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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 7 months

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Firefighter chapter 4

Note: it's still spooky season, also in the Firefighter universe. I've proofread this but kept getting distracted, so excuse any errors!

Warnings: fluff/suggestive/angst. mention of alcohol, mention/hint to death by fire, death by drowning, brief mention of child death.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Your first Halloween with your firefighter fiancé would be memorable.

wordcount: 4,5k

Masterlist

'Like what you see, kitty cat?'

'Trick or treat!' a group of young kids cheered as you opened the door.

'Oh, my,' you laughed, holding a bowl of candy, 'aren't you all dressed up nice as… eh, w-who are you all dressed as?'

'Duh!' one of the kids rolled their eyes, 'tiktok influencers!'

'Oh,' you smiled sheepishly and handed out the candy, 'now I see it,' you lied, 'eh, spot on!'

You feigned a smile as the kids thanked you and told you something more about the people they were dressed up as, but you didn't hear a single word anymore. Your focus had fully shifted to your fiancé, who just got out of his car after coming home from his shift, and walked up to your porch. He greeted the group of kids you had just given candy to as they went on their way to your neighbours, who had moved back in their home again after the horrible fire. You hadn't even noticed the kids had left your driveway while you stood in the door opening, eyeing up your alarmingly hot firefighter as he closed in on you, dressed in his regular fireman attire.

'Trick or treat?' Sihtric said with a smile and circled his arm around you, then cupped your cheek and gave you a firm kiss, to which he hummed softly.

'Well, that was definitely a treat,' you giggled with a blush on your cheeks, staring up into his mismatched eyes.

'You should see my trick then,' he winked with a grin, to which you felt your cheeks heat up even more. 'Had lots of those gremlins already?' he asked, 'I saw a bunch of kids out on the streets on my way back home, even though it's still early.'

'Yeah,' you snorted, 'trick or treating started early today. Guess they're all eager to get sick on candy.'

'Guess so,' Sihtric chuckled and pecked your lips a few times, 'did you get your outfit today?'

'Yes!' you said, and pulled him inside the house, 'it arrived a few hours ago. Can't wait for you to see it.'

With a big smile on your face, you took Sihtric's hand and guided him up the stairs, into the bedroom. You told him to wait there while you got changed into your Halloween outfit in the bathroom. And Sihtric waited, impatiently. He was over the moon that he finally had a girl this year who would join him to the Halloween party at the firestation later that evening, who also wanted to have a matching outfit with him.

Every year, the fire department threw a big Halloween party at the station for all firefighters and their families. You paid a small entry fee and had to pay for drinks, but all the money that was earned that night was always donated to a charity, a different one each year. Sihtric always loved the yearly festivity, but never had a date to bring. And this year he didn't just have a date, he'll have a whole fiancée by his side.

For the party, Sihtric got himself a Spider-Man outfit this year, one of those tight spandex costumes. And as you had decided to go as a couple, he fully expected you to walk into the bedroom as a sexy Mary-Jane, and he couldn't wait to somehow give you that Spider-Man kiss. So it was quite a shock to Sihtric when you walked out of the bathroom in a tight fitting, leather Catwoman suit.

'Tadaah!' you grinned as you posed as seductively as possible in front of him.

Sihtric stared at you with wide eyes and his jaw dropped.

'Do you like it?' you asked, suddenly a little unsure as he just gaped at you.

'I, well, you-' he stammered, 'babe, you look… amazing, gods, so… so sexy. But,' he chuckled and scratched his head, 'honey, I- I thought we were going as a matching couple?'

'But… we are?' you looked confused, 'you're Spider-Man and I'm Catwoman.'

'Yeah, but,' Sihtric sighed, 'eh, Spider-Man and Catwoman are not a couple. They're not even in the same movie. Actually,' he scoffed, 'they're not even in the same universe-'

'Wait,' you interrupted him, 'what? I… I thought Catwoman was like Spider-Man's on-off girlfriend?'

'No, baby,' Sihtric buried his face in his hands, 'I think you mixed up Catwoman with Black Cat, who was indeed romantically involved with Spider-Man.'

'Oh,' you said quietly and Sihtric looked at you as he held back a laugh. 'Shit. I'm sorry, I fucked this whole thing up,' you said.

You sat down on the bed next to Sihtric and took off the cat ears, feeling embarrassed.

'No,' Sihtric was quick to take your hand and cup your cheek, 'sweetheart, you look absolutely incredible. You were simply made for this outfit. You didn't fuck anything up, I promise. However,' he said with a cheeky smile and leaned in, 'I sure hope you will fuck me up later tonight.'

You giggled and blushed when he pushed you over in bed and climbed on top of you.

'Fuck,' Sihtric breathed, holding your face in his warm hands as he kept you pinned down with the weight of his trained body, 'you look so damn sexy.'

'Thanks,' you smiled shyly and moved your hands up his bare, muscular arms, 'glad you like it anyway.'

'Mhm,' he hummed, 'going to be an absolute torture to have you by my side, dressed like every man's dream, and I'll have to behave the whole night.'

'We both know you never behave, Sihtric.'

'Maybe,' Sihtric shrugged, 'you know I'm a bit handsy. Oh, hey, was there a whip with that outfit?'

'There was. I left it in the box, it's downstairs. Why?'

'Just asking,' Sihtric grinned, 'might be of use later.'

'I'll whip that fine ass of yours if you want, don't worry,' you laughed.

'Oh, meow,' Sihtric chuckled, 'yes, please,' he purred and pulled you in for a kiss, which you broke when it became too spicy.

'Safe that for later,' you teased, 'how was work today?'

'It was fine,' Sihtric said and laid down next to you, propped up on a pillow.

He looked at you with soft eyes and trailed his fingertips over the contour of your face, then exhaled sharply and cleared this throat.

'I just have this bad feeling today,' he said.

'What do you mean? About the party?'

Sihtric shook his head lightly while he brushed his fingers over your lips.

'No, not the party. At least, I don't think so,' he said barely louder than a whisper, 'just a feeling that something is going to happen. Something bad.'

Dog came running into the bedroom and jumped on the bed to lay next to Sihtric. You felt an eerie feeling creep up on you as you believe that animals, especially cats, can sense things beforehand. And you worried that Sihtric's bad feeling might be a prediction. You watched Sihtric pet his cat, and asked if he had feelings like this before.

'Sometimes,' he said, 'but it's… nevermind.'

'What?' you frowned, 'no, tell me. What's on your mind?' you asked and raked your fingers through his short hair, hoping to ease his tension.

'Promise you won't laugh? Or think I'm weird?' he asked. You promised and he continued, 'I notice I get this feeling often during this time of the year. During Halloween.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'And have things happened?' you asked.

'Yes,' Sihtric said, 'they have. There have been major fire incidents and car crashes for example that I've had to work at, after having felt this… dread. And all of those incidents involved someone I knew. And they died,' he took a deep breath, and his cat quickly rubbed it's fluffy face against Sihtric's, to distract him.

'I'm fine,' Sihtric mumbled as he allowed his cat to do what he was trained for. 'A few years ago,' he continued, 'Ragnar and Thyra's parents died in a fire that happened around Halloween. And… Uhtred was married before he met Gisela, and he had a son. The kid was barely a few months old when the mother lost control over her car, crashed, and landed in a lake, late October.'

'My god,' you breathed and moved closer to Sihtric.

Your legs tangled as you listened to him, softly brushing your fingertips through his hair while you looked into his eyes.

'We got the call as the car was wrecked and the bodies had to be cut out of the vehicle, only then we… you know,' he sniffled, 'saw who it was. And Uhtred was there with us, at work.'

You didn't know what to say. You never really thought about how much work trauma Sihtric secretly carried with him. You knew he went to a psychologist every few weeks, and you knew it was work related, but you never asked about it. You figured he would tell you if he wanted to, which he now did.

'And I'm just,' Sihtric paused and rubbed his eyes, then cupped your cheeks and whispered, 'I have such a bad feeling, and I'm terrified something would ever happen to you.'

'I'm not going anywhere,' you whispered as you held him close, 'I can't deny your feelings, and I believe you have… let's call it a spidey-sense, but we'll be fine.'

Sihtric chuckled softly and buried his face in your neck as he rolled you over, while his cat tried to jump on his back.

'And even if something is going to happen,' you said, 'you can't control it, love. Try not to get stuck in your head over this, okay?'

'I know,' Sihtric sighed, feeling a sense of relief you didn't think he was crazy, and he smiled before he kissed your lips.

And when you pulled him back in for another kiss, and then another after, Sihtric was quick to shove his cat out of the bedroom, as the next kiss led up to a heated make-out session. Which then turned into a hot quickie in bed before he took a shower, which caused a few trick or treaters to miss out on some candy because you were both too busy to answer the door.

After you had dinner, you got the biggest jumpscare of your life when a gigantic spider suddenly ran up to you as you were in the kitchen. Except, it wasn't really a spider. It was Dog, Sihtric's cat, dressed in a spider outfit who came running at you with full speed, followed by Sihtric who was in absolute tears because of his uncontrollable laughter at the cat's costume while he tried to film him. Every time Sihtric had nearly composed himself, the cat would move, causing the long spider legs to wiggle, and Sihtric would lose it again. Eventually his stomach and face were hurting from laughing, and you had to shove the cat into another room, for Sihtric's own wellbeing.

But it all happened again when you left Sihtric alone for five minutes, to change into your Catwoman outfit again, and came downstairs to his wheezing laughter as your fluffy white cat, Thor, was now wearing the same spider costume as Dog. And you saw two cats with huge spider legs zoom through the living room while Sihtric was on the floor, crying, as he tried to film the two beasts.

'Honey,' you shook your head but had to admit they did look hilarious, and Sihtric was just adorable the way he enjoyed it, but it was getting late, 'you have to get dressed, Siht. We have to leave soon.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric managed to say as he fought another laughing fit.

He wiped his tears before he pecked your lips and sprinted up the stairs, his cat following him without his knowledge. And not much later you heard a terrified yelp from Sihtric upstairs as he unexpectedly walked into his spider-cat, and his yelp was followed by another wheezing laughter, which lasted for minutes. He had some time to compose himself again before coming downstairs, while you answered the door to a few trick or treaters.

When you walked back into the living room you finally saw your husband-to-be in his Spider-Man spandex, which accentuated his body in all the right places. All the right places. And you almost wanted to meow like a cat in heat. When Sihtric looked up from his phone, after having sent the video he took of the spider-cats to everyone he knew, he caught you gazing at him and gave you a cocky smile.

'Like what you see, kitty cat?' he asked and got up from the couch.

'I do,' you smiled and skipped over to him.

Sihtric pulled you in his arms and picked you up, hooking your legs around his waist while you held onto his broad shoulders, and Sihtric held you up with ease, his hands on your leather covered buttocks. You nuzzled his nose softly and kissed his lips. Then, you moved your hands up into his short, dark hair, and the kiss deepened instantly. Sihtric carried you over to the dinner table, upon which he sat you down, and his hands settled on your waist as he kissed you sweet and passionately.

'This is already the best Halloween I've ever had,' Sihtric whispered as he held your face gently with his tattooed fingers, 'I love you so much. You make me so damn happy, you have no idea,' he smiled sweetly, 'so happy… well, and horny too,' he shrugged with a grin.

When you arrived at the firestation, the first thing Sihtric did was go to his locker to stack it with clean work clothes he had brought. And as this was the first time you really saw the firestation, where Sihtric spends most of his time, you took everything in with big eyes. And your heart melted when you saw that Sihtric kept a picture of you two in his locker, which he had taken at the barbecue a few months ago.

The main hall was decorated with everything spooky, and it was already quite busy when you walked in. You nearly tripped over a few kids who jumped in front of you, while Sihtric had his arm around your waist and pressed into his side, as you were both greeted by Ragnar, Brida, Beocca and Thyra. The men were dressed as medieval warriors and their ladies as medieval queens. You also met with Gisela, dressed in a unicorn onesie, and Ingrith, dressed as a horror nun. They gushed over your outfit but started laughing when they saw Sihtric, and you had no idea why. You decided to ignore it and went to get drinks for yourself and your partner. And when you walked back, you suddenly understood why the other two ladies were laughing moments before. Sihtric, Uhtred and Finan had met up and they all stared at each other, dressed in the very same Spider-Man outfit.

'Oh my god!' you howled, 'it's just like that meme!'

You, and everyone else, had a laughing fit while the three men were not amused. And it only got worse when Stiorra and Sigtryggr showed up, the latter wearing the very same Spider-Man suit. Stiorra was dressed as a pirate, and she also lost it when she saw the other men dressed the same as her boyfriend.

'I just can't believe it,' Sihtric muttered.

'It's not that big of a deal,' you chuckled, 'I just wonder why everyone decided to go for the same outfit. I mean, what are the odds?'

'They were on sale,' Finan mumbled.

'Oh,' you snorted and looked at Sihtric, who shrugged, 'yeah, that explains. But hey,' you nudged Finan, 'at least you guys all look great!'

'Thanks,' Finan grumbled, 'alright, I'm going to get drunk.'

And with those words, the Irish man left for the bar, and you were alone with Sihtric while almost everyone else was on the dancefloor by now.

'If it makes you feel any better,' you grinned at Sihtric, 'you're definitely the hottest Spider-Man here.'

'Thanks,' he shook his head with a smile and pulled you closer, 'anyway, are you having fun, babe?'

'Yeah,' you smiled, 'it's nice to see everyone again. You?'

'Yeah,' Sihtric smiled weakly, and you saw his face overcome with a sudden sadness, 'fuck,' he breathed and grabbed you, pulling you into his chest.

'Hey, what's wrong?' you asked, your voice muffled as he kept you close.

'No, nothing's wrong. Sorry, just… I don't know,' Sihtric pulled slightly away from you and took your face in his hands, 'I'm just so happy you're here,' he said, 'with me. It's just a little overwhelming, I guess.'

'Are you drunk already?' you chuckled and stared up at him.

'No,' Sihtric smiled, 'not even close.'

And then he kissed you, ignoring everyone else in the room. Especially ignoring any children in the room while he got lost in you as he kissed, licked, sucked and gently bit your lips, while his hands squeezed your ass every now and then. And you had to break the kiss when you felt Sihtric was getting a little too excited as you remembered you were still in public, at a family friendly party.

'Hey,' you laughed softly, 'calm down, sweetheart.'

'Let's go home,' Sihtric breathed, his hands on your waist as he bit down on his lip, 'let's go home now.'

'No, love,' you wrapped your arms around his neck, 'we really just got here. You'll have to behave a little longer.'

With a soft groan, followed by a whine, Sihtric buried his face in your neck. And before you knew it, you found yourself on the dancefloor with your Spider-Man, while you both enjoyed a few more drinks. Sihtric had his hands on you the entire time while you tried to keep your dance moves as decent as possible. After a while, Sihtric's attention suddenly shifted from you to a tall guy with short, blond hair who walked into the room, dressed as a zombie, and everyone started to cheer.

'Who's that?' you asked.

'Oh, shit,' Sihtric laughed, 'I completely forgot that you haven't met Osferth yet.'

'Osferth?'

'Do you remember when I almost had to cancel our first date because there was a guy who had fallen off a ladder?' Sihtric grinned.

'Oh,' you snorted, 'yeah, I remember that story. That's him?'

'The one and only,' Sihtric said as Osferth came up to greet him.

'What is this?' Osferth laughed as he hugged your Dane, 'I'm not at the station for a while and suddenly Sihtric Kjartansson is engaged?'

'That's how long you've been sitting on your ass at home,' Sihtric taunted as he squeezed his friend's shoulder, and then introduced him to you.

Sihtric left you and Osferth to talk for a moment, while he helped himself to another drink.

'I'm sorry I have to ask,' Osferth said as he turned to you, 'but did Sihtric really kill your cat?'

'He did,' you sighed with a soft chuckle, remembering your beloved Mister Meow Meow, 'it was an innocent but tragic accident, though. Don't be fooled by the wild stories Finan tells you.'

'So he didn't accidentally lock your cat in the oven while baking?'

'What!?' you snorted, 'no, oh my god! No. He ran over my cat while the poor thing was sleeping in the driveway at night. We both hadn't seen him. It's… it sucked, but it really was an accident.'

'Oh,' Osferth chuckled softly, 'yeah that sounds like Sihtric. Although, your cat jumping in the oven and him not seeing it also very much sounds like Sihtric.'

'Unfortunately,' you laughed, 'I assume Finan told you that story?'

'He did,' the zombie boy laughed.

'God, I wonder how many more stories there are.'

You had grown fond of the Irish Man the past few months, but you recently found out he had been making up stories about how Meow Meow had found his death. And they became more absurd with every version you heard. Apparently he had told some people that Sihtric had accidentally shoved your cat in the washing machine along with a pile of clothes. Another story went around how your cat had been under a blanket on the couch and Sihtric had killed him by simply sitting down on the cat. Another story you caught wind of was that Meow Meow had climbed the tree again, and Sihtric had accidentally dropped your cat when he rescued it, and Meow Meow did not land on his four paws. And now, Osferth surprised you with yet another version. You should tell Finan off, but you were kind of wondering what else he could come up with about your poor Meow Meow.

'Oh,' Osferth suddenly grimaced and nodded towards Sihtric, 'you're in for a night it seems.'

'What?' you frowned and followed his eyes, seeing Sihtric down a few shots on his own at the bar.

'Sihtric can drink,' Osferth laughed, 'but those shots are something he can't handle.'

'Oh,' you chuckled, then realised you hadn't seen your fiancé drunk yet, 'wait, what happens after a few shots?'

'Well, if you think he's affectionate now,' Osferth grinned, 'you just wait.'

Osferth was right. About an hour later Sihtric was so drunk, he could barely keep his eyes open or stay up on his feet. What he could do, apparently, was keep his hands on you and pull you in for the sloppiest kisses possible, only for him to stumble a few steps backwards everytime he lost balance, and then he'd grab onto your ass, only to pull you back in for another kiss and repeat the whole thing. Soon, you started to swap his shots for tiny glasses of water, in the hopes to sober him up slowly. You didn't mind him being all over you, but you felt it was inappropriate and rather have him touch you up like that in private.

As the night progressed, Sihtric eventually managed to pull you with him as he stumbled away from the party, a little less drunk than before. He guided you past the lockers and past a few leaving guests, including Thyra, who grinned at you when she realised where Sihtric was taking you. And then Sihtric walked you into the shower area, far away from any people.

'Where are we going?' you chuckled as you followed your half-drunk man, 'why are we in the… showers?'

'Because,' Sihtric slurred slightly, 'n-no one will dis… discuss… dis- disturb us here.'

'Disturb what?'

Sihtric grinned and, when you teasingly rubbed your hand over his arousal, you also couldn't help yourself anymore.

'Well that was a dream come true,' Sihtric chuckled, nearly sober again, as he helped you zip up your Catwoman suit.

'Oh, really?'

'Oh, like you don't know that almost everyone had some sort of sexual awakening when they saw Michelle Pfeiffer in that suit,' Sihtric said and snuck his hands up in your hair, 'except you look even sexier,' he smiled and pulled you in for another sloppy kiss, 'you should dress up like that again.'

'Maybe I will,' you smiled, 'if you're a good boy.'

'I'm always a good boy.'

'Of course you are,' you purred, 'come, we should get back to the party before someone notices we're gone.'

And so you went back to the festivity, where Sihtric got his hands on some shots again. And he was drunk again when Ragnar climbed on the improvised stage in the back of the main hall. You found out that there apparently was a best costume award, of which Ragnar was about to announce the winner. And you couldn't help but laugh when Ragnar howled that Spider-Man had won, and four drunk Spider-Man's struggled to climb up on the stage, including your own.

Uhtred and Finan slurred some thank you's, Sigtryggr just stood there, holding himself up by leaning against Uhtred, and then your Spider-Man grabbed the microphone from Finan.

'I- I just think,' Sihtric slurred, 'm-my wife should-'

'She's n-not your wife yet,' Finan managed to say, his accent even thicker than usual, and then burped loudly into the mic.

'What?' Sihtric said, then hiccuped.

'She… she's not- not your wife yet,' Finan slurred.

'Oh,' Sihtric swallowed, 'well,' he laughed, then hiccuped again, 'she should have won aaaanyway, oh-' he stumbled a step backwards, but Uhtred managed to keep him on his feet, 'because s-she… she looks hot.'

You hid your embarrassed face in your hands while you earned laughs and whistled from the crowd.

'And we… we,' Sihtric sighed and continued to slur with a lisp, 'we just f-f-f-fucked in the showe-'

'Oh my god,' you said, your eyes wide and cheeks heated up, 'honey, get off the stage, please.'

Ragnar laughed, but then remembered there were still children around, and he quickly grabbed the mic from Sihtric before he could finish his sentence. But Sihtric snatched it back.

'H-honey,' he slurred, 'I'm s-s-sorry for Meow Meow,' Sihtric said with a sudden sob.

Ragnar grabbed the mic again and made a quick joke, while Beocca helped Sihtric off the stage and walked the visibly drunk and upset firefighter over to you.

'Here's your child,' Beocca said, 'take him home, put him in a cold shower, and tuck him in bed. He's sensitive, and it comes out when he's drunk. Either this, or he gets horny, but I heard you passed that stage already,' the old man snarled and made a cross.

'Thanks,' you smiled sheepishly, and Sihtric wrapped his arms around you.

'H-hey,' he smiled, 'I… I'm sorry?'

'Love, it's fine,' you chuckled, but couldn't say anything else as he planted his lips on yours.

'Sweetheart,' you eventually managed to say in between kisses, 'we should get home.'

As you had a few drinks too, you weren't going to drive home, and you couldn't be bothered to call a cab so you decided to walk home. Which you soon regretted. The walk would usually take about twenty minutes, but with a drunk firefighter who desperately wanted to kiss you, it took nearly an hour to get home. Not only did Sihtric constantly want to kiss you, he also kept saying he wanted to trick or treat whenever a few kids ran by in the night. And more than once you had to help him up after he stumbled into someone's front yard and landed on the lawn.

And then, when you finally made it to your own front yard, Sihtric fell over again and pulled you down with him.

'Do you h-hate me?' he suddenly asked, and it seemed like the cold night air had sobered him up again.

'What are you talking about?' you asked as you laid on top of him.

'M-Meow Meow,' Sihtric swallowed hard.

'Sihtric,' you sighed and cupped his rosy cheeks, 'we went over this already. I don't hate you, I never could.'

'Really?' he sniffled.

'Really. You have to let this go, please,' you said, 'stop torturing yourself, sweetheart. It was an accident.'

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted when you heard his phone ring from your handbag. And as he answered the call, you heard firetrucks in the distance, and Sihtric suddenly jumped up.

'What's wrong?' you asked.

'It's… there's…f-fire… T-Thyra,' Sihtric stammered, and then ran to his car.

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #modern!sihtric

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sebastianswallows · 9 months

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Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 6 — Other friends

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

“Absolutely not.”

“But Ominis!”

“Don’t you ‘but Ominis’ me. And I won’t hear any ‘oldest friend’ or ‘thought I could trust you’ or even an ‘after all we’ve been through’. You won’t manipulate me this time.”

“Why not?”

“I stand firmly on this, Sebastian. No dark magic items in my house.”

“It’s a big place, you scrounger. You won’t even notice it.”

“No. My house, my rules.”

“Well what would you like me to do with them? Donate them to St Mungo’s?”

Sebastian was fortunate that Ominis’ fireplace was large enough for him to Floo his trunk into the living room, but just as soon as his presence was known — and more importantly, the reason behind it — Ominis became… less welcoming.

He had no issue hosting Sebastian for a few nights while that thing with the Aurors blew over, but not his ‘cabinet of wonders’, as he took to calling it. Sebastian was exasperated. Nothing in there was that bad, he said, he sold those ones to the highest bidder — which, surprisingly, only made Ominis more upset.

“You can stay, on the condition each nefarious item in there is destroyed.”

“Sure,” grinned Sebastian.

“By me.”

“Now wait a minute —”

“Can’t you see that this is not worth it, Sebastian?” Ominis sighed. “This obsession only gets you into trouble.”

“It’s not an obsession, it’s a career.”

“And why can’t you find another one!?” said Ominis in the shrill tone that told how angry he was, a tone Sebastian knew well.

“We each have our talents, Ominis, and this is mine.”

“Dark magic is not a talent. It’s a liability.”

“Fine, then! I’m a ‘liability’ to you!”

“Oh, here we go again…”

“After everything, everything we’ve been through together —”

“Much of that, might I remind you, was me getting you out of trouble!”

“So why can’t you get me out of trouble once more!?”

“No,” said Ominis, turning his head away.

Sebastian sighed and threw his hands in the air. He felt ready to strangle something.

“You need to make a choice, one you should have made years ago, before Solomon — dark magic, or your friends.”

“Well, first of all, I deny your spurious accusations. There’s hardly any dark magical items in this trunk.” He told the truth, there were only about eight. “And second of all, you’re not my only friend.”

“Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“Fine, then.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

Sebastian stood in Ominis’ living room, arms crossed over his chest and heaving, while Ominis waited imperiously by the door.

“You expect me to leave now, or…?”

“Have you changed your mind?” asked Ominis with a cocked brow.

“No.”

“Then yes. You’re only welcome back when you’ve come to your senses.”

With a gritting of teeth and an angry swipe of his wand to transform the trunk into a more manageable briefcase, Sebastian walked toward the door. Ominis stood by, impassive and stoic,

Just as he was about to leave, Sebastian thought to ask, “Wait, can I use your Floo powder?”

And so he found himself back at the Three Broomsticks. It was far enough away from London to give him some space, but in familiar territory that made him feel somewhat secure. At that late hour, there were no children around, and none of his old professors to run into either.

He’d given some thought to hiding out in his old childhood home in Feldcroft, but something about it didn’t feel right. His thoughts always went back to it when he was feeling lonely, when he was feeling lost, when he had second thoughts about what he was doing and was eaten away by guilt and regret and fear — before they turned bitter all over again. And besides, since both those Aurors seemed to have been acquainted with his Uncle Solomon, they probably knew where he used to live. No, Feldcroft was out of the question, especially since he didn’t know how long they’d have their eye on Burke’s shop.

He should have suspected it, when there were traces of figures those past few nights in which he picked up the shipments from Dover. It became blatantly obvious that Aurors were keeping track of their activities, but Sebastian thought he was hiding his traces well enough. His concealment charms had always been sufficient before. He was beginning to wonder whether they had spoken with old man Burke already, and the lout just never told him, let him compromise himself…

“Should’ve known,” he muttered as he downed another glass of Firewhisky. “Got to get used to shady types in this business…”

The alcohol burned just right, but it did little to fill his empty stomach. He ordered a serving of roast lamb with spring vegetables and picked at it for the next hour.

This wasn’t the first close call he’d had, but it was the closest yet. And worst of all, it proved Ominis right — it was a dangerous business, and he should get out of it, and he was obsessed, but he couldn’t leave... He didn’t want to, first of all, and second of all he had no idea what to do with himself if he lost this. Sebastian realised with horror that this work — researching and acquiring rare items, the crafting and breaking of curses, conquering forgotten places, unveiling mysteries, the risk of death — was the greatest thrill of his life. The only thrill of his life. And he, in fact, had little else. A few friendships here and there, some more innocuous hobbies, but nothing that would have made his life a life.

He swirled the Firewhisky in its little glass and thought about whether he even wanted anything else. Books had always been an escape for him, a comfort, filled with new and wonderful and interesting things, and in no time at all his pursuit of the interesting had become the most worthwhile thing he knew. It was an easy step from that to the dark arts, because while a whole cabinet of warlocks might argue that they were dangerous and immoral and perilous to one’s soul, no one could deny that they were interesting.

But then, like seafoam breaking on a cliffside, she came to his mind again.

She who was content with such a quiet life, a little house — much like his own had been in Feldcroft — growing flowers, raising poultry, trading with the neighbours… For her, a sunny day was a reason to be happy, and winters were spent around a warm fire, and spring spent picking flowers, and autumn drinking fresh wine from the barrel… She never missed the sort of life he had, because she never knew it. Hadn’t been drawn to it. Wasn’t tempted by it.

“What a life,” he sighed, taking another drink.

Could he be envious of it? He could. Of the purity, the peace, the smallness and the closeness and the comfort of her home, with its cluttered little living room and cramped kitchen and however many bedrooms she could fit inside that house — probably two, one for herself and one for…

“Her brother,” he whispered in a moment of sudden sobriety. “She has a brother. One who isn’t there right now.”

Sebastian scrambled to get up and asked the barkeep for a quill and parchment. Ten minutes later, an owl was sent off to her wherein he modestly asked if he could visit her again and maybe, possibly, if she was willing, and for adequate compensation, stay a few nights in her brother’s bedroom.

She received it in the morning, and read it with some trepidation... She had expected him to write soon, but not to so boldly ask to live with her. Perhaps she’d put a bit too much Amortentia on that glove…

But there was something off about his letter, something… specific. He didn’t just want to live with her, he had her brother’s bedroom in mind, and for a limited amount of time, and — oh. Her brother’s bedroom.

She spent the next two hours going through spell after spell to get the place ready, trying to make it look as natural as possible for a young wizard about his age, transfigurating and disapparating and summoning the sort of things that would typically be in it. She fretted and fussed over it for so long that the morning turned into the afternoon. With bated breath, at 3 o’clock, she wrote back to Sebastian that she would be willing, if he so needed it, to host him for a few nights at no expense.

She read through the letter at least five times before she sent it with the owl. Immediately after it flew off, she wondered if she could not have worded something better, but it was too late now…

Her fireplace was too small to be linked to the Floo network, so Sebastian was due to arrive on foot from the nearby tavern. She considered going to wait there for him, but she found too many things to fuss about in the house — the clutter in the kitchen, the dust in the living room, the weeds in the garden, and the wash closet overly decorated with frilly little toiletries she’d collected over time. She wasn’t sure how she could survive having a man live with her for… for however long Sebastian intended.

He knocked on her door sometime in the evening. She scrambled through the house as she looked everything over one last time, caught herself in the mirror, fixed her hair one last time, and then finally went to the door. She took a deep breath — and then another, because she needed it — and opened it.

Sebastian smiled brightly, looking surprised and grateful, and like he hadn’t slept much the night before. His clothes were in a bit of disarray, the tie a bit crooked and his shoes dusty from the village road, his hair sticking out every which way like he’d been threading his fingers through it countless times, and he even seemed a bit unshaven…

Then again, she probably didn’t look much better. She’d hardly eaten anything that morning, spending it instead to get the house ready to receive a visitor — a tenant, actually.

“Good morning,” she said awkwardly, “I-I mean evening, hello, I…”

“Hello,” laughed Sebastian, his eyes shining as he took her in — his salvation. “Hope I didn’t inconvenience you an awful lot with this…”

“No! No, not at all,” she said, smiling brightly and tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“And on such short notice too…”

“No, don’t worry about it! Please, come in.”

She stood aside and let him pass, noticing with some surprise that he only had a briefcase with him. Did that mean…?

“So you’re only staying for a day or two, or…?”

Sebastian turned toward her with a crestfallen look.

“I c-can, if… if that’s…”

“I mean, you only have a little luggage with you, and…”

“Oh, this,” he laughed, looking down at it. How much trouble it had caused him… “It holds more than it seems to,” he winked at her.

“I see,” she smiled.

They looked at each other awkwardly for a few moments before she remembered to lead him further in. She had him sit by the fireplace while she brought out the tea, and let him catch his breath. It looked like he needed it.

“I hope the journey hasn’t been too rough,” she said as she poured him a steaming cup of Ceylon.

Sebastian understood her meaning. “Look that bad, do I?”

“No,” she said at length, sitting opposite him. “Just… tired.”

“It’s been a long couple of days. That’s why I may not be presentable. I…”

He didn’t want to tell her what had happened, didn’t want her to get that impression of him. It was bad enough that Ominis had chastised him like a little boy, like they were back at Hogwarts. He didn’t want to look like some irresponsible reprobate to her as well. On top of everything, he worried that if he told the truth, she might withdraw her offer to host him… But then again, he thought, that’s her right, isn’t it?

“I may have been a little careless,” he sighed, determined to tell her, in the end, as much as his pride would allow. He dared look up at her and found her sitting quietly in the patchy old armchair, looking him at him, listening. “Since you’ve been good enough to offer me your hospitality, I suppose you want to know why I called upon you. Because it truly isn’t my intention to put you through any difficulty, and I really am ashamed to have had to ask, but —”

“Think nothing of it,” she said with a quick wave of her hand. “Please… Tell me.”

Sebastian bit his fleshy lower lip and continued. “For the past several years, I’ve been helping out a… businessman, with some shipments. And with research into certain items that he trades in. And sometimes other things, but… The point is, this gentleman has caught the eye of the Ministry, and they sent their Aurors over to investigate.”

He could almost hear it when the breath froze in her chest.

“They paid me a visit yesterday afternoon,” he said, taking a sip of the tea.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Nothing. They asked me some questions, I answered… Offered to make me an informant, although I’ll have none of that,” he sneered. He wouldn’t betray even someone like Burke to the Aurors… No, if Burke was to get what was coming to him, it would be from Sebastian’s wand. “But it was too close a call for my liking. They’re watching my flat in London, I know it. I’ve seen them.”

She sat completely still as she listened to him, captivated by the intrigue. This was far more exciting than the little gossip that went around in Upper Flagley about Mrs Royer’s son stealing Mrs Patenaude’s pears.

“I can’t exactly clear my name for the time being, and as I’m not the only one involved, that complicates things. As I see it, the best thing I can do is disappear for a little while. Let things calm down…”

“But do they have anything to incriminate you?” she asked in a small voice, the teacup forgotten in her hands.

“They have nothing,” he grinned, and thought ‘I hope’. “No need to worry, Miss. According to the law, you are hosting an honest wizard.”

She smiled with him. This all felt very exciting, but at the same time filled her with very rational concerns — logistical concerns. She needed now to rethink supplies for two people, for an indeterminate about of time, and cater her morning and evening routine to, perhaps, his own. And if he intended to slip out to London or elsewhere and do the sort of things he did, she needed to make sure he could come back in at night, or… wherever he returned.

Sebastian read all of these worries in her frown, and asked in a smaller voice, “Is that alright? If you changed your mind about it, I… I will think nothing ill of you.”

“No, I haven’t,” she reassured him quickly. “It’s just… well, I’m not very used to this,” she finished with a tense laugh.

“Well, just pretend I’m your brother, then,” he chuckled.

She smiled tensely back and nodded, then dipped her head to sip her tea.

“And about payment, I couldn’t possibly live here with some form of—”

“We can discuss that later.”

“But, really…”

“Would you like to see your bedroom?” she asked.

She led him to the right side of the house, to a chamber that opened directly from the living room.

The narrow brown door opened to reveal an almost perfectly square room, small and with a quite low ceiling, as otherwise was the rest of the house. A pair of little windows opened like eyes toward the garden and the fields beyond. The floor was softened by a carpet that was perhaps half the size of the room itself, weaved in red and brown and green in something of an autumn scenery.

On the left side, by the door, was a narrow bed that was quite high and looked exceedingly soft, covered over with brown blankets tipped with tassels all around the edges. A wardrobe stood at its foot, hewn from rough old wood. Facing the windows were a little writing desk and a chair that looked quite hard and uncomfortable, but it was cushioned by a pillow on the seat. On the desk, bathed in the evening breeze, was a stout little candle in its silver holder, an empty vase, a mug, and a pewter wash basin with an accompanying ewer.

“Oh, darn,” she said, rushing in to get the empty mug. “I forgot that there…”

“That’s alright,” he chuckled. “Don’t concern yourself with tidying up or… with anything, really.”

She stopped and looked at him, watching his face, his every move. “It isn’t much,” she shrugged, looking around herself in shame. “But…”

“It’s wonderful,” he said, looking at her with a warm smile.

“Don’t suppose it compares to your London flat,” she winced.

“No, it doesn't,” he said brightly, looking around the room. “It’s impeccably clean.”

She laughed briefly, incredulously, but she wasn’t about to turn down his compliment. “Well, I’ll let you get… get comfortable…”

The young lady took two small steps toward the door, smiling up at Sebastian who smiled back, looking grateful and at peace and… something more. He didn’t move, as if he had forgotten how to, choosing instead to look at her closely as she brushed past to leave the room. Even a hint of her body brought back the same fire to his nerves that he had felt that Friday when he woke up with nothing but her on his mind.

She closed the door behind her and took what felt like the first breath in hours. Her hands gripped her corseted waist for something firm to hold onto, something to remind her that she was solid, she was real, this was real.

“I won’t survive,” she said to herself. “I won’t survive him…”

#Sebastian Sallow #hl #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x MC #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;danger and delight

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melonba11s · 1 year

Text

Accidental Reunion (Reupload)

Slightly more humorous, Fox has a bit of a weird guest on stream.

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked

Contains: Torture, Breast-specific torture, Canon typical violence, cult/religious themes.

The Fox was no stranger to weirder victims. Really he had to do next to zero work to get captives for his streams. It just so happened that sometimes he’d see someone out of his stock for an upcoming auction, and he’d decide they’d be better off in his care. For however many shows they lasted. He remembered the one who had been withdrawing off of their schizophrenia medication, he had kept them around for a few shows just due to how entertaining it was to play with and abuse their mental state.

Sometimes though, he had to do a bit of digging, because someone in Chat would ask for something specific. Usually one who donated a lot, which usually meant a lot more would come if he catered to their tastes. This time though, someone who was a little newer, perhaps a bit younger, had a request.

“Big Titty Goth GF PLSSSSS” They had spammed, each time they requested they had donated more. He half wondered what kind of brat had accessed daddy’s credit card. But, well, he aimed to please.

This girl was what he had managed to find, and he had made sure to get her some outfits to match the Goth Aesthetic too. Fishnet, little bat nipple rings, skull pattern on the underwear. Not his usual choices, but they’d do.

Besides having those fat tits that had been begged for, she also had a soft belly, and thick thighs, which pushed and almost bubbled up over the fishnet. And across her skin… strange tattoos he had no idea could mean. A strange circle with foreign letters, what looked like an almost tear drop shape, plus so many others.

He had stopped staring at her long ago, as he began to set up for the show. But he could tell her eyes never left him. She had been silent, not asking any questions, just staring. He hoped she wouldn’t be like this the entire time, that would be boring…

With a few quick clicks, a little icon on his screen told him he was live, and he quickly stood up straight as his lovely fans came pouring in.

“Good Evening, everyone! As you may recall, on our last stream, our generous patron H0110W kept requesting a specific kind of victim.” He stood to the side, letting the woman focus into view for the camera. The chat lit up immediately.

M3L0NB4115: MOMMY MILKERS.

H0110W: holy shit, perfect! Here’s a little something to start us off!

N3K0_M: You should cut her eyes out, if she keeps glaring daggers like that. Teach her a lesson, daddy <3

Woundfucker88: Ugh, wasn’t that other one banned?

Fox’s ear gave a flick as a donation pinged in. Ten Thousand dollars. A nice start indeed. Whoever this viewer was, they certainly had money. He gave a bark of laughter at Woundfucker’s annoyance.

“Well, I’m glad you like her. I hope you’ll enjoy watching her bleed just as much. Also, yes, Melon is back, I turned off text to speech donations so I figured she’d be harmless now.”

He gave a wink, hearing the woman’s breath hitch behind him. He ignored it though, not sparing her a glance as he glanced towards his wall full of tools.

“Now, let me know what you all want to see first! Remember, we want to make her last, so nothing lethal…. Yet.” He watched as the requests poured in, most paired with a nice donation.

Woundfucker88: Fair enough, it is your show. Why not carve something into those tits?

Diamond: Why stop at carving? Just lop them off.

N3K0_M: That goes too fast! I wanna see the ice pick used again, give her some more piercings!”

M3L0NB4115: Skewer them together, like shishkabob.

That one piqued his interest, and his ear flicked a little.

“Oh? Yes I haven’t done that in a while… Nice collaborating, everyone…” he mused, walking off camera to grab the ice pick.

“Chat thinks you need some more piercings…” he smiled cruelly under the mask as he waved the thin, deadly weapon in front of her.

“... You’ll regret this.” Was all she said, holding his gaze. Fox was no stranger to threats, but something about this one made his spine tingle. He narrowed his eyes, and slammed the pick into her left thigh, managing to draw out a sharp squeal.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He affirmed, twisting the metal through her flesh, her scream turning into a cough as she grit her teeth, glaring at him. And then she began speaking again. No pleas, no insults, nothing…. In english even.

Instead, it was a slow chant in a foreign language, steady as the river of blood pouring down her leg. Fox stood straight, wrenching the ice pick out of her skin as he did. She halted her speech for a moment to hiss in pain, before she continued.

He glanced back towards chat, wondering their reaction.

N3K0_M: LOL She iz trying 2 Summon A DEMON!

H0110W: She had a nice scream when you first stabbed her! Now move onto the skewering! And afterwards, maybe a little blowtorch action on them ;)

M3L0NB4115: I think I recognize that language. Or what she’s saying. It reminds me of St*****-

“Melon, you have been warned about that name, it’s blocked for a reason. Mention it again and you’ll be permanently muted.” Fox said, before crouching down. That one really annoyed him. But back to business. This was H0110W’s request, so he may as well follow suit with what they wanted.

And indeed, he was able to get more screams out of her as he plunged the icepick sideways through her chest, making her writhe and yell as he pierced her breasts together, leaning forward and twisting one of her nipples between his claws for good measure.

For hours, the requests continued in, and between her screams, she kept chanting in that same language, though her voice grew more hoarse as time went on. And she seemed to grow more panicked the longer she chanted.

N3ko_M:“Make her eat part of her tits. You cooked it just for her.”

H0110W:“Use the pliers and pull those nails off.”

Woundfucker88: “Do you have any liquid nitrogen left from last time? Pour some of it onto her legs.”

M3L0NB4115: “Knife time! Keep it classic! I wanna see a heart!”

Diamond: “Fuck the hole in her leg, make it bigger.”

Adrenaline coursed through him as he continued his work, loving all the different screams he managed to squeeze out of her. But, she was starting to bore Chat quite quickly.

N3K0_M: Can you get her to shut up? I’m sick of hearing her stupid voice.

H0110W: She’s talked enough, cut her tongue out. Let her choke to death on her own blood for the finale.

M3L0NB4115: No, Don’t kill her. If you kill her it will be complete, St**** will come-

“M3L0NB4115’s has been muted indefinitely for saying banned content. Thank you for using the AutoMod Bot!”

“Your wish is my command, H0110W.” Fox said, procuring his reliable knife. She was talking even faster now, mumbling that strange language before he pried her mouth open. Her eyes were wide, makeup, tears and blood streaked down her face. He leaned forward to lick them up, humming over the combined taste of powdery eyeshadow, salty tears and rusty blood.

Without much more fanfare, he dug the knife into her mouth. It was admittedly a bit harder than he thought it would be. Her tongue was a moving target. He was forced to saw at it, cutting into all other parts of her mouth, as she screamed. While her words were still decipherable, she was screaming her same chant.

And finally, she was silent, except for gurgles and moans, and then choking coughs as her mouth filled with her own blood. Her eyes were trained on him, as steady as she could keep them, as he pulled her tongue out of her mangled mouth.

“There we go!” He said triumphantly, holding it up like a trophy for the camera. In the background he could hear her gurgling, and slumping in her chains. It wouldn’t be long now until she was gone. He watched as final donations pinged in, giving her a lovely little song to die too.

He turned back to look at her again, her eyes now unfocused, her mouth moving wordlessly. Bubbles of blood were coming up from her throat, drenching her front and dying her skin…. Green?

Fox stood still, keeping an eye on her for a bit longer. Just as he had seen it, it had faded. It must be a trick of the light, he’d been in here for too long with only the screens to illuminate the room. Without another thought on it, he turned back to the Camera, raising his arms.

“Another lovely show, wouldn’t you all agree? As always, I am so grateful for your donations and…” his voice faded and he perked up a little, giving the air a small sniff. Sulfur?He watched Chat suddenly light up.

It was moving too fast for him to read individual messages. But there was a lot of “what the hell?’s” going on.

Diamond: What the hell?

N3K0_M: I was just joking about the demon thing, is this some kind of special effect you got going on Fox??

M3L0NB4115’s has been unmuted by H̸̦̣̱͆̈̑ḭ̸̣͆m̴̨̛̲̼. Thank you for using a̸̡͊̚u̸̙̣͌́t̷̡̟̀o̷͍̝̾m̴̢̼̿̾o̴̦̅d̸̗͝ ̴̖͗̕ḃ̸̰̦͛ǒ̵̂͜͜ẗ̴͍͇́.

M3L0NB4115: Me next.

He turned back towards his victim, and was met by the sudden eruption of a wall of green flame. It blasted him back towards his set up, and he hastily grasped for the keyboard, his first instinct to end the stream, before he struggled for the call button. In his panicked state though, he kept missing.

The roar of flames grew- Horns. Horns were appearing. Fox could only stare in fear as from the flames, a form appeared. A form all too familiar.

“N-No… You’re Dead.” was all he could say, as those malice filled eyes appeared, staring into him. “YOU DIED. YOU CAN’T BE.” Fox looked around, his eyes landing on the door. He needed to run, but his body wouldn’t move.

“Run. RUN.” he was screaming still, at his own body to obey him, as Strade, new, remade, with a familiar gaping hole in his chest, towered over him now. A smile spread across his face, as recognition flickered in those acidic eyes.

“Mein… Fuchs… Did you want to see me so badly?” he rumbled, his voice as rumbly as distant thunder. And as painful for Ren to hear as nails on a chalkboard.

His body finally deciding to obey him at the sound of that voice, Ren made a mad dash for the door, his footing slipping on the blood coating the ground. The Door. The Door. He needed to make it towards the door.

But it wouldn’t open, as he yanked on it so hard he felt his shoulder pop out of socket. He yowled in pain, but the door wouldn’t budge still. It was shut tight. Two clawed hands enclosed his shoulders, digging into his skin, drawing blood, sending coursing pain through his empty socket.

“Mein Fuchs… The first to give me a sacrifice… To summon me… I should have known we would see eachother again.”

Ren couldn’t bring himself to turn around to look back into those eyes. He could only stare at the door as it got further and further away. He was being pulled away from it.

“We have much to catch up on, ja?”

#TPOF Fox #Demon Strade #Strade

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downton-bridgerton · 2 years

Note

cobert + 21 for the kiss prompts 💗

#21. …on a place of insecurity

Kiss Fic Asks!

Robert Crawley swirled the whiskey inside his glass as he stood with other gentlemen, who themselves are chatting away about yachts...among other things. He was with his family, of course, in celebration for Harold's wedding...which itself was already surprise to everyone, even Martha Levinson herself

But from the very start, Robert was already feeling left out. Not only because he's an Englishman in America, but also suddenly shy and quiet, as his wife was doing the hostess duties as she usually does. His daughters has surprisingly adopted well immediately...he thought it was because they're half-American and they, too, have been more sociable as they became both wives and mothers of their own

"Anyway, Robert, Harold says that your a member of Royal Yacht Club, right?" a gentleman then asked him, making him snap back to reality

"Oh yes, I am indeed" he answered

"So how many yachts do you have?"

"Just one, really. But we never really get to use it, so we just decided to donate it to the club"

"Donate it?!" Harold then said "Why in the world would you do that?"

"Well, because we don't really–"

"Harold's right! You could've kept that up more than other stuff! Yachts are an important asset for a man like your status!"

"But we don't have u–"

"I could have sold that even! You should've told me long ago!"

As the men drowned in their conversation once again, Robert slowly took a deep breath and count backwards from ten to help him calm down

Unknown to him, Cora has been observing him from afar while in conversation with some of the ladies, which included her new sister-in-law. Seeing that he needed her rescuing, she politely excused herself from the ladies and went to him

"Ah, Cora!" one of the men then called out as they saw her "What a sight to behold!"

"Thank you, but as much as I would to have a chat with you all, I need to have an urgent conversation with my husband" she then said, and looks over to her husband, to which fortunately Robert caught immedaitely

"Is it something from home?" he inquired

"Unfortunately, which is why I need to discuss the plan with you"

Robert nodded, and excused themselves before heading to the balcony nearby

***

"What is it, Darling?" Robert then asked as they arrived "Is something of the matter?"

"I think it is I who should be asking you that question" Cora looks at him, gently rubbing his biceps

"Nothing is the matter with me. Don't worry" he smiled a little, but with 40 years of marriage under their belt, she knows what his expressions mean already

"Are you sure you're alright?" she insisted gently. He was about to reassure her once again, but with a rather serious expression on her face, he simply sighed softly in defeat

"I am...I am not alright" he then started, looking down on the floor, "In fact, I do want to go home now...but that is very disrespectful to your brother and his wife...and to you, of course. And I cannot relate to whatever these...gentlemen are talking about. They even belittled me for donating our yacht!"

"Oh, dear..." her facial expression softened, holding him closer and comforting him

"I somehow...now know what you felt when you married me" he continued, "It's not much of what you felt, but still...it now all makes sense. I am so, so sorry"

"Robert," she gently said, "It's alright. But I, too, am sorry for you being so left out today"

"Don't apologize" he replied, "I didn't get to apologize to you when you're feeling like this. And yet, you are, as always, stronger than I am"

She looks at his expression of both pain and guilt, and now felt a pang of guilt as well inside her. Cora then slowly lifts his chin up to face him, before leaning in for a gentle kiss. Robert was surprised at first, before slowly melting into her arms and pulling her closer

As they pulled away to catch some air, Cora lets out a light giggle, where he finally saw her husband slowly smiling again

"Is that a real smile I see?" she asked

"Maybe..." he teased, resting his forehead against hers

"Robert..."

"It is! It is a real smile"

They both chuckle once again, before Cora smoothes down his suit and pull away from his grasp "Now, you can head upstairs already if you want, I'll just tell them that you're...too surprised with the news from home, which is why you need to retire for the night"

Robert smiles sweetly, but shakes his head "No. I want to go back with you inside" he said, "I feel...a bit braver now. Somehow"

"Are you sure?"

"I am. And besides, I wouldn't want to miss having the waltz with you later on"

"Very well, then"

She then offers her hand to hold, to which he takes and gently kisses the back of it. The two then shared a lovely smile at one another before heading back inside the grand ball, just as the waltz was about to start

#nawwww this is freaking sweet!! 💗#even for me it is really #robert crawley #cora crawley #cobert #downton abbey #kiss fic #corasorangejuice #mutuals #*my drabbles and writing #my post

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fuckyeahfightlock · 1 year

Text

Advent Ficlets 2022, Day 12

Visiting

Sherlock was pinching his forehead in barely-contained exasperation while John gave instructions.

“All right, now wave if you can hear me.”

On the laptop’s screen in front of them on the coffee table, Sherlock’s mother sat back in a straight-backed dining chair pulled up to her husband’s desk, looking grim and now and then fluttering her hand in the air. Sherlock’s dad was leaning far too close to the camera on their end, so the view was mostly of his thinning white hair and his forehead permanently creased in much the same way Sherlock’s temporarily was, a glimpse into the future. John thought he detected a wave of Mr Holmes’ hand just at the bottom edge of the screen.

“All right, that’s good. Now there should be an icon on the bottom bar there, looks like an old-style radio microphone on a stand.”

“Let’s call it a failed attempt and just exchange letters,” Sherlock moaned. His mother frowned and said something they couldn’t hear, but John could definitely lip-read the words, “Sherlock,” “cheeky,” and “Christmas.”

“Sherlock, don’t be cheeky to your mum and dad at Christmas,” John scolded, leaning out of camera range to smirk “Drag the mouse over and click the microphone,” John implored. There was a breath-held second, then the screen went dark.

“There, I’ve done it,” Sherlock’s dad said.

“Oh, for god’s sake.”

“That’s very good but now we can’t see you,” John said, trying to suppress laughter.

“John, you look very well. Very sturdy,” Sherlock’s mum said.

John partially hid his face with his hand and mouthed in Sherlock’s direction, “Did she just say I’m fat?”

“Mycroft’s the sturdy one, Mother,” Sherlock intoned. “Click on the camera, I implore you.”

“There’s one here that looks like a movie camera,” said Mr Holmes, sounding halfway between bewildered and enraged.

“That’s the one,” John said cheerily. “Go on. Be bold.”

Another second passed and the image flickered back into being. “Can you see us now?”

“That’s perfect, I think,” John said, and gave Sherlock’s knee a gentle squeeze beneath the range of the camera’s view.

“At last,” Sherlock added, and put a clenching grip on John’s hand, held it there on his lap, his knuckles going slightly white. “There now, Many happy greetings of the season, I’ve made a donation to the scholarship fund at the school of the UK Ballet in your honor.”

“Hate the ballet,” Sherlock’s father muttered.

“Yes, I know.”

“We’ll be on a cruise to the Maldives during Christmas,” his mother pressed on, ignoring the Holmes’ men and their bickering. “Your father just can’t bear the cold winters anymore. His arthritis.”

John made a sympathetic noise, and a face to match. “An island vacation certainly sounds better than what England’s got to offer, weatherwise.”

“Saw your face on the papers again a few months ago,” Sherlock’s father said, sounding disapproving rather than chuffed, as other parents might. “Do they pay you for that?”

Sherlock pressed his lips together and hummed grimly. “I pay them.”

Sherlock’s mother looked alarmed.

“He’s joking,” John said hurriedly. “No one pays anyone, that we know of. It’s just that some of the cases he takes are newsworthy.”

“I don’t like seeing your face next to stories about the royal family,” Mr Holmes said. John wondered if he thought the juxtaposition reflected poorly on Sherlock, or on the Firm, but didn’t ask for clariity.

“Talk to Mycroft,” Sherlock said with a dismissive wave of the hand he wasn’t using to squeeze the life out of John’s. “He’s got some reason for planting those stories, I imagine. It’s nothing to do with me. My face on the front page only makes it harder to work discreetly.”

His mother laughed lightly. “I do still wonder when you’ll be over all of that. You could be a chemistry professor. Or Mycroft could appoint you--”

“Lovely talking to you,” Sherlock said disingenuously. “Do enjoy your boat trip. Bring me back a coconut.”

“Yes, sorry we couldn’t get together in person this year,” John said, at least trying to make it sound authentic, to smooth some of the jagged edges. “I think--don’t we have--” He looked at Sherlock, mugging.

“Client appointments, a whole string,” Sherlock agreed, though they had no such thing.

“We should sign off, then,” John said. “Merry Christmas Mr Holmes, Mrs Holmes.”

“Merry Christmas, boys,” Sherlock’s mother said, “We’ll try to phone--”

They were gone. Picture and sound. The screen indicated the Holmes Family Computer had Left The Meeting. Sherlock at last released John’s hand, which immediately started to tingle with rushing blood, and sank backward into a sprawl on the sofa.

“Exhausting,” he intoned. “Thank god it’s over.”

“Sure you don’t want them at the wedding?” John said with a sly smile. “I’m sure they’d cancel their trip for such an important occasion as their darling baby getting married to a very sturdy fella.”

Sherlock reached for him and John sank into an embrace. “You’re not sturdy,” Sherlock told him. “You’re perfect.”

John kissed the edge of his jaw.

“But perhaps fewer of those gingerbread biscuits with your tea, or you could become too sturdy to fit the suit my tailor’s making up at no small expense.”

“Is that what you meant to say?”

John leaned away, as if he might get up and leave the sofa, but Sherlock clutched tighter. “No. You’re perfect. Perfectly perfect.”

#advent ficlets 2022 #advent ficlets #writing #fic #christmas fic

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sparrowsarus · 9 months

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In which we post the first part of The Blue Knight, while we debate on whether it should be chaptered.

Xenk stood patiently in front of the Lady Protector of Neverwinter, one eyebrow raised.

"Look, I know it's a bit out of your wheelhouse, but Gareth is sick as a dog and can't go. And if anyone could survive being beheaded by an inhuman creature with the audacity to storm into my castle on Highharvesttide and start making demands, it's you."

Xenk's eyebrow arched further. "I was given to understand that the apparition merely suggested a blow, with the same blow returned a year and a day after. It was the youth's choice to attempt to kill a stranger who had harmed no one."

Lady Neverwinter's ears went red. "Well, yes. It isn't behaviour one wishes to see from one's progeny, and we are dealing with it.

But I beg you--please, Sir Yendar. My husband is beside himself, and I'm quite disturbed myself. My baby boy—I know you think us foolish, for protecting him from the consequences of his actions. And perhaps you are right. But he is very sick."

He was—Xenk had seen it. So too had he seen proof that the youth—pale and wan in his bed, but still mannerly—had been shocked that he had been willing to murder a creature without provocation, and was trying to do better. Besides—Xenk had made inquiries, and senseless violence had never seemed to have been the lad’s way; the servants had all seemed shocked by his behaviour, quite out of character—and Xenk wondered if there was not a plot brewing, that he would have to uncover.

"Very well, I will do it."

Lady Neverwinter brightened. "Oh, thank you. We will provision you for your journey, and a donation will be made to any organization of your choosing. May Chauntea bless you, Sir Yendar."

Xenk left early the next day, well provisioned as promised; but his horse remained in the Neverwinter Stables—she was hotblooded and nobly bred, utterly unsuited for the frozen wastes of the far north—and if Xenk indeed died there, he could not be sure she would find her way south to where grass grew again.

So Xenk made his way out of the city, walking alone under a blue and gold sunrise; and he did not look back.

Hours became days, and Xenk made good time to Luskan; the final point before he reached Frozenfar, and the dangers there.

Xenk Yendar feared very little, confident in his abilities; but he knew the dangers of cold and ice, even so early in the season, and the desperate hungry creatures eager for any nourishment. The innkeeper at Luskan, after learning Xenk meant to go to Bryn Shander, shook his head.

“It’ll be an early winter,” he warned. “We’ve had caravans come through with stories about the mountain pass, and that was nearly a tenday ago. If you go up now, you won’t get out till Ches. Do you at least have snowshoes or skis?”

“I have been equipped properly, yes. I thank you for your warning. But my duty lies there, and I must be there by Highharvesttide; if I must stay until spring, then I shall.”

The innkeeper’s warning was given with experience and wisdom; but Xenk decided to enjoy the journey as he could.

He had heard that the land of Icewind Dale was largely brown and grey, devoid of any life; but apparently those travellers had come at a different time, for Xenk saw no evidence of a dull, desolate land. Icewind Dale, despite reports to the contrary, was beautiful. The low shrubbery, though buffeted with the stiff, cold easterlies that seemed to always blow here, was still bright with the brief reds and oranges that preceded the winter storms; and the various serges and grasses were golden.

It wasn’t to last.

Two days out of Luskan, the snow began to fall, heavy and silent. Xenk bundled his furs closer to him, strapped on his shoeshoes, ensured his sword was still easily accessed, and trekked on—even as the snow got thicker, the wind grew colder, and the terrain more treacherous. He made sure he ate a little every hour, and prayed for fortitude as he forced a path through the snow, surrounded at all times by the howling wind. When he stopped for his evening rest, he kept his fire well fed, and he slept in snatches, wary of the things that crept in the tundra and preyed upon foolish travellers, whose sounds could be muffled by the blizzard; and the ever present threat of hypothermia.

In was in this slow, creeping fashion he made it to Bryn Shander; a five day journey stretched to eight, largely devoid of sun and warmth; and the innkeeper took one look at him as he trudged through the door, and instantly escorted him to a room, with the promise of a bath and dinner—both gratefully accepted. After he had eaten and bathed, he promptly threw himself into bed and slept straight through till morning.

The next day, he made inquiries about the blue chapel; but no one seemed to know anything.

“You could ask up at Revel’s End, where the Polar Lady lives,” said one villager, doubtfully. “Mayhap they might know. Go down this road, and keep going north. As long as you stick to the path you’ll be alright. It shouldn’t take you much more than a day to get there, and like as not they’ll see you before you see them.”

Xenk thanked him, and returned to the inn to prepare for what would, hopefully, be the final part of his journey.

He left just as the cold dawn struggled its way into weak daylight, mindful of how short the days were at this time of year, before they disappeared utterly into the polar darkness. The tundra was now covered in snow, and the world was comprised of shades of grey and white.

It was a pleasant enough walk, even with the bulky shoeshoes and the tinted goggles; but tiring, in a way it should not have been, with a clear goal in mind and a test to prepare for.

It took several hours for Xenk to finally spot something on the horizon. As he moved closer, he began to discern the shape of what must be Revel’s End.

Xenk stared at the castle, a small dark shadow against a backdrop of white, blue, and grey, shading into black—night came quickly, here on the shores of the Sea of Moving Ice. Xenk could hear the creaks and cracks of the sea, loud as any city street, and the lonely screams of birds above him. The castle was close, but not close enough; he would have to trek at least an hour to reach it.

The wind was picking up, and he was tired. Hopefully, whoever lived here would provide him with a corner to sleep in and directions, before he went on his way to find the Blue Chapel.

He began to make his way forward, huddled against the wind, when suddenly the shape he had written off as a seabird of some type swooped down and blurred into what Xenk assumed was a humanoid, similarly bundled against the wind.

“It’s further away than it looks,” said the shape. “I’m Doric. Do you want some help?”

Xenk bowed, considering. It was unwise to trust to a stranger in this land; but if they were truly from the castle, it would be foolish to insult them. And he was very tired. "I would be grateful for your assistance, Doric."

"Okay." And suddenly there was an owlbear where once there was a person.

Xenk blinked. Such power—and an owlbear, which he had not known was possible. What else would he find at Revel’s End?

He removed his snowshoes and climbed on, and Doric began to run, fast and silent.

Beyond, the ice creaked.

Doric was fleet of foot, even with the encumbrance of a full-grown man with gear; it took them little time to reach the castle, where a bipedal Doric lead him into a small, somewhat shabby, but cozy room, with—Tyr be blessed—a fireplace, told him to sit, and then left to presumably alert someone to his presence.

Xenk sat. If he was wise, he would look around the room, and take stock of his potential hosts—but the fire was warm. Perhaps if he just—

The door opened and a sturdy looking barbarian woman with a massive waraxe entered.

“Doric says she found you in the snow. State your business here.”

Xenk stood, and bowed. “I am Xenk Yendar, and I come in the place of the young Neverwinter heir in search of the Blue Chapel, and the knight that lives there.”

The woman sighed. “Of course you are. I suppose he was just a kid. Not my problem. Come.”

And with that, she strode out of the room, clearly expecting him to follow.

To Xenk’s surprise, she did not lead him up the stairs; instead, she went further down the hall to a row of solid oak doors. One was open, and she jabbed a thumb at it.

“There’s your room. Unlucky for you, we’ve just had dinner, but we’ll have something sent in. Barek will see to you. If I catch you wandering around before morning it won’t be the Blue Knight that takes your head. Goodnight.”

And with that brusque instruction, she spun on her heel and left. Clearly, she was not a woman given to conversation.

Xenk looked around the room he had been given, while the serving man—Barek— stood by. It was small, but elegantly furnished; certainly more so than the sitting room he had been brought to first had been. But despite the elegance, it also looked comfortable—very unlike many other august bedchambers Xenk had slept in in his long life.

What Xenk was most intrigued by, however, was the copper bathtub, large enough for a man of his size to lay comfortably in, positioned by the low fire, with two knobs and a tray of small soaps and bottles. Indoor plumbing, this far to the north, which even the great castle in Waterdeep lacked; truly, the Polar Lady and her staff was fortunate, but the resources required—

“It’s from the hot spring, Sir Paladin. Aye, I know what you were thinkin’, people always do, when we get visitors. But my lord grew up a poor sailor and my lady’s a fine woman—there’s no waste of good firewood or coal, nor a mistreated dragon in the cellars for you to avenge. The other tap is cold water. Lavatory is that door there; don’t be startled, it’s magic.”

Oh. Well, then. Xenk relaxed, sensing the truth in Barek’s words. “Thank you, good sir.”

“None of that, none of that—Barek is fine. I’ll let you rest, now. My lord has provided you spare garments, and the captain has sent you some boiled linseed oil for your weapons; if you don’t mind, place anything you wish to be washed, and I’ll take it to the laundry before I bring your dinner.”

It took little time for Xenk to unpack and undress, and a short while later the man took his basket of travelstained clothing and departed, leaving Xenk naked in the room. The bathtub gleamed invitingly.

It was every bit as glorious as he had hoped; although the smell of sulphur nagged at his nose, it was worth it for the sensation of being immersed in hot water at will, leaching out the final chill in his bones; and to be clean, finally clean, and to have the time and space to care for his hair properly, as someone had apparently had time to note the texture and had thoughtfully left an assortment of care products for his use. He spent longer than he should have simply soaking; but the journey had been cold and arduous, and not a little lonely; Xenk would be warm while he could. He leaned back in the bathtub, and closed his eyes.

He must have dozed; for the next thing he knew, the water had become tepid, and there was a knocking at the door.

“You decent?” called a voice, who was not Barek.

“I am not. One moment, please.” Xenk removed himself from the bath and hurriedly dried himself, throwing on the undergarments and trousers he had been left. They were slightly tighter than he preferred; but they would do. He eyed the shirt, but decided it would be too tight.

“I apologize, I must have dozed—” he began as he opened the door, and came face to face with the bluest eyes he had ever seen, and a grin that one could only describe as rakish.

“Not a problem. I brought you food,” and here the man—for it was a man— nodded toward the covered plate he was carrying. “And I have instructions to make sure you’re comfortable and don’t intend to try and kill us all, or your head will be stuffed and mounted as a battle trophy. From my good wife and Captain Kilgore, respectively. I’m Ed, by the way—Seamaster Edgin Darvis, Consort of Her Grace, The Polar Lady, Captain of The Dragon’s Maw, if you want to get technical. Can I come in?”

Xenk stepped aside, and Ed headed for the small desk in the corner, depositing the plate on it. Xenk suddenly realized how hungry he was.

“Sit and eat, we aren’t formal here.” Ed moved out of the way with a gesture, and Xenk, for the second time that day, sat as instructed, and turned his attention the food—which appeared to be some kind of stew, heavy with the scent of spices; and Xenk wondered how such a remote place managed to acquire such expensive southern goods as nutmeg and clove. But it was good, hearty and warming. “Thank you,” he said politely, between mouthfuls. “You have been very kind to me, and I will not encroach upon your hospitality very long.”

The man waved him away. “Idiocy. The chapel’s close—don’t look at me like that, Holga told me about your quest—and you may as well stay the three days till Highharvesttide until you need to go there. And very well after, if this weather holds. And it’s not just me saying it! I get my orders from Herself, and she’s got opinions on that sort of thing.”

Ed had a lovely smile when talking about his lady wife, Xenk noticed. “The Polar Lady is very kind. Have you been wed long?”

“Zia’s the finest woman to bless the earth, that’s for certain. It’ll be ten years this Greengrass, and I’m the luckiest man alive. When you see her tomorrow, you’ll see why. Here, let me take your bowl, and I’ll let you sleep. G’night!”

And Ed left, taking his bowl with him. The room felt strangly empty without his presence.

Xenk turned away from the door, removed the borrowed trousers, and crawled into bed.

"I have received two gifts today." Slowly, Xenk withdrew the blue sash.

Ed looked at the sash, then at Xenk, and smiled. Xenk’s stomach flipped over again.

" Well, far be it from me to withdraw a favour. I'm not a tyrant. But you’ll need something more more substantial for the wind. I'll send you up a cloak for tomorrow--it gets cold on the hill. See you in the morning!"

And with that, Edgin walked away, whistling cheerfully; while Xenk stood there, a Lady’s favour in his hand and the promise of a Lord’s on the morrow.

#dnd honor among thieves #dndhat

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rattyshipss · 7 months

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Rewrite of one of my favorite few pages including Stanley in Ggbb💖 (To clarify this isn't all my original work, this is a page I'm copying from the book and including parts in) ⚠️Spoilers warning⚠️

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"Is Stanley Forbes in?" asked Pip. "He should be." The woman finally located the correct key and slit it into the lock. "We've got the write-up of the memorial to sort out before we print today, so Stanley asked me to come in and help." She opened the door. "After you." She said, and Pip stepped over the threshold into the small front room.

"I'm pip." she said, following the woman as they passed two tired sofas and headed for the back office. "Yes, I know who you are," the woman said, shrugging off her jacket. And then, in a slightly less frosty tone: "I'm Mary, Mary Scythe." "Pleased to meet you, again." Pip said, which wasn't exactly true. She figured Mary was one of those people who blamed Pip for all "The Trouble" last year in their nice, quaint town. Mary pushed the door, revealing a small, square room, four computer desks lining its walls, as tight and claustrophobic as Pip remembered it. Guess that's what you got for a tiny town newspaper that ran mostly on donations from the family living in that mansion up Beecher Road.

Stanley Forbes was sitting at the desk against the far wall, his back to them, his dark brown hair in unkempt clumps, presumably from where his finders had tunneled through. He paid them no attention, leaning towards his desktop screen, which, judging by rhea white-and-dark-blue stripes, was on Facebook.

"Hi Stanley," Pip said softly. He didn't turn. In fact, he hadn't moved at all, still scrolling down the page. He hadn't heard her. "Stanley?" she tried again. Nothing, not even a flinch. He wasn't wearing headphones, was he? She couldn't see any. "Honestly," Mary scoffed, "he does this all the time. Has the most selective hearing I've ever come across. Tunes the whole world out. I have no idea how (y/n) likes him or can even stand to be around him as much as they are. Hey Stan!" She barked that last part, and finally Stanley looked up, spinning in his chair to face them. "Oh sorry, were you talking to me?" he said, his green-brown eyes jumping from Mary to settle on Pip, head perking up at the mention of that name.

"No one else in the room," Mary said irritably. "Wait (y/n) likes me?" Stanley said swinging from side to side in his chair with a coy smile on his face watching Mary as she walked away dropping her handbag against the desk farthest from Stanley's. "Hi," Pip said again, walking over to him, crossing the distance in just four large steps.

"H-hello," Stanley said, getting to his feet. He held out his hand apparently to shake hers, but then evidently changed his mind and drew it back, then changed his mind again and re-extended the hand with an embarrassed laugh leaving Mary holding back a laugh across the room wondering if this is how he flirted with (y/n). He probably didn't know how the appropriate way to greet Pip, given their fraught history and her being eighteen while he was at least in his late twenties.

"Sorry," Stanley said, returning the awkward hand to his side. It wasn't just the Singhs he'd apologized to; Pip had also received a letter from Stanley a few months ago. In other he'd apologized for the way he'd talked down to her and for Becca Bell taking Pip's number from his phone and using it to threaton Pip. He hadn't known at the time, but he was still sorry. Pip wondered how sincere he really was. "What can I...," Stanley began. "What do you-"

"I know the memorial will probably take up a lot of room in tomorrow's paper. But could you make space for this? I'm trying to spread the word to everyone in town." Pip dropped her backpack so she could take out the reserved Missing poster. She handed it over, watching Stanley read, his eyes furrowed and a hollow burrowing into his cheek as he chewed it from the inside. "Missing is he?" He looked down again. "Jamie Reynolds."

"Know him?"

"Don't think so," Stanley said. "Might recognize the face. Is he from Fairview?" "Yep. Family live on Cedar Way. Jamie went to Fairview high, with Andie and Sal."

"Missing since when?" he asked. "It says there." Pip's voice rose impatiently. Mary's chair creaked as she leaned closer to listen in, interested in the different than normal (y/n) rambling topic. "Last seen around eight o'clock at the memorial, until I learn more about his movements. I saw you taking photos, could you email those to me?" "Er, yes OK. Police?" asked Stanley. "A missing persons report has been filed," Pip replied "Polive response is nonexistent right now. So it's just me. That's why I need your help." She smiles, pretending like she didn't resent having to ask.

"Missing since the memorial?" Stanley thought oloud. "That's only, like, a day and a half, right? "Thirty-seven and a half hours," Pip said. "That's not very long, is it?" He lowered the poster. "Missing is nissing" she countered. "And the first seventy-two hours are critical, especially if you suspect foul play." "Do you?" "Yes," she said. "The family does too. So will you help? Can you print that notice tomarrow?" Stanley looked up for a moment, eyes spooling as he considered it. "Suppose I can move the article about potholes until next week." "Is that a yes?" Pip said. "Yes I'll make sure it goes in." He nodded, tapping the poster. "Though I'm sure he'll turn up OK." "Thank you, Stanley." She returned his polite smile. "I really appreciate that." She pivoted on her heels ro leave, but Stanley's voice stopped her before she reached the door.

"Mysteries always seem to find their way to you, don't they?"

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LOOK AT MA BF😭👉👈💖 Comments and reblogs are appreciated but not expected!💖

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acrookedbookshelf · 2 years

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Vampyria (first cycle) - Victor Dixen

I discovered Victor Dixen's work through his saga "Phobos" a few years ago. I liked it then but didn't follow his work until now. Going through the fantasy section of my trustworthy local bookshop, I fell upon the first three books of his new series: Vampyria.

I was curious, looking for good french authors, to see if there were writers that would suit my taste.

Once again, Dixen didn't disappoint me: he surpassed my expectations. And now I'm stuck while waiting for the new cycle of the series, so I will talk to you about the first one.

🩸 So what is Vampyria? 🩸

Have you ever imagined how the world would have been if supernatural, magic, and creatures existed? Vampyria did.

You are immersed into a dark world, stuck for 300 years in the 16th century. Louis XIV (yes, the Sun King himself), was turned into a vampire on the verge of death and decided to rule the entire world, and reshape society, nobility, and religion.

The world, now called "Magna Vampyria", is oppressing humans, who pay the tithe by donating blood. They live in the fear of the night, now unable to leave their village due to the enclosing law. Every member of the high nobility was turned into a vampire and is the one who receives the blood of the humans as well as the new church. You follow the adventures of Jeanne, a young grey-haired woman, who wants to kill the king after the assassination of her parents. And I can safely say, that she takes all the necessary measures to try to achieve her goal.

If you love fantasy, with a little bit of romance, a lot of drama, and vampires, you'll surely like these books.

🩸 My own, totally not vampiric, review 🩸

I didn't expect to like it at first. It took me a few pages to enter into the story, but it's always like this when I read Dixen's books. I'm not into vampires and was never truly a fan of them. But (and that's a big but), this series might have changed my mind about vampire literature.

This series works with "cycles" of books, and a cycle is the story told through the eyes of one character.

Even though the vampires are supposed to be enemies, I fell in love with the way they were described. They have their own rules as a society, with their codes, and their traditions... reading this book was like seeing a twisted version of the french court that we know and I loved it. More generally, it's like seeing a twisted version of french history, with the shadow of the Revolution behind every sentence.

I think that Dixen is doing a great job at piquing the interest of the reader. The more you advance the story, the more the plot thickens. His characters are all different, with their own mindsets and personalities and I always love to see a cast of characters that are not all lookalikes.

And, oh my god, the end (that serves as an introduction for the next cycle) is absolutely wonderful. It took me so off-guard that I had to reread it because I was too baffled to just go on.

So if you like vampires, history, and pirates (yes, pirates) you must give these books a shot.

🩸 Do I recommend these books? 🩸

Victor Dixen's style can be a hit or miss depending on the person. But for me, it was a massive hit, especially due to the world-building and the thrill of adventure and danger.

So, if you know Dixen's work: go ahead and have fun I recommend it. If you don't know Dixen's work: if you love fantasy and adventures you should totally give it a shot!

#victor dixen #vampyria #fantasy novel #books and reading #booksbooksbooks #book review #bookworm #vampire #uchronia #louis xiv #vampires

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lyubimyyy · 1 year

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- Wool and Gamble -

This is the fourth chapter of a series inspired by this post and roughly follows this post by @fearyandear about a Yandere servant! Princess’ POV

- Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4 - Chap 5 - Chap 6 - Chap 7 -

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CHAPTER 4: Purpose (Her POV)

It has been 3 years since the death of my trusted knight. He told me that it was a pleasure to serve me, but perhaps I was foolish back then. Having connections with the Information Guild fed into my hubris and the consequence had been paid in blood. I can even say that I have narrowly escaped death thanks to Jonas keeping quiet about my involvement in the “mutiny”.

“I’ve heard that you’ve not been meeting the expectations of your teachers.” The King moves a pawn in front of my knight. The chess pieces I have are fewer than his, but I assure myself they were not defeated in vain. As I’ve expected, whenever I set up a situation where the King would choose to defeat either a powerful piece or a pawn, he would choose the former. That predictability is what set the result of this game; he underestimated the pawn with limitless potential.

My pawn steps on the edge of the board. I swapped it for a queen chess piece. Checkmate. The King piece had not moved at all since the start of the match. I would expect nothing less from a stationary King that hides behind his council. “I’ve not been feeling well, Your Majesty. Thank you for your concern.” I reply in an even tone. I find this whole situation strange; the King had never called for me personally before.

The King coughed as if to clear the awkward air. “I’ve heard something about your involvement. I’m certain it has something to do with the former Knight three years ago.” He looks at me with an unreadable expression. “My council has been talking about it. You did not think I would catch wind of it now, did you?”

My blood ran cold. We weren’t the only ones there in the port that night. Where did the information come from?

A spy in Jonas’ ranks? No, he’s too meticulous to not spot a rat. His subordinates? No, that’s not right, they’re too loyal to do such a thing. The gruff knight that my dear Saber bit? I suppose it is hard to make up a reason for a human bitemark. The escaped trafficker? Maybe it was Count Steed himself---

The King laughed, “Daughter, why so nervous? I have only heard about you offering prayers and donations in the temple so fervently!” The King continued “The council could not believe it! The spoiled princess Ebony devoting her time to such good causes.” I was stunned speechless because of this twisted turn of conversation. I smile. Perhaps I should be thankful that the King’s information is so late and wrong. With the number of children he has, I’m not surprised.

“It’s Yvaine, Your Majesty.” I say suppressing another smile. Honestly, I was not offended, I even find the situation funny. The King does a Casling move. My queen ate the rook and has accomplished a checkmate once again.

“As I said!” The King was embarrassed. “Yvaine, you have done well in… spiritual matters, but it is no reason to set aside your studies.” He looks at the board “It would be a waste for that brain of yours, I’ve bestowed that treasure upon you, afterall!” He ends with a hearty chuckle while tapping the side of his right temple.

“Why did you name a worm Marvin?”

“… I shall keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”

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

“Marvin’s entire existence is to prove you wrong.” I say teasingly to Saber. “This is the fattest tomato you have ever seen, yes?”. I held up one of the juicy tomatoes that Marvin the earthworm helped tend to. It’s almost as red as Saber’s face. “Can you finally get me my snack? I’ve been asking for a while now.” I sigh.

“You’ve already eaten three tarts, two crumpets, a slice of toast, and a candy before meeting his Majesty.”

“Oh, come on, Saber! Please?” Something sweet would help relieve me of that sour taste I got from meeting my royal father. Saber opened his mouth to retort, but thankfully a few bats of my eyelashes softened him…. somehow, at least.

“… Fine, I’ll get you your snack.” As Saber walked away, I could hear him grumbling about things like “spoiled” and “last time to indulge her”. It was the same thing he said on my third tart, and yet he still brought me snacks without fail. I look back at my earlier conversation.

It was true that I had been a frequent visitor to the temple. The only things I prayed about were asking for forgiveness and a plea to something, some higher being, to remove the cancer from my people’s lives. My faith had done nothing to appease my grief, nor lift my spirits enough to have hope. The King is the highest power and absolute authority, two things I can’t even comprehend to have.

“… Here it is.” Saber put chocolate pudding in front of me. I poked it with a spoon and giggled at how it wiggled. “Good to know you’re memorizing the trail I taught you! How well have you memorized the Code of Herleinz?”

“… Are you sure that telling me the secret palace passageways is a good idea?” Saber asked me incredulously before dismissing the thought then speaking again “It’s a lesson about leadership and kingdom management, something YOU should be learning instead of me”.

“First of all, if it gets me my snack faster, then yes, it is a good idea.” I gave him a grin before eating a spoonful of pudding. “Isn’t it funny?” I swallow “How despite knowing the moral quality of good. One could still be persuaded by the pressure of adherence?”

The Code of Herleinz is a scholarly text that teaches how to maintain a kingdom, strategies on how to spot and quell rebellions, and rewarding conforming behavior. A disgusting piece of literature for the regnant class to keep the oppressed compliant, and if used as an antithesis, it can bring about the destabilization of a kingdom with enough power… or force.

Saber looked at me with unbelieving eyes “How would someone like you know obedience, when you have been so spoiled?” I simply take a bite from my pudding and exclaimed. “Oh! But I’m quite powerless, you know! So many siblings that my sad excuse of a father couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of his spawns.” I wave the spoon dramatically and slump in my chair “Ebony, he called me! Oh, how I feel so hurt!”

I could have sworn that for a split second, I saw sympathy flash in his eyes. It was gone before I could think more of it, though. “How could that be? You’re the most stubborn and fiery of all! You’re way too unforgettable for that, princess.”

“Oh hush, you’re only saying that, Saber.” I raise an eyebrow at him as he folds his arms in front of his chest.

“I’m not. I’d recognize your stupid smile from a crowd of royals any day.”

It seems that three years of serving me has brought us closer together. It almost makes me feel bad for using him like this, as the pawn to maneuver until it reaches the end of this metaphorical political board. Little by little, I shall foster his hatred for the royal blood, teach him our ways if only for him and his friends to finally unravel the twisted knots of this kingdom.

I slap the pudding from the table and watch it splatter on the ground. “I’m so clumsy! Saber, be a good staff and clean that up, would you?” Saber looked at me “… What is wrong with you?!”.

He knelt to clean the mess I made while I stood up only to stare down at his crouched form. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re becoming soft, Saber.” I said this with the most patronizing form I could muster. “Don’t forget your purpose for being here.”

By the end of this all, if the desire to ravage me is what it takes for him to cause an uprising and uproot this cursed bloodline, then so be it. The fire in his eyes might be hatred, but for me, it is hope for the people of this kingdom.

#nystb #yandere male #yandere butler #wool and gamble

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thatbipolargirl · 2 years

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5-30-2022

I know I haven't written in awhile, but life has gotten in the way. My Aunt Rita died on Tuesday, May 3rd at 1:04 in the morning after a short battle with pancreatic cancer. My Uncle Jim died of the same thing in 2008, so it could possibly be hereditary. Aunt Rita didn't suffer much, not nearly as much as Uncle Jim. Either way though, pancreatic cancer is an absolutely horrific way to die. My mom has been having severe pain underneath her left shoulder since the day of Aunt Rita's funeral on May 6th. It got so serious, she even went to the ER in Brookfield on Monday, May 9th thinking she was having a heart attack. The pain radiates around her side, so that is why she thought it was her heart. It wasn't thankfully. At first they thought it was gallstones, which she does have, but now they think it is arthritis. I was worried it was pancreatic cancer because that can cause all kinds of weird symptoms, but I think they've ruled that out. She is supposed to have an MRI of her back (and also an Upper GI for the gallstones). They did an ultrasound of the gallstones several weeks ago, but the doctor said it wasn't causing her pain. He said the biggest one was about 3/4 of an inch big, but it isn't blocking anything such as the bile duct, and a person generally only has pain if they start to move or if they are blocking a duct. So hopefully we will find out answers after her MRI. I'm worried about her, and I hate it that she's in any kind of pain whatsoever. Sometimes the pain gets so bad she can't sleep, which is just awful.

Addie had her baby on April 14th. It is a little boy and his name is Ashton Luke. He's thriving and seems to be such a sweet baby. We went to a Women's Rally in Maryville at the Nodaway County Courthouse on May 14th, and I got to hold him for a little while. It is so wonderful to cradle such an innocent soul and think about all the possibilities for him throughout his (hopefully) very long life. The reason they held the rally was because the US Supreme Court is about to overturn Roe v. Wade, which scares the hell out of me! I personally won't be affected, but millions and millions of women in this country will be, including all three of my nieces. I can't believe women are still fighting after 50 years of Roe being basically settled law. However, more than half of the states have been chipping away at reproductive rights since Roe was won, including Missouri. I literally don't know what to do to help women in the US, so I went to the rally and donated to both NARAL and Planned Parenthood. It would be nice to become a member of some kind of underground railroad for women seeking abortion, but as of now I haven't been made aware of one since abortion is still legal in most states at least for the next month when SCOTUS officially delivers their decision. Oh, also I donate to the Missouri Abortion Fund through Amazon Smile, so every purchase I make on Amazon goes to them. It is just pennies on the dollar for each transaction, but a little is better than nothing.

There have been a lot of mass shootings lately, the most recent one being at an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas. Nineteen nine, ten and eleven year olds were killed, along with two teachers. Now gun control is the main topic of the news, and the gun rights advocates are screaming "Second Amenement" at the top of their lungs, while others are screaming for stricter gun laws. All I know is that it is truly scary that I (yes, me) can buy a gun legally in Missouri even with all of my mental health issues. It should not be this way. I have literally had panic attacks thinking about me having a psychotic break, purchasing a gun (or guns) and shooting up a public place. It scares me to death that I could do something like that. It just isn't right that guns have more rights in the United States of America than women do. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that, but it is true.

I started to see a new therapist (yes, again). I think she is my 37th therapist I've had in my life. Her name is Ada Silvey, and she is 80 years old. I thought that would be a problem, but the woman is very sharp and remembers, in detail, every single thing I tell her. My worry now is that she will die after we make good progress, and then I will have to start all over again with a new therapist. Also, I've had recent visions of her dying during an actual session with me, which is scary as hell. She's been quite helpful so far, teaching me a new breathing technique and assisting me with my intrusive thoughts about death and dying and killing other people. I have been both suicidal and homicidal lately. That's why I started therapy again in the first place. I told Dr. Harden about the intrusive thoughts, and all he did was up my Zyprexa from 30mg to 45mg, which took away (most) of the intrusive thoughts, but took away most of my other thoughts as well. I felt like a catatonic zombie for a few days, but I stopped taking the extra Zyprexa, and now I'm feeling a bit better. The intrusive thoughts are back, but they aren't as bad as they were...yet. I need to find a new psychiatrist in St. Joe. Driving to Kirksville is such a pain in the ass. Especially for a fifteen minute appointment that could have been done over the phone. Dr. Harden does allow me to do every other session over the phone, which is nice, but it is harder to tell him the truth when I'm not looking him in the eyes. And I need to be very truthful about these suicidal and homicidal thoughts so I don't become a danger to myself or others. I seriously wish there was a hotline for homicidal thoughts, just like there are suicide hotlines. I'm sure there are many others like me, and that I am not the only one to have these thoughts.

I haven't talked to David in almost two months. He told me another outrageous lie about being raped, and I just quit communicating. I also think he has been talking to Jeanette or another woman while he's talking to me because he sent me a text that wasn't meant for me. I'm sick and tired of his lies -- muggings, hospitalizations, the murder of his best friend and now rape. Not to mention his constant lying about working or looking for work and his lies about drinking. I think I finally got him out of my system, and that there is no way he can redeem himself in my eyes. I have been struggling internally with the existence of fate and soulmates and twin souls since we quit talking. He fucked up what little faith I had in this universe, and now everything just seems so damn random, with no meaning at all when it comes to the big picture of everything. Fuck past lives and future lives and parallel lives. This life is all we get. That's it. End of fucking list. Also, fuck him for destroying my fragile faith. Alcoholic asshole who in no way is amazing to me anymore. I'm done. Finished. He can live out his miserable fucking existence without me, and I hope he suffers every single day for the rest of his life.

Something positive -- I am going to Hermann/Columbia with my mom, Holly, Angela, Callie and Cassidy this weekend. We are touring several wineries in Hermann on Saturday, then spending the night in Columbia and shopping there the next day. The one winery I really wanted to go to is closed for the weekend because of a family wedding. It is the Adam Puchta winery, and I think it is his son (or maybe grandson) that is getting married on the property. The other wineries we are for sure going to are Stone Hill and Hermannhoff. I'm glad Callie and Cass are going so they can drive our drunk asses around! Ha! With as rarely as I drink, I'm sure two glasses of wine will have me lit up like fireworks.

Jeremy hurt his back the other day, and it really frustrates me. He really needs to find a doctor here in town as soon as fucking possible. I'm sure he needs refills on his metformin, and he definitely needs blood tests for his diabetes. I don't even know the last time he had his A1C checked. Or his cholesterol. And now that he's over 40, he needs to start having a prostate exam once a year. Part of the contributing factors to my father's death was prostate cancer, and I'm not losing my husband to something that can so easily be detected and treated. Also, he needs to get a referral to the pain clinic so they can treat his back. No more fucking excuses about it being too expensive either. He has the money, he just doesn't like to spend it on anything that isn't food or video games. But this is his health, and like it or not, he's going to get healthcare or I'm going to go insane.

It is just now 6:30am, and I've already written a small novel today. I'm a little manic from not taking the extra Zyprexa last night. I fell asleep around 11:30 and then Boxxy woke me up at 4:00 this morning. I've got so much shit on my to-do list that I need to end this for now and get fucking busy.

Until then...

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ladyartemesia · 3 years

Text

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.

To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.

To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced.

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.

You would play along with their humiliating schemes.

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin.

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?”

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin.

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways.

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children.

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend.

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder.

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another.

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds.

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face.

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before.

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus.

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs.

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard.

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous.

A woman.

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it.

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone.

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens.

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high.

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back.

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you.

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen.

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage.

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees.

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served.

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation.

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste.

“Okay... What about Kang?”

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed.

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation.

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.

You shrugged.

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit.

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties.

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.”

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.”

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom.

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi.

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan.

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response.

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man.

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket.

Jungkook picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!”

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver.

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him.

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch?

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts.

You picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker.

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened.

“Are you alone?”

You snorted.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red.

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages.

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

He almost choked on his tongue.

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie.

You were exquisite.

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it.

Desire.

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.

Your head tilted in confusion.

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true.

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming.

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them.

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION

“The Park Angel?”

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand.

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!”

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child.

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively.

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream.

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing.

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape.

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet.

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz.

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee.

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing.

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter.

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else.

Something that felt an awful lot like longing.

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly.

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost.

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.”

Disaster struck at dinner.

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence.

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip.

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern.

“I-I need—”

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried.

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall.

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged.

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically.

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked.

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his.

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream.

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat.

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.”

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response.

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain).

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice.

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped.

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed.

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.)

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice.

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped.

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away.

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.”

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset.

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again.

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life.

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice.

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin.

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath.

“Do it.”

He nodded.

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once.

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets.

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest.

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you.

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this.

He gulped again.

“I can explain.”

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles.

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen.

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars.

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define.

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring.

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful.

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves.

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that.

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation.

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

I made it home safely.

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions.

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time.

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief.

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response.

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle…

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow.

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.

“Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color.

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him.

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper.

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through.

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare.

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest.

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one.

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante.

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily.

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?”

“WHAT?!”

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in.

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!”

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically.

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress.

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin.

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses).

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant.

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard.

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table.

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning.

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit.

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity.

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess.

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you.

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible.

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you.

Milo nodded.

“I—I figured.”

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune.

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.”

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate.

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.”

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm.

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off.

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed.

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.”

You grinned.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.)

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you.

You cleared your throat.

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way.

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort.

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him.

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you.

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded.

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it.

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?”

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak-

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you.

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet.

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.”

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season.

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines.

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them.

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it...

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were.

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame.

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel.

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass.

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before...

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view.

Lord have mercy.

“Of course not,” he coughed.

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well.

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event.

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails.

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest.

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd.

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.”

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go.

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!”

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend.

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars.

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.)

Then it was your turn.

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief.

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay.

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was.

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray.

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink.

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest.

No.

Milo was still bidding.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her.

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine.

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you.

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation.

And hope.

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company.

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey.

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it.

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship.

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction.

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart.

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it.

The next move was yours and you intended to make it.

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts.

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?”

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost.

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra.

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely.

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one.

He bit back a moan.

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You nodded.

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch.

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago.

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you.

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it.

It was for you.

He wanted you.

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving.

Touch me… please.

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath.

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank.

“Taehyung—“ you moaned.

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens.

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill.

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno.

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls.

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you.

And you wanted it.

Oh how you wanted it.

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled.

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast.

“Speak up.”

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice.

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands.

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed.

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse.

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room.

You grinned.

Greedy boy.

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration.

She would be a tease.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.

He shook his head.

I have officially gone insane.

The phone buzzed again.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we…

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture.

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe.

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast.

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned.

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him.

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph.

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back.

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains.

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!"

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air.

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce.

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling.

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket.

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear.

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast.

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt.

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp.

Both men winced.

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details.

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped.

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily.

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand.

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face.

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled.

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment.

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed.

Your dress tonight was deadly.

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg.

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long.

Oh help.

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation.

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline.

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that.

She is definitely trying to kill me.

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately.

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion.

It was like stepping into a fairytale.

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking.

You were breathtaking.

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago.

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened.

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I don’t really talk about it much.”

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness.

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away.

The Governor just shook his head and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty.

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening.

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up.

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman.

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner.

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned.

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back.

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.

“Some other time perhaps.”

Aubrey pouted prettily.

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look.

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you.

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly.

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned.

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous.

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction.

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good.

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head.

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it.

Alas.

You tilted your head speculatively.

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me.

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand.

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels.

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play.

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile.

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket.

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching.

Oh boy.

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him).

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily.

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate.

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move.

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid.

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence.

You glared.

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply.

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second.

Yet you made no move to stop him.

You should have.

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t.

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing.

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties.

“T-Taehyung—”

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.”

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this.

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot.

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment.

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering.

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb.

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward.

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy.

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.

Emotions were a funny thing.

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…

And occasionally eroded your common sense.

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.

Well that’s great.

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.

You almost giggled when you got a look inside.

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.

Reflection suite indeed.

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.

He had to kiss you then.

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.

Finally.

Everything was him.

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.

But not today.

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good.

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.

Almost.

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?"

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.

He grinned.

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.

Underneath a giant mirror.

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered.

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.

Then he was kissing you again.

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered.

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.

You gasped against him and he smiled.

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive.

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did.

You wanted it so so bad.

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.

Then your world caught fire.

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.

The feel of him was indescribable.

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.

He was bloomin’ magnificent.

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.

You were his.

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.

And now… he couldn’t look away.

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart.

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned.

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous.

Taehyung groaned.

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.”

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open.

Taehyung groaned again.

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened.

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

6K notes · View notes

silversatoru · 3 years

Note

Hi love! ❤️

Mkay so like.... Suguru walks in and finds out his gf has a cam acc- and just like straight up ruins her online

This has been on my mind all day but idfk how to write it

a/n: AHAH hey babe!!! this concept is 😌👌 so i hope i did you proud w this. also if ur really into the whole getting-ruined-online concept and you fuck w dabi may i recommended @katslutski ‘s smile for the camera series; it is one of my favs

getou suguru x f!reader

tags/warnings: masturbation, degradation, humiliation, dumbification, filming, facial, mild bondage, mild overstimulation

w/c: 1.4k

you rubbed your clit in rushed circles, projecting a cluster of fake high-pitched moans and arching your back for the camera. it really didn’t feel that great, but you were damn good at pretending it did — and the cash was flowing in as a result.

you could see the notifications of donations and new patrons popping up on the side of your screen and you let a soft sigh of satisfaction leave your lips. these fuckers were so horny that they’d send you stacks of their income just to see you fondle your cunt — pigs.

between the blood rushing to your ears from your approaching orgasm and the soft music playing through you room you didn’t even notice the sound of your front door opening. you were completely unaware of your boyfriend’s presence in your home until he was standing in your bedroom doorway — a confused but amused expression across his face.

“am i interrupting something?” he cocked an eyebrow at you.

“suguru! i thought you were busy today, i-” you scrambled to explain yourself and grab a sheet from your bed to pull over your exposed body.

“plans changed,” he shrugged and cut you off, entering your bedroom, “maybe you should start locking your front door when you’re doing shit like this”.

you stared at him with horrified eyes, worried that he might break up with you for this kind of thing — he didn’t seem mad but he definitely wasn’t happy either. you quickly lunged for your laptop/camera set-up, attempting to end your livestream, but suguru moved quicker. he grasped your wrist in his strong fingers and looked at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“leave it on, doll,” he purred at you, releasing your wrist and pushing you back towards the bed, “go ahead and finish the show for them”.

completely stunned, you fell back onto your elbows and gave him a hesitant look. it’s not like you were embarrassed or anything— shit, you did this like every day, but you were severely confused by his reaction.

he nodded at the computer screen with hazy eyes, “they’re waiting. why are you so shy all of the sudden? you should be used to having an audience”.

after a final moment of hesitation you leaned back, fingers returning down to your clit to resume where you’d left off. it was a little more awkward with suguru watching, but the way he was ordering you around was kind of hot, so your stiffness quickly faded.

and you knew your body well, what worked and what didn’t, so it was only a matter of minutes before you were rocking your hips into your hand and letting exaggerated whimpers slide between your teeth. the orgasm was mediocre at best, but you had to dress it up and wrap it in a bow for your precious patrons.

at some point during your little show suguru had rid himself of his clothing and was now climbing into the messy sheets with you.

“let me see your hands,” he stated blankly, his fingers gripped around the belt that had been looped through his pants just a few minutes ago.

“this is live you know,” you gave him a concerned look — you were confused but not opposed, holding your hands out behind your back.

“oh, i know,” he took care in gently wrapping your wrists together as tight as the belt would go and then helped you onto you knees.

the duskiness of his eyes filled you with a splendid mix of fear and excitement, but before you could even get a good look you were being shoved into the bed.

“put your face in the pillows, doll,” he ordered lazily as you faceplanted into one of the several pillows at the head of your bed.

his strong hands were quickly gripped around your hips, the tip of his rock-hard member brushing teasingly against your entrance. you were already practically dripping, the sticky liquids from your earlier orgasm still glistening around your edges. it made his access easy, his aching cock sliding with little effort.

“let’s show all of your fans how much of a dumb cock-whore you become when i’m inside you,” he thrusted using hard, firm strokes right from the start.

and of course he was absolutely right — you lost any inkling of a coherent thought once you were stuffed full with his length. you moaned, whimpered, and squirmed underneath him like the pathetic little cam girl you were. but with suguru, none of your performance was a façade — he truly knew how to make you melt under his touch. and melted and useless was exactly how he liked you, so he had every intention of fucking you dumb in front of your audience today.

and that’s exactly what he did. it was his own foul way of punishing you; turning you into a drooling cum-slut who had completely forgotten she was being broadcasted live. if you wanted to be a whore for a living, he’d show everyone just how much of a whore you were — but only for him.

you’re not even sure how long it’s been — all you know is that you’re orgasming for the fourth time; or was it the fifth? sixth? you’d lost count somewhere along the way.

dull waves of pleasure racked through your body and sent quivers under your skin. you whined and wriggled, murmuring incoherent babbles as you rocked your hips back and forth on his cock to milk the most out of your climax.

“that’s five times, baby,” suguru’s voice sounded miles away, “my dick feels good inside you, doesn’t it?”

you thrashed your head up and down against the pillow, mumbling the word yes over and over as your body twitched from overstimulation. glistening mixtures of fluids were squelching out as he continued thrusting into your cunt, some dripping all the way down your legs.

and he didn’t let you take any breaks — nonstop fucking you even while your pussy was throbbing with sensitivity. the overstimulation was excruciating, and you were a complete mess of trembles and whimpers.

“so pitiful,” you heard a dark laugh rumble from his throat, “there’s thousands and thousands of people watching you be my disgusting little fuck-toy right now, and you’re just gonna keep taking it, aren’t you?”

you weren’t even sure what he was saying, honestly. your brain had short circuited a while ago, and you were just absent mindedly nodding your head and mumbling agreements to everything he said. the pillowcase beneath your head was nearly soaked in saliva now too, your feeble mouth hanging open while drool continued to seep from the corners of your lips.

“i think i want you to finish me with your mouth, doll, how does that sound?” he slowed his pace, pushing lazy thrusts into your hips while you mindlessly nodded your head again.

“pathetic little baby; you have no idea what i’m even saying to you right now, do you?” you heard suguru laughing from behind you; but all you could manage in response was a few scattered whimpers.

he abruptly unsheathed himself from inside you, and strangled whines escaped your throat at his sudden absence. no! more, please, please, suguru please, you murmured with an embarrassing lack of control and your boyfriend couldn’t do anything but laugh at you in your shameful state.

“turn around and open those pretty lips,” he reached down and helped you to flip over before straddling your chest and pressing his hot, sticky member against your lips.

you opened them graciously, too braindead to even notice the bitter taste of his precum mixed with your own fluids. he mouth-fucked you with obscene force, the walls of your throat painfully expanding every time he thrusted in. you choked and sputtered, drool leaking down your lips and all over your chin.

when suguru’s own orgasm was right on the cusp he removed himself from your mouth and sprayed his seed all over your face. from your forehead to your chest you were coated in sticky globs of semen, and you sucked down the drips that made it into your mouth like they were liquid gold.

“lets see how many of your precious viewers come back after this — now that they saw you disintegrate into the helpless little cum slut that you are, now that they know you’re mine”.

#getou suguru #getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou #getou smut #getou suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #smut #geto suguru #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader

2K notes · View notes

parkersroses · 3 years

Text

champagne problems. | harry styles.

summary: Harry and Y/N meet again after things fell out for them.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k words

trigger warnings: mentions of mental health issues and attempt of self harm, angst. if these are triggering to you, pls do not read this.

a/n: (gif credits to @letsmakesomeonehappytoday) i’m super nervous about this, also this is definitely the longest i’ve written. i began writing this last december bc i absolutely love the context of the song and i felt like writing something that touches important issues like mental health. i read and did research on how i could write this properly without having it look like i was romanticising the topic. if you do find it that way, pls feel free to leave constructive criticism so i can further improve and amend on my writing. don’t feel obligated to read this if it is triggering to you. here is a link to some mental health hotlines, i might add some more in another if i find any that are reliable. don’t be afraid to ask for help or even help others if you know they might be struggling.

reblog, comment if you like it or not, or even start a conversation. donate to my kofi if you’d like to support me further. i love you all.

The relaxing and sensual sound of jazz music filled the room. The chandeliers hanging above casted a golden glow over it, making the room more elegant than it did. People were dressed in nice clothing for the new year celebration.

Harry was not one for New Year’s eve parties, having to prefer sitting in the comfort of his home, sipping on some champagne as he tries to ignore the loud fireworks going off. But considering it was one of his old friends that was hosting this particular party, there was no way he would deny it. He enjoyed having to see his old friends again after a busy year of filming a movie for the world to see one day.

He stands with his friend, Jake, as he holds a champagne flute in one hand. Talia, his recently girlfriend-turned-fiancée, standing next to him with an arm wrapped around his waist. It had been two weeks since he proposed and two weeks since she said yes to marrying him. It was a joyous time for them after nearly a year of dating. Some might think they rushed but Harry ignored them. He knew if the time was right, then it would be bound to happen eventually.

Harry’s eyes scan through the sea of people while Jake and Talia are discussing animatedly about something he probably isn’t paying attention to all that much. His eyes wander around until they fall on a familiar figure. He blinks his eyes hard enough to make sure they aren’t playing tricks on him, and they aren’t. The person who he knew and loved before. The person whom he intended to spend the rest of his life with. The person who left him, not giving him a reason as to why.

Y/N stands with Natalia, occasionally sipping on her champagne as they talk. He should have known that their group of friends would stay in touch with her, even after they broke up years ago. She wears her casual dark jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt and heeled boots. A contrast to those around them, wearing fancy dresses and suits. She always stood out in her own way. It was why he loved her then.

Harry let out a breath, seemingly couldn’t believe that his ex lover is here in the same room as him. Talia notices this and questions, “Babe, you alright?” Harry breaks away his gaze from Y/N before smiling at his dear fiancée. “Yeah, m’fine. Just saw an old friend, s’all,” he assures her as he sips on his drink.

“Oh, d’you want to talk to her?” She asks, and Harry shakes his head because if he did, he wouldn’t know how to act or say to her. “No worries. Maybe later,” he says.

As time passes, Harry finds himself focused on Y/N numerous times. In his mind, he is already thinking of ways to talk to her. What would he say to her? Would she even want to talk to him? Or were they going to pretend everything was fine before she left him?

When he looks around for her again, he freezes as he sees her eyes staring right back at her, almost looking in shock as he is there too. There is a glimmer in her eyes that he always noticed. She gives him a small yet timid smile from across the room before breaking away from the eye contact.

Harry decides to pick up what’s left of his courage in his body to walk over and greet her. He leans into Talia’s ear, whispering to her. “I’m just going to meet an old friend. You’ll be okay here?” He says. Talia looks up at him and nods. She assures him that she’ll be alright, saying that she’ll talk to some other of their friends.

As he leaves her side, he walks through the sea of people to look for the person he hadn’t seen in a long time. Harry finds her grabbing another glass of champagne from a nearby tray and he smiles at this. He always knew she liked champagne. She doesn’t notice him walking up to her until he clears his throat. She turns around and her breath hitches as she sees him. Harry’s mouth dries up instantly as his eyes gazes upon her. Despite years of knowing her, he still found her beautiful.

The corner of his lips curls up slightly. “Hi,” he says quietly, his breath slightly shaking as he spoke. He isn’t sure whether she heard him, but her reply seems to answer that. “Hi,” she replies, with the same nervousness in her voice.

“Fancy seeing yeh here,” he chuckles. Y/N smiles at this; while it was awkward to have seen her ex in a long while, he never fails to make the situation comfortable for them. “Y-Yeah, you too,” she stutters.

She is not going to admit it aloud, but she misses the sound of his voice. How deep and raspy it could get. She misses his voice being the first thing she hears when she wakes up, or the hums she would hear in her ear as they would dance with no music on. She misses his touch whenever he holds her close, warmth and protection radiating from his body onto hers. She misses everything about him despite them not being together anymore for a long time, she admits but never out loud.

Silence fills the gap between as they both figure out what to say. On one hand, they can pretend everything is alright and converse like old friends. On the other, they can push their fears aside and talk about what is actually in their minds that seem to have an affect on their current relationship.

“So, how’ve yeh been?” He hesitates to ask. He’s not sure whether she would lie to him or give him the proper answer he needs. The answer he wishes he knew. Y/N doesn’t know how to answer that without making it sound as depressing as it is. There had been many times she wanted to give him a reason why she left him, to give him a little bit of closure that he deserves. Perhaps it is her pride that prevented her from doing so.

“I’m alright,” she says with a small smile on her lips. Her answer could be a lie or the truth. “And, you?”

He nods slightly at her answer. “I’ve been alright,” He gives her tight smile back. “Been a while since I last saw you,” he says and she nods. “Y-Yeah, way too long,” she says quietly. It’s hard to ignore how insincere the smile he gave her is. Y/N knows him all too well, even when they were no longer together. She knows by that smile that there’s something on his mind, something he wants to say. But she doesn’t question it.

Harry is aching to ask her. To ask what happened between them, why she left him without a warning, why she had to break his heart the way she did.

It’s almost like she senses what he is thinking because she then suggests to him. “Want to go outside for a bit?” She gestures to the backyard with her head.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Harry breathes out. He almost cringes at how desperate he sounds. “Um, after you,” he says, gesturing his hand towards the door. She softly thanks him and Harry follows right behind her outside.

“So-”

“I-”

The pair speak simultaneously as they walk and they both laugh at it. “Sorry,” she says. Harry dismisses this. “No worries.”

“You look great, by the way,” she says. Harry smiles at her compliment. “Thank you. You look amazing too,” he returns the compliment. She blushes a bit before muttering a soft ‘thank you’ under her breath.

The cold air wraps around the two bodies that once knew each other’s intimately. The stars look brighter that night and Y/N takes a deep breath as she stares up at the sky. She doesn’t realise how Harry looks at the small breath she let out, or how he admires her side profile like he used to when she sleeps. He stares at her for a bit more, like he’s remembering again what she looks like, before averting his eyes to the night sky.

“Saw you had a date back there. Someone special I assume?” She asks out of the blue. Harry freezes in his place. “Y-Yeah, she is,” he blurts out and clears his throat. “My fiancée, actually,” he says and he looks at her to see her reaction.

Y/N is surprised at first, feeling her whole body tense up before she relaxes. But Harry catches it. “That’s great. Congratulations, Harry,” she smiles at him before turning back the stars. She promises she is genuine about it. But maybe she’s just telling herself that. “How long have you both been together?”

“Nearly a year now,” he says. Y/N lets his answer sink in her head. A year, she thought. We were together longer than that for you to propo-

“Seems like a short time, huh?” She jokes, but Harry only gives a small smile. “Is it though? Too soon to ask if we’re both ready?” He says, as if he’s mocking her and something. And that sent a shard through her chest. Harry curses at himself, he shouldn’t be saying things like that despite them not being together anymore. She looks down at the ground like it was suddenly the most interesting thing and shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she apologises. Harry is quick to shake his head at her. “No, no. I’m sorry for how I said it. You did nothing,” he says. Y/N is silent for a bit before saying back to him.

“No, really. I didn’t mean to make things weird or uncomfortable between us. I’m just.. Sorry,” she says.

“How are you, Y/N?” He asks genuinely. Y/N is confused at first, wondering why he is asking the same question again. “I already told you, Harry. I’m alri-,”

“I mean, how actually are you?”

She turns to him, seeing as Harry is already looking at her with a solemn expression. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he says softly, almost sounding like he doesn’t want to scare her. And she knows what he meant and what he wants to know.

Y/N suddenly feels a lump forming in her throat and breathes in deeply. She clears her throat, hoping her voice doesn’t waver when she speaks. “I promise I’m okay, Harry. I just,” she sighs and closes her eyes.

“I don’t know. I’ve been getting by on my own. Trying to work on myself, you know, since,” her words falter, but Harry knows what she means. Since she left him without an answer to one of the most important questions in life. He nods his head slightly even though she doesn’t see it.

He lets out a sigh as he looks up at the starry night. “You know, it’s… kind of surreal. Us being here I mean,” he says. Y/N looks at him again with confusion written all over her face. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. I called but you never seem to answer. I just wanted to see how’ve yeh been, you know?” He confesses, throwing this big weight out in the open.

Y/N has her head hung low, like a child being scolded for stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar. But she knows he means well. And she hates how not only she caused problems for herself, but the person she once loved.

“I just… I miss my best friend, Y/N. I miss having her around,” he says, and he doesn’t realise how his words hit her like a truck. She breathes in sharply, feeling a slight pain in her throat. “And you don’t think I felt the same way then?” She asks softly, her voice already wavering.

Harry shakes his head. “No, love, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry,” He’s quick to apologise but she dismisses it while ignoring the fact that he called her a very familiar pet name he used to use on her. “It’s fine,” she says, and her voice is almost quiet enough for you to not hear her.

“It’s just,” she breathes out and she looks up hoping that tears won’t escape her eyes. “I wanted to let you in. I could’ve answered the phone. But I didn’t. I know how bad I left things between us, H.” Harry’s heart jumped a bit at hearing her say ‘H’ again. She used to always call him that. It still sounds lovely as it leaves her lips.

“I wish I could’ve told you why I left you kneeling with the ring still in your hand. I couldn’t, though. Maybe I wasn’t ready that time, or never was.” It hurts for her to say this because she has imagined spending the rest of her life with him countless times. “I’ve had this constant battle in my mind for so long. I thought that maybe if I ignore it, it’d be like it never was there and we’d be alright. But it got worse and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I held it on for so long and I couldn’t say anything because I knew I’d somehow ruin everything. Well, I did in the end.” And she feels tears streaming down her face.

Harry feels his tears escaping his eyes too, but doesn’t make the effort to wipe them away. As if he’s paralyzed in where he stands. “A-And, what happened after that?” he asks ever so gently.

Y/N wipes her tears away and takes a deep breath before continuing the sad story they’re on. “I lived with it and the thoughts consumed my mind. S-Sometimes, they can get dark.” She confesses but not all at once. She won’t tell him how she felt herself crumbling down and how her mother found her unconscious in the bathroom, overdosing on some pills she found. She won’t tell him how hard she cried in her hospital bed over the pain she was in. It felt like a shard puncturing through Harry’s heart. The fact that she had been struggling all this while and he never noticed it, it kills him.

“Then, one day, I just decided to find help. I knew I needed help. And I’ve been having sessions with a psychiatrist for a few months now.” And she smiles through her tears. “I’ve been working a lot on myself, been on medication and all. Then, maybe one day, when I feel ready for it, I’d come find you, apologise for the problems I caused between us. Didn’t think it’d be tonight, though.” She jokes and hangs her head low again, like she’s scared to see what Harry thinks of her now. Just a girl who’s sick in the head.

There is an uncomfortable silence between them and Harry speaks up again. “You infuriate me sometimes, you know?” Y/N looks at him and his eyebrows are pressed together like he’s mad. She is once again confused at what he meant. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve helped you. I would’ve,” he pauses and runs his fingers through his brown curls, taking a breather so he won’t actually lose his temper. But for Y/N, it’s like she wanted him to scream at her. Yell at her for leaving him behind for her own selfish needs.

“I would’ve looked after you,” he says softly, and it’s heartbreaking to hear the pain in his voice. “I didn’t want to burden you, H. I wouldn’t do that to you,” she says gently and Harry shakes his head at her. “Is that what you thought? That you’d burden me?” She only shrugs at him with a sad smile.

“I heard it before.” She says, and it makes Harry furious that anyone would toss aside the state of her mental health. “It’s not because of your job, Harry. Or your fans,” she assures him. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with what I’ve been going through. You deserve someone who isn’t as fucked in the head as I am,” she says.

Harry now has tears running down his cheeks. He now wishes he could go back and actually pay more attention to her, instead of being ignorant to it. He remembers when she left, the neighbourhood had quite a bit to say about the rejection, particularly on her. They often talked about how insane she was to deny his proposal because marriage is what every woman needs, right? Granted, he told them off not to speak about Y/N so poorly ever again, but he still wishes he could’ve seen the signs when it got worse for her.

Now, she stands in front of him, and it might be wrong to admit this, but she still looks just as beautiful as the day he lost her. Her eyes still have the same shine and her smile still has the same warmth to it. He lets out a small laugh. “This is not how I actually planned to spend my New Year’s eve,” he says jokingly and they both laugh, almost like the entire sad conversation did not occur. “I know,” she says, smiling at him. She doesn’t realise how her words took him back to when they would get drunk on wine while watching romantic comedies together on their couch.

“This is quite an interesting relationship you and I have,” he says smiling as he looks up at the starry night. She smiles at him too before doing the same. It’s the comfortable silence filling the gaps between them now. Just two people under the stars, one has it all figured out while the other has champagne problems.

She looks back at the building, gold lights still shining as people are getting drunk and ready for the countdown. “You should probably go back to your fiancée, H,” she says. Harry sighs as their time together has come to an end and nods. “Um, it was really great seeing you, Harry,” she says as her feet fidgets against the ground. She feels like a teenager talking to her crush again.

Before he even thinks, Harry has his hand up, brushing off the piece of hair of face, and his thumb lightly brushes over her cheeks a bit. “You too, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. Y/N feels her face warm up, before nodding her head at him and leaving. “Where’re yeh going?” He calls out to her. Without looking back, she calls back to him. “Home!”

He only looks at her leaving for a moment before calling out to her again. “Y/N, wait!”

Y/N stops in her tracks and looks back at him. “Um,” he fumbles on his words. “If I call you, not tonight, or tomorrow, just if any day after this, because we’re on good terms, uh,” he blurts out his words as she watches him, amused by what he wants to ask. “If I call, will you answer? Like I said before, I miss my best friend,” he shrugs and has almost a pleading look. Y/N’s heart melts at him and she smiles.

“I will, H,”

❊

Since their last meeting, a lot of things have been on his mind and one of them was Y/N. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her and the conversation they had. He knew now that it must’ve taken a lot of bravery to speak up about what she was going through. And he was proud of her. He really was.

He has been thinking about calling her for a while. He just doesn’t know what he’ll say. He wants to know how she’s feeling even though he’ll never know what it felt like for her to go through the dark times she went. But he could try to understand. He owes her that, at least. He spends some of his time off reading about mental health issues and educating himself more now.

Talia wanted to start planning their wedding, which makes Harry fill up his schedule more between wedding plans and music plans. He tries his best to accommodate whatever Talia wants for their special day. Though, sometimes he finds himself not focusing on the shades of white she suggested for her dress.

Sometimes, Talia would get mad at him for not prioritizing their wedding, seemingly as it was a very important thing for them, well, more for her. She gets mad at him for not focusing on their plans instead of hiding in his studio. She once told him to get his act together because if he wasn’t serious about this, he never would have asked her to marry him. That knocked a nail on the head as she stormed out of the room after another small argument.

Part of him thinks it's the thought of marriage finally sinking in his head. He has the girl, he got a ‘yes’, it should be as exciting as when he asked her. But he finds himself in and out of planning, always reverting his focus back to music, like he’s stalling. He still hasn’t told Talia about Y/N, but there was no need to since he’s with her and not Y/N. When Talia asked about his slightly red eyes at the party, he lied and said something was in his eyes. She believed it, of course.

Now, he’s thinking back to the situation with Talia. He admits he hadn't been paying attention to her as much as he should or helping out with their wedding. But her words now stuck with him. If he wasn’t serious about marrying Talia, he wouldn’t have asked her. He tells himself that he really does love her and he knows she loves him. So why is he hesitating almost at the thought of marriage? Why does it feel like he’s leading her on? He was so sure he wanted her. Unless he only asked her for the hell of it and to not be lonely.

He sits quietly in his little studio with his thoughts as his company. What is he really doing? He really doesn’t know.

❊

She’s laying down on her sofa, staring up at the ceiling again. She does this a lot, having nothing much to do at home other than rereading the books on her shelf or following a recipe for a delicious meal. Instead, she lays down staring at the blank ceiling thinking of how her life went. And in the state of all nothingness, she thinks of him.

Meeting Harry again opened up a whole jar of emotions she kept hidden. It was no doubt that she still cared for him. She was still in love with him and if they were in another universe, she’d tell him that. She’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to him, for causing so much hurt to him. But she couldn’t. He belongs to someone else now. Someone who is more worthy of his love and time. And she’s happy for him, genuinely she is.

As she thinks about him, she recalls back to the days before it all went wrong. She remembers being scared. She had found his mother’s ring in between his clothes as she was putting away their laundry. She remembers being terrified of the commitment Harry was in. She knew for certain that he would ask her sooner or later. But for her, she still doesn’t know. She wants to marry him, but is she ready for it? Is she worthy of him devoting his love and time to her for the rest of his life?

That’s when the doubts came in. She was always battling the thoughts in her head more often after finding out that he might propose to her. She keeps a disguise up, pretending she’s not screaming for help or suffering, hoping that maybe it’ll go away and when he asks, she’ll say the answer he wants to hear. But she didn’t keep the disguise up for long.

When they arrived at Harry’s family home, she was overwhelmed. She saw the bottle of expensive champagne on the kitchen table. Their friends were there too. She was told they were just having a family gathering along with their friends, but she knew what was about to happen.

Nothing could prepare her for when Harry pulled her out the backyard, kneeling down in front of her with his mother’s ring in hand. She could still remember the look on his face, so bright and in love, then having to see it all disappear and his expression drop. He was speechless, so speechless that it took him a minute to snap out of it and run after her as she exited the house. She passed by the living room and had a glance of how everyone was rather to celebrate; no applause or cheers of congratulations were made.

She felt a lot of things that day. Pain, embarrassment, guilt, regret.

Now, a year later, she likes to think she’s doing better, not only for her family or Harry, but for myself. It’s safe to say it was going well for her, she definitely felt better. That dark part of her life was always going to be a part of her, but she was glad she did something about it.

She had struggled a lot before asking for help. She always had trouble sleeping and always felt herself drained to the core. She took some sleeping pills in hopes to feel better. Until one day, she just decided to down the whole bottle like she was downing a bottle of alcohol. She was lucky enough that her mother was around when she found her, her father too was quick enough to call an ambulance. It was too hazy for her to remember precisely what happened after. When she got admitted, she cried to her mother of how much pain she was in, and it killed her. She thinks of how selfish and stupid it was for her to do something like that. That’s when she decided she needed help, like really needed help.

It’s funny how life works sometimes. A few months ago, she was found nearly dead. She has been recovering now. It took a while to open up during her psychiatry sessions and her mother monitored her to make sure she was doing alright. She lives alone now, but still has her mother check up on her. She didn’t find it annoying, in fact she asked her mother to watch over her a bit because she doesn’t trust herself.

She’s healthier now, keeping herself busy to reflect and work on herself. And it did cross her mind a few times before to find Harry, to maybe apologise to him. But she thought that perhaps he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. And that’s okay for her. Plus, she always hoped that he would find someone else that’ll love him just as much as she did him.

He hasn’t contacted her since they last met and she wonders whether he’s scared of doing so. Then again, she hasn’t made the effort to contact him too. Maybe they’re both scared.

She was about to get up and make herself some coffee after feeling a bit thirsty. She takes out a mug and sets it on the counter before she hears a knock on her door. She freezes in her place, her face scrunches up in confusion. She doesn’t remember having anyone making plans to come by. She hasn’t contacted her friends in a while and her parents would have told her that they would visit.

Knocks on her door snaps her out of her trance as she realises she is still in the kitchen. She slowly walks up to the door and looks through the peephole. To her surprise, she sees Harry standing right before her door. She pulls herself back from the door and thinks for a moment. How did he know where she lived now? Why is he here when he could have just called her?

Realising that he’s probably waiting outside for too long, she takes deep breaths and opens the door. There he is. Standing in his usual white t-shirt where you could see his tattoos through it, his black joggers hugging his muscular legs with some sneakers on his feet. His hair is a bit disheveled and she could imagine him running his fingers through it in a nervous and stressful manner.

“Hi,” he says breathily. His expression is somewhat hopeful, she thinks. “Hey,” she replies, giving a small smile. He’s fidgeting on his feet, something she knows he does when he’s nervous. So why is he nervous? She’s trying to come up with different theories in her head.

“Um, may I come in?” Harry asks. Y/N snaps out of her thoughts again and nods quickly, opening the door wider for him to walk through, hearing him mumbling a small ‘thanks’ under his breath. Harry looks around the small new apartment she now lives in, smiling at how it is very much her character the way she put things together.

She locks the door behind her and clears her throat as she faces him. “Sorry for showing up out of the blue like this,” he apologises. She only smiles and shakes her head. “No, no worries. I was just... wondering how you found where I live. I don’t think I ever told you that,” she says questionably.

The corner of his lips lift up just slightly. “Your mother, actually,” he says. She rolls her eyes playfully at this and lets out a small laugh. Of course, her mother would let him know where she lived. Her parents always loved Harry and treated him as family. Even when they fell apart, they still cared about him. After all, he was one of the only good things in her life that she cherished.

“Of course, she would. She still loves you for all I know,” she says with a sheepish smile. Harry throws his back in laughter and it makes her smile even more. “Well, I guess I might have to visit them again some time,” he says, smiling cheekily at her.

For a moment, it feels like everything was normal between them.

She shakes her head at him as she plays with her fingers, something he knows she does when she is nervous. “Um, I guess you’re here to talk about something else?” She asks, and she sees how his smile falters just a bit. “Yeah, actually,” he mumbles under his breath, but she hears him.

She nods with a tight smile on her face, seemingly trying to mask her anxiousness behind it. “Okay. Uh, just, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a glass of water,” she says, hurrying off to the kitchen before Harry could say anything. She sets a glass down and gets a jug of water. Her hands are shaking just a bit and she tells herself to calm down. It’s just Harry, she thinks. Whatever he wants to say couldn’t be that bad. Right?

She comes back to the living room where Harry is. He hasn’t sat down on the couch, instead he’s just standing in the middle of the room, looking around and admiring the little touches she put like the indoor plants and the paintings on the wall. She gently sets the glass down on the coffee table, the glass making a ‘clink’ sound on the surface. Harry turns around to face her and smiles, his little dimple making an appearance on the corner of his lips. She smiles back at him before clearing her throat.

“You had something you wanna say?” She asks, fiddling with her fingers. Harry nods slightly. “Yeah, I do. Um,” he begins as he rubs the back of his neck lightly.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to say, been practicing the words in my head. So, I’m sorry if it ends up a mess,” he says, letting out a small laugh. She laughs a bit with him too. Nodding as she gestures for him to continue, he breathes in deeply before letting his words out.

“After we met last time, I, uh,” he begins and she swears she could hear how loud and fast her heart is beating. “I’ve just been reflecting on how we left things off. And I promise I meant to call you sooner, but I just didn’t know what I’d say that won’t make things weird and awkward,” he stops to look at her for a moment and the expression on his face is almost so familiar to her.

“When you told me your story, I felt a lot of things. I felt… upset and angry that I couldn’t read the signs that were so evidently there. I thought maybe I realised it sooner, or tried harder to help, I could’ve helped you and you wouldn’t have felt to have gone through it alone. I hated how you were alone in this and how you helped like you couldn’t talk to me about,” His breaths are shaky, like he might break any minute. She wants to caress his face so badly, comfort him, but she knows it wouldn’t be appropriate. He’s still engaged to someone else after all.

She looks down at her floor, taking a gulp in her throat. “Harry, what are you saying?” She asks ever so softly.

“I’m saying that… you don’t have to go through it alone, darling. I’m saying that I wanna be there for you now. Albeit it has been months, but,” he pauses to take a breath. “If you give me a chance, to let me in, I promise to always be there for you and to be by your side all the time. Whenever you need me.”

Y/N takes a moment to process what he had just said, shaking her head at him. “Harry, I,” she takes in a sharp breath. “I don’t think you need to do that.” Harry’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Why not?”

“I just, I don’t want to burden you. I’ve already made it hard for my parents enough,” she says, trying to convince him even though all she wants is for him to be by her side. He shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “You’ll never be a burden to me, love. I want to be there for you always. It’s my choice to do this,”

“What about your fiancée? What’s she gonna think about her fiancé or husband soon when he’s out there looking after some girl, Harry?”

“You’re not just some girl, Y/N. You’re my best friend. And I,” he pauses in his words again and takes a deep breath. “What?” She asks nervously.

The corner of his lips lift up just slightly and his expression almost looks guilty. “And I’m in love with you,” he says and that’s when she feels that her heart stops. He loves me, she thinks. All the time, she thinks the feelings would have gone away but here he is, in her living room, telling her he’s in love with her.

“No,” she says. Harry is surprised by her response. “No?” He repeats.

“You’re not in love with me anymore, Harry,” she says, almost like she’s trying to convince herself that. “Yes, I am, love. I’m still in love with you, even after all this time,” he says desperately to her.

“Don’t do this to me, Harry. It’s not funny,” she says as her voice starts to waver. “It’s not fair to your fiancée for you to say this.” It’s funny to her how she still doesn’t know her name, but maybe she doesn’t know hers either. Harry steps closer to her and his heart breaks a little when she steps back.

“Darling,”

“Don’t, Harry! Please,” she practically begs him. “Just go back to her. It’s been a good talk and it’s good to see you again but you have to leave,”

“I don’t want to leave you, Y/N,” he says and it’s surprising how calm he is at this moment.

“Harry, I,”

“I’m not engaged anymore,” he says, cutting her off. She stares at him in shock and disbelief. “What do you mean?” She asks. He sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I broke it off with Talia. There won’t be any wedding,” he confesses.

“So what? You broke up with her just to look out for me? Are you insane!?” She exclaims. She doesn’t want to believe that he broke up with her because of her. She thinks back if she would’ve hid from him during the party, he’d still be in a happy relationship with Talia with no problems. Once again, she’s thinking it’s all her fault.

“I’m as sane as I can be,” He says, raising his voice slightly to match her tone. She shakes her head, paces in her place, muttering ‘no’s to herself. “Darling, look at me,” Harry says gently as he steps closer to her. “No, this isn’t happening,” She’s now muttering words to herself and it breaks him even more to think she might think this is her fault when it’s not.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he says as he tries to get her to look at him, but to no avail, she keeps her eyes away from him. “No, Harry. We can’t,” she says and she realises now how tears are starting to fall from her eyes. “Yes, we can, darling! Just listen to me,” he tries to convince her.

“You belong with Talia, Harry! Someone who has her life put together, a-and, someone who’s not fucked in the head as I am! She’ll make you happy!” She tells him, almost trying to convince him to go back and fix his relationship.

“She won’t make me as happy as I was with you. It wouldn’t be fair to her,” Harry says to her as he tries to cup her face and wipe her tears. “What wouldn’t be fair to her? Huh?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to lead her on when I’m in love with you!”

And then, everything stops. Silence fills the room and all you could hear are the heavy breaths between them. Harry runs his hand over his face before speaking again. “I tell myself that I’ll be able to love again after you. But the love I’ll have for any other will never amount to the love I have for you. It wouldn’t be fair to move on with Talia when all I could think about is you. When I know I’ll always be madly in love with you,” he tells her, his voice wavering with every word he says.

She breathes in shakily, feeling the painful lump in throat. “Maybe if we hadn’t met that night, you wouldn’t have to think like that,” she says so softly under her breath, like she was ashamed. She looks down like a child being scolded by a parent.

She hears him stepping closer to her and this time, she doesn’t step back away from him. She feels his hand under her chin, lifting her head up so she has no choice but to look at her. His forest-green eyes, ever so beautiful, are glossy with the tears he holds. “I wish you’d stop thinking that this is your fault when it’s not, darling,” he says gently to her.

She realises how close their faces are together, feeling his breath hitting her face as they stare at each other with the same look. She sees it in his eyes. Love. And maybe it’s because she’s emotionally exhausted or she realises how there is still love in his eyes for her and only her.

She gently yet hesitantly puts her hand on his cheek, seeing as how he leans into her touch with his eyes closed, as if he misses her touch all this time. She doesn’t waste another second before pulling his face closer and letting their lips crash against each other. Harry is quick enough to reciprocate the action. His hand that is not on her hand wraps itself around her torso so move her closer to her. All he wants is to be close to her.

She whimpers into the kiss as she feels tears streaming down her face again. She misses this. She misses his kisses, how soft and plump his lips feel against hers and how they taste. She misses the way he pulls her closer to him because he doesn’t want any space in between them. She misses him.

They don’t know long they have been kissing until they break apart to catch their breath. She feels dizzy after the kiss while he feels like he’s on cloud nine. Their lips still brush against each other and Harry pecks her lips softly as she whimpers at the action.

“I love you,” she finally tells him. And it feels so good to say it again to him. Harry sighs shakily, almost in disbelief that she said those three words, and his lips break out into the biggest smile. “Really?” He asks. She giggles as her hands cup his face.

Harry sighs and leans his head back with his eyes closed, looking so bliss in the moment. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again? I wasn’t paying attention,” he says teasingly with a smug smile on his face. Y/N gasps and playfully punches his shoulder a bit, making him laugh.

“I love you, you handsome idiot,” she says laughing at him. Harry shakes his head with a wide stupid grin on his face. He rests his forehead on hers, their noses brushing against each other’s. “Again, please. Just so I know I’m not dreaming this,” he says, his eyes closed as he savours in the moment.

She grabs his face in her hands and pulls him away so she could look at him. He notes how soft yet small her hands felt as caresses his face. “I love you,” she says again, more gently but having more love and passion in her words. And she loves saying it because she does.

She has always loved him and always will love him. Her beats for him as his does for her. Her thoughts are filled with nothing but him. Looking at him now, he feels just as lovely and beautiful as the days they were together before. She knows that she’ll never love another as much as she loves him. She’ll fully admit that she is crazy, stupidly, madly and truly in love with him.

Harry smiles ever so lovingly at her as his large hands cup her face. At this moment, it feels right, like they belong together. Despite the odds and struggles she had to go through, he promises to never leave her side, to always be around, to always be the shoulder she needed to cry on, to lend her his arms to give her the warmth and comfort she deserves. And he admits that he is truly, madly and deeply in love with her too.

“I love you too,” he says as he brings their faces closer to each other, enclosing the gap between their lips again. He misses the way her lips gelt and how sweet they taste against his. He swears he’ll never get tired of loving her. Their lips move against each other slowly and gently as they try to savour in the moment. A moment that just felt right to them. For a moment, her champagne problems are forgotten, even though it’s still something that will always be a part of her.

They part away soon after, now staring into the eyes they fell in love with. Their smiles are permanently inked on their faces as the two lovers look at each other with the only things they have on their mind that will get them through.

Love and hope.

And somehow, that was everything.

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