’t want her to hold back either. I want her to be as loud as she wants to be. No one else is on this floor anyway. Pulling her up by her shoulder, I reach in front of her to rub her clit, her head dropping back and onto my shoulder. 

Slipping out of her, she shudders and whines at the sudden loss but I turn her around so she’s on her back before I land on top of her again, pinning her hands above her head. Her knees fall open and I hook my hands under her thighs before thrusting back into her, earning an incredible eye roll from her. 

“Fuck, Yeonjun.”

“I know, darling,” I say lowly. I wonder if she actually likes it when I call her that. Should I call her something else? Baby? Babe? Love? 

The speed of my thrusts increases again, while I massage her tit. She grips her legs by the back of her knees, holding them wide open for me. “Look at you…being such a good girl for me, hm?” Using my body, I push her legs down gently, letting me in even deeper. Our faces are so close to each other, her lips are just begging to be kissed, but I resist. 

She takes a deep breath, her eyebrows stitch together and she looks up at me before saying with the most genuine sounding voice, “You’re so pretty.”

That makes me absolutely gush. My shoulders scrunch as I run my fingers through my hair before I bend to lick one of her nipples so slowly she can hardly stand it. Kissing up her chest, I whisper, “You’re fucking beautiful, Mira.” Her arms wrap around my neck to pull me closer. 

“Wait, Yeonjun,” she says. I stop in my tracks. “Can you, uh…” she asks, pushing me out of her before getting up off the bed. 

“Is everything okay?” I ask. “Did I hurt you?”

She’s rummaging through her bag and replies, “No, Sir.” Returning, she hands me a small clit vibrator. Oh. “Can you, um…can you use that on me?”

“Whatever you wish, darling,” I say, watching her lay on her back again, spreading her legs open for me. I switch her toy on to the lowest setting. “Do you think about me when you use this to make yourself feel good?” Before she can answer, I place it onto her clit. 

Gasping and nodding, she says, “Yes, Sir.” Her fingers grip the sheets before she admits, “I think about you every time.” She sighs. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Of course.”

“What do you think about doing to me?”

“I think about licking all over you. About making you feel good,” I say. “About you screaming my name.”

“You like making me feel good?” 

I nod and we’re both desperate as ever now. Desperate to feel each other. To come together. I thrust back into her, quickly reaching a speed we both like, increasing the intensity of the toy along the way. Her mouth drops open as she furrows her eyebrows, her moans getting higher pitched and quicker. 

“Mira, I wanna see you cum.”

Dropping one of her legs, she wraps it around my waist, grabbing my forearm, clearly close to losing it. “Don’t stop, babe,” she whimpers. I shake my head. “Please, Yeonjun, don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, darling.”

I reach the deepest part of her, and she finally lets go—eyes rolling back, thighs trembling, clit shuddering under the toy. She’s fucking stunning when she cums. Her other leg falls to the bed while she moans out loud, the corners of her mouth curving upward. “Babe, fuck,” she says breathlessly, “You’re making me cum so hard.”

My thrusts get sloppier and I bury my free hand in her soft waves, groaning and whimpering in her ear as I cum inside her, collapsing on her shoulder. That was truly the best I’ve ever felt. 

Forehead glistening with sweat under the moonlight barely shining through the bedroom window, she looks fucking gorgeous. Her post-sex glow would make anyone swoon. My stomach swirls with emotions. I need her. But I just had her. But I need more. No, I need something else. 

“I wanna kiss you,” she says. Fuck, don’t do this to me. “Please?”

I think about it for a second—I really do. That’s what I want, no, that’s exactly what I need, but— “You told me not to.” 

Shaking her head, she admits, “I don’t care.” She looks absolutely kissable right now. I need to feel her lips on mine again. Passing by each other in the hallway and pretending not to be fucking has been miserable. Every time I see her, I refrain from running up and wrapping my arms around her to give her the best kiss she’s ever had. Not being able to do that has been bad enough, but not even kissing her when I’m literally still inside her? Now that’s torture. 

The way she looks at me too—up through her eyelashes, eyes glistening from pure pleasure, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen and utterly plump.

She hooks two fingers under my necklace to pull me closer, tilting her chin up toward me. Fuck, don’t do that. My heart races. “Please,” she says. “I need to kiss you.” 

No. Don’t. She’s the one that initiated the no kissing rule. And for good reason. We shouldn’t get involved right now. I let her tug me a few inches closer, but I dodge her lips and turn to my side to lean on the bed before clearing my throat.

“Let’s go take a shower, yeah?” I suggest. 

She sighs and says, “Okay.” Standing up silently, I watch her walk slowly to the bathroom, her body moving so beautifully, but I can tell she’s upset even from behind. I plop down on my back. Did I do the right thing? I want to kiss her more than anything but she’s told me over and over again not to. I didn’t want her to regret something because of the heat of the moment. I don’t want her to feel like I took advantage of her but I also don’t want her to feel like I don’t want her. 

The shower turns on, making me stand up. I catch her looking at herself in the mirror before she glances down. Without speaking, we both get in the huge shower that luckily has two shower heads. She wets her hair then smiles at me sweetly. 

“Can I at least have a hug?” She asks. I chuckle, opening my arms up to her. She wraps her arms around my waist. We wash the day off each other—stressful meetings, long walks to and from the conference center, the amazing sex we just had. The room is mostly silent with the occasional Can you hand me my soap? 

After drying off, we crawl back into the shared bed. I’m sitting up with my back against the headboard while I flick through the TV channels. Half laying down and half resting against the headboard, she keeps awkwardly moving closer to me, opening her mouth and breathing in like she wants to say something but never does.

I slouch a bit to get to her level before opening up my arm up to her and so she can lay her head on my chest. As she snuggles into me, I swear I could die happy right here. The air is calm and sweet and warm, her presence provides an overwhelming sense of comfort and I can’t help but graze my fingers up and down her arm until she falls asleep. 

As predicted, insomnia is my enemy tonight. Questions swirl around my mind. 

Should I have kissed her? What does she want after this? What’s she gonna be like tomorrow morning? How should I act tomorrow morning? After eating some almonds and a banana to try and induce sleep, I go for a walk around the hotel, trying to tire out my body and mind. Eventually, I lay back down thinking about what I really want between the two of us.

Normally, I’d squeeze my eyes shut to picture her lips and eyelashes, but the real Mira is lying right next to me. But I probably shouldn’t stare at her without her permission. With the warmth of thinking of her, there’s also a tug of uncertainty. What if she doesn’t feel the same way I do? What if she just wanted sex? I couldn’t really be mad at her for that, though. That’s what we both wanted at the beginning, even if there may have been some underlying feelings. That’s at least all we were expecting. 

Sighing, I turn away from her, thoughts tangling into each other, emotions pulling on the threads in every direction. I count my breaths, slow and steady, but each breath is full of her scent, making things worse, the adrenaline of unspoken feelings keeping me awake. 

Time stretches out and I look at my phone, the clock glaring back at me—4:37 AM. Another sigh escapes me, heavier this time. My meetings are done for the week, but I don’t like massive changes in my sleep schedule, even when I'm abroad. 

Pulling the covers over my head, I block out the world before quietly whispering her name, like it’s a confession I hope she may hear. I’m answered only by the faintest of snores that have been steady for hours. Finally, my thoughts blur, exhaustion pulling me into a restless sleep. But even in my dreams, she’s there, a shadow at the edge of consciousness.

-

“Hey,” I say groggily to Mira. “What happened to you?” Mira’s already dressed in her work clothes with her hair neatly tied back. The smell of the coffee she’s pouring wafts through the air and warms me up. I start to hug her from behind, but—

“I made coffee,” she replies, her tone professional and clipped. 

“Why’d you get out of bed?”

“To work. That’s why I’m here.” Her voice is detached and she finally turns to look at me. 

Searching her face for the warmth I’d seen last night, I say, “Yeah, but I thought after—”

“We shouldn’t have done that last night.”

“What?”

“Sex,” she says matter-of-factly. “We should not have had sex last night.”

“I know what you meant, but why not?” I ask, my heart pounding. “We’ve been practically having sex for months now.”

“Last night was different.” 

“So?”

Mira takes a deep breath before sitting the coffee pot back on the table. “Because, Yeonjun, I’m your servant and we used to date and now…”

“And now what? We pretend it didn’t happen?” Anger and frustration bubbles inside me. Whether I consciously knew it or not, I’d made my decision last night. I want to be with her for real and I’m willing to do whatever it takes, as long as she’ll have me. I was hoping she felt the same way, but she’s still not willing to admit the depth of our relationship out loud. “Mira, last night was…it was real. You can’t just ignore that.”

She looks away from me, wrapping her arms around herself. “I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart races faster with each step I take toward her. “It’s okay to have feelings.”

“No, it’s not,” she spits, twisting her head back to look at me. “I cannot do this again. We cannot do this again.” I start to interrupt. “I don’t wanna hear it, Yeonjun.”

“Mira, please—”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice breaking. “We have to end this before it even starts.” Her words bring a finality to us before she walks out of the kitchenette and onto the balcony. I suppose that’s it then. 

The silence left in her wake is deafening. I slump into a chair, running my hands through my hair, the weight of every unspoken word heavy on my shoulders. The morning light filters through the window, casting long shadows across the room. It’s surreal. 

No. This is not how we end.

Following her out onto the balcony, she stands with her back to me, staring blankly at the lake. The same lake we kayaked on together a few days ago. I envy the serenity of the water. “Mira, you can’t just walk away,” I say softly, hoping to reach her through the wall she’s built around herself. 

She doesn’t turn, but her shoulders tense. “You said it yourself, Yeonjun. I’m nothing. We couldn’t even be together even if we wanted to.” 

“Is that what this is about? You’re still upset about something I said seven years ago?” She shakes her head. “Then what is it?” She keeps turning away from me. And ignoring me. “Talk to me. Please.” 

“There’s nothing left to say.”

cw. crying, kissing. 

MIRA'S POV

The rest of our trip to Switzerland was business as usual. I made sure of it. I woke up on time, got his coffee, did everything a servant does and in the manner a servant would do. No smiles. No anger. Just business. 

“What’s been up with you recently?” Hyomin shakes me out of my daydreaming—or daynightmaring, perhaps—replaying that morning with Yeonjun. How hurt he looked. How it felt to break my own heart. How it felt to break his heart. “You haven’t been acting like yourself. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say, glancing over at Yeonjun sitting at the dining table without even realizing it at first. 

Narrowing her eyes, she asks, “Did something happen between you two?”

“No,” I say harshly. 

“You can’t be serious.” I shrug. “You went to Switzerland together for a week and nothing happened? Not even a kiss or a not-so-platonic hug?”

“I have work to do, Hyomin.” Shaking my head, I stomp away in the direction of my room. Slamming my door shut, I press the heels of my hands into my eyes to stop the tears from coming but it's no use. My phone buzzes but I already know who it is. 

Yeonjun 3:52 PM Are you ever gonna talk to me again?

It’s been four days since Switzerland but that’s the twelfth message since we got back. 

Can we talk? Can you meet me in our closet tonight? Just to talk, nothing else. I’d really like to talk to you. Please stop ignoring me. 

I have sent zero. I can’t bring myself to. Tossing my phone on my mattress, there’s a black dress bag and a note on my bed. 

For Saturday. –Y

Are you fucking kidding me? He’s buying me gifts now? What kind of relationship does he think we have? We make each other come a few times, have sex in Switzerland once and now he won’t stop texting me and buying me dresses? Fuck this. 

Me. 4:01 PM Closet. Now.

-

“Hello, darling,” Yeonjun says smugly as I slam the door shut. 

“What the fuck is this, Yeonjun?” I scream-whisper, shoving the dress bag into his chest as his face turns horrified. 

“A dress,” he says defensively, trying to not let the dress bag fall to the floor. 

“Don’t patronize me,” I spit. “You think you can buy me or something?” He shakes his head nervously. “Taking me to Switzerland, staying in a fancy hotel, buying me food, now you’re buying me an expensive dress?”

“I took you to Switzerland as a member of my staff,” he reminds me.

“If you think for one second that I’ll just come running back to you because of this—”

He grabs me by my forearm and gently yanks me close to him to stare down at me hungrily, like he wants to take me right then and there. I know this look very well by this point. 

“You’re cute when you’re mad at me.”

“Shut up.” I throw the dress down and attempt to turn away from him. “Leave me alone, Yeonjun.” His grip tightens, not painfully, but firmly enough to prevent me from going anywhere. 

“Why are you so angry, really? Is it the gifts, or is it because you’re scared of what this means?” I glare at him, feeling the anger bubble up again. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I roll my eyes. He sighs, letting go of my arm but not stepping back. 

“I’m not trying to buy you, okay? I just...I like you. And I want to do things for you.”

I cross my arms, trying to maintain the obviousness of my anger but I can’t help I’m shocked. He likes me? Like that? I mean, I was hopeful but I never thought he’d ever say it out loud. Should I say it too? I almost think about it, but instead, I ask, “You think throwing money at me will make me like you more?”

“No,” he says softly, surprising me. “I just don’t know what to do, Mira,” he raises his voice. “You’re ignoring me and I want to show you I care about you.”

“I know you care about me, Yeonjun. I’m telling you to stop caring about me,” I say sternly. “It’s over.”

Over the next few days, he stops texting me, talking to me, I don’t even catch him glancing at me like I usually do several times a day. He must be avoiding me—or doing exactly what I asked him to do, I guess. Which pisses me off too. 

Saturday rolls around and we have yet another fancy dinner to host. The Queen pulled out all the stops for this one too—amazing food, open bar with fancy drinks, great music, even greater decorations. It’s gorgeous. I’d realized I should probably stop being such a bitch and make amends with him. As a gesture, I show up wearing the dress he gave me. 

“Prince Yeonjun?” I ask, watching his ears perk up as he turns around, a clear smile on his face at the sound of my voice. “Can I have a dance, please?” His face relaxes as he nods before he extends his hand to take me to the dancefloor. He performs his customary bow, followed by my curtsy. My tummy tingles a bit at the formality of it all. I feel like a princess. 

As my hand falls into his, nothing matters. Not our history. Not our future. Not his title. Not the lack of mine. I’m with him. We’re together. The soft music from the chamber orchestra is perfect accompaniment for us. 

I’d thought about the idea of us for so long. What we could be, what I want us to be, what I think he wants us to be. I don’t think it’ll ever work, but at least there’s tonight. There’s this dance. 

We sway together, hand in hand, my other hand on his shoulder while his rests around my waist. Eyes locked. His jacket catches the flicker of the chandelier while my gown flows down my waist and onto the floor gracefully. 

Expertly turning me, I can’t help but think back to the first night he broke my heart. Would he do that again? Pressing his hand firmer against my waist, I welcome it by pressing my body more securely against his.  The warmth between us grows stronger by the second. We’re falling in love again. Or maybe we already did. 

He towers over me, much like he did the night of our first kiss. Returning from a night where we’d once again snuck out to see each other, he walked me home. Standing on the front porch of my cottage, we refused to wish each other a good night. The moon was the only light source, but it was enough to see how handsome he was, even back then. 

“Yeonjun…” I whisper as he continues to lead us through a casual dance that lets us focus on a conversation. “I’m sorry.” He looks at me questioningly. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset about the dress. I felt…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I just felt so used, I dunno.” Horror crosses his face. 

“Mira…I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” I say. “But I felt like we could never be together, not really anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath and say, “Keeping secrets, never being able to tell everyone…we should probably stop…you know, what we’ve been doing.” I look up at him through my shaky eyes and he frowns but forces himself to nod. 

“If that’s what you want.”

“I just can’t,” I sniffle. “I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’m right here.” He presses his hands even firmer against my waist to prove it. 

“But where were you seven years ago? I’ve—” My eyes can’t hold my tears any longer, breaking free to run down my cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Brushing the apple of my cheek with his thumb, he lifts my face to meet his eyes. “I’ve missed you too.” Pressing my lips together, I blink a tear out of my eye and I shake my head in protest. “Mira…listen.” He never lets me go. “I am so sorry for what I said that night. If I could take it back, I would.” I smile. “You know that doesn’t matter to me. You mean so much to me,” he says genuinely. “That night in Switzerland meant so much to me.” Everything halts. Our eyes meet. “But if you want me to stop, I will. I’ll never bring us up again.” 

“Us?”

“You know I’m yours whenever you’re ready.” The wind’s knocked out of me. My heart races as he inches closer and closer. So close I can see each individual eyelash. “Tell me to stop.” 

“No,” I say, welcoming his lips on top of mine. His lips meet mine softly, a whisper of a kiss that feels like a promise. It's gentle, tentative at first, like we’re both terrified to lose each other. But then, the years of longing we've kept hidden surge forward, and the kiss deepens.

The room around us fades away, the music, the murmurs of the crowd, the flickering candlelight—they all dissolve into a hazy backdrop. All that exists is us, bound together in this moment of rawness. His hands move from my waist to cradle my face, his touch tender yet insistent. My hands rest against his chest. 

His kiss is everything I've ever dreamed of—sweet yet passionate, comforting yet electrifying. It speaks of forgiveness and second chances. The saltiness of my tears mingle with the softness of his lips.

It's as if we're communicating without words. Each movement, each touch, each breath shared between us is a declaration of our feelings for each other. His arms encircle me, holding me close, and I feel safe, cherished, and utterly adored.

When we finally part, breathless and overwhelmed, our foreheads rest against each other, our eyes closed as we savor the moment. The world starts to come back into focus, but it's different now. Everyone’s eyes are on us. The room has come to a halt. Glancing around the room, there isn’t one person that hasn’t stopped what they’re doing to stare at us. Not us. Me. 

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Excuse me.” I scurry off quickly, leaving him there alone.

cw. unsupportive parents, classism, crying, love.

YEONJUN'S POV

Everyone watches as she runs off like it’s a movie. She’s picked up her skirt to avoid tripping, and her head hangs low as she searches for the nearest exit. I awkwardly look around the room, excusing myself with a few head bows.

Running through the castle hallway, I catch up to her right outside my bedroom door. Her forehead’s pressed against the doorframe, arms wrapped around her body while she waits for me. She’s waiting for me. That gives me hope. At least she’s not running from me anymore. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” I whisper, grazing my hand across her shoulder blade. “C’mere.” I pull her into my chest, wrapping one of my arms around her while I open the door with my free hand. I lead her to my bed where she sits awkwardly scrunched into a ball while I rush to flick on some lamps. Then, I sit next to her, my hand resting on her shoulder blade for comfort. 

“I can’t—” she can hardly speak through her tears. 

“It’s okay.”

“I can’t do this, Jjun, I can’t.” She’s shaking her head, tears running down her cheeks. “I really want to but I just…” She trails off. Before I can speak up, she adds, “Your mother—” 

My heart sinks. “My mother? Did she do something to you?” Pressing her lips together, she nods. “Take some deep breaths, love, and tell me what she did.” She does as I say, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, attempting to compose herself. 

“After,” she starts hiccuping and I encourage her to take more deep breaths by modeling the breathing technique she was using earlier. “After that night in Switzerland,” she begins, but it’s too difficult for her to speak. Pulling out her phone, she silently thumbs through her phone to her voice mail box. My mother’s voice, cold and stern, plays from the speaker. 

Mira Ashenrose, the audacious servant who dares aspire beyond her station, it has come to my attention that your eyes linger far too long on my son. Your actions are not only bold but also insolent, as you seem to have forgotten your place within my castle walls.

Let me be clear: the Prince's future is one of sovereignty and grandeur, a path predetermined by bloodline and duty. Any attempts to disrupt or divert his focus with your insignificant presence will be met with severe consequences.

You are a servant, a role you should embrace with humility and gratitude. Your duties do not include entertaining fantasies of a life beyond your given position, especially one involving a royal whom you are unworthy to even address directly.

Cease your imprudent behavior immediately. Should I find even the slightest hint of your infatuation resurfacing, you will discover that my patience is not to be tested. Your continued employment—and indeed, your very well-being—hangs by a thread of my tolerance, a thread that I am fully prepared to cut.

Do not mistake this warning for mere words. You will find that I am a queen of action. Refrain from crossing boundaries that were never meant for you, and remember your place. It is only in your compliance that you will find any semblance of mercy from me.

Consider this your only warning.

By this point, her crying has subsided to sniffles but I’m speechless. How could she have done this? “I woke up that night after we…were together. You were still next to me. I was just checking the time and I had that message waiting for me.” 

“Mira, I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

“I care,” she says. “I can’t be with someone whose mother thinks of me like this,” she says, gesturing to her phone. “And you used to think of me that way. What if you start thinking like that again? Or do you already think of me this way?”

“Of course not,” I say, grabbing her hands. “Look at me.” She puts on a brave face before looking me straight in the eye. “Do you wanna know what I think of you?” She hums. “Perfect. Beautiful. Kind. Caring. Talented.” Smiling to herself, she looks down at our hands. “That’s what I think of you.” She nods gently and I brush some hair back. “You should have told me.” She shakes her head. 

“I decided to quit anyway,” she sniffles. “I already put in my two weeks. That’s why I asked you to dance. I wasn’t gonna leave without dancing with you at least once.” She glances down at my lips. “Or kissing you at least once,” she giggles. 

“Or twice?”

She chuckles again, glancing down at the floor, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “Sure.” I peck her lips gently. 

“Three times?” I ask, barely backing away from her. 

“How about you kiss me over and over until I tell you to stop?”

I don’t waste any more time playing silly games with her. I crash my lips into hers and we melt together, she groans against my lips and I deepen the kiss, my hand against her cheek. But she soon breaks it to ask, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why didn’t you kiss me? You know, when I asked you to.”

“Because I thought if I did, you’d do exactly what you did the next morning,” I say. “I didn't wanna lose you.” 

Nodding, she runs her thumb across my knuckles. “What are we gonna do?” She asks. 

“About what?”

“Us.”

“There’s an us?”

“Ah, shut up,” she laughs, nudging my shoulder. “You know I’m yours whenever you’re ready.”

-

“Yeonjun, what is it? I’m very busy,” Mother says, not bothering to look up from the many papers that are shuffled across her desk. 

“Mother, we need to talk,” I say, my voice steady but firm.

Sliding her glasses off her nose, she drops them on the desk and turns in her chair to make eye contact. “You’re right,” she says and I look confused. “What are these policy proposals you wrote?” Why is she reading those? How did she even find them? “This Freshwater Sustainability Proposal,” she says matter-of-factly. 

“What’s wr—”

“This is some of your worst writing. Half of it doesn’t even make sense,” she says, my stomach dropping. Those were drafts. “I mean, what is this part about ‘aquatic ecosystem revitalization through bioremediation techniques’? You think the council will understand that jargon? And this section on ‘community-based water stewardship programs’? It’s laughably naive. Who’s going to manage these programs? Volunteers?”

“That is a well-researched proposal meant to—”

“Well-researched?” She scoffs, flipping through the pages with a dismissive hand. “It’s idealistic drivel, Yeonjun. We need practical solutions, not fanciful ideas that belong in a classroom.”

“These ideas could make a real difference.”

She waves a hand, brushing off my words. “Idealism is pointless. We can’t gamble on untested theories.”

“Untested theories?” I can’t help but let a note of disbelief slip into my voice. “They’re proven methods many other countries have successfully implemented.”

“Our priority is status and stability.”

“What good is status and stability if our environment collapses?” I challenge.

She glares at me, her eyes cold before she lets out an evil chuckle. “Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

“Is that why you feel the need to control every aspect of my life?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I take a deep breath, preparing for the moment of truth. “When did you find out about Mira?”

The question hangs in the air, catching her completely off guard. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, but she quickly masks her surprise. “Who? Oh, that servant that quit last week? I did see you two kiss at the party.”

“Don’t play games with me, Mother,” I say, my voice hard. “I know you knew about us before that. That voicemail you left her? Where you threatened her, told her she was nothing but a servant, and to stay away from me.”

She recovers quickly, her expression turning cold. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

“How dare you do such a thing?” I shoot back. “Mira is someone I care about and you had no right to interfere with our relationship,” I say.

“Relationship?” She rolls her eyes. “Your relationship is a shallow, pleasant distraction at best. She’s simply a way to blow off steam, to indulge in sexual frustrations.”

Ew. But okay. “It’s more than that, Mother. Mira means something to me.”

She sighs, a mix of impatience and disappointment in her voice. “Yeonjun, you’re too young to understand the complexities involved here. You have a duty to this kingdom, to your people. Mira is not part of that equation.”

“If you can’t find a way to accept the woman I love, then…I don’t know if there’s anything else for us to say to each other.”

“You’ve known her for three months, Yeonjun. You’re not in love.”

I shake my head. “We’ve known each other for seven years.”

“What?” She asks, shocked. “You’ve been seeing her behind my back for seven years?”

“No,” I say. “We used to date a while ago and then we…I dunno, started back up after she started working here.” 

“You think you love her,” she counters sharply. “But what you feel is temporary. It’s not sustainable. And you’re all for sustainability, right?” I roll my eyes. “I will not allow you to jeopardize your future and duty for a fleeting infatuation,” I say. “Your choices affect everyone,” she says, her tone unyielding. “Including the stability of this kingdom.”

“You’re trying to control me,” I accuse, feeling the weight of her authority pressing down on me.

“I’m trying to protect you. You must think beyond your own desires.”

Eventually, I say, “Mother, mind your business.” I storm off, headed in the direction of the garden to get some air. I don’t stop walking until I find myself sitting under the willow tree that Mira and I love so much. She’s always loved it here. 

Maybe Mira’s right—I don't know if it's such a great idea to be with someone whose mother thinks of them like mine does about her. Fuck, this is so unfair. Regardless, Mother’s getting what she wants. Us not together. 

Quiet footsteps approach me. Not now, please. I can’t argue with Mother anymore. 

“The woman you love, huh?”

“Mira,” I say, happiness evident in my voice. “Hi.” She smiles, holding her hands behind her back before she walks closer to me. “Um…” She sticks her hand out for me to grab and helps me to my feet. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear,” she says but I wouldn’t care if she were to be honest. “I was getting some water from the kitchen and overheard.” 

“Mira…” I say, an undeniable smile spreading across my face, my hands running down her arms, wrapping around her waist to bring her closer. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Why’s that?” She asks with a sweet smile. 

“I’m always happy to see you,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to hear what she said about you.” She shakes her head. “I do by the way,” I say. “I love you.”

“Fucking finally,” she whispers before reaching her arms around my neck to pull me closer to her, crashing her lips into mine. They move over each other passionately. She tastes so fucking delicious. She feels so fucking warm. She smells so fucking good. “Oh, I love you too,” she giggles, breaking the kiss. “Sorry, I should’ve said it sooner.”

“I love you too too,” I say between kisses. “So much. You have no idea.” She looks so sweet. “I guess we should probably talk about—”

Shaking her head, she says, “Not yet. Let’s just—” She gives me another deep kiss. “We can think about that later, okay?” I nod and press my lips to hers again. 

Everything is so perfect. The way her laugh echoes in my ear like nothing could ever go wrong, the way her body slowly but sensually grinds against my own, the way we know we love each other and can finally say it out loud, even if we don’t know what the future holds for us. 

Breaking the kiss gently, she’s absolutely stunning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as gorgeous as her. I brush my thumb across her eyebrow and say matter-of-factly, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “So are you.”

The air shifts. We’re alone and we’re hyper aware of that fact. I doubt anyone could even hear us. Our eyelids get heavy as we lean into each other, our lips touching in a fiery kiss that leaves me needing more. Holding her cheek in my hand, it grows deeper and hotter until a tiny moan leaves her mouth. “Fuck,” she says under her breath. “You’re such a good kisser.”

“That’s all you, baby,” I say, sliding my hand down to squeeze her amazing ass. 

“Yeonjun,” she whines. “You can’t tell me you love me and then not immediately fuck me.” 

“I can’t even imagine doing such a thing,” I chuckle.

“You think…” she glances behind her. “Think we can sneak into your room together?”

“Absolutely.”

Walking back to the castle makes us all the more giddy. Hands touching each other playfully, giggling and flirting in hushed tones all the way back to my room where I lead her to my bed. 

Landing on top of her, she’s so pretty. Covering every inch of her bare skin with kisses, I can’t stop whispering compliments to her. Real compliments I’ve always wanted to say. 

You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m so lucky I get to love you. I love every inch of you and I’m gonna show how much I mean it. 

“Please, Jjun, I need you.”

“You know I need to taste you first, though, right?”

“Of course.” She lets me slip her sweatpants off her legs, the cool air making goosebumps prick her skin. Her maroon thong is so sexy. Desperately moving her thong to the side, I take a deep breath, wanting to take my time with her. Letting go of her thong, it snaps back into place, covering her back up. I press my lips to her tummy, peppering her with soft and slow kisses. 

“So perfect,” I whisper against her skin. And I mean it. Every time I say it. “I could worship your body for hours.” 

“We’ve got time, my love.” 

All I know is by the time I’m done covering her body in kisses, the sun has completely set and she’s illuminated only by the lamp on my bedside table. But I can absolutely still see how beautiful she is. I could see her beauty in the pitch black. 

“Yeonjun,” she starts, pulling me up to look her in the eyes. She brushes some of my hair back and says, “Whatever happens after this, I want you to know—” I start to protest. What does she mean? I know what’s gonna happen after this. We’re gonna find a way to be together. “I want you to know that I love you, okay?”

“Mira…I love you too.”

“Just know that…” she takes a deep breath. “I’m yours.”

I give her a long, lingering kiss and say, “And I’m yours.”  

@aduh0308 request a tag :)

[storm-angel989]

Outside the office

Longtime reader and writer. First time poster! Let me know what you think- I have pages of this story to share if there is any interest. <3 Enjoy!

“Vox, these pancakes are the best!” 

Another sleepy Sunday morning at home. Or at least, the place I called home these days. My arrival to hell six years ago had left me uneasy- displaced from the only world I had ever known. Upon my arrival, Lucifer immediately deposited me in one of the biggest power circles in Hell. With a kiss on the cheek and a warning to behave- lest I end up like my mother and father- he disappeared, off to running hell or heaven- I honestly wasn’t sure at this point.  

“Not better than mine though, right Princessa?” Valentino’s voice rang with teasing disapproval. 

I caught his eye and grinned. “I don’t know. Last I checked you didn’t put strawberries AND chocolate chips in your pancakes.”

“Take that!” Vox semi shouted. “Even your wife agrees I’m the better cook!” 

Lighthearted bickering broke out between the two of them. I caught the eye of Velvette, the only other girl in our group and she rolled her eyes, as amused as I was.

I wouldn't have guessed when I first arrived in hell that these three demons would eventually be the family I had left behind. Upon my arrival in hell, Lucifer warned that that these demons were three of the most powerful overlords in this ring of hell. Coming from a world where demons were slaughtered on sight- and the opposite held true for angels- meeting a demon off the battlefield for the first time took every inch of my self control to not allow the instincts I worked so hard to develop to overtake me. 

When I first met Vox, I was taken aback. For a demon, he was surprisingly friendly. According to Lucifer, he controlled the television airwaves and heavily utilized video and electricity to exert control over a host of sinners. Walking into his studio for the first time felt like stepping into energy territory- at least until the demon spoke. 

“First time meeting a demon?” Vox seemed amused. “Nothing to be afraid of, I assure you. At least, not for you Princess.” He extended his hand and I shook it out of politeness. His twisted smile grew wider, revealing a set of sharp teeth. “Don’t worry your highness, we will take excellent care of her.” 

Lucifer looked unconcerned. “You know the consequences if you don’t.” His phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. “Sorry to rush out on you, but I have a meeting to get to. Ensure you follow through on your end of the bargain.” His eyes flashed red, a non verbal “or else”.

“Of course,” Vox replied smoothly. “We have her living quarters all set up- she’s welcome to settle in after I give her the grand tour. And don’t worry- our resident fashionista will help her…blend in.” He reached out as if to push my hair to the side but stopped himself. “She’s in excellent hands, your highness.” 

Lucifer looked unconcerned. A cold fear settled in my gut, followed by anger. He was leaving me? In the hands of this…creature? 

“See you later darling. Enjoy all Hell has to offer.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek before he vanished,  leaving me in the sole company of the TV demon. 

“Before we go any further, I need your phone.” Vox reached his hand out. 

I hesitated but pulled my pink flip phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. He dropped it on the ground and crushed it beneth his foot. 

“Hey! Why did you do that?” I demanded. 

“That technology? Ancient and easy to hack. Here. I preloaded Lucifers number, our numbers and that’s honestly the only contacts you need. Not only that, its the latest model. The public won’t have access to it until next month.” He handed me a rectangular shaped phone. 

“And this.” he handed me a matching pink watch. “Don’t take it off. It allowed me to know your vitals and your location at all times. If something was to happen to you, we could easily get to you.” 

Wouldn’t that be the first thing they took off? I wondered but didn’t say it. Vox  hit a few buttons and showed me how to unlock it just by looking at the screen. After a few minutes of playing with it, I started to grasp the concept. 

“Lucifer wasn’t lying when he said you were smart. Come. Follow me.” 

Vox turned to walk away and I trailed behind him.

“Well, might as well show you around. Couple things to be aware of. Obviously as Princess of Hell you can do as you please but know that Valentino's studio, Velvette’s  runway and my office are strictly for business. Enter at the wrong time and you may end up seeing things that…you’re not quite used to.” 

He pressed a button and an elevator door slid open. I stepped inside and I followed, standing quietly next to him. The sense of unease hadn’t left me since the moment I arrived in hell and the further into the building I ventured the deeper that fear became. 

“First floor is the entry. Second is my office and studio. Third and fourth belong to Val’s workspace and the fifth floor belongs to Velvette. The Sixth floor is our living space- that’s where you’ll be joining us. Your quarters are up there as well. Living room and kitchen are shared spaces, though we all value the privacy of our own bedrooms.” He smiled a bit darkly. “You’re welcome to join us for movie night.” 

Since when did demons watch movies? 

The elevator dinged to three and I stepped out behind him. The scene infront of us was pure chaos. Demons in various shapes, forms and stages of dress hustled around the open room. Clothes and racks were scattered about, being tossed aside and rehung quicker that I thought possible.  Against a white backdrop, three models stood as lightbulbs went off around them. 

Unlike Vox with his TV shaped head,  the demon in charge looked relatively human. Her purple, red and black hair was pulled up high in two ponytails- teased and curled to perfection. Her clothes boated the same color scheme as her hair, and she wore impossibly high black heels. It took me a moment to realize her color scheme was the same as Vox’s. 

I watched her bark orders in a way that would have made my father proud. As she spoke, her perfectly manicured fingers flew across the keyboard of her phone. I felt myself flush, suddenly overly aware of my own broken fingernails and very clear out of fashion clothing. 

Vox seemed undisturbed by the hustle, walking through it with ease.“Velvettle darling, meet the Princess.” 

She looked up for a moment and her expression twisted in what looked like annoyance.

“You got a name, Princess?”

They both looked at me expectantly. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Had Lucifer really dropped me off to total strangers without so much as sharing my name?

“My name is reader.” I answered with a steadiness I didn’t quite feel in my gut. “Morningstar.” 

“Well, reader,  if this is how heaven is dressing these days you need more help than I thought.” She snorted in contempt. “Don’t worry love, we’ll get you fixed up in no time. After all, if you’re spending time with us you need to look the part.”

Vox grinned. “Have fun you two. Vel, be a dear and bring her upstairs when you’re done.” 

She turned away. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to tell me what to do.” She snapped her fingers. “Get to it.” 

Without another word I was whisked away into another room. Any sense of modesty vanished as Velvette's team inspected every inch of my body. Unlike the angels, they had no shame in ensuring I was plucked, waxed, and trimmed to Velvette’s desire. With all the strange hands touching me I felt trapped, and did my best to disassociate. I had to if I wanted to survive down here. Wasn’t that my fathers first rule? Show no fear. 

Velvette must have noticed my discomfort. After the waxing she shooed everyone away for a moment and handed me a bottle of water. 

“Don’t worry love, you’ll get used to it. Quicker, actually if you’re here with us.” 

I held the bottle and she rolled her eyes, reaching over and twisting the cap open. “No one here will hurt you. Outside of Lucifer’s domain, this is the safest place in all of hell for you. Promise. Now drink- I don’t want to be on the receiving end of Lucifer’s wrath if you fall ill on the first day.” 

I took a sip and she turned the chair I was in towards the mirror, running her fingers through my blonde hair. “You need some deep conditioning, a style and a few highlights, but your overall color is fantastic. You have a lovely shape- for a half angel. And those eyes…” She stepped around and cupped my chin. “Lovely. No one in hell has blue eyes like those.” 

“Thank you.” I replied softly. 

Velvette grinned. “Well look, the princess speaks! Look, let’s finish up here and get your wardrobe set up and sent up. Val is taking us out tonight, and you need to look the part. It would be an embarrassment to our brand otherwise.” She snapped her fingers and a team of demons hurried over.

“Who is Val?” I asked as she leaned back against the counter, watching her employees work. 

“Valentino. You’ll meet him soon enough. Right pain in the ass he is. Love him though.” 

Right. Lucifer warned me about him. Valentino controlled the porn industry in the same way Vox controlled the broadcasts and Velvette controlled fashion and social media. I couldn’t even imagine what my father would think if he knew...I pushed the thought from my head. My father was gone. This was my reality now. 

“And you three- Vox, Velvette, Valentino- you’re…royalty?” I asked to fill the silence. 

She laughed. “Royalty? Not far off. We’re overlords. We own millions of souls between the three of us.”

That nervous feeling rekindled in my stomach. “You own souls? What does that mean?”

Velvette shrugged. “It means mortals in the human realm, or sinners down here made a deal with us in exchange for their souls. And we collected.” 

If there wasn’t a pair of scissors next to my ear I would have jumped away. Owning souls? How did that even happen? Moreso that went against everything an angel stood for. Or at least, everything my angelic half used to stand for.

“Oh relax, your soul is safe.” Velvette snorted at my expression. “Lucifer would kill anyone who even attempted to make a move on your eternal being. Trust me dear, you have nothing to worry about. At least, not from us.”

Across the studio, someone yelled her name and she pranced off without so much as a goodbye. 

What felt like an eternity later, I was led to the elevator by Velvette. My blonde hair had indeed been trimmed and highlighted, blown out and teased. My broken fingernails were hidden under tiny plastic red surfboards and my normally bare face was covered in makeup. 

“Just come down to my studio each morning. I’ll get you dressed and done up. Nothing to worry about.” Velvette assured me as we stepped out of the elevator. 

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I tried to imagine where demons lived, but the room I stepped into was the exact opposite of anything I could have dreamed up. Dark hardwood floors were covered with plush rugs in deep blues, blacks and reds.  Couches on the left were placed in a U shape in front of a large TV and to the right was a full kitchen.Towering floor to ceiling windows covered the far wall and a table with six office chairs sat in front of it. Towards the left there were five hallways and  small alcoves scattered throughout the room hosted signs of the floor's inhabitants. Photos of the V’s, computer setups, a notebook with scribbles and swatches of fabric, to name a few items. 

“You’re the fifth hallway down,” Velvette said, leading me towards the left. “If you get lost, look up. They’re labeled.” 

I looked up towards the doorway entrance of each and sure enough, the names Valentino, Vox, blank, Velvette and Princess were labeled.

“Why is mine labeled Princess?” I asked as she led me down that hallway. “You couldn’t have had that much time to design.”

Velvette laughed. “Took hardly anytime at all. The boss man sent us a list and cash- we obliged. Your comfort here is of upmost importance.” She pushed open a second door and stepped inside.

I expected dark colors, blacks and reds but to my surprise the room was decorated in a sea of purples, grays and whites. A bed took up the center of the room and off to the left was a small living room area- complete with matching couches and a television. A desk with a pink computer set up sat to the right of the bed. The three doors on the remaining walls led to the walk in closet and bathroom, Velvette explained. 

“Anything else you need? Kitchen is stocked. If you need something, write it on the whiteboard on the fridge. Housekeeping will bring it up.” Velvette continued. “Same with bathroom products or anything really. We want to make sure you’re happy. Oh!” She snapped her fingers and pushed open one of the doors. “Your public clothes are in my studio- along with everyone else’s. Except mine, of course. I dress myself. But in our space comfort is important. I personally chose the loungewear in your closet. Not that you can leave the building but when you’re ready to get dressed in the morning, come down to my studio and we’ll get you taken care of.” Her eyes narrowed. “Loungewear shouldn’t be seen anywhere except up here and my studio. Understood?”

“Yes, thank you. This is lovely.” Lovely was an understatement. This place was a place compared to my fathers house. 

Velvette shrugged. “Just want to make sure you feel at home Princess. Come now, I’m sure Val and Vox are ready to go.” 

“Go where, again?” I asked, following her back down the hallway and to the elevator. 

She hit the button and stepped in. “Dinner. I’m starved, I can’t believe you’re not. And Val always picks the best places.”

Lucifer hadn’t said anything about the food down here. I wondered what exactly demons ate and a shiver ran up my spine. Babies, probably. Or corpses. Maybe small animals? The phone in my pocket vibrated and I opened up the text just as the elevator door opened. I followed Velvette into the lobby I had entered earlier, keeping my eyes on my phone. 

“Settling in alright love?” The sender name read “Uncle Lucy”. 

Cute. He was as much of an Uncle to me as Vox was my boyfriend. Still, maybe he could answer my questions.  What do demons eat? I typed back furiously. 

Three little dots appeared at the bottom of my screen and his answer popped up. 

Depends. Is Valentino choosing the place? Or Vox?

Valentino, I typed back. 

Three little dots and then, Steak most likely. Velvette dressed you?

I stared at the phone and typed back. Steak? Made of what, exactly?

What is steak made of in the angelic realm? Cow?

I scowled at the phone. I thought demons ate babies. And each other.

His response was instantaneous. LOL. Oh my sweet, that is something I would have warned you about. Everything you eat and drink is safe as long as you’re with the V’s or myself.

Okay, I typed back. 

Be safe love. And stick close to the V’s while you’re out. This scene is much, much more different than you’re used to. 

I wanted to snap my phone shut but instead the screen went black. I sort of missed it- snapping a phone shut at the end of a call was incredibly sadifying. 

“Ah, so you must be the princessa” 

His low drawl pulled me from my thoughts and I looked up to see the red eyes of a demon I hadn’t met yet. Involuntarily, I took a step back. 

“Pleasure to meet you sweetheart.” His smile, much like the others revealed a set of sharp teeth. He stood tall, taller than even my father with a thin frame. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of heart shaped glasses. Hearts adorned the red jacket he wore, and white fluff surrounded the edges and the trim. Under he wore what looked like a black suit. He reached out and took my hand, kissing it. 

“Nice to meet you too.” I tried to hide my fear, the internal screaming to run. 

He grinned wider. “Nothing to be afraid of mi amor. You’re safe as long as you stay with us. Come now. We don’t want to be late.” 

I hesitated. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Don’t wander out of our sight, and you won’t have to worry about it, yeah?” Velvette replied impatiently. 

Vox leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Right as usual dear.” He turned towards the entryway door, holding it open. Velvette passed through, then me, then Vox and finally Valentino. 

A deep red limo was waiting at the curb for us. Vox got in first, then Velvette. I stepped back in hesitation but a firm hand touched the small of my back. 

“After you dear. “ Valentino  bent down and whispered. “Be between us, always. It’s not safe to wander these streets.” 

At his touch, I practically jumped in and chose a seat far away from the others, taking a deep breath. I watched the dynamic in front of me unfold. Vox, between Velvette and Valentino, looked completely comfortable, chatting about what I assumed was their work. Across the limo, Valentino shot me a grin. 

“So princessa, what brings you to hell?” He asked. 

Vox and Velvette fell silent, their attention turned to me. 

“My father ordered me here.” I responded, cheeks flushing. 

From the pocket of his coat, Valentino pulled out a long cigarette and took and draw, exhaling clouds of red smoke.

“Ah. The infamous demon killer. The hypocrite who consorted with the former princess of hell and created you. Tell me, Princess. Why does he want you here after all this time? After all you are…how old?”

I felt my temper flare, but bit it back. His words wern’t exactly unture, but I didn’t like thinking about it. “I’m twenty five.” I said through gritted teeth. 

He considered this for a moment, taking another drag. “Twenty five. That’s a long time to live away from half of yourself.”

“Val.” Vox interjected in a warning tone. One of his red eyes began to swirl. “Enough with the questions. We’re thrilled to have her here.”

“Of course we are.” He smiled. “Just making conversation, wondering why now, after all this time we’ve decided to…ah, explore ourselves.” 

“I go where I am told.” I retorted. 

His grin became wider. “Always?”

Thankfully at that moment the limo stopped and the door opened. This time, Valentino stepped out first. Vox gestured to me and I followed him out. The building in front of us was small, and brightly lit. I followed Valentino inside, Vox close behind me. 

The inside looked like a normal restaurant. We were seated immediately in a back room, and with the exception of the fact that the waiters looked like different demons, it seemed no different than someplace I would have dined at back home. 

Valentino ordered for the table and in moments I was presented with dinner. I studied it while the others dug in. Lucifer was probably right. What was on my plate looked like steak, definitely smelled like it too. Lucifer told me it was safe to eat. And truth be told- I was starving. I took a tiny bite, relieved that my dinner partners didn’t seem to pay much attention to me. It tasted fine, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that washed over me. I took a few more bites, then set my fork down. I just couldn’t shake my nerves. 

“That was great Val,” Vox leaned back in his chair. “What do you say we call it a night and head back?”

“Lame.” Velvette snorted. “The world needs to see the outfits I worked so hard to design. These nightly outings are not just for Val you know.”

Valentino took a long drag of his ciggarette and exhaled a trail of red smoke, looking at me and grinning. “Besides, we need to show the angel what a good time in hell looks like.” He stood up, and the others followed en-suite. Vox stepped aside, ensuring he was behind me as I followed them back to the limo. 

“Have you ever drank alcohol before, babe?” Valentino asked, stretching his arms out on the seat behind me. He didn’t make physicl contact, but he was close enough to make me uneasy. 

“Of course. I can go shot for shot with the most hardened angels.” I said defensively.

“Huh. Didn’t know angels drank.” Vox interjected thoughtfully as the limo pulled up to the next location. “Well good- then this should be a fun night.” 

The number 666 flashed in purple above the building. I hesitated. It looked like a club, and that wasn’t a scene I was allowed to explore. Behind me, Vox gave me a gentle nudge and with no other choice, I trailed behind Valentino as he bypassed the impossibly long line. As we crossed the dance floor, demons skittered out of his way. 

“It’s my club,” he said loudly as he led us to the back, half circle table. “Anything you need babe, its all yours.”

I slid in with Vox on one side and Velvette on the other. Instantly a demon appeared with four drinks, setting them on the table in front of us. 

“Just stick within eyesight of us and you’ll be fine.” Vox assured me.

“Cheers.” Valentino raised his glass to me. “To your visit to hell.” 

I took a sip. It was absolutely intoxicating and before I knew it, all four glasses were empty. Another round appeared instantly. Relief from my terror washed over me and I lost count after the second drink. Flashes of the dance floor, Velvette spinning me around. Shots handed to me by Vox and the four of us slamming them down. 

The room spun but the feeling of freedom and liberation wrapped around me like a star dusted blanket. As time passed, I somehow I found myself across the dance floor, far out of sight of my keepers. 

“To you, pretty lady.” A shark-like demon looked me up and down, and  handed me a pink and fuzzy drink. 

Too drunk to remember to not, I took the drink with a smile and downed it in one gulp. The shark demon laughed and took a step forward. 

“Now, how will you show your appreciation pretty thing?” he reached out and touched my shoulder. 

I flinched, and tried to take a step back but stumbled, trying to look back for any of the V’s.  Fuck, this wasn’t good. 

“There you are, princessa.” Valentino’s sharp voice floated behind me. “Looks like you can’t keep up with demons after all.” 

The shark demon paled and I couldn’t see if he left or not. I felt Valentino’s arm slide under mine as he guided me back to his table. My body, no longer in control of itself, leaned into his red jacket, my head resting its full weight on his shoulder. 

“Jesus Val, how much did you give her?” 

Could have been Vox or Velvette who asked. I couldn’t tell. I felt claws cup my chin and force my head up. Valentino’s eyes met mine and he sighed, letting my head fall against him. 

“Apparently, the princessa didn’t watch her drinks closely enough. Vox, take this please.” 

I caught sight of Valentino standing up and Vox took his place, guiding my head to his shoulder. The room felt loud, and somewhere in the distance, I could have sworn I heard a gunshot. 

“Hey hey, stay awake until Val gets back.” Vox shook my shoulder. “Ah shit. Lucifer’s going to be pissed.” 

I wasn’t quite sure how I ended up with my head on Valentino’s lap, or how I was totally fine with him stroking my hair. 

“Shits just got to work it's way out of her system,” I heard him explain. “Time is the only cure.” 

I tried to lift my head but found it too heavy for more than a few inches. Valentino’s hand pushed it back down. 

“It’s my fault.” I whispered. “I drank too much, too fast. I took a drink from an…I don’t know what, drinks aren’t spiked in heaven!”

I heard the three of them laugh. 

“Sounds like you need a lesson in club safety love.” Velvette looked up from her phone. 

“Maybe we don’t tell Uncle Lucy. Let’s keep this between us?” I mumbled and  shifted my body ever so slightly. 

Valentino rolled me back on my side, “If you say so, dear.” 

I felt the limo stop and tried my best to sit up. After a few seconds of letting me struggle, Valentino lifted me up and out of the limo. 

“I can walk.” I said protested blearily. 

“Oh, you can?” 

Valentino set me down and I immediately pitched forward. He caught me with ease and back in his arms I went. I closed my eyes .

The next thing I knew I was curled up on my side with sunlight streaming into my eyes. With a groan, I sat up. My head pounded.

“Rough first night dear?” 

I opened my eyes to see Lucifer sitting on a chair next to my bed, punching away on his phone. I looked down at myself. Gone were my club clothes from last night, replaced with a pair of soft purple pajamas. I wondered briefly how I had managed to get myself changed so neatly. 

“It wasn’t their fault.” I answered after a few seconds. “Ugh, my head.” 

He seemed unperturbed. “I’m well aware. Free choice and all that- I invented it, remember? Can’t hold them accountable- you chose to accept a drink from a stranger and well, Valentino himself held the stranger accountable.” 

“Fuck me. So…what are the consequences?” I mumbled, leaning forward and covering my head with my hands.

Lucifer paused. “Consequences? Isn’t being rendered totally unable to protect yourself your first night in hell enough? I’m not your father, dear.” He stood up. “What I can tell you is the cameras show half your bad decisions last night were due to drinking on an empty tummy. Can you explain why that is?” 

I didn’t answer. He walked over and lifted my chin so our eyes met. “If you don’t trust the four of us, you won’t make it down here. You have to eat. And drink. Same as you did up there.” 

I nodded and he sighed and sat down next to me. “I’m aware this is difficult- it’s new, and your father and I have torn you away to this place that is the  opposite of everything you’ve ever known. But despite all of heaven's propaganda, there is good down here too. You just have to be more careful.” 

“Yes, Lucifer.”

He broke out into a grin. “I think I prefer Uncle Lucy. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” 

I didn’t answer, embarrassment  joining the pain I felt. 

He patted my leg. “The good news is, you’re only suffering from a hangover. Unfortunately for you the cure is the same in heaven and hell. Hydration, food, anti inflammatories and rest.” 

He stood up and his phone rang. His voice changed from sweet to sharp and several harsh words later, he hung up. 

“I need to go. Chances are you’ll be back out on the club scene tonight. Let’s hope you’ve learned your lesson- stick close to the V’s. And listen to them. I made it clear that they can tell you what to do. Your responsibility is to follow through. Understood?” 

I nodded and he touched the top of my head with a knowing smile. Instantly, my headache vanished.

“Hot shower. Water. Food. It won’t stay away if you don’t give your body those things. I’ll touch base with you later, love.” 

He vanished a second later. I stared at the blank space and wondered if he was the only one down here who could do that. I pushed the thought from my head and willed myself out of bed. Lucifer may have made the headache vanish, but the body aches remained. I made my way into the bathroom.

The shower alone was the size of my room at home and it took me a good fifteen minutes to find a simple water pressure setting. I let myself sink into the steam and scrubbed clean every inch of my body. Finally, I stepped out and wrapped myself in an oversized towel. Standing in front of the mirror I studied my reflection as I towel dried my hair. Without Velvette’s make up, I looked like my usual self. 

The door creaked open and I scrambled for another towel. 

“Hello! No thank you!”

“What? Its not like we didn’t see everything last night,” Vox’s voice answered as he stepped in, closing the door behind him. “How do you think you ended up in those pajamas?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I hissed, covering myself quickly. 

He laughed “modesty is overrated. Down here, you’ll learn that soon enough. Look, I know Lucifer told you but Val made breakfast before he had to rush off to work. It’s in your best interest to eat something before that headache he cured comes rushing back. Oh, and drink this.” He set a bottle of bright orange liquid down on the counter. “Courtesy of the brilliant minds of Vee and Val. It’ll help I promise.” 

He turned to walk out, the paused. “I’m the last one to leave, which means you have the living room to yourself. Do as you wish as long as you take care of yourself. Don’t try to leave the building, and while you can visit my workspace or Vel’s, I’d suggest steering clear of Val. After last night, he’s in a pretty pissy mood.”��

I must have looked mortified because Vox laughed. “Not at you dear. Others that didn’t do their jobs. Still, his temper is a nasty one. I’d recommend avoiding it at all costs.” 

“Noted.” I said shakily. 

“Oh, Princess? Just a reminder. Floors two and five are where you want to go for Vel and I.” 

And with that he walked out. I took a sip of the drink he left and quickly swallowed the rest. To his credit, he was right- I felt much better almost instantly. I wrapped my hair up and from the vast closet I pulled a pair of soft blue pajamas and matching slippers. I made my way out to the shared kitchen and found a heart shaped sticky note on the table next to another bottle of the orange liquid.

Breakfast is in the fridge. Drink this after. If you have a hard time with the TV, text Vox. He’ll get you set up. 

-VVV

I opened the fridge and another heart shaped pink sticky note greeted me. 

“Eat every bite. If cold, microwave ten seconds.” 

I uncovered the plate, hoping it was something normal. Something I could eat. Something that wouldn’t inadvertently turn my stomach. And to my delight, I found what looked to be two homemade strawberry waffles. I put them in the microwave and sat down at the table, taking a bite. 

It was the yummiest thing I had ever tasted. 

I finished the entire thing in record time and, taking the bottle of orange drink, I made myself comfortable on the couch. Although the headache was gone, my entire body felt achy- like I was getting over the flu. I flipped mindlessly through the channels as I finished the drink. Sleepiness washed over me and I felt myself start to drift. 

The quiet ping of the elevator arriving startled me back awake. 

“I see we’re alive.” Velvette saunted across the floor and hung over the back of the couch. “Feeling alright?”

I pulled myself up right. “Better- what time is it?”

“Time for you to go downstairs and get ready- we have another big night out. This one features the press, so we need time to make you perfect.” she answered. “Throw on a robe and meet me down in ten. Oh, and there's more of that orange drink in the fridge. Can’t hurt to have another bottle. Or at least water.”

She sauntered off and I heard the elevator ping again. In truth, I did feel better- almost like nothing had happened. The aches had almost completely vanished. Back in my room I pulled on a pink fuzzy robe and made my way down the stairs. 

Velvette greeted me with a wave and upon my entrance, a horde of demons descended on me. The process didn’t take nearly as long as it had the day before, and by the time Velvette walked up to me the finishing touches were being put onto my makeup. 

“You look great. Much better than you did this morning. Come on now, we have to meet Val and Vox out. You slept longer than we guessed- not that its a big deal. But come on, the car is waiting.”

I followed her out the door and listened to her chatter away while she typed. I checked my phone and saw I had a few missed texts. One from Lucifer, checking in. That was easy, I shot him a quick I’m fine. The second one from Vox- again, asking me how I was, followed by a text informing me he confirmed on the camera I wasn’t dead- and he would see me later. The last text was from Valentino. 

Glad to hear you liked breakfast. Hope you enjoy dinner- let’s not have a repeat of last night, shall we? -Val 

“Valentino is a little scary.” I said out loud. 

Velvette looked up at me and laughed. “He’s only scary if you’re on his bad side- and if you’re worthless to him. Trust me babe, you have no reason to be afraid of him. Not after last night.” 

“What was so different about last night?” I asked curiously. 

She barked a laugh. “Vox is the one with a soft side. Valentino? He leaves drunk bitches in the ditch- he doesn’t lay them on his lap and he certainly doesn’t kill for them.” 

“He’s just afraid, because of who Lucifer is.” I replied uneasily. 

She shrugged. “Could be. Wouldn’t test it though. He can be nasty.”

The porn demon- nasty? That was probably the most mild of terms I could think of. More questions bubbled in my mind. How did they come to own souls? What other lies had heaven fed me- lies I considered to be true? I sat in silence, trying to bring up the courage to ask Velvette myself. I had just about convinced myself to do it when the limo stopped.  

I followed Velvette outside and she marched in the door like she owned the place. Once again, we were whisked to the back of what looked like a normal restaurant. In minutes, dinner was in front of us. I looked down at the pasta dish in front of me and spun my fork in it. It looked normal- and it smelled fantastic. Cautiously, I took a bite as  I listened to Vox complain about technology and a newscaster who ticked him off. Velvette responded by suggesting the use of one of her top models. Valentino was strangely silent, watching as I carefully took another bite. 

“Look at that, already taking a step in the right direction.” He winked at me. “Not up for a repeat of last night, mi amor?” 

I felt my cheeks flush red and his grin grew wider. “Good to see you enjoying your food, princessa.” He turned to Vox casually. “Just put something inside them. That’s how I get the bitches to behave.” 

What did that mean? I wondered. After a few minutes, my plate was empty and Valentino stood up. 

“Shall we? I have another busy night.” he announced. We followed ensuite back out to the limo. I waited behind Valentino, placed carefully between him and Velvette. 

Valentino paused and took a step back. “After you, princessa.” 

“Thanks.” I stepped inside and took my usual place against the far wall. Unlike last night, Valentino sat next to me, keeping a much shorter but still respectful distance. I felt a shiver go up my spine and a strange feeling in my belly as I listened to him chat with Velvette and Vox. 

The ride to the club felt shorter than the night before. The shock of the club scene had dissipated and I followed close behind Valentino. Tonight it felt less like walking into a war zone. Not only did everyone make way for Valentino, everyone made space for me. Back in the same booth I made sure to sip my drink when it came, less I end up as much of a mess as I did the night before. 

With sober eyes I watched the scene unfold. Valentino seemed to know everyone, and those he didn’t know Vox or Vel did. Frequently two left the table, leaving one behind. Visitors came up- demon men and women. Val either invited them for a drink or dismissed them with a wave of his hand. At one point he got up and disappeared into the back of the club, reemerging several hours later with a grin on his face. 

“Shall we dance mi corazon?” He asked, extending his hand. 

I hesitated and he leaned forward. “I won’t let anything happen to you, princessa. Come.” 

I took his hand and he led me to the dance floor. Not to my suprise, he took the lead. I surrendered myself to him and the beat of the music as he spun and swung me around. I lost track of time under the flashing lights and it wasn’t until he slipped his arm under me and led me back to the table that I realized how long we had been away from the table. 

He grabbed a nearby waiter and pointed to me. “Water for this one.” he turned to me. “I’ll be back princessa- stay here. And drink water.” 

I watched him vanish across the dancefloor and sipped at the water the waiter brought me. After that was finished, I ordered a redbull and vodka- hoping it would give me the energy I needed to stay awake. As the minutes passed and my soberness disappeared, the demons on the dancefloor seemed to swim and I wondered how I had managed to stay afloat as long as I had the night before. A sudden rush of tiredness washed over me and I turned to Vox, who was lounging casually next to me 

“When is the last call?”

“When Valentino says it is.” he responded carelessly. 

Great. I swapped from vodka back to water and watched as Velvette and Vox took turns out the floor. Several times I trailed after Vox for a song or two, but he ensured I was safely back at the table before either going back out or swapping places with Velvette. After a few rounds of this, I switched back to vodka, which allowed me to relax for the first time since my arrival. 

After some time passed Valentino returned, looking as pleased as ever. 

“Last call for us darlings,” he purred, offering his hand to me. Vox did the same to Velvette and together the four of us walked out of the bar. 

Though not nearly as bad as I had been, Velvette had the busy night and she spent the ride pressed into Vox. Valentino got himself comfortable and looked at me. 

“You alright baby doll? You’re quiet.” he moved his body closer to mine and his arm fell against my shoulder as he took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling a stream of red smoke. “Tired?”

I nodded and he pulled me to his side. “Lay your head down baby- I think we passed the awkward phase last night hm?” 

My head buzzed just enough that I could forget that he was a demon and that I should be terrified of him. My head fell against his shoulder and he ran a hand through my hair. 

“That’s it sweetheart. Nothing to be afraid of.” he cooed as he exhaled another trail of red smoke. “Close your eyes.”

Against my instinct, I felt my eyelids grow heavy and the weight of my head fell onto his shoulder. He shifted my body and wrapped an arm around my waist. I tried to fight sleep as my head fell to his chest, against the steady beating of his heart. He was relaxed, so why wasn’t I?

I woke up as we pulled up to the VVV tower. Velvette, having solidly fallen asleep on Vox was carried up to the elevator first. Valentino offered his hand as I stepped out of the limo. He kept a steady arm around me as we walked towards the elevator. 

“You have nothing to fear, mi amor.” he purred. “We are not the monsters you think that we are.” 

The last thing I remembered was being tucked into my bed and a soft hand pushing the hair out of my eyes.

[rosyheretic]

little bird (part 2) (steve rogers x fem!reader)

part 1

summary: steve rogers has been acting strangely around you for months, and now you know why: he found out about your crush on him and decided to tease you until you couldn't take it, as penance for your insubordination in the field. how much of steve's provocation can you take? and does he enjoy working you up? (part 2: oh yeah he does)

warnings: smut (18+), fingering, spanking, unprotected sex (bad), praise kink, size kink? ish? it's steve c'mon, witch reader, dirty talk, aftercare (fluff?)

notes: thank you guys for reading the first part! hopefully the grand finale lives up to your expectations. i plan to keep writing and hopefully improve, so let me know if you have any feedback or requests! up next on the queue is a sex pollen fic (with a twist!) because i'm a simple woman.

steve grinned at you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up to perch you on the counter.

his big hands fell on your knees and pushed them apart so that he could stand between your legs. his dominant hand then slipped under your chin, tilting your head so he could kiss you.

steve rogers was a passionate kisser. he was hungry, taking possession of your mouth and exploring you with his tongue. he found the back of your neck and stroked it as he pulled back to speak.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd say you like smoochin' me," steve teased, drinking in your kiss-swollen lips and dazed eyes.

"oh, quit gloating and get to work," you fired back. a splash of magic escaped you and pink wisps guided his fingers toward your heat.

"since when do i take orders from you, dove?" steve pulled his hand free of your power and tutted. "the whole point of this exercise is to teach you to respect my authority."

"is that so, captain?" you sang back. "i thought the point was to rail me."

"i'm a talented guy," steve said, planting a kiss on your cheek so his lips were right by your ear. "i can do two things at once."

"then i suggest you get on it, rogers, because right now i don't see a compelling reason to change my behavior."

steve chuckled and captured your lips in another intense kiss. when you parted your lips to let him in, he used the momentary distraction to pick you up and haul you over his shoulder. your dress flipped up, revealing your upper thighs and your ruined panties.

"wha—STEVE! put me down!" you screamed, pounding your fists on his back. with one quick slap to your thinly clothed ass, he shut you up.

"you want a reason?" he said, slapping your ass twice more. "i'll give you 20."

he carried you to the couch, hitting each side of your bottom one more time before he sat down. he bent you over his knee, holding you down with his free hand splayed across your back.

"i'll just slip these off so i can see you, babygirl," he cooed as he dragged your panties down your legs. when he saw the large wet spot on your underwear, he laughed in triumph. "look at that. nice and wet for your captain, hm?"

steve gave you no warning before he resumed his punishment, landing slaps on every inch of your backside quickly and randomly. after what felt like hours of this punishment, you were delirious and helpless in his arms. or so you both thought.

he turned you over on his lap, hiking your dress up your legs again for access. when he forced your legs apart and moved his hand toward your mound, you braced for relief. instead you watched in horror as he drew back his hand, winding up for a slap right to your pussy. you flinched hard and shut your eyes.

when the spank never came, you opened your eyes to find steve's hand hovering in midair, its path interrupted by the electric fog of your magic.

"still resisting me, little bird?" steve raised an eyebrow at you, unfazed. then he started to push against the energy barrier. your involuntary magical defenses disintegrated under the pressure of his hand. he wore a cocky grin as your power fell away, leaving you defenseless.

you wanted to keep up the bratty act because the dynamic was fun for both of you. but in failing to protect yourself from his punishing hand, you had shown your cards. he knew how much you needed this, how powerless you were against the craving for your superior.

"betrayed by your subconscious," steve found humor in the situation even while you trembled beneath him. mercifully, he gave up on spanking you in favor of teasing your folds. you mewled at the first swipe of his fingers through your heat. "don't worry, i know you could still kick my super ass if you wanted to. but you won't, will you?"

"no..." you whimpered as his fingers sought out your clit, hovering over it and stroking around it to work you up. "wanna be good, captain, please."

"that's all i ever wanted to hear," steve said with a giddy smile. satisfied that he'd corrected your attitude, he gave in and rubbed your clit in earnest. "there's my good girl. i always knew you were in there somewhere."

"oh my god, yes," you breathed as he buried a finger inside you. he explored your walls with gentle thrusts, almost too gentle. you wiggled impatiently in his lap, creating friction on his bulge which was pressing into your side.

"careful," steve hissed. "you may be a super scary witch, but my cock would still split you open without some prep. you gotta be patient. can you do that for me?"

you whined but agreed to his terms. as a reward, he added a second finger. you could feel yourself stretching to accommodate his thick digits. sensing the resistance, steve searched for something to distract you—literally. he probed along your walls like a man on a mission, grinning when you cried out.

"gotcha," he murmured, almost to himself. your pussy fluttered and clenched wildly around him. "that's it, sugar, keep squeezing my fingers just like that. can't wait to be inside you, sweets."

steve's next move was calculated; he was a strategist, after all. as he worked in a third finger, he traced his thumb up to your clit, rubbing it harshly in time with his thrusts. you were a goner as soon as you felt three huge fingers stretching you out and doting on your g-spot.

"oh, princess, i know it feels so good. it's okay, you're doing so good, yes, my good girl, coming on your captain's lap like this," steve coaxed you through your orgasm with sweet nothings.

before you even had time to recover, steve swept you up bridal-style and carried you to the bedroom. "what happened to being patient?" you quipped as he put you down on the bed and unbuckled his belt.

"i haven't wanted someone the way i want you in 70 years," he responded, practically jumping out of his clothes to get to you. now fully nude, steve's cock bobbed between his legs, twitching and weeping precum. "forgive me if i'm in a hurry now that i finally have you."

his words rolled over you like a warm blanket, shielding you from all fear and uncertainty. steve climbed on top of you and rid you of your dress, the last item of clothing hiding your body from his hungry eyes.

"so beautiful, baby bird," steve marveled at your tits as he kneaded them, groaning out loud at their softness. you writhed underneath him, desperate to feel all of him. "ready?"

at your affirmative nod, steve pushed his hips forward and notched his mushroom tip inside your entrance. you sucked in a breath through your teeth at the intrusion. "oh steve, you're so —" you held your breath as he fed you another inch, "big! too big..."

"i know, lovebug, i'm sorry. i'm right here with you." steve cooed. he kept his hips still and peppered featherlight kisses all over your face. "you can take it. just open up for me, let me in."

"o-okay..." you whispered, relaxing your body. steve continued. he captured your lips in a greedy kiss, swallowing every moan and whine and mmph! you had to give him. before long, he was seated fully inside you.

"i'm so proud of you," steve pulled away from the kiss to shoot you a lust(love?)-drunk smile. "can i move now? you deserve a reward for being so brave."

"yes, ple—ah!" your reply was cut off with a squeal as he thrust forward at an angle, hitting your sweet spot with ease. he picked up the pace, more at ease knowing you were enjoying yourself. the burn of his cock stretching your walls now felt pleasant, especially when he snuck his fingers down to your bundle of nerves.

"fuck, angel, i'm not gonna last," steve panted, his dick driving into you even faster. "you're so tight, chokin' me... come with me. let go for me, love."

as he spoke, his fingers went into overdrive on your clit. this, combined with the near-intolerable feeling of fullness, sent you over the edge. you felt yourself clench and spasm around him, triggering steve's release. he came with a shout, rope after rope of hot liquid coating your walls.

in your warm post-orgasmic haze, you felt like you were floating. then steve pried himself away from you and off the bed.

"where are you going?" you asked shyly.

"to get a washcloth. you don't have to be afraid, little bird. i'm gonna take care of you."

you smiled to yourself and closed your eyes again, knowing his words to be true.

[blueisquitetired]

Employees of the Celestic Railway Network

(A faeU piece!)

Wondering why there hasn’t been much art on my account lately? It’s because of this! I was working on it for five months straight!!!!!

But it’s done now! Woo!

If you like this picture please please reblog it. I don’t normally ask, but this took me hundreds of hours so I would appreciate the support.

Anyway, character info and world building under the cut-

Warden Gaeric, Warden of the Icicle Line

Species: Human 

Of all of the creatures in the grand realm of Hisui, humans are debatably the strangest of all. Beings that are not pokémon nor fae, but something else entirely. Humans have almost no natural magic, yet are able to live and thrive anyway thanks to their natural adaptability. Their bodies naturally absorb and convert the energies of local pokémon, fae, and environments in order to better match them, and they learn things at a rate not seen in any other creature. Despite their lack of magic, they are able to grow and thrive in almost any environment, and many have made Hisui their home.

While Warden Gaeric might boast larger than life strength and power, he’s still as human as they come, not even bothering to practice simple spell casting. He doesn’t need magic to do what he does, and he takes a certain amount of pride in that fact. Hard work has gotten him this far, and he doesn’t see it letting him down anytime soon. 

(Although there is a running theory that he is blessed with the human oddity dubbed “Main Character Syndrome” or “Plot Armor”. Such claims cannot be proven though, as it isn’t a widely understood phenomenon, so it remains as just a theory)

Warden Melli, Warden of the Zap Line

Species: Human

Warden Melli immigrated to Hisui as a young adult, and has since never gone back, seeing no reason to return to the mortal coil. His skill with a needle and thread impressed Subway Boss Adaman so much that he was originally hired to mend and charm uniforms- but was quickly promoted to warden when Lord Electrode was taken by his dramatics. Nowadays, his embroidery skill is mostly used for protection spells and charm making, something he is extremely proficient at. Unfortunately, despite being a master spell caster in his own right, the temperamental nature of the medium causes him to disvalue his own skill, viewing it as “not real magic.”

Despite that though, he still is responsible for most of the charms sewn into the uniforms of his fellow human wardens.

Warden Palina, Warden of the Flame Line

Species: Selkie

Selkies are a subspecies of the poké pelt line of fae, a fae type that is mostly known for its ability to switch between the form of a humanoid and a pokémon- but only if they have access to their magic hide. A poké pelt whose skin has been stolen will find themselves unable to transform and unable to do most magic. This has caused most of their myths and legends to revolve around a malicious third party stealing their pelt and hiding it away somewhere.

The Selkie sub species in particular are known to transform into certain water types- specifically pokémon such as dewgong and spheal.

Palina is one of the more senior wardens, despite being a relatively short lived race. (Only living for around 100-200 years- similar to a human) Her long wardenship is due to the fact that she has served two separate lords. A rare thing indeed, as most new nobles will choose a new warden upon their ascension.

Of course, she isn’t one to brag about such a thing, and is much more likely to sing praises for her lover and husband- Warden Iscan. Famously, the two met when she got caught in Warden’s Iscan’s net- back when he was living in Galar and had never had any real encounter with the fae. Still, despite that, the two hit it off, falling in love and marrying. The couple are known for being annoyingly lovey dovey, Palina going so far as to let Iscan carry her pelt for her while at work as a sign of trust and love.

Warden Iscan, Warden of the Splash Line

Species: Human

Warden Iscan may have spent his entire life in Galar if not for his meeting with his future wife- an event that changed his life forever. Formally a fisherman from Hulbury, Iscan’s secret love for trains and general disinterest in fishing in general made moving to Hisui with his new love an easy choice to make. A choice made even easier when Lord Bascilegion chose him as his warden.

He builds and collects model trains in his free time, storing most of them in the unused Splash Apartment.

Warden Sabi, Warden of the Sky Line

Species: Delphi*

The Delphi are an extremely long-lived race (living for several millennia, and likely unable to die of old age) with the ability to see into the future. Not much is known about the delphi as they tend to keep to themselves- but considering their strong magic and fantastic abilities, that’s probably for the best.

For all intents and purposes, Warden Sabi is basically a baby. Barely 100 years old, with an expectant life span in the thousands, it’s a miracle her family let her leave their house- much less hold a job. Yet hold a job she does, even if her actual job description is nebulous at best. She enjoys getting up to mischief and practicing her fledgling future sight powers- mostly in the form of little “prophecy of the week” cards that she hands out. 

Still, she shouldn’t be underestimated, and her advice should be heeded. The future might not be set in stone, but she can see the changes in the tide of time far clearer than anyone else.

*(While most of the species of fae seen in FaeU are modified versions of actual myths and legends, Delphi are an original creation. Many fae have the nebulous ability of “seeing the future” but I couldn’t find any specific species that fit what I was looking for. Thus, the Delphi were created.)

(The name is in reference to the Oracle of Delphi from Greek mythology)

Warden Mai, Warden of the Mind Line

Species: Satyr

Satyr are a species of humanoid fae adorned with horns and hooves- known for their culture of singing, drinking, mischief, and general merriment. This has given them a reputation of being cheats, thieves, and layabouts, something that causes many to inherently distrust them.

They are also closely linked with nature and song, and can be powerful spell casters with enough practice- but their inherent abilities leave much to be desired.

Warden Mai used to be quite the rebel when she was younger. Sick of the expectations and pressures of her peers and parents, Mai ran away from home as a teenager. Unfortunately, her rash temperament and attitude made it hard for her to hold a job for longer than a year at a time. Thankfully, with the support and guidance of the former Lord Wyrdeer she ended up finding herself and mellowing out quite a bit, now being a well adjusted adult.

She plays guitar in a band and does some spell casting recreationally- but refuses to play the flute or seriously learn magic. Apparently, her mother’s intense pan flute lessons were one of the factors that originally drove her to running away. Because of this, she plays her Celestic flute like a train whistle and gleefully cackles any time she startles someone with it.

Warden Arezu, Warden of the Meadow Line

Species: Pixie

When most humans think of fae, their minds usually fall to pixies- a common race of small winged faerie. Their curiosity and mischief often leads them to wander into the mortal coil for brief periods of time, leading to millions of sightings and thousands of myths and legends. 

Coming in at on average six inches tall, pixies aren’t a very powerful race naturally, and tend to stay in groups. If you see a pixie on their own, there's a good chance a group of them is hiding nearby, often egging the singular pixie on.

Some powerful, practiced pixies may leave their communities to live among other fae- but these pixies tend to learn growth magic early on in order to increase their size. Increasing in size is often uncomfortable and makes it harder to fly, but being taken more seriously by others, and more easily interacting with the world around them is a trade off many pixies find favorable.

While the Celestic railways can be ridden by fae and humans of any sort, its passengers by in large consist mostly of city fae- a type of fae that has grown accustomed to iron and smog, making their homes in large communities and towns in a similar vein as humans. Which is what makes it all the more impressive that Warden Arezu is not a city fae.

Most of Warden Arezu’s life was spent in a small pixie community deep in a hidden woodland. She was curious and social, and eventually her limited social circle and never changing circumstances drove her to explore the world as a whole, eventually leading her to the Celestic Rail Network. While she isn’t a train fan by any stretch of the imagination, she still thoroughly enjoys how the rails bring in fae from all corners of Hisui, each with stories to tell and fashion to share.

Eventually, she dreams of opening a hair salon, but for now, wardenship suits her just fine.

Warden Calaba, Warden of the Earth Line

Species: Human

Warden Calaba is old- older than any human has any right to be. How old remains a mystery, one that most doubt she will ever indulge. But with that age comes knowledge, years of healing and potion brewing knowledge that far outstrips what anyone would expect of a human like her. 

Still, she is long overdue to retire, and Subway Boss Irida and Adaman have been gently trying to encourage her too for years now. She refuses though, stating that she will man her post until she is able to impart her knowledge onto another being, or when Sinnoh tears her soul from her body. Considering she has scared off every apprentice she has ever taken, most are betting that it will be the latter.

Warden Lian, Warden of the Insect Line

Species: Human

Lian has lived on the Celestic Rails most of his life. No one was surprised when the current Lord Klevor chose him as his warden, as he has been the station darling since he was a toddler. Still, he takes his work seriously, doing his best to fulfill his duties and be the best warden anyone could ask for.

In his free time, Warden Lian enjoys collecting and perusing rocks- especially ones of the magical variety. He dreams of one day using them to become a spell caster, but his young age and lack of mentor has made the adults around him implore him to wait a few years. For now, he researches, collects, and dreams.

Subway Boss Adaman, Conductor of Time

Species: High Fae (Formally a dryad)

High Fae are less so fae and more so demigods, fae who’s power far surpasses any natural being. There are very few high fae in existence, and each one is fundamentally unique. Some high fae are born that way, but many are elevated from their lowly status by major legendaries or other such beings.

Dryads are a common nature fae, most well known for their unique connection to foliage. Each dryad is born from a certain plant, (usually trees) and will live for as long as that plant does. If the plant withers and dies, so will they, leaving them as extremely fragile beings. Dryads will often conceal the location of their linked plant for safety reasons.

Subway Boss Adaman was born as an unremarkable fir dryad a very, very, long time ago- when Hisui was untamed and dangerous, without a respite to be seen. He spent most of his early years living a fairly uneventful life, (as uneventful as life could be back then) save for his regular interactions with a local frost sprite, one which quickly grew into a fierce rivalry. Said rivalry slowly transformed from begrudging respect to close friends- overtime becoming an extraordinarily deep bond.

Of course, the two's lives changed forever when, on a stint to the mortal realm, they came across a train station. Adaman was blown away by its consistent and accurate timing and wished to bring that stability to Hisui. He eventually ended up pitching the idea to Dialga- who absolutely adored the plan and granted Adaman the powers of a high fae. (Specifically, power over time)

Nowadays, Adaman runs half of the Celestic Rail Network with his partner Irida, keeping the time in the railway stable and making sure the trains run according to schedule. (There are many rumors of what became of his original fir tree, as his relationship on it is no doubt different than it was from before he became high fae. Subway Boss Adaman has never commented on it though, so rumors will continue to speculate) 

Subway Boss Irida, Conductor of Space

Species: High Fae (Formally a frost sprite)

Nature sprites, not to be confused with pixies, are common fae found often in strong natural settings. It’s said when an aspect of nature’s magic coalesces en mass, it forms a sprite of that aspect. These are, in some ways, the most common type of fae, as the sprite genus covers millions of subspecies. They come in all forms and fashions, but by and large are relatively weak, only having mild magic relating to the aspect of nature that they are composed of.

Frost sprites are, unsurprisingly, sprites born from the essence of frost.

Subway Boss Irida was never long for the world- but she kept going anyway. Despite her relatively low life expectancy and naturally weak magic, she managed to live long past her years by moving with the seasons and living in a perpetual winter. Inevitably, she settled in a mountainous fir tree forest where it was snowy year round- and inevitably met a local dryad. 

Of course, her life changed forever when she and the dryad visited the mortal plane and beheld a train line for the first time. Irida was blown away by its ability to cross vast spaces safely and efficiently and wished to bring that stability to Hisui. She eventually brought the idea to Palkia- who eagerly signed off on the plan and gave her the power of a high fae. (Specifically, power over space)

Nowadays, Irida runs half of the Celestic Rail Network with her partner Adaman, keeping the space the railways run through stable and making sure the trains are able to reach where they are headed. (There are many rumors of the exact nature of her and Adaman’s relationship, as the two are close enough to be lovers if they so desired.  Unfortunately, neither party are willing to comment on the matter, so rumors will continue to speculate) 

[wosomarvel]

communication - 05

a/n: just some short and fluffy filler. i think we could all use a little bit of fluff right now. everything just feels so heavy at the moment. it's hard to go about my day to day when i know that there are so many people that don't have access to food and water and medication. surgeries happening without anesthesia. and the western world watches. anyway, i hope this gives someone a little reprieve and i hope you guys are staying safe <3.

-----

sim had never considered herself to be an outgoing person. she didn't like noisy environments, flashy lights, or crowded spaces. they made her skin crawl.

which is why she was currently sat down on an uncomfortable plastic chair, wondering why she had ever let ella, alessia, and lotte convince her that she would have a grand time going out to a club with them.

but sim had never been good at saying no, so when the three begged her to come out and make the most of manchester united's road trip to north london, when she saw the pleading look on alessia's face, she had caved. a decision she was now deeply regretting.

sim could feel the thumping bass in her heart. she tried closing her eyes to at least block out one source of stimulation but she could see the lights through the skin of her eyelids.

"sim, come dance, you've been sitting here looking sad all night!"

sim's eyes shot open, falling on ella's poor attempt at puppy dog eyes. sim pressed her lips together in a tight line, her knuckles turning white were they gripped her cane. she could feel a headache creeping in behind her eyes.

"no, thanks, ella. i don't dance." sim was really getting restless now. the feeling of the tags on the shirt she had thrown on almost hurt in a way she couldn't explain.

"oh, come on, don't be a bore. i bet if alessia asked you would join us," lotte snorted from ella's side.

"no, i really don't-"

"just drop it, girls," a familiar soft voice spoke up.

sim turned to see alessia join the group, two glasses of water in hand. she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. she always felt more relaxed around alessia. alessia made sim feel safe.

"come on, less," ella whined. "she won't drink and now she won't dance? we've got to get the kid to live a little!"

sim stiffened. it was true that she refused to drink alcohol. growing up, she'd witnessed the havoc that alcoholism could wreak. she was grateful that her father hadn't been a violent drunk, or even an angry drunk, but she'd seen enough from her cousins, aunts, and uncles to know what that could look like. knowing that alcoholism ran in both sides of her family, she was not willing to take any chances.

of course, sim hadn't mentioned any of this to ella. tooney just thought she was stiff and no fun. sim was completely fine with that.

"alright, tooney, it's time to let it go. you're gonna scare the poor girl away!" lotte chimed in, sensing that maybe this was a bit deeper than she initially thought.

sim relaxed a little, thankful for the relief in the tension she was starting to feel.

"oh, fine, lotte, let's go dance. less, you coming?" ella relented.

"nah," the taller blonde replied. "just gonna chill out for a bit. i'll join you later," she added, placing a hand gently on sim's back.

sim relaxed further, leaning into the warm touch, letting the weight ground her.

"you want to get out of here?"

"no, i'm alright. i might call myself an uber later, but really, i'm okay." the last thing sim wanted to do was make alessia go home when she knew how much alessia had missed ella.

alessia turned sim towards the door, her hand staying in its place on the girl's back, a gentle guide as she walked sim out.

"it's alright, love. you seem off, and i'm starting to get a headache. let's go."

sim's cheeks warmed at the pet name. she and alessia had been dancing around the unspoken feelings between them for months, both of them waiting for the other to broach the topic.

sim had endured endless teasing from millie and rachel during national team camps, and beth made sure to fill the time in between.

unbeknownst to sim, alessia had received the same treatment from ella. at first, the rest of the lionesses had found it amusing how obvious their feelings were to everyone but themselves. as time moved on, it had almost become annoying. they'd hoped the teasing would force one of you into making a move.

so far, no luck.

-----

"so, you want to tell me what had you so shaken up?"

sim and alessia were settled on the coach in alessia's living room, an episode of brooklyn nine-nine playing softly on the television.

"it's stupid," sim muttered under her breath.

"well, how about you tell me and i'll decide if it's stupid," the blonde replied, offering sim her hand when she noticed sim picking at her skin.

sim sighed, starting to play with alessia's fingers. "it's just-" sim stuttered, hesitant.

"go on," alessia prodded gently.

"i have... issues? with sensory overload. and the loud music with all the voices and the flashing lights is a lot. and it was just so crowded and everyone was bumping into me. there was someone beside me with the scratchiest crop top and people were stepping on my feet and- now i'm rambling. just- sometimes there's just so much of everything that it hurts. god, that doesn't even make sense. i know it's stupid and i can't just expect for the world to cater to my needs-"

"hey," alessia interrupted. "stop calling yourself stupid."

sim withdrew her hand from alessia's, looking everywhere but alessia's face.

alessia reached out to pull sim into a hug but hesitated, letting her hand hover just over sim's shoulder. she didn't want to add to whatever sim was feeling.

"can i hold you?" alessia asked, trying to keep her voice as low as possible.

"please," sim whispered.

sim relaxed into alessia's body, letting the warmth and pressure of alessia's arms ground her.

"it's not stupid, love. i'm glad you told me, but i'm sorry if we made you feel like you had to come out with us," alessia murmured into sim's hair.

"it's not your fault that i'm too scared to say no," sim grumbled bitterly. really, sim would prefer to shift the topic away from her inadequacies, but she had a feeling alessia wasn't going to let this one go.

"sim, i'm going to ask you to be a bit nicer to yourself. maybe your boundaries haven't been respected in the past, but i want you to know that that won't happen here. i want you to feel safe in saying no. we can practice setting boundaries, yeah? we're all wired a bit differently. it's okay if you experience sensory overload more than others. if you want to stay in next time, then i'll stay in with you."

sim turned slightly, tucking her face into alessia's chest, the older girl's fingers coming up to rub gentle shapes on the back of her neck.

sim knew she was screwed. alessia was just too perfect. she made her feel okay.

actually, alessia made sim feel more than okay. she made sim feel content, more than she'd ever felt before. she made sim feel like more than just the sum of her past.

for years, sim had felt like she was just wandering aimlessly through the world. frankly, sim found it pathetic how alessia showing her even the most basic level of respect had her feeling like maybe she could belong somewhere.

sim lifted her head from where it was resting on alessia's chest, her brown eyes meeting alessia's blue.

"i always feel safe with you, less," she whispered.

warmth flooded alessia's cheeks as she smiled softly down at sim.

sim found herself frozen, unable to utter a single word.

"can i kiss you?" alessia breathed, trying and failing to keep her voice from wavering and betraying her nerves.

sim didn't trust her own voice so she nodded, not quite believing that smart, intelligent alessia wanted to kiss her.

alessia's free hand came to rest tenderly on sim's cheek, thumb making sweeping motions across the soft skin as she examined sim's face for any sign of hesitation. not finding any, she tilted sim's face up before leaning in to place a gentle kiss to her lips.

it was short and sweet, but conveyed so much emotion and sim tried her best to match what alessia was making her feel.

alessia pulled away after a few seconds, watching in awe as sim's eyes fluttered back open, a smile taking over the younger girl's face.

sim's face flushed at the look of pure adoration on alessia's face. she tucked her face back into alessia's sweater.

"are you getting shy on me?" alessia giggled, placing a soft kiss on the top of sim's head.

sim nodded.

"was that okay?" alessia's voice revealed a hint of insecurity, causing sim to remove her head from its resting place to look up at her.

"it was perfect."

alessia's face broke into a wide grin, arms squeezing sim closer.

"be my girlfriend? i mean, i know usually i'm supposed to ask you on a date first, and of course i want to do that, but i just think because we already know each other so-"

"you want me to be your girlfriend?" sim lifted herself out of alessia's embrace, an incredulous look taking over her face.

"unless you don't want to!" alessia scrambled, eyes wide with sudden panic.

"no, i do, of course i want to be your girlfriend but..." sim trailed off, hand coming up to scratch behind her ear before alessia took it between her own, pressing a kiss to sim's knuckles.

"hey, i told you i want you to feel safe with me. we can take this as slow as you want. can i ask why you're hesitating?"

sim sighed. how had she lucked out like this? alessia was so perfect. but that's where her hesitance stemmed from.

"less, you could do so much better. i- i have a lot of baggage, y'know? and i've never done anything like this before." sim gestured between the two of them as if to emphasize what this was. "i've never been in a relationship before. hell, i've never even kissed anyone before this."

sim was starting to work herself up. the feelings of contentment she had experienced just moments before had disappeared, giving way to exasperation.

who was she kidding? alessia was way out of sim's league.

"can you look at me, sim?"

startled by the unusual use of her name in place of a pet name, sim's eyes shot back to meet alessia's.

"i want you. i am choosing you as you are. baggage or not, inexperienced or not, doesn't matter to me. i want you, exactly the way you are. i wouldn't change a thing."

alessia topped off her statement with a gentle kiss to sim's hairline.

"so, be my girlfriend?"

a dopey smile took over sim's expression.

"of course."

-----

a/n: anyone catch the high school musical and camp rock references?

[mouseymousey]

Kung Fu Panda Headcanon

I always see jokes on the internet that Po is the Dragon Warrior by chance, because he's a fast food worker, etc. I think the real reason he's the Dragon Warrior is because of his body mass, and when watching the movie from this perspective, everything seems to click into place. For one, Po first ends up in front of Grand Master Oogway because he was late, something that happened solely because he was unable to climb the stairs on his way to the temple. His love of Kung Fu and the Furious Five meant he still made it to the top, full of the dedication and commitment. Both his body type hindering his speed and his dedication to Kung Fu make him get to the temple at the exact right time to become the Dragon Warrior, even if he doesn't realize it then. Instead of giving up (even though he has had the chance to twice cow from the lack of accessibility AND the doors shutting him out), he builds a rocket system. This rocket system would have probably worked to get over the wall on a smaller person. He goes a good ways up and over the wall and picks up a lot of speed. However, he's too heavy, landing him in the center of the arena instead of an empty area in the back he could have quietly snuck into the crowd from. Again, his body mass and dedication were the main contributors to him becoming the Dragon Warrior. Think of Master Oogway. He's fast for a turtle, but knowing that most people in this universe take on characteristics of their animal counterparts (like birds with flight), he probably wasn't taken seriously as a fighter when he was younger, but he became a Grand Master anyway. Despite being looked down upon and not believed in, he became a wonderful and well-respected Kung Fu fighter. He also, due to his shell, was probably very skilled in defensive combat. This would be the main fighting techniques his predecessor would teach to Po, and his age (being an elder turtle) is probably why he believed in fate so strongly. Grand Master Oogway is very old, and he can tell when fate is in action or not from his years of wisdom and experience. Master Shifu, an opposite force to Oogway, is hyper and fast. He specializes in offensive combat. He doesn't respect Po because he is quick to judge him, but he's also quick to get over his first thoughts when he sees Po's natural skill. In the cookie scene, Po reaches Monkey's cookies on the top shelf in a matter of seconds. Having a bird as a father, Po probably had to learn to climb at a very early age up and down the shelving that his father could easily fly up. Ladders would break under his weight (even ones made for hogs), so he has to climb onto the shelves themselves. He's also a panda, meaning he should be able to climb up bamboo shoots, so he can climb up 13,000 feet. Po is the perfect Dragon Warrior because he is a being of perfect balance. He has equal offensive and defensive fighting techniques and a powerful dedication to his home, his people, and his art form. When Shifu is ready to retreat, he refuses to. During the final battle, Tai Lung attacks him swiftly. He's the fastest, faster than any opponent the Valley of Peace has, however, Po begins wholeheartedly laughing at his attack, leaving him confused. Po doesn't need to be quicker than Tai Lung because the punches are absorbed into his body fat. His agility allows him to go on both the offensive and defensive in a way no other animal could have archived in its lifetime. It leaves Tai Lung feeling out of place, confused, and dizzy. He has never fought an opponent like this. It's only then that Po pulls out his finishing move, something anyone else would have glanced over, but Po is a fanboy. He pulls out the Wuxi Finger Hold. He's both warn out his opponent and trained hard enough to pull it off. Every other person who learns Kung Fu in this universe specializes in one natural attribute and spends there whole life perfecting it, but Po was able and willing to learn from everyone he met, including those that didn't have lives tied to Kung Fu like his father. He's the perfect Dragon Warrior because of his range. :D

[auroraaurorae]

Really wishing I could reply to posts with my side accounts

Anyways I saw your recent post and it really really resonated with me. I started existing after a split only a few months ago, a handful of my traits I had to learn about but I felt very flat. Like someone started writing and forgot to finish. Things that helped me were listing out things I already know about myself and things i've experienced and try to connect emotions to them.

Also this might sound idk silly but another method is what some parents do with their children as they build their own sense of self and identity is, try new things! And it might seem scary but try new things by yourself, doing it with others might make it harder to tell if its something you connect to yourself or them. It doesn't have to be anything grand you can start small, are there any genres of music you haven't explored yet? Genre of movie/shows you don't often watch? Depending on the accessibility, are there any community events happening you could get involved in?

If you've got a lot going on you may be experiencing burn out. Burn out can make finding enjoyment in things difficult. Taking time for yourself can help, don't pressure yourself to find something as soon as possible. Try to relax in any form you can, do something for yourself with no pressure! Whether it be taking a warm bath, reading a book, listening to music you like, going on a nature walk, etc.

Also when it comes to having roles in a system don't feel pressured, some alters exist to just exist! I'm pretty sure I have no role, I'm just here, and being here is enough. Your existence doesn't need a justification or a reason you're allowed to simply be! I hope things get easier for you soon.

Sam: one-voice-of-many

Hi Sam @one-voice-of-many!

I'm sorry for not responding to this sooner. In truth? I just don't entirely know how to reply, but I do know I need to at least try. It isn't anything you did wrong, but just with everything on my mind, I don't know how to approach anything. I'm glad my words could resonate with someone. I am sorry though that they do resonate with you because I wouldn't wish this on anyone.

It's just hard to even figure out anything I do know about myself. Your method doesn't seem silly though. It's logical and makes sense, but everything I have tried so far just falls flat. Gaming so far? I felt nothing. VR Chat? It worked for ( @sunofpolaris ) Fate, but man it just sucked to be either harassed or felt overwhelmed by everyone talking. The rest of my system members are trying to rally behind me, but I feel awkward and nauseous even thinking about socializing. For us, we don't entirely have the funds for anything local, hence the attempt at VR Chat but maybe we picked the wrong time to try and be online. Maybe this was just the time of day where people act ridiculous or a time where all the children are up with nothing better to do (Seriously, why are there so many children on VR Chat????).

Though I wonder if you're right. Maybe I just have burn out before ever really getting myself together and the problem is I don't even know what I would even find relaxing. Thanks for the ideas and encouraging words though. I'm sure someday I'll figure it out, but until then, I'm simply just going to try and figure out other things to explore in the world.

-Aurora

[acdoflancashireblog]

Finding the Best Parts for Your Chrysler Grand Voyager - A Comprehensive Guide

Owning a Chrysler Grand Voyager means enjoying the comfort and versatility of a spacious vehicle designed for families and long journeys. However, maintaining this iconic car requires access to quality parts and spares, which can sometimes be a challenge. This article explores the best ways to find Chrysler Grand Voyager parts, the benefits of using Chrysler Grand Voyager breakers, and tips on securing the best deals on Chrysler Grand Voyager spares.

The Importance of Quality Parts for Your Chrysler Grand Voyager

The Chrysler Grand Voyager, known for its reliability and durability, can serve you well for many years. However, to ensure optimal performance, regular maintenance with high-quality parts is essential. Whether you need a minor component or a significant replacement, sourcing the right Chrysler Grand Voyager parts is crucial. Using genuine parts not only ensures compatibility but also extends the lifespan of your vehicle.

Why Consider Chrysler Grand Voyager Breakers?

Chrysler Grand Voyager breakers are specialized facilities that dismantle end-of-life vehicles, salvaging usable parts. These parts are then cleaned, tested, and sold to customers looking for affordable yet reliable components. Here are several benefits of using Chrysler Grand Voyager breakers:

Cost-Effectiveness: Purchasing new parts can be expensive. Breakers offer a cost-effective alternative, providing parts at a fraction of the cost of new ones.

Availability: Sometimes, specific parts for older models can be hard to find. Breakers often have a wide range of Chrysler Grand Voyager spares, including those that are no longer in production.

Environmental Impact: Recycling parts from older vehicles helps reduce waste and the need for new manufacturing, making it an eco-friendly option.

Finding Chrysler Grand Voyager Parts for Sale

When searching for Chrysler Grand Voyager parts for sale, it’s essential to know where to look. Here are some tips:

Online Marketplaces: Websites like eBay and specialized car part websites often list a variety of Chrysler Grand Voyager spares. Always check the seller's ratings and reviews to ensure you’re buying from a reputable source.

Chrysler Parts Dealers Near You: Local Chrysler parts dealers can be a great resource. They offer expert advice and may have parts in stock or can order them for you. Searching for "Chrysler parts dealer near me" can help you find the nearest dealer.

Chrysler Car Breakers: Visiting a Chrysler car breaker can be a treasure trove of parts. These breakers dismantle cars and sell the usable parts at competitive prices. A quick search for "Chrysler breakers near me" will point you to local breakers.

How to Choose the Right Chrysler Breakers

Selecting the right Chrysler breakers involves considering several factors to ensure you get quality parts:

Reputation: Look for breakers with good reviews and a solid reputation. Online forums and review sites can provide insights into the best Chrysler breakers in your area.

Warranty: Reputable breakers often provide warranties on their parts, giving you peace of mind and protection against faulty components.

Part Condition: Always inquire about the condition of the part. Breakers should provide detailed information about the part’s history, mileage, and any wear and tear.

Chrysler Voyager Spares: What to Look For

When purchasing Chrysler Voyager spares, it’s essential to:

Verify Compatibility: Ensure the part is compatible with your specific model and year of the Chrysler Grand Voyager. Check part numbers and consult your vehicle’s manual if needed.

Inspect Before Buying: If possible, physically inspect the part before purchase. Look for signs of damage, rust, or excessive wear.

Ask for Documentation: Reputable sellers should provide documentation or proof of testing to verify the part’s functionality.

The Convenience of Online Shopping for Chrysler Grand Voyager Parts

The internet has made finding and purchasing Chrysler Grand Voyager parts easier than ever. Online breakers and parts dealers offer vast inventories and the convenience of shopping from home. Websites like ChryslerBreakers.co.uk/ provide a comprehensive range of parts for all Chrysler Grand Voyager models, making it easy to find what you need.

Maintaining a Chrysler Grand Voyager can be straightforward and cost-effective with the right approach to sourcing parts. Chrysler Grand Voyager breakers, specialized parts dealers, and online marketplaces provide numerous options for finding affordable and reliable Chrysler Grand Voyager spares. By considering factors like reputation, warranty, and part condition, you can ensure that your vehicle remains in top condition for years to come. Whether you're searching for a specific component or simply exploring options, resources like ChryslerBreakers.co.uk/ are invaluable for every Chrysler Grand Voyager owner.

[uppervalleyhonda123]

Upper Valley Honda

Giving back to the community of White River Junction by providing assistance to the oppressed

Upper Valley Honda may be located in Vermont, but they serve a sizable New Hampshire clientele. For all of your service needs, go no farther than Upper Valley Honda, the top Honda dealership in northern New Hampshire and central Vermont honda dealership in vt The parking lot is accessible from the addresses given above. Two of our stronger points are our state-of-the-art Honda service centres and our first-rate Honda finance team. We carry both new and pre-owned Honda vehicles, in addition to a Honda service centre. There are a lot of reasons why the moniker Upper Valley Honda should captivate you. Among the many satisfied Honda owners in the White River Junction, Vermont area is Upper Valley Honda. The moment to drop by and find out is now. Joining our team would be an incredible honour on top of all the other benefits.

All of the information that has been fully recalled

Certified Pre-Owned vehicles from our dealerships have a plethora of advantages, including a warranty and an extensive 182-point inspection. 

You might be able to find cars for under fifteen grand.

Browse our huge selection of pre-owned vehicles for below $15,000 to discover the one that's right for you. Lose yourself in the used car listings and let your thoughts wander. 

The prospect of blending in with Manchester culture is what first piqued my interest in the concept.

Upper Valley Honda has the utmost respect for towns like Manchester, Montpelier, White River Junction, Burlington, and Concord. We can't wait to meet the people and grow our business in this new area. Now that we're all set up in our new neighbourhood, we can't wait to meet the locals and see what this place has to offer. You may now visit our recently opened White River Junction showroom to see it for yourself. Please accept my heartfelt greetings. Whether you are looking to buy a new car or are simply curious about Honda, we will do our best to answer all of your questions. From mom-and-pop shops to Fortune 500 giants, we can help any size business. Allow us to handle things while you relax.

Making sure our clients are happy is our top concern.

Every one of our customers is important to us here at Upper Valley Honda, so we work hard to meet their needs. At our company, we prioritise the satisfaction of our clients, both present and prospective, and their propensity to suggest our service to others. This notion is of great importance to us. You may have faith in our ability to fulfil your needs when you buy a car from us because of our three-day return policy and 100,000 mile guarantee. If the quality of the things you purchased was inadequate, we would both be unhappy. You may rest easy knowing that our skilled professionals will take care of all the paperwork and paperwork involved in purchasing a car, as our non-commissioned sales staff is available to assist you with anything you may need. You must have been pleased with some aspect of this.

Our dealership is the best in the business when it comes to selling new and pre-owned Hondas.

Upper Valley Honda is a dealership you should research well before buying from them. for all the existing and future Honda owners in the White River Junction, Vermont area. Adhering to these steps will ensure that your conclusion is backed by solid evidence. Helping customers select the perfect car is one of our favourite parts of selling cars. Think of the Honda CR-V as an excellent example of a modern SUV that offers convenient and accessible safety features. Anyone who has heard us brag about this vehicle knows how fantastic it is. This is due to the fact that the Honda CR-V offers these features. An appealing and functional choice is the Honda HR-V, thanks to its spacious cabin. No one has any complaints. But for a vehicle of its size, the cabin is surprisingly roomy. A shiny new Honda Accord probably isn't what you're looking for. You are probably the one who is questioning your authority. Please let us know ahead of time if you have not had the opportunity to view or test drive a new model recently so that we can accommodate your needs. Upon confirmation, we would be more than happy to present you with the most current model. If you could ever explain how you did it, everyone would be staring at you. With its luxurious interior and state-of-the-art features, the Honda Accord is more appealing than before. As a result of the new Honda Accord's many convenient features, this is taking place honda dealers near me If you're a first-time driver looking for a vehicle with plenty of safety features and app integration, go no further than the Honda Civic. Feel free to ask anything pertaining to your car search if you have any questions or concerns.

Maintenance and repairs must be performed on a regular basis to ensure optimal performance. Your self-assurance will soar after you achieve it.

When it comes to the important stuff, it doesn't matter where you got your Honda serviced or bought it. The proximity of the two sites serves as the primary rationale. Thanks to the collaboration between our sales and maintenance staff, we can give each customer the personalised attention they deserve. The successful completion of this project depends on the coordinated efforts of all relevant departments. Take your car to a repair facility that is Honda-approved, and you can rest confident that our specialists have received rigorous training from Honda. Plus, we use OEM components. Buying parts and labour with a lifetime warranty allows customers to save the most money. New tyres, genuine Honda components, aftermarket Honda parts, and more are all available in our repair department. I fully support this course of action. At Upper Valley Honda, client satisfaction is of the utmost importance. We can't move forward with the deal unless we address all of your concerns. Taking advantage of this chance will allow us to become better known in the area.

[sporadicarbitergardener]

October 24 , 2023

Listening to Kevin Gates while also reading the Bible as well. Keeping my mind studying as well.

My bible that was Copy right 1977, 1984, 2001 by Thomas Nelson Inc, All rights reserved Printed in Belgium the verse in Psalms says ,

Also was baptized and well that was November 16, 2008 a week before I turned 10 as well. In front of My father Glenn Ray Seymour and , my two little brothers as well as my step mom and as well as my step brother as well. The verse Psalms 10: Oppression of the Poor.

Psalms 10:2

" The wicked in "his" pride doth persecute the poor,. Let them be taken in the devices that they have imagined."

Now reading this the bible states women are to "marry" its hard to marry when women feel a sense of entitlement to credibility and being thief of a man's pride . A man's pride is anything he actually pours his energy and time into as well as mind.

Men will looks at all women the same because we are always counting on a hand on how fast we can mess them over or manipulate them.

The devices they are talking about is the phones and devices and how we use them. I use mine for research, google translation and communication to people that I promised to always be here for no matter how bad things get.

A few people is about to see me as a joke because I don't hold any vengeance from anyone who hurts me or betrays me. I look at myself and having spiritual warfare in my soul because my father's obituary did not have to be exposed, nor did my face-book need to be tapped in my old foster brother from him hacking me back in March of 2015 to April really, actually April 20 of that year in 2015 and that hurts to know because he was tapped into my information and was having access to all my conversations as well. This life is getting scary being able to see it at a distance as well.

Reading this and realizing what dcfs meant by I am blessed. My daughter could be in the same position as I was as well. My spirit in my shell is feeling growth in more ways than one. I am learning the knowledge everyone is wanting and trying to manifest from the Devil, they are trying to learn take over.

That knowledge was not meant to be used for destruction it is meant for knowing the power you hold in yourself as a person as a human being. I will not be looked at like my father as a liar or a addict .

Life is a choice.

I have to much life meaning my spirit.

Women give the names you are called by the first name.

Seeing someone go by a middle name is Red flag, also after learning the truth behind my father's biological father I had already stated my last name needs to be changed to Barker because well truth came out fast and I see why my grand mother wrote that message of her red bible.

She knows how I am with my faith and knows i will do whatever means necessary's to keep my bloodline safe and as well as always reach out to talk to family because as life goes on and people block and do things as if I am here to make anyone feel bad about themselves. Nope sometimes as life goes on its better to let go , write , if there is something you want to keep with you but you don't want to carry it with you in your mind you can actually write it down and keep it , write down your mental rights with a note and keep that information personal close as well.

Family will play like they love you and trade or speak information to others that was it there business to do because now it takes away truth behind what I say or do. My past will not dictate or conflicts my faith as I am typing this. Women are always called crazy no women are tired of our voices being covered, Hint my drawings has the mouth as well muscled as well.

I like the fact that Porn Hub asks for a license or a number to upload things as well. Its amazing because well. I am from Louisiana and well, I am sorry I love music, I speak truth. One main focus I am hunting for and doing is writing or saying lyrics that doesn't look like a gateway to a bad path. The path hand and hand with Allah, God . The Alpha and Omega and understanding even as an artist that has more talents than one, I will never be perfect, right now is not the time to dive into my dream with my music because truth is , being seen as if I am noone. Lies , everyone sees what is going on. Money holds no real value when you learn the place of a women as life goes on. I don't want to be looked up to as I promote self harm, verbal abuse, mental abuse, or physical violence. My body is my body , We are all part of the problem of todays society. Women on twitter one specific is talking about things on twitter well, formerly twitter and is debating and speaking of topics she's trying to speak to women and say to be quiet and submits to every word a man says , But leaving out other factors that she wants our daughters to learn to listen and elt a man take advantage and mentally abuse you, I was once beatened by her father and we made peace and moved on from it, but his family got in the way and as life goes on we are all learning how to ehal because well. Now its feels like whose going through worse and feels like it is Karma as well for speaking up as well. I refuse toever be looked at as if I did wrong in my past when speaking up. I don't trust a person walking because everyone just wants something from you just so that way they can take your photos, data, and stories adn use them for themselves, shit even seeing my mom betray me its okay. I am greatful she is alive but she was my momma and she is protecting someone that did alot of harm to other kids as well and my baby daddy's sister thought I was wrong when I told Him that I wanted to beat my brothers ass for doing something to a kid as well my child said that she was touched by him as well and my mom is acting like she forgot who I was as a person. I know my rights as a mother and as a person I am influencing women to speak up and always keep diaries because even when I was on drugs I am still able to remember everything that has ever happened. Maya Angellou felt that she had to keep mute because she felt as well the same thing , stay quiet becasue she felt her voice played a hand in getting a man killed when facts are that is a false because murder is a choice, all humans feels a evil instinct in us but its about how we chose to pass it down and demonstrate it. I was raped 3 times and State of Louisiana through Celeste White dropped my case becasue she was intimidated by Thomas Vincent to drop the case as well, so I did allow her father to visit with her and see her under the supervision of some family from the Hebert side and May 19, 2023 my daughter came to me saying that she was touched by him as well then I got my mothers dumbass boyfriend saying and trying to message me aying that he is my dad when my father is deceased and what makes it even more sick for me is that well being honest in my life he is part of the problem as well having sex with every one he does air conditioner work as well for my mother. Church is through your way of worship. I just find it funny ebcause I was even wrong back in September 16 , 2014 when I spoke up on cocain as well about the accusations as well.

Makes it amazing for me because I even left 26 Old sandy hook road in July or August of 2017 because my mother brought him back around my daughter after I gave birth to her as wel.

I will always love her father but in truth I do believe her, but also on top of that Chris Cuevas even made a mistake and said " Why didn't you fill out a Police report."

Sir common sense is The courts does not hold anything that a child says at 6 years old accountable to be used, this is facts because on honesty It was as easy as just leave and not speak to any of them again. Do I wish them bad? Never I am staying near my home front because well. Its home.

Tired of the judgement oh wait Thomas Vincent father of three wont name because they are family but he even screamed at me saying infront of 410 edwards street that I deserved to be raped and I am not mad because they rather see me home less and not care. I asked for even a ride from Misty Portier to help me to get to court from Lafayette and she was told me no as well.

Manipulated me threatening me saying I remember you calling the police from 2021 because her father didn't let me talk to her because of his emotions. I am so sorry that I felt played because he said " I will teach her how to please a man."

So Louisiana did fail that. Speaking that as well. My bad.

But in truth I never did anything to harm my child, when you remove a child from a mother's custody we will lose our mind and find hobbies to fill the void, so me leaving a man was wrong ? No matter what we are always serving the devil without knowing it and well I have the right to type as I am losing my mind watching how this crap really goes, I am keeping my silence as I am healing mentally right now so I am greatful because we could all be killed in America like the Genocide that is going on across the borders.

And noone will ever really get promoted or paid correct as honesty goes. So yeah, some artist play behind a screen because even right now I am looked at like an attention seeker , no , I am a woman who has alot in her mind and also alot of pain supressed, but I hold no threats.

[csl-finance1]

What Is An SME Loan?

In the bustling global of enterprise, small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) often wield the strength to wonder, innovate, and uplift communities. These companies, frequently shaped by the desires of determined individuals, contribute drastically to our financial system. Yet, their adventure isn't without its proportion of demanding situations, especially regarding having access to capital. This is where SME loans become important allies, offering the financial strength those businesses want to overcome hurdles and chart their distinct paths to fulfilment.

Cracking the Code of SME Loans: Your Financial Compass

SME loans aren't pretty much money-converting arms; they are approximately figuring out desires and scripting fulfilment testimonies. SME loans are monetary tools tailored to satisfy the specific necessities of small and medium-sized organisations. These loans come in various paperwork, catering to extraordinary wishes—be it investment expansion, shopping equipment, managing coin waft, or tackling unforeseen emergencies. These loans are usually presented via banks, credit unions, online creditors, and government-sponsored organisations, each with its own phrases and situations.

SME Loan Options: A Spectrum of Support

The Foundation of Term Loans: Term loans are the bedrock of SME financing. They involve borrowing a set sum for a hard and fast length, usually one to five years. Interest fees can both remain consistent or vary with market situations. Monthly payments remodelled the loan term, making period loans perfect for purchasing property, expanding operations, or nurturing lengthy-time period dreams.

Working Capital Brushes: Every enterprise faces the ebb and glide of monetary tides. Working capital loans act like brushes that smooth out these waves. They offer a quick-term budget to cover everyday charges, ensuring the commercial enterprise sails easily even via choppy economic waters.

The Gear of Equipment Financing: Just as an artisan needs tools, SMEs require equipment. Equipment financing acts as the equipment that keeps organisations shifting ahead. Whether it is a high-tech system for a manufacturing unit or the latest oven for a bakery, this financing guarantees that corporations have the tools they need to thrive.

The Rhythm of Invoice Financing: In the rhythm of commercial enterprise, unpaid invoices can create dissonance. Invoice financing is just like the metronome that keeps the beat regular. Businesses can use pending invoices as collateral to secure finances, maintaining cash flowing and operations buzzing.

Lines of Credit: Flexibility in Strokes: Think of business lines of credit because the artist's brushstrokes convey flexibility to the canvas. With a predetermined credit score restriction, SMEs can withdraw price range as required, paying hobby handiest on what they use. This adaptable method is perfect for handling cash float fluctuations.

Merchant Cash Advances: The Jazz of Capital: In the world of SME loans, service provider cash advances are the jazzy notes. These advances offer an in-advance sum in trade for a slice of Destiny credit card sales. It's like a musical improvisation, although one has to be aware that those advances frequently come with slightly better interest prices.

Why SME Loans Matter: A Strategic Stroke in Business

SME and Retail loans play a position that goes beyond price range—they may be the strategic strokes that create masterpieces:

Fueling Growth and Innovation: SMEs are regularly fueled by grand visions of boom and innovation. SME loans offer the gas required to turn those dreams into realities. With the right investment, businesses can take ambitious steps, remain aggressive, and lead the rate of innovation.

A Catalyst for Job Creation: SMEs aren't just about numbers; they are approximately humans and groups. When SMEs expand, they invent jobs and foster employment. This monetary ripple effect enriches neighbourhood neighbourhoods and contributes to the broader monetary symphony.

Tackling Financial Challenges: The course of SMEs is strewn with financial challenges. SME loans serve as the guard that guards against these demanding situations, making sure that sudden costs or fluctuations in cash glide don't derail the business's journey.

Building Financial Credibility: Handling an SME mortgage properly can be a stepping stone in the order of building economic credibility. Timely repayments can paint a photograph of trustworthiness that opens doors to favourable terms on destiny loans.

Nurturing Entrepreneurial Dreams: SME loans play the position of gatekeepers, welcoming budding entrepreneurs into the sector of enterprise. With admission to capital, aspiring enterprise owners can convey their specific visions to life, fostering colourful surroundings of diversity and innovation.

Choosing the Right Hues: Key Considerations for SME Loan Seekers

While SME loans offer a palette of possibilities, it is critical to approach them with care:

Crafting a Business Tale: Lenders appreciate a properly-advised story. A sturdy business plan that outlines your modern function, destiny goals, and the motive of the loan may be your prevailing narrative.

Understanding Creditworthiness: Lenders have a look at credit score history and enterprise credit score ratings. A solid credit foundation improves your possibilities of approval. Even in case your credit score isn't stellar, specialised lenders can still help you navigate these waters.

Balancing Loan Amounts and Terms: Think approximately the amount you actually need and the compensation phrases that align with your monetary rhythm. Striking the proper balance guarantees that you're equipped to control the loan even as achieving your commercial enterprise goals.

Unveiling Interest Rates and Charges: Each lender paints with a completely unique brush when it comes to interest rates and fees. Study the canvas carefully, comparing phrases to make certain there are no hidden surprises.

Decoding Collateral: Certain loans require collateral—a protection net for the lender. Whether it's property, device, or accounts receivable, understand the nuances of collateral and its implications on your business.

Conclusion

In the grand gallery of Commerce, SME loans are the canvases on which small business owners paint their aspirations. These loans provide the brushstrokes that convey goals to lifestyles and turn visions into realities. Just as an artist selects the proper brush, you can find the best SME mortgage—one which aligns together with your particular business and unites you on the route to achievement. So, as you navigate the intricate strokes of SME loans, remember that each loan isn't just about finances; it's about enabling your business's journey and making your mark on the canvas of entrepreneurship.

[nicetown]

Dressing Your Windows for the Seasons: The Thermal Curtain Transformation

Ever wondered why the sun and the snow have an all-access pass to your living room? They sneak in through your windows, playing with your thermostat, turning your quiet oasis into a sweltering summer day or an icebox. Fear not, because thermal curtains, a marvelous invention, will come to your rescue! These include the brilliant insulated curtains, thermal insulated curtains, and grand thermal drapes, each having unique properties that keep your indoor climate under control, no matter what Mother Nature throws at you.

Picture thermal curtains as your window’s very own superhero capes, with one primary mission — maintaining your comfort. These stalwarts use their layers of foam, a reflective film, and dense fabric to combat heat and cold. They shield your interiors like a fortress, blocking the unwanted weather from trespassing.

But how do they pull off this magic? Let’s consider the insulated curtains first. Think of them as your home’s personal bouncers, ready to deflect any unwelcome heat that dares to enter. When the sun starts getting too generous with its warmth, these curtains, in their cool demeanor, simply bounce the heat right back out. The result? A pleasant summer day inside your house, even if it’s scorching outside.

When the weather starts giving you the cold shoulder, the thermal insulated curtains step in. They work like a thermos, trapping your room’s warmth, not allowing it to escape. You’ll find your heating system not having to work as hard, which means lower energy bills and a happier you.

Shifting our focus to thermal drapes, these are the heavyweights in the world of thermal curtains. Consider them as the divas of the insulation world. With an added layer of fabric, they not only prevent heat loss but also keep out the cold better than a husky in the Arctic! And a bonus — they’re also quite adept at muffling noise.

Remember, with these thermal wonders, size and installation do matter. These curtains need to be the superheroes with grand capes, not the ones with undersized ones. So, ensure they cover the entire window, from the top right to the floor and across the sides. This would seal off the window, not allowing the outside weather to creep in.

You’d be delighted to know that these thermal heroes come in all kinds of attire. Colors, patterns, styles — you name it, and you can find thermal curtains that match your existing decor. From an avant-garde loft to a cozy cottage, there’s a thermal curtain to suit every style.

In essence, thermal curtains are indeed the magical capes your windows didn’t know they needed. They play a crucial role in keeping your interiors comfy, help save energy costs, and add a dash of style, all at once. So whether it’s insulated curtains, thermal insulated curtains, or thermal drapes you choose, they will give your windows the ultimate seasonal transformation.

[genderisareligion]

Hey I hope it's not a burden or annoying or anything but idk who else i could ask, how can I forgive all the pain and stuff that my mother allow just for the acceptance of males? I really feel emphatic cause who hasn't (unfortunately) passed by the terrors of males? and every night I wish that I'd been there for her, when she was young and got caught by the lies of them, I'd do anything to go back in time and protect her, but I now that I cant and all of us just have to Live like that, and I'm tired of that and it fucking sucks

I love my mother so much I'd die and kill for her if that means she'd be safe anf I know she'd do the same but sometimes I can't help but think that she doesn't love me as she says or idk, it hurts thinking of all the pain that I had to go through because she kinda sided with my brother (and all the males in our lifes basically) all the time, all the stuff that he did to me that made me shy and depressed, I no longer live with my mom nor my brother, I just keep in touch with her but sometimes it's so heavy the reality that no matter how much more I support her or do or whatever, my mom will always prefer my brother and would not accept it, and I don't wanna live with this, i don't know how to forgive this? How to forget it? Idk

Hi anon, I'm very sorry you feel like this. I can relate with my mom. This post about hypocritical brother preference has been going around radblr that you might find helpful for solidarity, I did

As far as forgiveness goes, maybe unpopular opinion and the biased fact that I'm such a raging Athiest and its such a component of major organized religions, but forgiveness is overrated. You are right to be angry at the fact that we live in a world where so many people think "daughters are more difficult" that girls are selectively aborted and killed. Girls are "more difficult" because we're "moody" (usually code for menstruation lbr) and harder to protect/at risk of getting pregnant but no one wants to talk about why we're harder to protect or who we're protecting our girls from. Girls are judged more harshly for our looks, for the romantic and sexual exploration that's encouraged alongside caring about looks meanwhile many teenage boys and younger are taught that their "exploration" should be be getting addicted to porn "made for adults" (but extremely accessible to children) and committing sex crimes against other children at a rate that girls never have or will. I know it's not all moms but some moms are out here defending their sons for atrocities meanwhile their daughters don't get straight A's in school or have a problem with the atrocities and they're a disgrace to the family

Patriarchy and what it does to some families is unforgivable. We shouldn't have to forgive it. What we need to do instead in my opinion and what I do as much as I can 10+ years removed from childhood is find a way to move on and be happy while saying "fuck you I don't forgive you" to the best of your ability. I love my mom but I don't forgive her for her past or continued hypocrisy.

Know your mother's preference is not your fault, it's societally ingrained to the point that she may not even realize she has it. Hard to believe for some of us like someone like me who saw the hypocrisy of it right away even when I was little and in part became a feminist because of it. But our mothers lived in a different generation. Rights for and ideas about women have really only progressed recently in the grand scheme of history

[imthebadguyyy]

Hi. This is mine request

Y/n is a teammate of max verstappen, they are in a relationship, y/n crashes and max is worried about her, and he is gonna visit her in the hospital, and when she is released he takes care of her, with a lott of fluff thanks

You Scared Me To Death !

Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader

Fandom - F1

Summary - When you get hurt, Max realizes just how much you mean to him.

Warnings - mentions of injury, fire, explosion, violence, angst, crash details.

75 laps. That's all that you had to do. Drive for 75 laps. The Bahrain Grand Prix had always been one of your favourite races of the year, and you were so excited. But that excitement had soon ebbed away, after you had missed qualifying because your car wasn't ready for the quali session. The RedBull mechanics had apologised and you had brushed them off, buy you would be lying if you said you weren't angry. It hadn't helped when your teammate and boyfriend Max qualified P1, beating the Mercedes by mere tenths of a second. You had swallowed your hurt and congratulated Max, forcing yourself to feel happy for him.

All it had done was made you determined to win the race tomorrow, even if you had to fight 19 other drivers to do so. Starting P20 on the grid sucked big time, but as Martin Brundle said, "If anyone can fight back from the back of the grid to the podium places, its Y/N L/N" and you had done it before, at the German GP the previous year, fighting back from P19 to P3, winning Driver of The Day as well.

But this race was different. There was a building intensity in the air, you felt it in the air around you. You felt tense and nervous, and you were never nervous. It scared you, but you were going to be damned if you let it show on your face. In your drivers room, you paced back and forth, trying desperately to stop your hands from shaking. Was this what anxiety felt like? you wondered, shaking your head as your heart started hammering against your chest. Far to consumed in your own panicked thoughts, you didn't see your boyfriend walk up to your door, and open it to walk inside.

Max walked into your room, expecting to see you vibing to some R&B music, or something by Rihanna. But you weren't. You were pacing, your brow furrowed and he could see the irregular rise and fall of your chest. He walked up behind you silently, before wrapping his arms around your waist, like he normally did. What he wasn't expecting was your reaction. Usually, you would giggle and let your head fall onto his shoulder, and he would kiss your neck and you two would share a moment. But not this time. This time, you jumped, and nearly fell over onto your bed. "Woah schtaje ! It's just me' he said, eyes softening in concern. "I'm sorry I didn't see you and I shouldn't have jumped, I'm sorry I'm just so klutzy today and I'm also so nervous I-" your nervous rambling was cut off by a pair of warm lip pressing onto your own, as Max's hands cupped your face, instantly calming down your nerves.

You stayed like that for a moment, before pulling away softly, and letting him press his forehead down to yours, fingers gently tracing patterns on your hip. "Why are you nervous mijn geliefde ?" he asked, as he moved his lips to your neck, pressing little kisses along the sensitive skin. "I don't know" you confessed, tilting your head back to give him more access to the expanse of skin, while he stopped at a pulse point to suck at the soft skin, earning. soft moan from you. "Then stop stressing" he mumbled against your neck, word muffling against your skin. "I can't" you replied, struggling to keep the lump in your throat fro growing. "Well," Max said, biting down onto your neck and licking the spot to soothe it, 'Let me help you calm down"

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

20 seconds to lights out.

Your heart was thumping so hard against your chest. God, were your hands always so clammy? Was the car always so stuffy ? Was the space always so confined? Was your helmet always that tight?

Your thoughts were muddled. You knew your goal. It was simple. Get to the podium. Except, right now, that goal seemed somewhat impossible. Before you knew, the first red light was flashing, and then the second, and the third and the fourth and the fifth, and then it was 'lights out and away we go!' you sped off, immediately overtaking Magnussen in the car ahead of you. Then, you overtook one of the Williams, but you could feel your breath wavering, and your heart threatening just burst out of your chest. And before you knew it, you were overtaking Giovinazzi in his Alfa Romeo, and the sight of Grosjean's Haas came into view, "And it looks like L/N has already taken over 4 places, making her P16, and we are on lap 2 of 75! It looks like we're going to see her on the podium after, all, but all we can do is wait and see- and oh! that's a terrible, terrible crash!"

It happened so fast. One moment, you were going round the outside of the Haas, and the next the back of the Haas was hitting your front, sending you crashing into one of the barriers, your car spinning a full 360 in the process. The impact as you crashed into the barriers was so intense, you felt yourself blackout for a few seconds.

"That was a horrible crash, between, the RedBull of Y/N L/N and the Haas, I believe of Romain Grosjean. This race has been red flagged and -oh no!' The cry summed it up. Your car had just burst into flames.

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

In P1, Max was unaware of the chaos at the back, until he looked in his rear mirrors to see something enveloping into a ball of fire. "Holy shit, whose car is that?" he asked, watching as the flames grew higher. "Um.. Max, I need you to stay calm, but its Y/N" "Are you fucking serious?!" his angry voice burst through his race engineer's headphones, making him flinch. "Is she okay?! Tell me she's okay, damn it!' "Max, I need you to come into the pit lane. We have no information on her yet. Come into the pit lane"

As the 18 other cars came into the pitman, everyone knew better than to park in the way of an anxious Max Verstappen. He jumped out of the car, running to the garage upto Christian, who was watching the screen with his eyebrow furrowed. "Is she alright? Tell me she got out?! Did she get out?!" he was practically spitting the words out, and his engineer and his trainer had to physically restrain him from going to shake Christian. "She hasn't got out yet Max, but the fire Marshalls and the medical guys are there-" "What do you mean she hasn't got out? verdomme, blijf hier niet zitten! doe iets!!"

As his race engineer manoeuvred him to his chair, he yelled at whoever was around, eyes desperately searching to screen for some sign that you were still alive. Outside the RedBull garage, the other drivers were pooling around the garage for some sign that Y/N was okay. The panic had been evident in all their radios.

Charles - "Fuck, fuck, fuck, who was that? Y/N?! Tell me she's okay!"

Carlos - "Joder, ¿quién era ese?" I just saw the car go into flames, tell me they got out okay.

Lewis - oh shit, that was a big crash, fucking hell, is she okay?

Checo- oh no, that was a big one, I hope everyone is okay!

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

Back in the car, you felt dazed. Since when was the track this hot, and since when when was your car red ? Were you driving for Ferrari ? No, you drove for RedBull, alongside Max. Your boyfriend Max. Why wasn't he here?

And why did you feel like you were sitting in a sauna? As you begain to regain your consciousness, you felt a searing pain on your hands, and finally clearing the fogginess of your mind, you became fully aware of what was happening. This was your RedBull car. But it was on fire. Almost instantly, your body went into survival mode, ripping the half burnt straps holding your body down, and forcing your limbs to stand up. Looking down you could see your racing gloves glow before they seemed to disintegrate into black dust before your eyes, the flames licking your hands. A scream started in your chest, only to be jammed in your throat, as you opened your mouth to gasp. Big mistake.

The smoke filled your mouth and lungs, and you choked, clawing at your race suit, begging some higher power to help you. Finally, using some courage and adrenaline you didn't know you had, you pulled your body up, bare hands coming in contact with searing hot metal, as your eyes filled with tears of pain. As you jumped out of the car, you became vaguely aware of 3 or 4 people signaling and screaming at you. Too exhausted to even think, you used whatever remaining adrenaline you had to stumble to the barrier and collapse into the first pair of arms.

"Can you hear me? Are you okay? Can you tell me if you're hurt?" The questions were hurled at you from all directions, but you couldn't speak. The head marshall walked up, bracing your body, and checking for injuries. In a hurried voice he asked for the stretcher, but you shook your head. The exhaustion was setting in but you knew you had to let the others know you were okay. But he insisted, and you found yourself sitting on the stretcher instead of lying down, as a medic gently removed your helmet and peeled off the remaining burnt glove, and pressed some ice gently against your burn. Mustering up your remaining strength, you turned to one of the broadcasting cameras and flashed them a tight smile and a thumbs up.

"And as you can see, she has managed to get out of the wreckage, by God's miracle. Thank God she's walked away from that, but how, I cannot comprehend! She went barelling into the barrier and burst into flames and she walked out alive! And I can hear the cheers of the RedBull team, and I think her race engineer is in tears. I can't begin to imagine how Max Verstappen must be feeling"

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Max Verstappen wasn't sure how he was feeling either. He had felt fear, anger, anxiety, more fear, devastation and dread in the longest 15 minutes of his life. But you were alive. And he felt like breaking down, but he had to be strong for you. He watched your tired form on the screen, feeling giddy with relief, and ignoring the others around him, he ran to the medical hospitality center. No one stopped him.

As the white building came into sight, he heaved a sigh of relief as Michael Masi appeared in front of the cameras to give the anxious fans an update. "Y/N is alright. She's currently in recovery, and I can inform you that she is okay. She has minor burns on her hands, and is exhausted, but she will be okay. 2 weeks healing time for the burns, and some proper rest should be fine for her. That's all I know, and I would ask the media, press, social media fans, and others to give her the time she needs to cope and recover. What she has been through is traumatizing and I hope you will respect her privacy at this time. Thank you"

Seeing his hesitation, the nurse turned to the driver, "It's okay. She's fine now. She's on some painkillers and I've cleaned her burns and dressed them. She will be fine, and you can hug her or whatever you want, she won't be hurt. I've kept some painkillers on the table, she should take some again in 2 hours or so" All Max could do was nod, suddenly feeling a lump grow in his throat. With a smile in your direction, the nurse walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Max.

Max turned to nod at the race director, before hurrying through the brown door that led to the medical room you were in. When he walked in, his entire body relaxed. You were alive and safe. Seeing you sitting up in bed, a bottle of water by your side as a nurse wrapped your burnt hand in a white bandage. Looking, your tired eyes met his blue ones, as a tired smile made his way to your face. "Y/N",he said breathily, "Thank God you're alive" he said, practically running over to you, but he stopped himself from hugging, unsure of if it would hurt you.

"Hey baby". All it took was two words for him to rush towards you, gently wrapping his arms around your form, burying his head in the crook of your neck, as a gasping sob left his mouth, and you could have sworn you felt your heart shatter. "I'm okay baby, I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm okay" your mantra of "I'm okay" was soothing, as he sobbed into your shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you, you scared me to death!" "I know my love but I'm here and I'm okay" "I thought you were gone. When I saw the flames behind me I didn't even know it was you in the car. When they told me it was you I swear my fucking heart stopped, and all I could do was pray to whatever higher power exists to save you, because I'm nothing without you. If you hadn't made it, I wouldn't survive. You make me better, you help me love, and you let me heal. I love you, and I never, ever want to see you in a situation like that again"

"I love you too" you said, your eyes filling with tears as you listened to him speak. "I love you too" you repeated, gently lifting his chin so his eyes could meet yours, his tear stained cheeks and red eyes breaking your heart, as you tilted your lips to meet his. He returned the kiss with desperation, he needed even more proof that you were alive, and feeling your lips on his were a reminder that you were alive and weren't going anywhere. He kissed you with fervour, hands moving to your hair, one cupping your cheek as his thumb traced your cheekbone, your hands clutching his broad chest.

"Ouch" the soft cry made you two break apart, as you rubbed your stinging hands. "Did I hurt you?" He said, his eyes filling with worry. "No its just the burn. It'll be fine" you replied, shifting in your bed and patting the spot next to you. After a moments hesitation, he climbed in, raising the sterile white sheet and tucking the both of you in. You snuggled up to him, arms wrapping around him as you rested your head on his chest. He rested his chin on your head, one hand running through your hair, the other keeping you stable on his chest. Within seconds, you were asleep.

Looking down at your sleeping form, his eyes lingered on the white bandage covering your burn, his eyes filling again as it stood out against your skin. He hated it. It was a reminder that you had nearly died. He had nearly lost you. His train of thought was cut off by his phone ringing, his mum's caller ID flashing across the screen.

"Hi mum" "Is she okay?" His greeting was pushed aside, his mom far too concerned about Y/N. "Yes she's alright now. She's sleeping now, Yeah I'm with her now" "Y/N's mom is with me too, I'll let her know she's okay" "Thanks mum" "Don't forget to rest as well Max" his mum said, knowing full well that her son would forget about taking care of himself when it came to his love. "I will"

And he cut the line. He looked down at you one more time, pressing his lips to your forehead, and swearing to himself that he would protect you for all his life. He let his eyes close, the exhaustion finally getting to him, all his adrenaline and energy draining out his body, and finally content that you were going to be okay, he let his eyes close.

You were going to be okay.