#watch as i keep drawing things that r too dark to see

[joonberriess]

k e r o s e n e

⋆ TAGS — cheating, older!oc, oc’s a mommy (her hubby’s a hunk), obsessive!jk, blackmail, dead dove do not eat, non-con and dub-con (oc never says yes at all bc she’s coerced even if she "gives in"), dark, smutty smut, tit play, mentions of breast milk, protected sex and then unprotected sex (dw reader is secure n safe!), harassment bc jk does not take no for an answer, threats that oc lowkey gets hot n bothered by, exhibitionism but my way (SPOILER: someone gets fucked next to a sleeping body), some plot, slight(?) dirty talk, jealous!jk, jk is not a good guy at all, oc’s morals r questionable 2, open-ending, SOMEONE DIES sooo, office sex, angry(?) sex, drugging, meanie!jk, degradation, breeding kinks r mentioned, misogyny and objectification, possessive!jk

⋆ WORD COUNT — 15 k

I can live in your dreams, will you be my fantasy little baby? 

“Oh, it’s you.” You let a breath of relief from your lips, “Did you need something?” There’s a small pause and you end up averting your eyes. 

The tension is heavy and it has your stomach twisting in knots out of anticipation. Your eyes flicker over to him and you make eye contact in an instant. You stare into his eyes nervously as an all too familiar sensation of feeling like prey washed over you. 

“Always so cold,” Jungkook’s steps are calculated and slow, his dark gaze stays on you the entire time, “but for you though? I’ll take anything y/n.” He stops in front of your desk with a wicked little smile, “My bad–Mrs l/n.” He corrects himself. 

You bite your tongue as a twinge of annoyance passes over you, “Jungkook..” A soft sigh of frustration leaves you, “One of these days you’re going to get me in trouble if you keep calling me by my name, it makes people think..we’re close..” You murmur the last part to yourself while looking to the side, “ ‘s not something I feel like explaining to the dean either.” 

Jungkook draws closer to you, he slides his hand along the surface of the desk as his fingertips lightly graze the wood. Your eyes drop down nervously, you take a step back but he follows. You’re at the corner of the desk when he finally cages you in with one arm, “And why would you have to explain to the dean? Hm? What kinda stuff you got goin’ in your pretty little head?” He grins. 

He’s so close you’re practically inhaling his cologne, he smells undeniably good as you hold yourself back from breathing in more of his intoxicating scent. You jump when his fingers brush over yours, “Relax,” Jungkook laughs playfully, “you’re always so tense.” 

“Was there something you needed?” You finally breathe out after realizing that Jungkook wasn’t going to be paying attention to anything you’ve said up until now. Telling him to stop would be like letting him off with a slap on the wrist and you figured it was better to see what he wanted so you could get this entire interaction over and done with. “I have a few meetings to attend so my time is short.” 

A few beats of silence pass and Jungkook doesn’t say anything which makes it harder for you to figure out what he was feeling. “Do you now?” He hums, “But no, nothing much, I just needed help with the rubric.” 

You quickly retracted your hand from his and stepped away from the desk, “What part did you need help with?” You’re gnawing at your bottom lip, just itching for this entire interaction to be over. 

Jungkook beckons you over, “How am I gonna show you if you’re all the way over there?” He snorts, “C’mere, I won’t bite.” He breathily hums while he fishes out the papers from his bag. 

You wobble over on uneasy legs with your arms folded numbly over your chest. You’ve long tuned out Jungkook’s voice, the only thing you were acutely aware of was where his hands touched as he talked to you. You peered from the corner of your eye to watch as he stroked up and down your arm slowly. Occasionally he’d give you a small faint squeeze to the arm while his thumb rubbed circles over your goosebumps. 

“y/n?” Jungkook’s voice grounds you back to reality, you’re suddenly more aware of your surroundings—more aware of him. “You with me?” He appears out of the blue in your face, you flinch at the close proximity and turn your head. 

“Yeah.” You softly breathe out, “I, uh think you should be fine. You’ve never failed the other assignments before, so this should be no different.” You tug your arm from his hold, “Is there anything else before I go?” Despite slipping on your coat, Jungkook’s piercing gaze manages to make you feel like you’re naked. “Jungkook..?” You whisper. 

Jungkook tilts his head to the side as his hooded gaze racks over your covered form, “Mm,” he toys with his lip ring and bites his bottom lip, “nah, I think I got somethin’. I’ll see you around, Mrs l/n,” he coos softly while licking his lips. 

You’re left standing alone with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. 

+

I can be what you need, little baby. Just tell me what you need. 

You’re not sure when the obsession began, nor WHY it even existed. Had you possibly led him on? Did Jungkook get any mixed signals you might not have been aware you gave him? There were so many why’s but very little answers. 

Jungkook came from a very wealthy background (old money), his father was a famous business tycoon and Jungkook was set to inherit the family company in the future. Much like his father Jungkook lived up to the Jeon name. He was ambitious, intelligent, and cunning. If things weren’t going his way it was known that Jungkook would make it happen one way or another. 

What Jungkook wanted, he got. Thanks to daddy’s money of course. Despite this though Jungkook proved to be a highly intelligent individual. His exam scores over the years were proof. Even now Jungkook’s scores were at an all time high, he was the picture perfect example of a good student. The perfect role model if it weren’t for his rather unorthodox behavior. 

It began with little thank you notes attached to snacks, then small gifts like plushies and flowers. From the very beginning you had been wary of his gifts, you couldn’t decipher whether he was sending them platonically or romantically, but you being the absolute saint decided to give him the benefit of doubt. That alone would be your demise. 

What began as brief polite conversations slowly turned into lingering looks and wanton whispers of unspoken desires. 

You as his teacher knew better and tried to set things straight with him but each time you sat him down he’d give you those devilish eyes of his and leave you a sputtering puddle. What even was the point if Jungkook always managed to turn you into a mess with his cocky attitude?

You found yourself worrying about your job more often. Jungkook simply didn’t care about the ring you wore around your finger, it’s something he’d come to tell you many, many times. You partially blamed yourself for not being firmer with him, Jungkook was a brute who had no regards for your personal boundaries. It was evident in the way he cornered and handled you to his liking. 

Which is why you weren’t surprised with him anymore. 

“Comin’ to bed soon love?” You look up to see your husband propped up against the doorway with his arms folded over his bare chest. You’re tempted to look further down when you notice he’s wearing those damned sweatpants, the ones that hung low on his hips.

“Yeah, I have one more left and then I’m all yours.” You sleepily smile while blowing him a gentle kiss, “And Jae? Did he fall asleep already?” 

Jicheol brushes his wet hair from his face with one hand, “Out like a light, must’ve been real tired from today.” He comments, “Which reminds me of a certain someone’s bedtime.” He gives you a look that immediately has butterflies fluttering, “If you’re not in bed by eleven I’m comin’ in here and carrying your ass out. You’re warned.” He tosses you a little smirk over his shoulder before slipping away and shutting your office door. 

Your face flares up like a shy schoolgirl as you chew on your pen to distract yourself from the not so nice thoughts invading your brain. You notice the papers you’re holding belongs to Jungkook, you’re surprised he ended up at the bottom of the stack. You scratched your head in wonder and curiosity since you wanted to see what Jungkook wrote. With a lazy hum you lean back in your desk chair and begin reading. 

‘I can be your baby in real life, sugar,’

‘Look me in the eye tell me I'm the one,’ 

‘Can't you be my fantasy, little baby?’ 

Your heart begins to race and you swear you can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Shock fills your entire being the more you read and the heat never leaves your face. You don’t know what to think or say, this by far was something you would have never guessed would happen to you. Not even in your wildest dreams, or nightmares. 

The icing on top was the fact that he had written within the essay requirements and had met each and every one of your expectations so technically the essay was valid and you couldn’t just toss it out. It was clear that he had thought it through, he went about his word play smartly and knew how to phrase his words just damn near perfect. 

So here you were now going through a crisis because your very hot student just said he wanted to bang you in different positions all night long. You felt like if this kept up with him you were going to be taking a paid or unpaid leave, it didn’t matter to you as long as you could take a break and get away from this all. Get away from him. 

“Babe?” Jicheol’s voice brings you out of your moment of hysteria, “It’s past eleven-ten come to bed now, yeah?” He strolls into your office, “Damn, that bad?” He says while eyeing the papers sitting in your hands. He goes to reach for them when you finally snap out of it and yank the papers back. “Uhh..okay, didn’t know it was THAT bad of an essay, now quit playing and come to bed.” He groans tiredly. 

You place a hand over your racing heart and sigh, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” You toss the essay onto the desk and lead your husband out by the arm, “Let’s just call it a night.” You mumble while hiding your face in his arm. Jicheol doesn’t mention anything else. 

.

“He went too far.” You whisper under your breath while turning away from the innocent papers sitting on your desk—innocent but oh so ominous.

Since reading it you’ve been on edge. You tried to avoid the topic of essays during a lecture but a sweet girl had asked and you were forced to talk about them. Jungkook had a (knowing) smirk the entire time as you informed the class that you indeed had finished reading and grading them. You hadn’t meant to but your eyes slowly gravitated towards him, your gazes met until you were the one who turned away with a flushed expression. 

A gentle but firm knock brings you out of your inner turmoil, “Who is it?” You softly call back while turning to the door with a hand over your chest. 

“Me,” Jungkook replies while already slipping into the room like he has many, many other times.  

Your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a flip, this was harder than you initially thought it would be. You’re not so sure this is even a good idea but you inhale deeply and close your eyes, “..I’m going to keep this very brief with you,” you step behind your desk while reaching for the essay lying on your desk, “the essay—why?” 

Jungkook grins softly, “What?” He shrugs innocently, “Didn’t like it? Was I a little too ‘vulgar’? Not somethin’ you’re used to people telling you?” His gaze alone is enough to make you feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes, unpleasant little shivers creep up your spine and you try not to let it show how nervous he’s making you. 

“Don’t–” You raise your hand with gritted teeth, “..There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed, and you’re crossing every one of them. I warned you time and time again about your..‘actions’ but you’re not taking me seriously.” You give him a pointed look trying your best to come off as stern. 

Jungkook lazily grins, “Oh but I am taking you seriously Mrs l/n,” the way your name rolls off his tongue shouldn’t make your stomach swoop the way it does, he takes a step closer and you backwards, “ ‘s why you’re my favorite teacher y/n.” 

Your patience finally snaps, “Let me make myself clear: these little games of yours? Stops today. I’m not entertaining you nor the stupid child’s play you have going on. If this keeps going I’ll report this to the dean and have you removed from class.” 

You try your best to stand tall and keep your gaze unwavering but Jungkook’s a challenge though. He stares back defiantly with his dark onyx eyes—they’re empty and void of any emotion (his tongue poking the inside of his cheek says it all though). “Really now?” He hums, “Let me know how that goes for you,” he chuckles under his breath while reaching over with a tattooed hand to play with the family picture lying on your desk, “Cute you even came up with that silly little idea.” 

“Excuse me?” You watch closely as he handles your picture frame so carelessly in his hands.

“Go on,” he nods his head as his lips curl in amusement, “run to the dean and tell ‘em allllll about how inappropriate I am. You have my essay as proof,” he licks his lips, “I wonder if they’ll think the same thing as me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, “pretty face..soft lips..” His gaze drops down before he’s meeting your eyes again, “Pretty everythin’.” 

You clear your throat, “Leave,” you point to the door, “I can’t have you in my class any longer. So leave, I’ll have this situation sorted with the dean by tonight so expect to receive a letter or email.” You hold your hand out for the picture frame, “Jungkook.” 

Jungkook tosses the frame up in the air a few times, each time making your heart skip a beat as you wait with a bated breath. “Okay.” He grins and places the frame in your hold, “There’s a tiny little problem though,” he mumbles and suddenly grips your hands tightly and squeezes. 

You gasp in surprise as he tugs you closer until you’re both leaning face to face. He’s so close you can smell his spicy scented cologne, the forced proximity begins to make you panic with fear. The only thing separating you two is the desk and nothing else—even then you have no doubt he’d just pull you over the surface if he wanted to. 

Your eyes flicker over his face a few times and you nervously lick your lips, “Let me go,” you’re not sure why you’re whispering when you could be yelling and screaming bloody murder right now. 

But you don’t. 

“Jungkook–” 

“You know,” he starts softly, “my dad always said if I wanted something then to take it. No one’s going to give you anything simply because you say please and thank you. You’re either at the top of the food chain or…the bottom. ” You make a wounded noise and turn your cheek to him as his hot breath fans over the side of your face, “and right now ‘m gonna take.” He mumbles, “And if I have to take a little walk down to the dean’s office and tell them that my beloved professor is making moves on me—I will.” 

Your eyes widen and his grip slowly loosens when you start going lax in his hold, “You wouldn’t want me to tell everyone their favorite teacher likes fucking her students? Maybe we can make it a little spicy and tell them how we’ve been having a three month affair? Hm?” 

“Y-You’re insane.” You yank yourself back from his hold in a rather harsh fashion. You cradle your sore wrists to your chest and stare back at him with glossy eyes, “None of that is true and you know it.” 

He barks out a laugh, “Oh baby,” he wipes an imaginary tear from his eye, “who said anything about truth? It’s a wonder what money can buy these days.” He hums, “ ‘s a reaaaalll shame my dad funds a few organizations here too don’t you think? Maybe my dad should have a loong phone call with the dean tonight, they’re pretty good friends after all. I’m sure they’d like to catch up.” 

You feel like your world is crashing down, he’s cornered you and now you’ve got no escape. You’re filled with hopelessness and despair, Jungkook’s got you right where he wants you. “C’mon don’t make that face,” you don’t notice when he comes to stand in front of you, “no one has to know..” He coos quietly while backing you up into the desk.

“Jungkook–” Your hand comes up to push his arm away when he sets it right next to you on the desk, he cages you in with his breath fanning over the side of your face because you refuse to look him in the eyes. His hand is so close to your thighs too it nearly has your heart jumping out of your throat. “Jungkook, please.” You whimper while turning your face as the two of you look into each other's eyes. 

His lips part but a knock brings the two of you out of your trances. He looks at the door in annoyance and clicks his tongue, “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters more to himself while refusing to move from his spot. “Mrs Gong?” You hear one of your students say, “I was um, wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about the essay.” She says softly. 

“Go on,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, “answer her.” He teasingly nips at you. 

You tremble under him and push at his chest repeatedly, “Y-Yes..! Give me a moment I’m finishing up with another student right now dear,” you yelp when Jungkook strokes over your inner thigh, slapping a hand over your lips for a few seconds, “... J-Just sit out there, I’ll come in a bit.” 

Jungkook chuckles quietly, and ignores the fierce glare you throw his way. “Let me go, Jungkook.” You attempt to slip away from the desk but Jungkook brings you back in with a hand curled around your waist, “Jungkook–” He silences your desperate pleas with a soft little ‘shh’ as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can’t do anything but helplessly stare back at him, angry at yourself for being so weak and caving in. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen baby, so listen carefully,” he softly whispers, “I’m going to leave you my phone number and you’re gonna answer me later on tonight—ah-ah, none of that now,” he says when he sees a protest bubbling up, “you’re gonna be a good girl and reply okay? I don’t give a fuck if your husband is there or not, if you don’t answer me baby I’m gonna be forced to do somethin’ ugly and we don’t want that now do we? No, that’s right.” He talks to you like he’s speaking to a child or something. “Got it all down?” 

You nod timidly and hold your tongue, “Good girl.” He smiles and lets you go, “Remember baby: answer.” He waves his phone in the air teasingly while stepping away. 

You watch him walk to the door, he stops briefly and your heart skips a beat wondering what he could want now. “And for the record—I meant every little word just now.” He smirks darkly before pushing the door open and stepping out. You’re left standing there in the middle of the room trying to calm your racing heart.  

“Mrs Gong?” The girl timidly calls out. 

Your eyes snap over to the picture frame sitting in your hands and you take a deep long breath, “Come in.” You just dug yourself a hole you can’t even get back out from. 

+ 

You looked out of your class window to see that the sky was beginning to set and it was a lovely shade of red-orange hues mixed with purple. You quickly glanced down at your watch and figured now would be a better time to leave. You shrugged your coat on and carried your things out the door. The janitor greeted you on your way out as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway. 

The campus was pretty lonely and empty save for a few people here and there. Your heels clicked against the pavement as you made your way down to the teachers parking lot. From a distance you heard another pair of footsteps but you paid no mind thinking it was probably another teacher or the security guard. Sometimes things were too good to be true. 

“Was beginning to wonder where my favorite teacher wandered off to.” Jungkook calls out from behind. He stands there with his hands in his pockets and a hand combing through his slightly messy hair. “Thought she might’ve run off for a second, we can’t have that happening now can we?” He hums. 

You let out a chilly breath and shake your head, “Been busy with work and life stuff..” Your eyes are lowered to the ground, you refuse to meet his eyes because you already know what’s staring back. “Did you need something?” You tilt your head. 

Jungkook toys with his lip ring and nods, “I’m guessing that’s why you requested days off for next week then hm? Husband takin’ you on a little trip, is that it?” He looks mildly bothered but the underlying possessiveness in his tone makes it easy to ignore. “Tell me baby,” he steps closer while caging you in between him and the car, “you trying to get away?” 

You look up at him through your lashes and shake your head, “Jungkook, we’re outside.” You squirm around uncomfortably, “Someone’s gonna see us..!”

“C’mere,” he curls his hands around your waist and tugs you into him, “we got some business of our own.” You nearly stumble when he begins walking you two away from your car, your eyes dart around the parking lot in panic as you attempt to budge yourself away from Jungkook. 

“Where are you taking me? Stop..! You realize how crazy this looks,” you turn your head in time to see a sleek black car come into view, no doubt it belonged to Jungkook though. “Why am I here Jungkook?” You pushed at his chest until he finally stumbled back a little. 

Jungkook gives you a playful smile, “Out, gonna give you a nice little send-off before you run off from me next week baby.” He reaches around you to unlock his car, “Get in, ‘s fuckin freezing out here.” When you came out the sky was still colorful, now it’s completely dark and the only thing around was the orange lighting from the several lamps in the parking lot. 

“Jungkook I’m not getting in the car with you,” you hopelessly look at him while pursing your lips in an attempt to suppress the oncoming whine, “I have things of my own to do, my husband is waiting for me.” You secretly relish in the way his eyes narrow when you mention ‘husband’, “Can’t all this wait for another day?” 

He props himself against the car, his gaze drops down to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands baby,” he leans down to whisper low in your ear, “we do this the easy way or something really bad can happen.” His lips slide along your cheek gently, placing a small trail of kisses to the corner of your mouth. 

You meet his eyes as a thick wave of tension falls over you both. He takes your silence as an answer and pecks your lips, “Get on then,” he murmurs. His car lights up in a fuschia pink color when he starts it, you feel small curled up in his leather seat. 

This is it. You’re really doing it. 

Your heart races even faster when you see Jungkook reach over to shift the gears, “Wait, Jungkook–” You slip your hand over his marveling in the size difference, “My car, I can’t leave it here.”

Jungkook lets the steering wheel go and for a minute you think he’s giving in, but ignorance is bliss. He tugs you in by a hand to the cheek, slotting his lips over yours as he uses his hold to keep you still. You sit there unresponsive in complete shock, Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind as he occasionally tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth. He moves his lips languidly until wet little smacks begin to fill the quiet car. 

You reach over to push him off but he quickly snatches your wrist up in his hold, you barely even fight back as you end up falling into his touch even more. You make soft noises as tiny little moans spill into Jungkook’s hot mouth, your lips are glossed over and slicked up with spit from his kisses. 

Jungkook pulls away and pants hotly into your mouth, “You make it hard to control myself.” He quietly murmurs while pressing chaste kisses on you, “You have no idea,” he whispers, “those pretty little eyes and sweet lips drive me mad sweetheart. Fuck,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

Jungkook quickly shifts the car and begins pulling out of the parking lot. You end up hopelessly looking back at your car as it gets smaller and smaller the further he gets. To add more salt to the wound your phone buzzes loudly in your purse, you pause and Jungkook does too. “Answer it.” He says whilst slipping his hand over your knee, “C’mon baby, don’t keep him waiting.” 

Your eyes sting with unshed tears as your worst fears come true, Jicheol’s texting you asking if everything’s alright and if you’re coming home now. Your eyes slide over the words over and over again, you can’t bring yourself to reply to him it was too much. Eventually though (because of Jungkook’s piercing gaze) you manage to reply that you’re heading out for drinks with some colleagues. 

Jicheol replies with a ‘have fun, love u lots’ and something inside of you twists bitterly. “Tell him not to worry,” Jungkook turns to face you at a stop light, “me and you? We’re gonna have a nice loong conversation all night.” 

. 

“Relax pretty,” Jungkook mumbles behind you, “just sit back and let me do all the work.” His big hands settle over your hips using his grip to guide you towards the large bed sitting in the middle of the room. 

Originally (or so you’ve been told), Jungkook was planning on having a dinner date first before taking you back somewhere for some fun. But here you were, standing in the middle of a hotel room feeling like a cheap whore. Funnily enough Jungkook had picked out a couples suite too judging by the rose petals, candles and bottle of wine. 

You came to a stop in front of the bed, your hands were gripping the sash tying your coat together in an effort to stop Jungkook. Like everything else though, he took again and again.

His hands pried yours off and slipped the coat right off your shoulders, it pooled around your feet and you were left standing in your white blouse and black pencil skirt. You could feel his hot breath fanning over the side of your neck, sending pleasant little shivers down your spine. 

“Look at you,” he whistles low as his hands cup both of your tits through the blouse, “like a wet dream come true, you’d make any man fall to their knees baby.” He purrs while massaging both soft mounds, the stimulation has your tits aching and nipples hardening through the cups of your bra. 

A weak whimper slips past your lips, you reach up to grip his wrist tightly rather than attempt to pry him off. You stumble over your coat just trying to get away from him, “Jungkook—no,” you turn in time to see him advancing towards you like a predator. 

He licks his lips slowly as he reaches out to gently shove you onto the bed, “No what baby? I’ll treat you realll good, show you how you’re meant to be fucked stupid. I’d have you hangin’ from my cock in a heartbeat, ‘s all you’re good for baby: takin’ cock and bein’ filled with cum.” Jungkook climbs over and pins you on the bed, “Don’t need to use your pretty little head when you’re with me baby,” 

You cry out in surprise when he rips your blouse open and leaves a flurry of hot open mouthed kisses over your chest and peeking tits. “Fuckin’ hell,” he snarls and yanks the bra down, your tits come spilling out from the cups. He takes a hard nipple into his mouth and suckles gently, mimicking that of a hungry babe. 

“Oh,” your eyes squeeze shut as hot pleasure shoots all the way down between your legs where you need it the most. His tongue rolls and swipes over your nipple repeatedly, he hums low and sneaks his other hand up to cup your tit. You moan louder as Jungkook fondles the soft flesh in his hand and your nipple ends up rubbing against his palm. 

“You like that?” He rasps out and pulls away to give your other nipple the same treatment, “Got such slutty little tits for me, bet I can make ‘em leak for me.” A cheshire grin paints his lips as he deviously licks over your wet nipple, “We’ll just have to wait ‘n see, don’t we little mama?”

It feels like you’re in heaven right now just by having your tits played with. It wasn’t like Jicheol and you didn’t have an active sex life—nor was it boring by any means—but one thing that never quite went away was the sensitivity in your tits. Another thing you had discovered was that you still had some milk in there, if you played with them for long enough your tits leaked like crazy (Jicheol knew this firsthand). 

Your eyes flutter shut as more moans force themselves out of you, “Fuck–wait,” you whisper out while pushing his head away, “hurts a little…” You mumble while shivering from the cold air hitting your wet nipples. 

“Gonna taste that pussy of yours baby,” Jungkook reaches for the zipper to your skirt, “wonder if it’s as pretty as you.” He licks his lips hungrily, “Show me,” he pats your thighs and tugs the skirt down your legs. 

Jungkook moans when he sees the lace garter attached to your sheer black stockings, “God, look at you. You were made for me weren’t you baby?” He strokes over your legs and then pries them apart, settling nicely between your open legs. 

Jungkook tugs you close until your hips are pressed tight against his own, you can feel the print of his hard cock through his joggers. It feels hot and heavy, you’re already picturing how big his cock’s gotta be and the mere thought is enough to make your mouth water. As ashamed as you are to admit it, but you’re eager for him to fuck you. You want him to make good of his promises to fuck you all night in different positions until you can’t cum anymore. 

A wave of regret washes over, “Wait,” you sit up and cover your chest with one arm mentally preparing yourself. If you were going to cheat, then you were going to make sure you didn’t remember any of it, “pass me a glass of wine.” Your lips are pursed in a soft pout, gaze half-lidded and dreamy-like (a charm you used on Jicheol to get your way at times). 

“There you go sweetheart,” he reaches over for the entire bottle and pops it open, “let yourself go for me.” He purrs and brings the wine directly to your lips. 

.

You become hyper aware of everything around—the rain that hits outside the fogged-up windows, the faint crackling noise from the candles, and the shuffling noises from the bed. How much time has passed since you both got here?

“Oh fuck..” You hear Jungkook breathily mutter under his breath, he continues to fuck his cock in and out of your soaked and sopping pussy without abandon. The lube ends up dripping from your folds and slides down the crevices of your cum splattered cheeks.

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve cum, your clit’s numb and rubbed raw by now. An array of used condoms litter the trashcan nearby and by the looks of it the box might be empty after this round. Surely he’ll stop there…right? 

“Hear that?” He grunts with effort as he smacks his hips into yours, “Sloppy pussy drippin’ all over me, ‘s like you were made for me, made to take cock ‘n be my lil’ cock sleeve.” He purrs low and lowers himself until he’s hovering over you. His strong hand comes up to grip your thigh, he wraps it around his waist and holds you close while he fucks into your greedy pussy over and over again. 

Your face heats in embarrassment as the squelching and slapping noises get louder, you manage to bite your bottom lip and suppress the cries and whines that threaten to slip out. Everything about this is so good, from the way he fucks down to his heavenly cock that Jungkook sure as hell knew how to use, but you rather die than admit your enjoyment openly. 

“Shit.” Jungkook looks like a wet dream come true as his head hangs low in pleasure and his necklace swings back and forth from the force of his thrusts. 

You’re scrambling to find a grip on him, your hands curl around his shoulders and hold on for dear life. Your once quiet sighs become louder mewls and moans, little breathy “uhs” leaving your lips. The louder you get the harder he goes, he’s driving his cock deep inside with such force you wonder if you’ll be able to walk after this. 

With each punishing slap he lands there’s a sweet little sting that follows afterwards. A particular thrust startles you bad when he brushes up against your g-spot. You find yourself leaning into him, thighs widening around his waist as you angle your hips in a way you know his cock will hit the spot. 

“Mm–wait, ‘s good there,” you breathe out, “fuck..right there…” Your words are slurred and come out borderline pornographic reminding you of a porno or something. 

Jungkook doesn’t reply anything other than a grunt, he reaches down to hook your thighs over his shoulders. He’s pressed so close his chest is rubbing up against your sore tits each time he lands another thrust. You’re finally letting your moans slip as the volume begins steadily increasing inside the room. The noises you both make rival those of the creaking and skin slapping. 

“My name baby,” Jungkook whispers over your lips, “let ‘em know who’s fuckin’ this pussy.” The crazed look he has in his eye paired with his wild thrusting has your orgasm slowly ebbing away at you again. 

You don’t like how close he is, how exposed you’re feeling from the forced face to face proximity he has you in. The hunger in his eyes has your cunt clenching around him like you’re afraid he’s gonna stop fucking you. Jungkook lets out a low moan and reaches up with one hand to squeeze your chin tightly, “C’mon, don’t go all stupid on me,” he licks his lips. 

“Jungkook,” you softly moan as your lips part in a tiny ‘o’ from the grip he has on your chin/cheeks, “mmph—’m coming..!” You grit your teeth and arch your back just a tiny bit given that Jungkook’s got you in a mating press. 

Jungkook lets your face go and does the unexpected, he lands a hard slap on your ass before he’s rubbing the sore skin gently, “Louder.” He lands another smack, this one hurting more than the one before.

“J-Jungkook..!” You cry out with watery eyes. 

“Again.” Smack.

You manage to whimper out a half-garbled cry of his name, your pussy rhythmically throbs around his cock in a milking motion. There’s a nasty sound each time he bottoms out balls deep inside, your thighs shake and tremble from their spot on his shoulders. You’re left with a dazed cloudy feeling afterwards—nipples sore and your pussy wet as hell. 

“Mmm,” you bite your lip and turn your face away in dizziness, “s..leepy..” 

Jungkook doesn’t stop fucking you even if you sleepily beg him to stop. He pumps away at your spent cunt until he’s coming with a low groan of your name and a throbbing cock. You let out a sleepy sigh as your eyes begin slipping shut, you feel Jungkook gently tap your chin to get you awake again, “Open up for me baby, we’re not done here.” He hums low. 

+

You woke up early in the morning after barely managing to catch any sleep. Jungkook had his face tucked in the crook of your neck and his arms tightly wrapped around your body. Your back was pressed against his chest where his necklace tickled the back of your neck. His hands were folded over your middle, grip tight and snug. You were beginning to wonder how the hell you were getting out. 

“Fuck my head hurts,” you whisper out while lifting your head to survey your surroundings. 

Clothes, shoes, bags—they were tossed everywhere. The sheets were sliding off the bed and the comforter was completely off hanging to the side. You spotted the empty glass of wine and two cups sitting together on the nightstand next to the candles, bitterly reminding you of the night before. 

“I need to get out of here.” You whisper while tightly wrapping the white sheets around your body. 

You don’t know how but you somehow manage to untangle yourself from Jungkook’s arms and slip off the bed. Jungkook’s still sleeping so you use this as a chance to dress and leave quickly. You’re not too sure if you’ll be leaving anytime soon if Jungkook wakes up. 

“Shit.” You frown when you see all the messages Jicheol sent you (there were a ton of missed calls too). 

jicheoooll<3 : babe r u ok? 

9:23

don’t get too wasted, call if you need me to come

9:35

having fun?? 

10:00

you staying with friends tonight babe? pretty late alr

10:57

gn, call me in the morning beautiful 

Once you manage to get dressed and call a taxi, you put all your attention to replying with a made-up story in your head. The guilt is eating you alive but you can worry about feeling like a shitty person later, right now you need to get away.

The cold air hits you in your face when you step out of the warm building, people are going about their days and cars are moving steadily through traffic. You hear a beep and you see your taxi parked on the side of the road. For now you can forget and you’ll worry about Jungkook later, you think to yourself while slipping into the warm car. 

.

Your heart begins pounding at the sight of Jicheol’s car which is still parked out in front when you come home. You check the time on your watch and numbly realize he must’ve called in, the guilt feels ten times worse. With a heavy sigh you park the car in the driveway and slip out with your things and coat in hand. You were going to have to face him and your son one way or another, no use in crying over it now. 

“What’s done is done.” You find yourself thinking out loud while heading up the steps. Your key is halfway in when the door suddenly opens and the warm air from inside hits you in the face. You’re momentarily stunned as you stand there with your hand still hovering in the air, “Jicheol.” 

Your husband lets out a breath of relief as his big hands come up to cup your face inspecting for any injuries etc, “You’re okay,” he says in obvious relief, “did you have fun last night?” 

“Yeah..” You whisper back, “Think ‘m gonna shower though, I stink.” You complain softly while heading inside rather quickly in an attempt to avoid Jicheol because you don’t know whether you want to cry or scream at your own guilt, “How’s Jae?” You were hoping to slip away to the bathroom before Jicheol could catch up but he’s hot on your tail after shutting the front door. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you bitterly think while turning the hot water on. 

“He’s fine, your mom came and picked him up last night. He’s gonna stay over for the weekend.” Jicheol slips his hands around your waist and gently guides you into the spacious bathroom, “Wanted to be here when you came,” he mumbles in your ear while kissing over your neck and shoulder, “missed you last night.” His hands slowly unbuttoned your messy blouse, “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout your fine ass, should’ve never let you walk out the house like that.” He huskily says. 

Normally you’d shudder in anticipation and delight but right now the guilt is eating away at you. Your eyes slip shut in an attempt to focus and steer your mind away from what happened last night but god Jicheol’s making it hard. No matter how much you try to think about something else, your traitorous mind finds a way to flash images of Jungkook ripping your top open and sucking your nipples till they were sore and leaky. 

“Got such slutty little tits for me, bet I can make ‘em leak for me.”

A breathy little ‘yes’ falls from your lips when the pair of hands massaging your tits slip under the cups and knead your sore mounds of flesh. Jicheol rolls your nipples between his fingers knowingly, tugging just the way he knows you like. “So fuckin’ needy.” Jicheol chuckles darkly. You lose yourself in the feeling as moans and sighs fall, the heat from the water running isn’t helping much either. 

Your eyes slip open and a noise of confusion leaves you when Jicheol stops to tilt your chin towards him. Everything shifts back into place and you’re suddenly aware of everything around you—the running water, the steam, Jicheol—you try to ignore the disappointed feeling you get in your chest (you're scandalized that you’re feeling disappointed to begin with). 

“You okay baby?” Jicheol looks worried, “Want me to stop?” 

“No,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug him closer to you. Jicheol stares at you through half-lidded eyes, licking his lips hungrily when you bring his face down. Your lips hover over his, “I missed you too.” You whisper quietly before closing the distance between you two. 

Jicheol releases a muffled groan and slips his hand down to grip your hips tightly, you sigh blissfully when you press up against his front. You can feel the outline of his cock pressing against your lower stomach, sitting there throbbing from its confinements. He mutters a husky “fuck” and lifts you up onto the countertop with your back pressing against the foggy mirror. 

Jicheol always makes you forget. 

+

You ended up pulling Jungkook aside after a lecture sometime later on during the week. You spend the entirety of your mini-vacation at home sulking in discomfort anytime you think about what happened with Jungkook, and Jicheol wasn’t making it any easier with his sweet self. It was driving you insane and you felt like you needed to talk about it to feel a little better about your shitty actions. 

Jungkook already has a sly little grin on his face when he slips into your office, “Why the pouty little face? You’re the one who called me here,” he folds his arms over his chest as he stands in front of you with amusement written all over his features. 

You meet his eyes hesitantly and take a few seconds to gather your thoughts, “Now that you got what you wanted, can we both mutually agree this little thing of yours is over?” What’s scarier than Jungkook’s anger is his silence. It was like trouble was brewing in your face and you didn’t know how to stop or control it. “Don’t look at me like that Jungkook, you knew what was coming. I’m married for fucks sake,” you whisper to him, eyes darting back and forth between him and the door.

“Our thing.” Jungkook loudly corrects making you turn your head in alarm, “last I remember it takes two to tango baby, ‘n you sure as hell didn’t seem done when I fucked you all night long. Or did you forget?” He tilts his head to follow your gaze when you begin avoiding his eyes, “Hm? C’mon sweetheart, tell me how much you enjoyed it—how your little pussy was so good to me and soaked my cock?” He cages you in and yanks your chin up to face him, “C’mon, say it.”

You let out a terrified whimper and try to push him away but Jungkook pins you up against him, “Jungkook–let go,” you turn your face away trying to look away, “get off..!” 

“Oh but you loved it baby,” he coos out while watching you fight against him like a child throwing a tantrum, “ ‘s why you gave it up to me so easily,” he pouts mockingly, “rode ‘n fucked me like the little fiend you are sweetheart.” He rasps hotly in your ear, “Gripped my cock nice ‘n tight with that soaked cun—” 

You moaned wantonly as he wrapped his lips around a sensitive spot on your neck, through your panic though you began pushing at his shoulders to stop him from leaving a mark, “J-Jungkook, no,” you bite down on your lip with a muffled moan, “fuck—just listen to me dammit!” You grip his face in both hands, “There are rules and boundaries Jungkook, you can’t just fucking waltz in here doing shit because you feel like it alright?! My job, my reputation, my LIFE is on the line and you’re more concerned with getting your dick wet? Do you just not care that my life can potentially—no—be ruined, all because you’re a rich brat who wanted pussy?” 

Jungkook recovers from the initial shock when you snapped at him, he cups your face and slams his lips against yours. You pant hotly into his mouth while he spins you both around and guides you onto the desk, papers and pens go flying as Jungkook comes to stand between your parted legs. You’re forced to let him in as he moves his slicked up lips desperately, he kisses with such ferocity it knocks the breath out of you. 

“Mmph—Jungkook,” you whisper between harsh breaths and kisses, “stop.” You gasp out as he buries his face in your neck and leaves more filthy opened mouthed kisses. 

He pulls away with a soft pant, “You don’t want me to, trust me,” he tilts your chin again so you’re facing him, “I’ll make your life a living hell in point two seconds baby, don’t test me. Unless you want everyone to see how much of a cock slut in bed you are, is that it baby? You want them to see how pretty you look when you’re hanging off this cock? Because I can make it happen.” He darkly whispers. 

A sick part of you shivers at the threat when he talks to you in that low tone he uses when he’s angry. Your pussy has a second little heartbeat down there because of him, you can’t even say you’re ashamed anymore. You silently stare because you refuse to give him the satisfaction of replying. Jungkook doesn’t need to hear it though because he’s already leaning in to kiss you more gently than before. 

“Don’t need to think,” Jungkook mumbles, “just sit ‘n look pretty for me sweetheart, ‘s all you need to do.” He trails off as his hands slip up your skirt, hooking his fingers around your panties and tugging. They come sliding down to your ankles while Jungkook works his belt open, “Gonna give you what you need,” he trails off. 

Your lust filled eyes meet him in a fierce stare down, not once do you look away as he spreads you open and makes himself comfortable between your legs. You hate how easy it is to submit and fall under his control. You were supposed to be the one with authority here, not him. Funny how he turned you putty in his hands each time. 

Jungkook fists his cock with slick noises, he’s pushing through your slicked up folds and you feel the head poke at your unclenched leaking hole. There’s a filthy little voice in the back of your head that hisses in excitement chanting a series of ‘yes’ and ‘in’ over and over again. Your cunt’s hungry and desperate to be stretched out by his fat cock.  

“.. Just shut up and fuck me.” You find yourself whispering while wrapping your legs around his hips and bringing him closer.

Jungkook forgoes the condom entirely, he taps his cock over your pussy a few times before he’s pushing in with a low hiss. He fills you up inch by inch, everything feels so much better with him going in bare. Your mouth waters at every little bump and curve you feel, your pussy opens right up and molds to fit around him.

Your lips fall open in a silent moan as Jungkook bottoms out in your tight little sopping hole, your rim stretches and hugs his cock nice and snug. It’s a tight fit but you’re in utter bliss right now, and even if you wanted to complain at the small sting you feel when he shifts but you don’t bother to. Jungkook’s not going to listen anyways, he never has. 

“There you go,” Jungkook bites on his bottom lip, he keeps you steady with his hands curled around your waist, “open right up for me baby.” He breathes out. 

His hips slowly roll forwards, he idly grinds and bumps his hips against yours. You feel some pressure here and there, like your poor pussy’s going to burst but each time he moves you feel him hit a sensitive spot. Your hips jump when the tip nudges into your cervix, just poking like he’s testing the waters or something. 

“Jungkook–” you huff, “slow down, hurts.” You try shifting around to see if you’re able to steer his cock away from your cervix. 

Jungkook lays a soft apologetic kiss over your shoulder before he’s hoisting you closer, he has your hips tilted at an angle where he’s striking dead on into your oversensitive walls. You moan in relief, biting down on your lip to keep your noises in. You nearly forget that you’re both still on campus, fucking on your desk like it’s some cliche porno. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, he hooks his chin over your shoulder and fucks into you. His hips roll into yours over and over again, slipping in and out of your drenched pussy with ease. You can faintly hear the wet noises start up wondering if your desk will be salvageable by the end of this. 

You find yourself holding on to him tightly with your arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders. Your moans threaten to spill out each time he fucks himself in, the tip keeps grazing over a sweet spot repeatedly sending pleasant little shivers down your spine each time. Jungkook doesn’t stick to that languid pace for much, he ends up bucking his hips eagerly and shoving his cock deeper. 

“Oh fuck,” he rasps out while hugging your body tighter, “c’mon, make some noise for me baby. Let ‘em know who’s fucking this greedy cunt.” He grits his teeth and slaps his hips into yours with a loud squelching ‘plap’.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” as if on cue your pussy makes another embarassingly loud squelching noise. You’re so fucking wet it’s slipping down between your asscheeks and pooling under you. “And these tits,” he groans and slaps one through your blouse, “such pretty fuckin’ tits on you, wonder how they look all swollen and filled. Maybe I’ll breed this cunt till you catch, it’ll make a nice little surprise for your husband.” He grins wildly. 

You whine loud—it’s unintentional (you’d like to think)—the very thought of possibly ending up pregnant sends a sick thrill down your spine. You find letting cries and whimpers slip from your lips, they’re louder and clearer than before. Jungkook smirks knowingly and you know what he’s about to say, but he simply lays you back on the desk and lifts your legs over his shoulders. The angle changes again and your mouth falls open. 

“There..!” You throw your head back and groan. 

His cock repeatedly punches into your g-spot, you scramble to get a hold of something to keep you grounded. You feel like you’re going crazy with him hammering away at your sore cunt and your impending orgasm bubbling in your lower stomach. Jungkook’s face hovers close and you can feel his hot breaths fanning over you. 

“There?” He moans, “Like it when I fuck you stupid huh? Pretty pussy all meant to be mine,” he slows down but keeps his pace brutal, “gonna fill you up baby, you’re lucky I can’t put a baby in you.. Or else.” He darkly mumbles while leaning down to swallow up all your moans and sighs. 

Your eyes flutter shut from the strong pleasure, he knocks the breath out of you each time he bottoms out. Your clit throbs pathetically from neglect and you desperately want to reach down to soothe it but Jungkook’s pounding you so good you can’t focus. Your lips part with a needy cry, he uses it as a chance to bite on your bottom lip and swipe his tongue over the seam of your lips. 

“C..um, ‘m gonna cum,” you softly whimper while arching into him, “please ‘m so close.” 

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, he quickly falls into you and rolls his hips into yours over and over again. You trap him against you but Jungkook figures out a way to keep moving. Jungkook grinds into you slowly, letting you feel every inch and the girth. This makes your mouth fall open as a shudder runs through your body. 

“Fuck..” You begin shaking from pleasure, your arms slip from his shoulders but Jungkook simply hoists you upright into his strong big arms. 

You’re caged against his chest while he slowly fucks in and out, you’re so close you just need a tiny little push. If Jungkook could just hit that spot one more time—ohh.. “Jungkook,” you feel a strong tremor pass over you. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, rhythmically clenching and massaging him as you cum all over him and yourself. 

Jungkook doesn’t let up no matter how tight you get, he’s groaning and hissing under his breath while whispering the most filthiest fucking praises, “There you go baby, jus’ like that. Go on and make a mess for me, want you dripping my cum out of that loose cunt of yours.”

He cums a few minutes later with a loud moan, you like the feeling of his throbbing cock buried deep inside as he unloads all his pearly white cum into you. You squirm around a few more times but Jungkook ultimately ends up gripping your hip to stop you, “Shit–don’t do that.” He moans painfully. 

The two of you pant quietly while trying to catch your breaths. It turns into a slow little make out session you can’t refuse or resist because he’s that sexy post orgasm glow. You’re lips-locked when a knock brings the two of you out of whatever world you were both just in. 

You pull back from his lips with a wet noise, panting hard as you try to catch your breath from the brutal fuck just now. “Mrs Gong?” You hear one of your students say. 

Jungkook’s still hazy from his orgasm (evident in the way he looks at you all blissed out), he tucks his face in the crook of your neck and quietly moans when you clench around his half-hard cock. He doesn’t say anything thankfully, “I’ll be right out,” you finally manage to say without sounding like you just ran a marathon. 

This boy was going to be the death of you. 

+

jungkook : get ready, gonna take you out. wear somethin pretty too

You frown in both annoyance and confusion, when and how did Jungkook get your address? “I don’t even wanna know.” You mumble while shaking your head, with Jungkook there’s no limits to his depravity. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had someone paid to get your information. 

You look over at the bedroom door and make sure it’s closed before you sneak to your closet and dial Jungkook, “What the hell do you mean we’re going out?” You mutter while balancing the phone on your shoulder, “I don’t remember little dates being a part of this arrangement.” 

“The tongue you got on you,” Jungkook says from the other line, “makes me wonder if I need to stuff it with somethin’ else damn baby. But we’ll save that for another day, today I wanna take you somewhere nice,” 

You pulled a sweater from a hanger and paused, “Jungkook what’s the dress code?” You sigh in exasperation, all this talking and he still wasn’t telling you anything. You figured you might as well make the best of it, “Hurry up I still have to call my nanny to come take care of my son, I don’t have all day.” 

“Casual, not too casual though. I’ll see you in five.” And with that he hangs up. 

“Great,” you sigh while tossing your phone on the bed after shooting the nanny a quick text, “I’ll see you in five, my ass,” you mimic while finding something nice to wear. 

The door creaks open and your son Jae comes running in making excited airplane noises, “Where you goin’ mama?” He tilts his head, “Are you going to see aunties for lunch? Ooh, can I come, can I come?” He buzzes in excitement while smiling from ear to ear. 

“No baby, mama’s meeting a different friend, a work friend.” You gently correct yourself while surfing through your jeans, “Wanna help me choose an outfit,” you squat to Jae’s level and brush his unruly hair out of his face, “looks like I’m gonna need your eyes for this Jae.” 

His eyes widened comically, “Mama but you have your own!” He gasps while covering his face with his tiny hands, “These are my eyes!” He squeals while running out of the room. 

You grin deviously and chase after him with a “come back here”. The house is filled with your giggles and Jae’s excited yells and laughter, you end up chasing Jae back to your room as the little boy hides himself under the blankets. 

“C’mon, mama wants to look pretty today won’t you help me baby?” You pout while sitting on the bed, “Pretty please with sprinkles and fairies on top?” 

Jae pops his head out with a dramatic little sigh, “Fiinee,” you grin triumphantly, “I’m gonna make you look prettier than any other lady out there today.” He smiles toothlessly and runs into your closet. 

You end up wearing a pair of light-washed jeans and your cream colored sweatshirt. Jae didn’t know anything about shoes so you slipped on your cozy socks and a pair of brown tasman slippers. Upon Jae’s insistence you applied a little mascara and clear gloss over your lips, “There, is mommy done now?” You ask while spraying some body spray he was holding out to you. 

“Done, you look so pretty.” Jae shyly says while hiding his face in your leg, “Is Miss Danielle coming today? I like her a lot, she’s super cool and nice.” 

You hum absent-mindedly while putting your phone and wallet in your purse, “Yes she is, mama needs you to be the bestest boy ever okay? I’ll be back around dinner time when daddy’s coming home okay?” You smile sadly, “I’m gonna miss you.” 

“Me too,” Jae softly says before the doorbell brings him out of his trance, “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” He runs off leaving you to your devices. 

“That boy.” You shake your head and slip your watch on. You can hear Jae talking with Danielle down in the foyer as you finish getting ready. 

Your phone pings and you immediately know who it is, “Danielle,” you greet while passing the girl in a hurry, “thanks for coming last minute you’re a lifesaver.” You sigh in appreciation, “House is yours and if you’re hungry order some delivery for you and Jae okay? I’ll pay you extra if I take too long. If my husband comes home first then you’re free to go.” 

Danielle already has Jae in her arms as she smiles sweetly at you, “No problem, you know I like Jae a lot anyways.” She shrugs, “Have fun.” 

“Oh I will.” You bitterly mutter, “Bye my loves.” You blow a kiss to your son at the door and head out. Jungkook’s Mercedes is parked right in front of your house and you done nearly sprint over in fear. Your heart quite literally almost falls out of your ass. 

“Are you fucking insane?” You spit while slipping into the car, “Jungkook move, oh you just finally fucking lost it didn’t you? Anyone can see you—my neighbors, my son, the nanny!” 

Jungkook laughs quietly and brings you in for a messy smooch, “Calm down, we’re leaving right now.” 

“No, right now.” You glare, “Move.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop down to your lips in obvious hunger, “Give me a kiss.” You look at him in disbelief and he merely shrugs, “What? You heard me.” He’s really not playing around because he doesn’t budge or make a move to shift gears or anything. 

You nervously look around the area before leaning over to quickly kiss him, “There.” 

“Another one.” He calmly replies despite your whining and the face you make. He’s serious then, you think while curling a hand behind the back of his neck and pulling his face closer to yours. 

Your lips meet in a hot kiss, you find yourself putting a little more effort into it than most times he’s kissed you. Jungkook’s a good kisser you won’t lie/deny, if anything you felt shittier for admitting that you enjoyed kisses with him. You gently bite down on his bottom lip in a mix of arousal and curiosity. 

Jungkook lets out a quiet groan and leans more into it to deepen the kiss. “No more,” you whisper when you pull away to catch your breath, “I’m serious.” You softly say albeit a bit more gentle and less hostile. 

“Okay.” He pulls away and starts the car. His hand comes over to settle on your thigh, fitting so easily like you were made for him. 

You slump in your seat and turn your head to watch your home slowly disappear as Jungkook pulls out of the neighborhood. If you look closely though, you won’t miss the awe-struck looking nanny standing there looking from the living room window. 

“Are you okay? What are you looking at?” Jae asks. 

“Nothing,” Danielle mumbles as she shakes her head, “let’s watch tv yeah?” There’s no way she just caught her boss kissing someone who was obviously not her husband. 

.

“How was your day?” You find yourself looking up from the bowl of chips you’re having when Jicheol suddenly talks to you, “Dani told me you had a last minute meeting with a coworker?” He hums while unbuttoning his dress shirt slowly, “y/n?” 

Your focus shifts back onto Jicheol after momentarily spacing out, “It was good,” you mumble and try not to think about earlier when Jungkook was buried balls deep fucking you over the hood of the car, “Had some lunch and then we went for like a nature walk..of some sorts.” You trail off dumbly. 

Jicheol raises a brow, “Some sorts..?” He tilts his head with confusion written all over his face. 

“Fuck, Jungkook!” 

“Right there..!” 

“Mmmh..yes,”

“Com–coming!” 

You freeze mid-chip and peer over at your husband, “Yeah..some sort,” you crack a tiny smile to break the tension, “that’s not important though,” you set the bowl off to the side somewhere, “how was your day?” You smile prettily. 

Jicheol (thankfully) takes the bait, he has a smile painted over his handsome face, “Boring, I had a few meetings here and there and then some paperwork to file.” He sighs heavily and falls dramatically on the bed next to you, “You busy tomorrow?” He quietly asks while poking your side. 

“Depends,” you softly whisper and lean down to press gentle kisses over his lips, “what are we doing?” You blow against his lips gently, cracking a smile when Jicheol hooks a hand around the back of your neck, “Hm?” 

Jicheol doesn’t reply and instead brushes his lips over yours, “C’mere,” he quietly murmurs, “on my lap sweetheart.” You can feel his big hands over the small of your back, he guides you over so that you straddle him. 

You bite your lip and watch Jicheol closely, the excitement builds up quickly because something about your husband drove you wild. Jicheol didn’t even have to try to get you in the mood, god bless for fine men like himself. You lean down to attach your lips to his rather eagerly, if you both could just skip the foreplay—

“Babe,” Jicheol pauses when your phone begins to ring loudly. You let out a deep sigh and hesitantly pull away from him looking mildly annoyed. His sharp eyes stay on you while you reach around for your phone and check who it is. “Who’s calling?”

‘Great’ you think while seeing the caller ID, “No one, probably spam.” You say through gritted teeth while turning your phone off ALL the way, “Don’t worry about it,” you mumble while giving him quick pecks, “ ‘s not important baby.” You run your hands along the planes of his chiseled chest and toned stomach. 

Jicheol uses his hold on you to switch your positions, you giggle up at him when your head lands on the soft pillows, “What’s so funny, hm.” He buries his face in the side of your neck and sucks marks into your unblemished skin. 

Your lips part and you bury your fingers in his hair, “Nothin’,” you lick your lips as you catch your phone from the corner of your eye, “nothing at all.” You say as his lips find yours and the two of you sink into the sheets. 

+

The cold morning air brushes against your cold cheeks fiercely, only fueling your adrenaline to keep jogging despite your lungs begging otherwise. You liked morning jogs a lot, helped clear your mind and get you away from everything for a bit. Besides, the trail you took was local and not many people came out at this hour. 

“Ah shit.” You whisper tiredly while pausing in your tracks to pick up your fallen AirPod. You take a minute to inspect it and clean the earbud of any dirt and grime it might’ve got from the floor. 

You hear footsteps nearby but you assume it’s another runner (while there weren’t many, it wasn’t rare either). You move off the trail to get out of the way when suddenly the steps stop and a strong pair of arms wraps around your middle. You yell out in surprise and turn your head to see who your attacker is. 

“Jungkook..?” You breathlessly ask, “You scared me, what the hell is wrong with you?!” You smack his chest a few times.

Jungkook has this scary look on his face but what’s new? This spoilt brat was always pissy about something so you weren’t phased, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Don’t fuckin’ do that again.” He glares, “You intentionally ignored me for one,” he takes a step forward, “and then two, come to my surprise baby you turned your phone off. The fuck is that about?” He growls. 

You shake your head and sigh in disbelief, “Really? You’re crying about me turning my phone off? So what, am I supposed to ask you for permission now? Can’t even let my phone die without you freaking out?”

Jungkook snatches your wrist and tugs you towards him, “Don’t fucking give me that,” he whispers dangerously low, “I’m not a fucking moron like you think I am.”

“Nobody said that.” You tug on your wrist, “Now let me go, someone’s gonna see you and I have to get back home.” Jungkook’s about to answer when he suddenly pauses, staring at something. You frown in confusion and look, “What?” You follow his eyes and you go still. 

The marks. 

You really done it now. “Jungkook…” You hesitantly meet his eyes and wish you never had. He looks so fucking pissed you don’t know whether to cry or run away. 

The fear kicks in and you take a step back from him. Jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and slowly nods his head, “I see..seems like you were too busy being a little cockslut hangin’ off someone else’s cock. Tell me was it good?” He darkly mumbles, “Did he fuck you better than I did? Did he have your pussy droolin’ and creaming around his cock like you do to mine? He make you scream like I do baby?” He envelops your entire throat in his hand, not gripping but rather just holding you in place. 

“I’ll scream.” You whisper shakily. 

“Go ahead,” Jungkook laughs in your face, “you do it plenty so I don’t see the difference now.” Your face burns with humiliation and you turn your face away from him, “Oh don’t give me that,” he mock-pouts, “c’mon baby look at me.” He grips your cheeks between his fingers as he squeezes them together and makes your pouty lips form a tiny little peak that he smooches. 

“Jungkook please,” you softly whine, “not here, someone’s gonna see.” 

“You’re right,” he mumbles while staring at the dark hickeys Jicheol left on you, “I know a better place.” You follow his eyes and look over to see that he’s set his sights on your home. Immediately you turn to protest but Jungkook lifts a finger over your lips, “Ah-ah, just do as I fuckin’ say.” 

. 

You’re walking on pins and needles right now, today might just be the day your entire world ends up ruined. You can’t help the way your eyes flicker over to the laundry room, the anxiety claws at your insides and you’re desperate for any escape. After Jungkook had demanded you let him into your home things started piling one after the other. 

First it was Jicheol who had decided to come early from work (out of all days you bitterly think), and then you had Danielle over helping with Jae. How the hell are you planning on explaining anything if Jae or Danielle accidentally enter the laundry room and see Jungkook in there? This isn’t a “oh, my mistake” situation, there’s no coming back from this once everything begins to surface.

You shudder just thinking about it, “Danielle–honey, do you mind taking Jae out to the park for a bit? I got a lot on my mind right now and I think I’m gonna just cook dinner or something to get my head out of the clouds. I’d prefer if Jae wasn’t in the house though.”

Danielle stops coloring the page Jae had handed her as she tilts her head up to meet your eyes, “Oh, sure. Do you want me to pack him something or will we be coming back early?” She stands to her feet while dusting off her jeans. 

“Pack a few snacks,” you look over at the closed double doors and nervously bite your lip, “actually here, just take this and bring me back the change—or don’t. Just head out before it gets dark.” You say while ushering her and Jae out. 

Danielle doesn’t comment on your jittery behavior, she simply waves bye and takes the little boy with her down the street to the local park. Now you just have to find a way to keep Jicheol occupied. “Jicheol? Baby do you mind stopping by the store and bringing me a few things?” You loudly call out. 

Jungkook’s long made himself at home in your kitchen, he waves his hand with a teasing smirk on his face. “Fuck you,” you mouth while passing the kitchen to head upstairs where Jicheol was probably at, “Jicheol baby can you run to the store?” You sound out of breath by the time you reach the top, Jicheol’s standing in the doorway in his loungewear. 

“Sure, you got a list or something?” He hums. 

“Uh yeah, I wrote it down but I forgot where I slipped the note. Just go, I’ll send it to you when you’re on your way yeah?” You try to appear as calm as possible but the devil downstairs wouldn’t let you. 

Jicheol looks at you weirdly but ends up nodding anyway, “Okay well, you do that.” He slips past you, “I’ll call you if you don’t send the list by the time I get there.” He begins descending downstairs, “By the way, did the neighbors get a new car? I swear I keep seeing that same Mercedes up and down the street.” 

You freeze in terror and clench your fists tightly, “..Oh really? I didn’t know either,” you slip downstairs and turn the corner to see Jicheol standing in the kitchen while drinking a glass of water you don’t remember seeing him or anyone for that matter set out. 

“Maybe you should get going before it gets late. I kinda need the things for the dinner I’m making.” You nervously smile. 

“You tryin’ to get rid of me now?” Jicheol laughs, “So jittery baby, what’s got you all fired up hm?” He tucks you into his arms and rocks side to side, “Did something happen baby?” He softly says in your ear. 

“No,” you mumble back, “was planning a surprise.” 

Jicheol nods slowly, “Okay, I’ll be back then my love. I can’t wait to see what you got planned.” He winks and parts from you. You close your eyes and wait for Jicheol to leave, you can hear him getting his keys and a few other trinkets of his. Any minute now.. 

. . .

“Jicheol?” You call out when you don’t hear the front door open or close, “Is everything okay?” 

You end up stepping out to go see what was happening, instead you got a fat load of Jungkook carrying your unconscious husband away to the living room, “Jungkook?! What did you do? What the fuck did you do?!” You begin panicking, pacing back and forth throughout the room, “Fucking hell, are you some sort of deranged psycho!” 

“Relax,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I drugged him, well been drugging him with the water I left out.” He snickers and tosses Jicheol over the couch, “Fuck he’s heavy,” he cracks his back and rolls his muscles, “baby, baby,” he raises his hand, “you’re stressin’ me the fuck out with all your walking and pacing.”

 

“Well excuse me, my husband is drugged and passed out in front of me, but sure I’ll keep it down for you Mr Jeon, anything else?” 

Jungkook lazily grins, “You can be as loouuud as you want, I’m not complaining.” He raises his hands in surrender, “But you know what, there is something you can do for me.” He purrs low, “Come here.” 

Your eyes widen knowingly and you shake your head, “No, fuck no. We can go to the room or anywhere but not here—not in front of him.” You hiss. 

“I don’t really give a fuck.” Jungkook tugs you close, “Awake or asleep, I’ll fuck you whenever and however the fuck I want.” His hot breath ghosts over the side of your neck, “I know that deep down—you love this, gettin’ fucked silly in front of your husband, don’t you wanna show him how well you take my cock?” He whispers. 

Your eyes slip shut in both arousal and horror, “No.” 

“Liar.” Jungkook bites down on your earlobe teasingly, “Explain this,” he suddenly thrusts a hand into your sweatpants. His cold fingers cup you through your panties, heavy palm sitting right under your pulsing heat. “Hm?” 

“J-Jungkook, no,” you fight against his grip and squirm around, “listen to me dammit!” You sob in frustration as all the fight begins to slowly leave your body, ending with you melting into a mush of goo. 

Jungkook coos softly, “Baby needs a cock in her? Is that it?” He cages you in between him and the coffee table the back of your knees bumps into, “C’mon tell me, you know I like hearing filthy things leave that pretty little mouth.” He tilts you by the chin to face him, “Look at me,” he patiently hums. 

Your eyes flutter open to the bleary sight of Jungkook, “Just get it over with,” you blink tears away, “please Jungkook.” 

He doesn’t say anything when he slides his lips on yours, his hand cups the side of your face to hold you perfectly still and pliant in his hands. Your face scrunches cutely and you find yourself trying to guide him away from the living room with hands over his abdomen. However a frown makes its way to your face when you notice he doesn’t budge. 

“We’re not going anywhere sweetheart,” he calmly says after pulling apart with a string of spit connecting your messy lips, “but you already knew that, why play dumb?” He talks to you like he’s talking to a child. 

You make a noise of protest but it dies down when Jungkook begins moving. He guides you over to the armrest of the sofa Jicheol’s passed out on. Your heart slams in your chest violently like it’s about to burst. Jicheol’s sleeping face is centimeters away from yours making it all the more horrifying.

 

Jungkook steps behind your bent form, he runs his hands over your sides and thighs with a pleased sigh. He slips his hands into your sweats, taking his sweet time in massaging your hips and the swells of your ass cheeks. You end up biting your lip and trying not to squirm away from his unwanted touches. 

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath when he tugs your sweatpants down and sees the pretty undies you had on under, “well happy fuckin’ birthday to me.” He whistles and runs his palm over the waistband, hooking his fingers in and pulling until the band snapped back in place. 

You yelped and jolted from the stinging sensation you felt in your hip, he finally decided to grant some mercy and tugged the panties down your thighs. They dropped around your ankles alongside your sweatpants leaving your cunt out in the open for Jungkook. By now you’re sure some wetness had built up between your sticky dewy folds, they felt moist and drenched. 

“Such a little liar,” he smacks your drooling cunt, sending you reeling over the couch with a cry of shock. Your face is dangerously close to Jicheol’s, you catch yourself from letting out another yell when Jungkook spanks you again. The pain sparks a heat inside of you. 

“If I woulda known this slutty cunt drips at the thought of being fucked infront of your husband, I would’ve fucked you a long time ago baby.” He chuckles breathily and rubs over your tender pussy. You moan in protest from the “soothing” touch, he has to give you a warning pinch when your squirming becomes tedious, “Behave.”

Jungkook slips his fingers between your folds, parting them in a ‘v’ as he strokes over your entire pussy. A delicious shiver passes over you when his fingers brush over your slippery clit. The touch is enough to make your swollen bud throb with anticipation and need. You bite a whiny moan and let your head hang in slight disappointment. Jungkook isn’t deterred though, he keeps brushing over your clit never quite touching it. 

“Drippin’ already.” Jungkook murmurs while burying his face in your neck, “head up baby, want him to see the slutty little faces you make while getting fucked stupid.” He shallowly dips his fingers into your sopping hole with a lewd squelch. “Hear that?” He purrs low, “filthy already.” 

Your face grows hot with shame but Jungkook doesn’t stop swirling his fingertip around, he wipes his finger clean in your inner thigh, leaving behind a dollop of slick smeared all over. He shuffles behind you until the head of his weeping cock slides through the mess between your legs. His cock comes poking out through your thighs as he slips himself between your squishy wet folds. 

He slowly rolls his hips and lets his cock slide over your mound again and again. The underside of his shaft rubs against your clit giving it the much needed friction you were craving. “Mmh,” your thighs squeeze together and you push your hips back, plush ass meeting his pelvis with a messy smack. 

“Needy little thing,” Jungkook muses and steers you forward with a hand over your back, “gonna fuck it out of you though—he may have married you but this cunt still belongs to me at the end of the day.” He suddenly slams his hips forward, instantly filling you with a loud splat as his balls collide with your folds, “Mine to fuck, mine to breed, mine to claim.” He groans. 

Your mouth falls open and you shudder, his cock from this angle somehow makes you feel fuller and more stretched out. Your rim hugs his cunt tightly and you can feel the slight tug on your perineum when he backstrokes. Another lewd “uhn” leaves you when he drives his cock right back in, the tip pokes your cervix but it’s nothing too serious or painful. 

“Let me hear you,” Jungkook bites his lower lip and rolls his hips faster, “let your husband hear how you—really—like to get fucked.” He huffs under his breath and brings the hem of his shirt up to his mouth, biting it so he can see his cock disappear into your ruined cunt over and over. 

Your ass ripples with every thrust and there’s a low smacking noise, he’s punching more and more moans from your throat. It’s harder to keep them in when he’s rubbing those spots so good. His cock bumps into your g-spot occasionally but Jungkook wants to drag it out so he doesn’t hit it yet. Your pussy clenches around him drawing a hiss from him as his fingertips dig into your hips. 

Jungkook slams forward and sends you toppling over the armrest a little with your feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You’re jostled closer to Jicheol and hold back a terrified scream you almost let out. Jungkook’s losing control and the pace is sending you flying towards your husband, one wrong move and you’re going to topple on top of Jicheol.

“J-Jungkook slow down,” you mewl, “ ‘m gonna fall..!” You gasp, he hits your g-spot head on with vigor. When he sees the tremor that wracks your smaller frame he starts pounding into that spot wildly. 

Your cries are clear as day, the wet smacking is thundering and the couch rattles loudly over the wooden flooring. You scramble to find a good grip to keep yourself steady while you get the pounding of a lifetime. His vicious thrusts send you forward but his firm grip keeps you speared right on his cock. You chant Jungkook’s name which only spurs him on as he fucks you like a madman. 

Jungkook lets the hem of his shirt go and trails a hand up to twist in your hair, “Fuckin’ slut—pussy’s mine ‘n mine only. Let’s leave him a nice little present for when he wakes up baby, yeah? Gonna fuck this slutty pussy on him even with my cum dripping from it? Least you’ll be all loose ‘n wet for him,” he smirks, “you’d like that wouldn’t you? Maybe we should let him join next time, we’ll fuck all your little holes and keep ‘em filled with our cock.”

You shamelessly moan at that and tilt your head back for him without having to be asked. He lets out a pleased moan and leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, “One cock not enough anymore?” He rubs your ass with his other hand and lands a hard slap over it, “Hm?” 

“N-No,” you hiccup with teary eyes, “need t-to cum,” you gasp, “soo close..mmh..” 

“Cum,” Jungkook whispers, “go on,” he brings a hand down between your sticky thighs and smacks your clit with two fingers. 

The sting sends you over the edge with a loud cry spilling from your lips. You shake from the intensity and slump over with a tired moan. Jungkook doesn’t care that you came already because he keeps pumping his cock in and out of your, using your cunt for his pleasure. 

He yanks you back like a ragdoll and wraps his hand around your throat tightly, “Next time think twice about lettin’ him mark you,” he growls in your ear, “or else drugging won’t be the thing I do.” He lets you go carelessly and grinds his cock deep, pelvis pressed tightly to your ass. 

Your lips part silently in a ‘o’ as you shudder, a mini-orgasm takes you by surprise and you’d rather not think it’s because of what he said just now.. Surely not right? Right.. 

Jungkook moans softly as your pussy hugs his cock nice and snug. He fills you spurt after spurt with cum, not bothering to pull out right away. In fact he grinds his hips in tiny motions to milk his orgasm out, sighs of relief slipping from his lips. The room feels hot and you’re pretty sure the stench of sweat and sex is pungent in the air.  

“Jungkook,” you shakily murmur while pushing back, “c’mon, it’s not funny anymore let me up.” You softly plead while looking back at him with wide glossed over puppy eyes. 

Clean-up is a quiet ordeal, Jungkook looks smug when you pass by with shaky legs. He doesn’t miss the chance to smack your ass, to which you fiercely glare at him as you disappear to quickly change. When you emerge in a comfy home outfit you stand in the doorway pointing to the front door. 

“Out.” You glare, “Not in my house Jungkook, this is the first and last time we do this. You hear me?” You’re not entirely sure he’s listening but you say it anyway. This was not only risky as hell but stupid too, everything was at stake (even if the adrenaline was crazy). 

“Kiss,” Jungkook mumbles with a grin as he finishes slipping his coat back on, “c’mon before I go baby.”

You stare at him unimpressed and walk over to press a gentle kiss over his lips. Of course he wraps his hands around your waist and tugs you closer to him, kissing Jungkook was never a quick ordeal. Nothing was ever quick with him. “Okay,” you push at his chest gently, “enough. My kid and nanny are coming home any minute now, get out.” You huff. 

“Yeah, yeah, you weren’t saying that when I fucked your brains out–” His laugh is cut off when he pauses to stare down the hall in amusement, “Looks like we have a audience baby.” He grins. 

Your head whips to see Danielle standing in the kitchen doorway, she looks shocked and disturbed. Jae’s nowhere insight but your heart still drops to your ass, “D-Danielle.” You’re going to fucking lose it right now. 

She takes a step back and looks at Jungkook with both fear and nervousness, “T-The front door was l-locked so we came through the  b-back.” 

“Dani–honey wait,” you stretch your hand out to her but she’s already running. You can hear Jae in the pantry loudly asking where the applesauce pouches are at. You look at Jungkook with fear in your eyes, “Jungkook—s-she..s-she knows!” You quiver and hold back a sob. 

Jungkook cups your face in his hands, “Don’t cry sweetheart, I’ll fix it yeah?” He hums, “Don’t worry that pretty little head, everything’s gonna be fine.” He kisses your cheeks and wipes your tears with his thumbs, “Smile for me—yeahhh, there you go pretty girl.” He grins, “I’ll handle it.” 

+

Jungkook blows the smoke out from his lips, he crushes the cigarette under his boot and clicks his tongue in annoyance, “Shit,” he mutters and digs around his pocket for his phone, “hello?” He answers with his head tilted back as he watches the tiny snowflakes fall around him. 

“Did you handle it?” 

“I did,” Jungkook chuckles, “what, not gonna ask if I’m tired? It was a lot of work baby, don’t you think I deserve a present?” His eyes flicker down briefly but he goes back to snow watching. 

“...Thank you.” 

“Oh you will be thanking me later, but for now I got a lot of things to attend to so I’ll see you around baby. Don’t get too comfy, I was thinking about heading to London just the two of us. I’m sure that pretty brain of yours can come up with somethin’ to tell him, bye baby.” He smirks and hangs up before you can get a word in. 

He stands in silence just staring at the lump in front of him. “Poor kid, shit luck and shit life.” He grunts and lights another cigarette, “..Gotta get the cleaners ‘n shit—fuck it’s a mess.” He sighs and dials another number, “Hello?” He loudly says, “Round up the cleaning team—no it’s only one, might be two but for today it’s one. Teen, the baby-sitter.” He nudges his foot against the stiff limbs laying in the snow. 

“I’ll triple the payment if you help me eliminate a certain someone..yeah, spring cleaning. Oh, and don’t tell father about this. He’ll be real sad to know it happened..again..”

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

[writeforfandoms]

Listening In 1

Find the CoD masterlist

Soap has to work undercover at a restaurant to get info on a target, and meets a waitress he enjoys flustering. He immediately decides he wants to share her with Ghost. Four part mini series, porn then feelings.

Welcome to probably my most unhinged work to date. Don't look too hard at the plot, it's shy. Basically what it says on the label. Re: the minor voyeurism tag/warning... There's a reason this one is called "Listening In".

This probably has Vegas vibes because I started writing it while I was in Vegas. Oops.

Warnings: Swearing, brief skeezy guy (not Soap), probable overuse of nicknames, eventual threesome in a later chapter, dry humping, vaginal sex, protected vaginal sex, dirty talk, praise kink. 

Word count: 5.5k

In his defense, this assignment was supposed to be easy. So Soap had already decided to have some fun. He knew he looked damn good in the bartender outfit - white shirt, black slacks, vest a dark purple with the thinnest shiny silver pinstripes. It was a showy outfit for a showy place. And unfortunately Price had vetoed his idea of just sitting at the bar drinking until their mark came in and they could get the information they needed.

So he got to be a bartender for a few nights instead.

Thus, he was going to have fun.

He’d already flirted with a few of the waitresses, shamelessly letting his eyes linger. The waitresses all wore white blouses and skirts, but their skirts were the purple and silver fabric. It certainly worked to draw the eye to certain assets. 

He set a drink in front of a customer with a wink and a smile, enjoying the titter it got him. But then he stepped back to keep working, subtly checking around for their mark. So far, still no sign of him. 

A new waitress stopped next to the bar, and Soap couldn’t look away for a few long moments. There was something different about her, and he was determined to find out what it was. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted with a wink, watching her. “Waiting on me for something?” 

She lowered her gaze, shifting her weight. Shy, he realized with delight. “The beer for table 23,” she answered, fingers toying with the edge of her tray. 

“Got it.” A quick check and Soap poured the beer. He presented it with a flourish, grinning. “You just let me know what else you need tonight, gorgeous.” 

To his absolute delight, she ducked her head, clearly flustered. She muttered something that might have been thanks and carried the beer over to the table. She was adorable.

More than that, Soap wanted to see how else he could get her flustered.

“Focus, sergeant.” Ghost did not sound amused in his earpiece.

Soap huffed but didn’t reply, instead busying himself by cleaning a glass. Everyone at the bar was taken care of, things were fine. Still no sign of the target. Of course not.

Price had mentioned it might take a few days.

That was alright. Soap could be patient. …Well. He could entertain himself while he waited, anyway. 

And if he decided he wanted to entertain himself by flustering a pretty waitress, well… Ghost could deal with it. 

It was almost half an hour before he got to continue playing, though he did absently track her progress around the room. Finally, she came up to the bar, though her expression was too blank. He must have missed something.

“What can I get for you, gorgeous?” He leaned one hip against the bar, smiling at her. 

“Lemon drop.” The answer was a bit more curt than he expected, but he nodded amiably anyway.

“Can do.” He folded the towel in his hands and noticed her gaze drop to the towel. Or rather to his hands. Hiding his smirk, he turned to get down the ingredients, making a bit of a show of it. Casually flipping a bottle. Spreading his shoulders further than he really needed to. In short, showing off.

And he was rewarded with wide eyes and parted lips. She’d been watching, exactly as he hoped.

“Here you are, gorgeous.” He let his smile edge into openly flirty territory, enjoying her fluster. 

“Thanks.” Her smile was shy, and really he should not find that as adorable as he did. But she took the drink and walked away again. 

“Quit flirting and get back to work,” Ghost grunted in his ear.

Soap turned towards the back of the bar, tidying up so he could mutter to his earpiece without rousing suspicion. “I’m multitasking, LT.”

Ghost just huffed, but Soap knew that huff. That one meant something like “cheeky brat”. It was one of his favorites. 

The night was admittedly slow, but Soap got his entertainment where he could. Partially in getting better tips. (It was not against dress code to roll his sleeves up to his elbows, and he certainly caught more than one person eyeing him speculatively. That was the kind of attention he enjoyed.) 

It was near the end of the night before he finally got a chance to do more than just flirt with the pretty waitress, though. 

She stopped at the side of the bar with a soft sigh, rolling her shoulders. She looked a little tired. Not that he blamed her - she’d been running around for hours.

“Almost done for the night, gorgeous?” The bar was quiet, so he let himself stop next to her. 

“Almost.” She blew out a breath, her cheeks puffing out briefly. Soap tried hard not to let his mind wander. “You?”

“Got another hour.” He didn’t even have to look at the clock. He’d been keeping track. Especially as it got later and the likelihood of the mark coming in grew smaller. 

“Not bad.” Her smile was a tad sympathetic. She hesitated then, biting the corner of her lip. “Dunno if anyone warned you, but careful of the back door. It swings in hard.”

Soap blinked at her, oddly touched by the little show of care. “Thank you, gorgeous. I didn’t know.” 

She smiled, a little less shy but no less gorgeous, and nodded. “Of course.” 

He returned the smile and then took a calculated risk. He put his hand on her arm, just above her elbow. A safe enough location, harmless. There wasn’t even any skin contact, since her shirt sleeves were primly buttoned at her wrists. “Have a safe trip home, aye?”

Her eyes widened and she blinked at him, adorably doe-eyed. Her smile softened and she nodded. “You, too.” She lingered a moment more before she slipped away.

And Soap felt his heart lurch. Just a bit. Steamin’ Jesus he was in trouble. 

He finished out the shift without a single sign of their mark. Not that he was entirely surprised. 

It did mean he’d be back the next night, though. 

It was late when he got back to the apartment he was using for the moment, and he was not surprised to find the lights on. Simon, undoubtedly. 

“When did you get bored?” he called into the apartment, double-checking the locks before walking further in. 

“When you stopped flirting.” Simon was waiting in the bedroom for him, dressed down for the night. 

Johnny toed his boots off before he started on the vest. “Anyone catch your eye?” 

Simon rolled his eyes. “If you found someone you want to fuck, you know you can.” This was not a new conversation - their relationship was pretty open. They both had eyes and they both enjoyed other partners. Occasionally, they even enjoyed sharing. 

“Might do.” Johnny hung up the vest and started on the shirt. “Did you see that pretty little waitress?”

“The one you were playing with?” 

“That’s the one.” Johnny grinned to himself. 

Simon snorted. “Have fun.” It was tacit permission. Even though it wasn’t needed, it still warmed Johnny to hear.

Johnny just grinned. He fully intended to. 

–

The handsome bartender was in again. Johnny, if you remembered his nametag right. 

You looked away from the bar, checking on your tables again. You were not going to hope he kept up the flirting tonight. He was just the new guy, flirting was probably how he got comfortable. 

You didn’t have a chance to get up to the bar for a couple hours. And when you did, you had a list. This table, you could tell, was there for the long haul. 

“Hello again gorgeous,” Johnny purred, gaze sweeping over you. “Doin’ alright?” 

“So far,” you quipped, trying to hide how warm that tone got you. “I think this table is going to keep us busy.” You handed over the list to him, fingers tapping against your tray.

He scanned the list quickly and nodded once. “Be right up.” He winked before he turned to get to work. His shoulders pulled the material of his shirt tight, and you swallowed hard, telling yourself to look away even as you kept watching him. He moved quickly and efficiently, leaving drinks on your tray as he finished each one. The last one he set down with a flourish and a grin. 

“Thanks.” You picked up the tray carefully and made your way back to your table, serving the drinks easily. You also made a mental note to keep an eye on them - the table was all men, late 20s and early 30s. Exactly the type you expected trouble from after a few drinks. 

The night was busy at least, which helped time to go by. It didn’t help your feet. But you were used to that. 

You barely had time for Johnny to wink at you between your tables, which admittedly helped your morale. He was handsome in the extreme, and flirting with you. That didn’t happen often. You were allowed to enjoy it. 

The half hour of your break was quiet… for you. Two of the other girls were busy gossiping on a smoke break, giving you perfect intel. 

“How long do you think new guy will last?” Liza asked, voice rough from years of smoking.

“The bartender?” Erica asked, flicking ash off her cigarette. Neither of them paid you any attention. “I hope he lasts. He’s hot.”

Liza chuckled, blowing out a plume of smoke. “He’s too handsome,” she said, shaking her head. “He’ll be trouble, mark my words. I give him a month.”

“Oh come on, he’s sweet enough. He’ll last longer than that.” 

“We’ll see about that.” Liza stubbed out her cigarette. “Don’t get too attached.” She adjusted her bra and tugged down her top, ensuring the best cleavage for tips, and sauntered back inside. 

You leaned your head back against the wall, thinking over what she’d said. Don’t get too attached. Well, you’d certainly seen people come and go before.

But there was something different about Johnny. 

Going back into the dining room was a little bit like marching once more into battle. Your feet hurt and you still had a few hours to go until you were done -  you had a closing shift tonight. The table of rowdy men was still there, still rowdy, still drinking. But not rowdy enough to be asked to leave. 

But you did your job, and you smiled politely at everyone, and you made sure your work was the best it could be. Because tips were life saving, and management liked you. You wanted management to like you.

At least until something better came along. 

The group of men finally settled up near closing time. Things had wound down again, and you were one of the few left. Three of the guys got up after they paid, heading outside. Nobody fell in the restaurant, making them officially no longer your problem.

But the fourth waved you over, smirking. Your heart sank. He was going to be a dick, you could tell. But you still went, because he was a customer, and you didn’t want him to start mouthing off to your manager. 

“Here, sweetheart.” He held up a folded bill. “For all your attention.”

“I appreciate it,” you said carefully. 

Instead of handing you the cash like a sane person, he stood, crowding your space too quickly, and tucked it under the neckline of your shirt. You burned with embarrassed rage, taking a step back. But he just grinned and winked at you before walking away. 

“You alright?” The soft question behind you made you jump and turn, and Johnny held his hands up. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m fine.” You rolled your shoulders, huffing. “It happens. Who else is left?”

“He was the last customer,” Johnny told you, giving you a quick once-over. But it registered to you as concerned, rather than ill-intentioned. “Just us and the boss.”

“Got it.” You blew out a slow breath. “Right, let’s finish up so we can go.” 

“Rog.” Johnny hesitated for a moment longer before he turned away and headed back to the bar. You finished your cleanup as quickly as you could, eager to get home. 

“How far away are you?” Johnny asked as the two of you grabbed your coats. You wrapped a scarf around your neck as well - nights were still cold here, even though spring was technically on the way.

“Oh, not too far,” you answered, a little evasive. “I’ll be fine. Have a good night, Johnny.” 

The cold air was expected but you still shivered once you were outside, setting a brisk pace back to your apartment. The streets were not quiet, still full of revelers and gamblers out late, but you ignored and dodged them with the ease of long practice. 

As you locked your front door, you found yourself hoping Johnny lasted a little while. He was sweet. 

–

“Surprised you didn’t punch that arsehole.”

“Almost did, LT. Price would’ve had my head.”

“Nah. He’d just be disappointed.”

“That’s worse.”

–

Two nights later you were back at work, and once again Johnny was behind the bar. He still smiled and flirted with you, but tonight he seemed a bit distracted. 

“You alright?” you asked him in a quiet reversal from the other night.

“Hmm? Oh, aye, gorgeous.” He smiled, touching your hand briefly. Even that little touch sent warmth up your skin. 

“Good.” You smiled a little at him. “Let me know if you need anything.” You took the beer you’d come over for and walked away. 

He was distracted the rest of the night, working as efficiently as ever, but with markedly less flirting and conversation. You didn’t take it personally. There was clearly something else going on there. 

He left around midnight, which you only knew because one of the others complained about having to stay late to cover. Honestly, you kind of missed him when you helped close. He was good company, holding onto his cheer even into the early hours. 

Your walk home was quiet and cold. 

He wasn’t at the bar the next night, and you kind of missed him. Especially when another asshole got handsy and left a tip stuck in the waistband of your skirt. That warranted a very hot shower. 

But Johnny was back the next night, and it was a quieter night. You made your way over with a smile. 

"How late do they have you here?" You leaned against the bar, giving him a quick once-over. He had his sleeves rolled up again, showing off his frankly impressive forearms. The vest somehow only emphasized his size and how fit he was. 

"Closing," he answered with a smile. "And you, gorgeous?"

"Same." You couldn't help the little smile at that. 

"Guess it'll be you and me, then." He winked. 

You laughed quietly. "You sweet-talk all the waitresses like this?"

"Nah, this is all you." His smile widened when your lips parted, eyes going wide in surprise. "Suits you, gorgeous." He winked at you and left you floundering as someone called him for a drink. 

Feeling like all the blood in your body must be in your face, you bustled off to do actual work. 

Your shift flew past, partially because of easy customers and partially because of Johnny's unrelenting flirting. By the time the last customer left, you were beginning to think the blood would never leave your cheeks. 

"Gorgeous," Johnny started, looking at you as the two of you finished closing chores, "can I walk you home?"

You paused, considering. He looked so hopeful, like an eager puppy. You knew what he wanted. He hadn't been subtle, not with his flirting. You normally would say no to any coworker. But… there was something about him, something different, something genuine. Sure, there was a good chance that you'd get hurt when he left, or make work awkward. 

"Yes."

He flat out beamed. "Great! You ready, gorgeous?"

You laughed a little. "Need my stuff first," you chided him, grinning. 

He huffed but his cheer didn't flag at all. "Grab your things," he said, waving a hand at you. "I've got this." 

Giggling a little, you let him finish up and grabbed your coat and things. Were you really going to do this? Have your coworker over for a hookup? You never did this. Never. 

But this could be fun, with Johnny. 

"All set," Johnny said as he joined you. "Lead on." 

You hesitated for a moment, looking at him. You wanted to hold his hand, but this wasn't that kind of night. Your heart was really too soft for this. 

That was a problem for later you. 

The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Johnny walked close to you, your arms brushing as you walked. 

"This one's mine," you said, nodding to the building ahead. "Do you want to come up?" You couldn't quite make the question confident, still a little too shy for that. 

"Only if you're comfortable with that." His hand landed at your waist, still in perfectly respectable territory. You had the vague feeling that you'd never find someone this respectful again. 

"Yeah." You smiled at him, pulling out your keys. "It's a bit messy, but I live alone." 

"Good." Johnny followed you inside and to the elevator, his hand sliding down just slightly to land on your hip. The elevator doors closed, and he shuffled in close to you. "Been hoping you'd say yes, been thinking about it since that first night." 

"No way." You eyed him suspiciously. 

"I swear," he promised, gaze open and honest. "Since you got all flustered." 

Which, of course, only got you more flustered. The elevator door opened, and Johnny pulled you out and down the hall. You were laughing when you finally opened your door, letting him inside. 

"Can I kiss you?" Johnny closed the door and locked it without letting go of you. 

"Yes." The word was barely out of your mouth before Johnny was on you, his free hand cupping your cheek, lips insistent on yours. Somehow, he got your scarf and jacket off, leaving them on the floor. 

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, pupils already blown wide. "Just as sweet as I thought." 

Which sent heat flaring through you. "Stop flustering me," you grumbled half-heartedly, tugging his coat off. 

"But you're adorable when you're flustered." He grinned, leaning in again to nip playfully at your lips, swallowing down your gasp. 

"Shoes," you managed to gasp when his kisses traveled down to your throat. 

He huffed, warm breath fanning over damp skin, but pulled back enough to comply. He tossed his shoes behind him carelessly, making you laugh again. 

"Let me help you." With a smoldering look, he knelt in front of you. Your mouth went very dry at the sight of him on his knees, lifting one foot to pull off your shoe for you. It shouldn't have been so sexy. It really shouldn't. 

But it was. 

You balanced one hand against his shoulder as he divested you of your other shoe, his hands sliding up and down your calves. 

"Do you have, uh." You trailed off, once again flustered. 

"Condoms?" He grinned up at you, apparently amused. "Sure do, gorgeous." His hands slid up to your knees and stopped there, waiting. 

You bit your lip, looking down at him. "Shall we, um…?" You motioned vaguely behind you to your bedroom. 

"Fuckin' hell you're cute." He surged up to his feet, his hands landing on your hips instead, and kissed you again. You shivered, winding one hand into his hair carefully. The buzzed side was soft and fuzzy, and you detoured to rub his head there. "Oh aye, do that. And pull. I like that." A quick wink and he was back to kissing the breath out of you. 

Somehow he guided you backwards into your bedroom all while kissing you. If you’d had the mental capacity, you would have been impressed. As it was, you were too busy hanging on for dear life to him, one hand holding tight to his shoulder and the other still playing with his hair. 

He turned the two of you suddenly and you yipped in surprise as you both fell, although it was apparently intentional. Johnny ended up sitting on your bed and you ended up sprawled on top of him, face dangerously hot, unsure if you should move away or get comfortable. 

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, hands settling on your hips to gently guide you to a more comfortable position. “Could keep kissing you all night.”

You smiled a little, somehow still bashful even with your lips still tingling from his kisses. “I’d be okay with that,” you agreed, looping both arms around his shoulders and combing your fingers through the downy hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“Would you be okay with more?” His fingers stroked along your hips and sides, as if he just couldn’t hold still.

“Yes.” That was an easy one. He was making it easy. He was making you want more, want things you didn’t normally think about. 

His grin was bright and flirty and infectious, right up until he dipped his head to nip the corner of your jaw. Your gasp spurred him on to start unbuttoning your shirt, eager to get at more skin. He worked fast, pushing your shirt back and briefly getting both of you tangled up before tossing the shirt to the floor somewhere. 

He looked good like this, far too good, with kiss-swollen lips and pupils blown huge with desire, hair mussed from your fingers. 

“You’re a bloody vision, gorgeous.” He licked his lips, gaze darting over all your newly-exposed skin, as if deciding where to start. Then he dove in, kissing from your neck down past your collarbone, hands big and warm smoothing across your belly and up your sides. 

You managed to fumble between the two of you, briefly cursing the tiny buttons on the vest before you got it open and started on his shirt. You wanted to see more of him, wanted to feel skin under your hands. The warmth in you was quickly pooling between your legs, insistent and throbbing. 

“Can I…?” You started, hesitant even with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

“Anything,” he agreed instantly, hands tugging you closer eagerly. “Anything you want, gorgeous.” 

You might have whimpered. Just a little. You absolutely did scratch your nails through his hair again, enjoying his soft moan against the skin of your collarbone, and then worked his shirt open. Finally, your hands splayed against warm skin dusted with hair, and you pulled back a little to look. 

He was, frankly, gorgeous. He was extremely fit, scars dotting his skin, shoulders broad and firm under your touch. You licked your lips as you watched him practically tear his shirt and vest off, tossing them away, watching the play of muscle under his skin. Briefly, you wondered what the hell someone like him was doing with someone like you. 

He didn’t give you time to linger on that question, kissing you again with renewed fervor as his hands went to your bra. In moments, it was off and sailing through the air. 

“What can I do, gorgeous?” he purred. His hands were practically everywhere - smoothing up your spine, holding your hip, rubbing against your side, cupping your breast. “What d’you want me to do?” 

You gasped, shivering, overwhelmed. “I don’t…” You struggled for a moment to find words, quickly tipping from embarrassed to frustrated. 

“How ‘bout you tell me if I go too fast?” he murmured, thumb rubbing lazy circles around your nipple. That worked wonderfully well as a distraction, and you relaxed again. “Tell me if you don’t like something.”

“Okay.” You held onto his shoulders as he dipped his head. One hand on your back encouraged you to arch up for him, and his lips found your neglected nipple. Your gasps and quiet whines only spurred him on, your nails digging into his shoulders making him moan. When you started squirming, aching for more, he grabbed both your hips and pulled you into a slow rolling grind against the bulge in his pants. Your head tipped back with a sharp noise of pleasure, thighs trembling. 

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny groaned, grip tightening on your hips. “You make the prettiest noises, gorgeous.” He bucked his hips up into you and you squeaked, thighs tightening around him. “That’s the way, gorgeous, atta girl. Just like that.” 

You held tighter to his shoulders, unable to do anything but comply. It felt too good - he felt too good under you, guiding you along and watching you with lust-blown eyes. Too good and too much. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to try and regain some semblance of control.

“Wanna hear you, gorgeous,” he murmured, leaning in to nip your chin. “Just us here, yeah? Lemme hear you.” He nipped the shell of your ear next, breath hot and damp against your skin. 

You were helpless to hold back after that, your lips parting on a low moan. Johnny nearly purred, moving you both faster, his hands briefly detouring to pull your skirt up to your waist so he could look down between you. 

“Getting close?” he murmured, one hand solid on your hip, his other wandering. “Gonna come for me, just like this? Come on, I wanna see you, see how gorgeous you are, aye?” 

And that did it. Something about that accent and those words tipped you over the edge with a high whine, your hips jerking as you clenched around nothing. 

Johnny groaned, his own hips jerking up into you once. “Knew you’d be so beautiful,” he murmured, nuzzling your cheek. “Bet you’ll look even prettier under me. Can I? Let me do all the work, lemme take care of you.” He kissed you again before you even had a chance to respond, a little wild. 

You pulled back from him, just a little, one hand wound into his hair and tugging gently when he tried to follow you. “Yes, Johnny,” you agreed breathlessly, meeting his wide-eyed gaze. “You can.”

Johnny grinned and kissed you again. And then he did something unexpected.

He lifted his hips and twisted his body and somehow turned the two of you into a controlled roll until you were flat on your back on the bed with him kneeling above you. 

“Want help with these?” His fingers teased the waistband of your panties and skirt. 

Feeling a bit like you might combust on the spot, you nodded and lifted your hips for him. Much smoother than you would have thought possible, he had both garments down, off, and tossed elsewhere. You were torn between being impressed and turned on. 

Johnny fished around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a little foil wrapper. “Hold this for me, gorgeous.” He winked as he set it on your tummy, fingers grazing over your skin in a very deliberate tease before he got off the bed. You watched, eyes wide and hungry, as he shimmied his slacks and boxers off in one go, leaving them in a crumpled mess on the floor. 

“And you call me gorgeous,” you breathed, swallowing hard. Because he really was - even the scars added to his looks. As did the blush rapidly spreading across his cheeks. 

“Well, lookit you, sweet-talkin’ me.” He grinned, apparently recovering. But you made note of that. Genuine admiration got a good reaction. 

“Does it count as sweet talking if it’s the truth?” 

His blush darkened, much to your delight. He huffed. “Nuh uh, sweet girl.” He knelt on the bed again, reaching for the condom and deliberately grazing his fingers over your thighs. “Not distracting me, gorgeous.” 

You couldn’t help but watch as he rolled the condom on, because, well… He was right there. And shameless about it. And you were maybe a bit nervous - he was at least as big as some of your toys. 

“Ready for me?” He rubbed his hands up and down your thighs, watching you closely. 

“Just… go slow?” You sounded small and uncertain to yourself, but you didn’t shy away. Not this time. You wanted this, wanted him. 

“Rog.” He smoothed his hands up the insides of your thighs, gently encouraging you to spread them more as he shifted into place. One hand landed on the bed next to your head, bracing him as he hovered over you. “Tell me if you need to pause, gorgeous. I mean it.” He waited until you nodded to start pushing into you, taking it slow. 

But it didn’t hurt at all. Just felt… good. Damn good. You tipped your head back, squirming a little. 

“Easy, gorgeous.” Johnny squeezed your hip gently, biting his lip. “Need me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.” You lifted your head just enough to look up at him, feeling a little wild yourself. 

He huffed out an almost laugh. “Yes, ma’am.” He kept moving, not fast but steady. It took only moments for you to hook one leg up over his hip, wanting more, wanting him deeper. He moaned, dropping his head briefly to press a kiss between your breasts. “Fuckin’ love it when you ask for what you want. With your words or like this.” His hand rubbed down your thigh, hitching it up a little higher. “Bloody gorgeous, sweet girl.” 

You were going to tell him how good he felt, you really were. Except then he started moving again, and all thoughts flew out the window. Everything that wasn’t Johnny flew out of your head, really. 

As did any semblance of volume control. 

Fortunately, Johnny seemed to like you loud, going by the heartfelt moan he barely muffled against your skin. 

“Fuckin’ perfect, gorgeous,” he cooed in your ear, hips snapping against yours with more force now. “So fuckin’ good for me. Makes me wanna do this again.” 

You just gasped, clinging to him as much as you could, nails digging briefly into his shoulders. Which only spurred him on - he lifted your other leg up over his hip, tilting you into a slightly different angle. The first thrust had him brushing up against a spot that had you nearly seeing stars, and he swore.

“Felt that,” he rumbled, planting both hands on the bed to get more force into his thrusts. “Feel good, gorgeous? Gonna come for me again? Show me how sweet you are, aye?” 

“I need…” You trailed off, looking up at him, legs tightening around his hips. 

“I’ve gotcha, sweet girl.” He leaned down to kiss you, hard and open-mouthed, and one hand slipped between you to finger your clit. 

You shouted into his mouth, arching and going tense as your orgasm crashed through you, leaving you a shaking mess. Johnny wasn’t much better off, holding your lip between his teeth until he stilled in you, quivering. 

And then he relaxed, leaning most of his weight to one side so he didn’t crush you. You closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath, idly smoothing one hand up and down his forearm. 

“Fuck,” he finally breathed after a minute or so of quiet. “Please tell me we can do that again, gorgeous.”

You laughed a little, tipping your head to look at him. “Let’s see how work goes,” you said. “If it’s not awkward, we’ll revisit the topic.”

He grinned at you, something soft in his eyes even as he cupped your cheek. “Dunno the meaning of the word,” he teased, making you laugh again. “Swear down.”

“I’m sure,” you agreed. The yawn caught you off-guard and left you blinking owlishly. 

“Should let you sleep.” Johnny moved with a little grimace, rolling off the bed and landing on his feet like a cat. 

You swallowed back the urge to ask him to stay. To beg him, if need be. This wasn’t that kind of movie, you reminded yourself sternly. “Bathroom is the door on the left.”

“Thanks, gorgeous.” The door closed quietly after him. 

Rather reluctantly, you rose and gathered up your clothes, actually putting things away properly. An over-big t-shirt counted as your nightshirt, and fell to mid-thigh. Good enough to see him out. 

Johnny, on the other hand, shamelessly pulled on his now-wrinkled clothes. He’d slicked his hair back with water, but he definitely still was rocking a “walk of shame” look. 

“I’ll see you soon, gorgeous,” he promised. Before you could open the door, he leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. 

And then he was gone before you could properly recover, the door swinging shut after him. 

–

“Did you forget something, Johnny boy?”

The dangerous edge to Simon’s voice made Johnny shiver, though he was still grinning like the cat that got the canary. “Forget, LT? Nah. Didn’t forget.”

“You wanted me to listen in.” Simon lost the dangerous edge, though his voice was a little too even. Covering up his surprise, probably. 

“Had a feeling she’d make the most beautiful noises. Wasn’t wrong, was I?” Johnny couldn’t keep his smug grin to himself. 

“No,” Simon agreed, thoughtful now. That tone sent goosebumps down Johnny’s back. “Not wrong at all.” Silence for a few more moments, then, “Hurry it up.”

“Rog.” Johnny sped up, eager to see what Simon wanted. This was absolutely going to end well.

#listening in #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader x johnny soap mactavish #18+ #minors begone

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your naga professor keeps you captive

General Plot: You are being held captive by Arion and the two of you try to talk it out.

Word Count: 2.5k

Naga (Arion) x female reader

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: kidnapping, yandere behavior, sfw nakedness, sfw monster fluff, forced bath

You never got your snack, crying yourself to sleep in Arion’s arms, but woke still wrapped in his coils, your head on his chest. His study was warm from a crackling fireplace and smelled of old books and his heady cologne. 

He was asleep, his tail still tight around you but he looked so sweet with his head lolled to the side on his arm and his glasses creeping down the tip of his nose. This way he didn’t look at all like a psycho. 

You wiggled, trying to see if you could slip loose, but he snapped to attention, his metal frames slipping down his chest and he had to scramble to grab and straighten them. He blinked at you through the lenses and smiled. 

“You’re awake,” he said. 

He looked so incredibly pleased to see you, your heart fluttered. 

“I-uh…” you found yourself at a loss for words looking into his hazel eyes. 

They were soft and gentle, so different from the madness from the night before. 

“I bet you’d like a bath and some food,” he said. 

You stiffened at the bath, but there was no fighting it as he smoothly slid through his house with you wound in his tail, your arms pinned to your sides. 

What you saw of his house was nice but a bit dark, the walls all lined with mahogany stained wood paneling. He collected a lot of things, trinkets and ancient looking art were arranged on shelves on the walls. 

Drawing your brow you watched him fill the bath water in the large bathroom he took you into. His tub was more like a pool with a low tile rim that could fit his entire tail inside. 

He was gentle as he peeled your clothes off of your body, his eyes getting their fill of your bare skin. 

His long fingers were just as strong as you’d imagined them being, deftly unbuttoning your work shirt and unsnapping your bra. He wiggled you out of your panties, blushing himself, even as he couldn’t keep his gaze off of you. You were frozen in shock and a hefty bit of embarrassment. 

You’d had the odd R rated fantasy about the naga, but the idea that the first time he saw your naked body would be as he held you against your will and hungrily stripped you of your clothes was…confusing. Your body tingled and you couldn’t tell if it was from humiliation or arousal. Your wet pussy had taken her stance.  

Arion had enough shame not to molest you, placing you gingerly in the water after it was filled. His eyes were another story, eating you up behind his steaming glasses. 

He lifted them off of his face, probably without thinking, giving you a glimpse of his mossy hazel irises, that reminded you of a spring forest. 

You took to scrubbing yourself nervously with your hands, hoping to end this as soon as possible, but he stayed your wrists. 

“Calm down, let me help you,” he said, his voice low, “you’re going to rub your skin raw like that…You don’t need to be frightened, I would never harm you, (Y/N).” 

For being so strong his hands were gentle as he rubbed a bar of soap and smoothed the lather over your skin. The scent of roses filled the room and all you heard were the gentle splashes of water moving. Your eyelashes fluttered from the sensation, but you tried not to enjoy it. You were his captive, this was not a lover’s bath. 

“Just relax,” he sighed, his hands traveling all over. 

You shivered, wrestling with your confusion. 

“Y-you shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered in the quietness of the bathroom. 

“That’s society talking through your lips, darling,” he said patiently, cupping your breast innocently with his hand, “doesn’t this feel good? How could something be wrong that feels right?” 

He didn’t push too hard, his hand drifting away from the tender spot to your shoulder, where he rubbed in gentle circles. It did feel nice. His hands were strong, but smooth from a life in academia, his touch firm and soft. 

Moving to your  hair, he carefully watched your eyes as he tipped your head back into the water and scrubbed your scalp. Your lashes fluttered shut and you let him massage the tension away. You were so tired from clenching your jaw, every muscle tight with anxiety. It would be so much easier to just give in, believe him when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you. 

Only…what he’d done was so horrible, such a violation, it was impossible to forget. He’d tied you together for two lifetimes. Your second reincarnation would be pulled to him, lured innocently into his trap again, if this hadn’t already happened before. For all you knew you were stuck in an endless twisted romance with him for eternity. 

“Don’t panic,” he whispered, noticing you stiffening, “I promise it’s not as bad as you are building up in your mind. We love each other, darling.” 

“Do we?” you asked, searching his reptilian eyes. Did he truly believe in love or was it some version of that? Was this passion or obsession? It was starting to get blurry in your mind. 

He gave you a placating smile. 

“How did you feel when you first met me?” he asked, “when you first touched my shoulder that day in the library? You were drawn to me.” 

You blinked, surprised he’d remembered that silly gesture you’d been so anxious about. 

“I…I was curious about you,” you said. 

“And what did you learn about me?” he asked.

You frowned. 

“That you are a kidnapper,” you said blandly, unsure where he was going with this.

He actually chuckled. 

“Before that,” he said, “our spirits were drawn to one another, don’t you think? You kept coming to speak to me. Your eyes followed me across the room. You defended me to that wolf.” 

“Well…yes,” you said, you had to admit you’d been attracted to him. 

“Then at the most base level isn’t that all there is? Mutual attraction?” he went on, “do the details really matter? We are together and we are happier together. It’s very simple math.” 

“But I have a life,” you argued, “you’ve stolen me away from it!” 

“Only temporarily,” he reasoned, “I called HR posing as the hospital. You’re in a coma as far as anyone knows and your job will be there when you get back. I just want to spend some time…bonding. Scrubbing the conditioning you’ve received that makes you want to run from me.” 

You sighed. 

“You’ve bound us for two lifetimes, Arion, don’t you think that’s something you should have asked me about beforehand?” you snapped waving your wrist at him. 

He frowned at you and pulled your smaller wrist into his hand, lovingly caressing the bracelet that bound you to him. 

“You wouldn’t have agreed,” he said, still so annoyingly reasonable, speaking in an even calm tone. He didn’t seem upset or hurt, just patient like a teacher guiding a student. It would have been easier if he were cruel to you or violent. He hadn’t raped you or beaten you. Every argument he had a reasoned answer for. It was maddening. 

“Don’t you see? It was a testament to my devotion to you. The big risk,” he continued, “and will be a token of our love when you surrender.” 

“How do you know I will surrender?” you challenged, “maybe I will just hate you for two lifetimes and you’ll be miserable.” 

His eyes softened and he brushed your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“I can see the love in your eyes,” he said smiling, “you’re frightened, but you love me. It’s only a matter of time and opportunity before you let go of these broken beliefs you’re clinging to.” 

You shook your head. 

“I-I just can’t accept that Arion,” you said, “you say this is love but…I just don’t see it. I’m scared of you.” 

He looked at you a bit apologetically. 

“I know but you will,” he assured you, “just let me take care of you. Don’t fight me. I’m not going to harm you.” 

You refused to agree to his terms, even if you were softening to his argument. You couldn’t reason your way out of captivity and it frustrated you. 

He fished you out of the bath and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, knotting you in his tail again. You wondered if you would ever walk on your own two feet, or if he would just carry you around forever. 

His kitchen was large and modern and he finally put you down on the counter, your legs dangling over the edge. Everything in his house was built just a bit higher than it would be for a human and he didn’t have many chairs. There was no point in running. Even if you got away from him you would just die, so there was nothing to do but glare at him and cross your arms as he cooked. Your new plan was to punish him for every second he kept you captive. 

“I’m never going to love you,” you finally said, just plain angry. 

He glanced at you and smiled to himself. 

“You wound me, darling,” he chuckled, “but I don’t believe your angry little snipes even for a second. The love in your eyes speaks louder than your fleeting anger.” 

You huffed in absolute frustration. He was completely delusional! 

“You’re a mean…manipulative…lying…psycho!” you snapped. 

He slid over and hovered over you, showing his height and strength. 

“And you are a naive, ungrateful, little brat, but we still love each other,” he said looking into your eyes, then turned and continued his cooking, waving a spoon at you over his shoulder, “but go on, what else do you have to say about me? It’s best you get it all out now.” 

His attitude sucked the words from your lips. Your spite couldn’t decide if it wanted to yell obscenities at him or stay silent to make a point. 

“You are so incredibly infuriating!” you snarled, unable to stop yourself, “you’re completely insane and you’re not listening to anything I’m saying!” 

“Because you’re not saying anything you really mean,” he said coolly, without looking up, “you believe you mean it. I know that you really do, but deep down, you’re just verbalizing your anxieties and that’s okay. I don’t mind waiting.” 

“Of course you don’t you smug bastard,” you hissed, “you’ve already tied me to you. I can’t ever escape!” 

He turned around, pointed his spoon at you, and grinned. 

“Bingo,” he said and turned back around to continue what he was doing. 

You collapsed on the counter, putting your head down, beyond tears. Watching his back for a while you couldn’t help noting how wide his shoulders were or how the muscles in them flexed as he moved around the kitchen. His pretty green tail shimmered iridescent colors in the bright kitchen lights, thick and muscular. 

No matter how much you tried to deny it, you were sickly attracted to him. You had wanted him, before all this. He was very clever, you had to give him that. He’d figured out a two thousand year old puzzle no one else could solve just to trap you for two lifetimes. It was a little romantic. If it were in a fantasy novel or something, you assured yourself. 

“Now, don’t pout,” he said, finally passing you a plate of your favorite comfort food. How he knew that you had no idea. 

“I like hearing your voice,” he went on, “even if it is insulting me.” 

You were starving so you didn’t make a fuss about the food, taking the fork he’d offered you and diving in. He was a really good cook. 

“The food in this prison is really delicious,” you commented. 

He laughed, taking a bite of his own food. 

“Maybe the warden wants to spoil you,” he said. 

He drew your brow at him and tried to look difficult, which only made him chuckle at you more. 

“You are so cute,” he said, smiling, “even and especially when you are angry.You’re like the cutest little wet kitten.” 

That spoiled your plan of insulting him. He liked it! But there were other ways to punish someone. You’d have to come up with something more devious. You thought for a moment before giving him a good long look. 

“I hope you’re ready to sleep in this bed, Arion Dernald, because you are so sure I’m trapped here with you, but maybe the truth is you are trapped with me.” 

–

Your plan to punish Arion was simple enough. Just be silent. Don’t speak. Don’t acknowledge him. Don’t give him anything. 

So the next morning when you woke him, you barely looked at him, focusing your eyes somewhere over his shoulder when he talked to you. You were silent at breakfast and only ate a little. 

He knew something was different, but refused to play your game, chattering with you cheerfully as he settled you down in his office while he did a little work.

There was nothing to do since he couldn’t let you use his laptop or phone, so he handed you a book. Instead of reading it, you left it on your lap and stared out of the window watching the rain fall. It was hard. You got really, really bored trying to look distant and detached, almost giving up a few times. 

Two days went by like this. You counted leaves, books, scales on Arion’s tail to keep your brain occupied during your strike. You let him move you like a doll and vaguely ate a small amount when he fed you, but otherwise you gave him nothing. When he held you in his coils at night to sleep, you laid as limp as you could, like a broken toy. 

On day three he broke. 

“You can’t carry on like this,” he said, when you woke up and refused to return his greeting. He didn’t look angry, only very worried. You refused to acknowledge him, pretending he wasn’t there. 

“I’m sure you’re going mad with boredom,” he went on, “maybe we should go somewhere. It must be miserable cooped up like this.” 

You didn’t take the bait, letting your eyes glaze over. 

He tried to control his worry but panicked thinking he’d gone too far, broken you for good. Your silence had been agonizing. 

“Please say something, (Y/N),” he whimpered, holding your cheek and trying to catch your gaze, “you’re scaring me.” 

You wanted to be smug, you really did. He thought he had all the power, but really he was desperate for your approval. He should be scared. You should break him. Never speak to him ever again, let live the rest of this life in painful silence until it turned him bitter and broke him.

But his beautiful green eyes on the brink of tears were too much for you. 

“Why is it impossible to hate you?” you snarled. 

His smile was like the sun rising. You’d never seen anything more genuine and pure.

“Because you love me, darling,” he said, pulling you into his chest and sniffling into your hair. 

You felt the moisture of his tears dampening your hair and you couldn’t help but lean into his arms, letting your fingers gently graze his waist as he held you giving him the smallest whisper of a hug.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster romance #yandere headcanons #yandere fluff #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #naga #naga x read #naga x reader #monster fluff

[toxicanonymity]

WE NEEEEEED NIGHTWALKS JOEL ABC’s 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Fair enough! 👖 A few are from the ones I did before.

NSFW 18+ Misc / x fem!reader / night walks master list

A = Aftercare - Takes a minute for his dirty talk to taper off.  . . He’ll say something about how bad you wanted it or how bad you want it.  

B = Body part - Obsessed with his own equipment.  Loves your whole body but the first thing he noticed about you was your ass and he can’t resist pressing himself into it whenever he sees you anywhere.  Also loves your thighs, can’t keep his hands off them.  

C = Cum - He doesn’t want a drop wasted.

D = Dirty secret - Peeping Tom.  

E = Experience - Very experienced.  Never had a girl as bad as you, though.  

F = Favorite position - Variety is the spice of life but he likes to be able to see how much you’re enjoying it.  

G = Goofy - No, no one is goofy lmao.  But he may tease you / rub it in about how much  you want his cock.  

H = Hair - Hair still mostly dark, not much gray down there.  Better groomed than you might expect - he's kinda vain.

I = Intimacy - There isn’t really a  romantic aspect.  He’s enraptured by your horniness for him. 

J = Jack off -  Used to do it on his porch while you walked around the block. Now sometimes does it in your backyard while he watches through the window.  Otherwise, he likes porn where the woman is super cock hungry.  Also cock worship.  Believe it or not he also likes porn with plot lmao.  Specifically, scenarios that involve strangers like repair men. He likes it because the woman is secretly so horny and all it took was the right man to activate her.  He HCed you that way as soon as he saw you, and he knew he could activate you. 

K = Kink - Voyeur, breeder.  You’ve had to start doing better at taking the pill.  If you’re starting to enjoy it, don’t let him know you’re on birth control.  

L = Location - Enjoys coming onto you and feeling you up in public.   Would be glad to take you anywhere and thought it was super hot the time he fucked you in the parking lot of the gas station, and went down on you in the bathroom of the restaurant.  But there’s also something about having you in his basement that really turns him on.  Reminds him of the first time after he tricked you there and you just couldn’t resist him.  

M = Motivation - He likes to make you desperate for his cock and he wants to hear how good you feel. He gets off on bringing out the naughtiest side of you. He can sense you have a bad, bad girl in there and it's his mission to tease it out. Likes to feel like an aggressor.  Likes control hence locking you in, restraining you, etc. Even if it's something you could escape from like an indoor lock.

N = No - Willingly pull out, or stop pursuing you. 

O = Oral - He’s good at it, he prefers to be inside you but definitely wouldn’t mind being blown.  

P = Pace - Starts slow, pays attention to how your body responds, adjusts accordingly, often getting faster/harder.  

Q = Quickie - Definitely in favor especially if he’s seducing you into doing it somewhere risky. 

R = Risk - Definitely gets off on getting away with stuff, so yeah.  He’s super confident. 

S = Stamina - He can last if he wants, and if you want, but is usually eager to come.   His recovery period is like 15-20 minutes aside from extenuating circumstances where he might be able to go sooner.  But otherwise plenty of time for a smoke or drink in between. 

T = Toys - Doesn’t own any but likes to watch you use yours and would enjoy using yours on you.  

U = Unfair - He’s not much of a tease, but he loves to hear how bad you want his cock so he might try to draw it out of you.  

V = Volume - Grunts, groans, talks dirty.  Intimate volume but not a whisper.  

W = Wild card - Wears PJ pants all the time and he just gets away with it . He has a bunch of different ones, too.  

X = 19 cm (7.5") base to tip erect, and on the girthier end of average.  Just barely curved upward for your pleasure. He's a shower not a grower.  Tan, smooth.  Huge balls.

Y = Yearning - Extremely high, can’t get enough of you.  

Z = Zzz - Pretty fast if you're in his sketch ass basement

-

joel master list

-

NW: @tehweeana@lokanda@blackvelveteen1339@cutesyscreenname@ele-meno-p lmk if i missed you

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @ele-meno-p

#night walks!joel #dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #nightwalks☠️

[teabreakpancakes]

Appease Me Scaramouche x GN Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Obsession, yandere-ish?

psst @kasdeyalilith @mirology @smittenroses @thatjadedhotmess @shizunxie

btw, how old is scara?, also, i added my own lil twist lol, oh and they wear a kimono because kimonos are pretty, also ngl, I pulled the last bit out of NOWHERE, it was just random, can you blame me though? i've been on here for like, 3 hours, maybe 4

Dark clouds roam the skies

The chain chimes, awaiting change

Howling for freedom

"If I stop playing your game, will you finally value me as much as I value you?" you mumbled under your breath, ignoring the tears running rampant against your cheeks.

Your eyes were stained with anguish, replaying the memory of him checking up on that stupid waste of space green haired researcher. He was so so cold to you, was he even the Kunikuzushi you had fallen in love with?

Why Why Why Why WHY WHY WHY—WHY WAS HE BEING SO CARING TO SOMEONE THAT HASN'T BEEN THERE FOR AS LONG AS YOU HAVE? you screamed to yourself, nearly pulling hair out from your scalp as banged your head against the wall.

"Have I been... r, replaced?" your voice cracked, facial expression falling, gradually growing dark. Gritting your teeth, you rip the necklace around your neck, throwing it onto your shared bed.

You turn on your heel, carrying nothing but jealousy, betrayal, heartache and a lot more words couldn't even begin to describe.

Scaramouche stands before you, breathless. "Please, stay with me, I know, I know what I did was wrong but please, give me just one more chance, just once more, please forgive me" his gaze sincere.

And yet, and yet

You don't want to concede just yet, you wished to see just how far he would go in order to get your forgiveness. The thought of him on his knees, pleading—begging for your forgiveness seemed too good to pass.

It's always been you, you on the ground, praising him and showering him in your attention, how would it feel for him to do the same for you?; Countless fantasies raced in your head, only fueling your desire, your borderline sick fucking desire to see the very man you've obsessed over for decades, centuries even, groveling.

"What if..." you draw out, reaching a hand out towards the puppet, straightening a stray strand of his indigo hair as he watches you intently—"I don't want to forgive you?" your voice fades to a whisper. Tucking the lock of hair behind his ear, you smile sweetly at Scaramouche, finding delight in the way despair pools within those gorgeous indigo eyes.

His mouth falls agape, grasping at the hand on the side of his head. Your expression grows helpless as he presses kisses into your palm—the warmth of his tears hitting your skin, your heart began aching at the sight of him so vulnerable.

You cup his face with both of your hands, wiping away the tears that seemed to be endlessly falling down his smooth pale skin. Crystal eyes stare into your own with desperation, silently begging you to stay as you've always done. I wish you had done the same for me when I cried your inner thoughts cried out, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

He leans into your touch, his hands holding onto you as if you're the only thing keeping him afloat. You kiss his temple, leaving lingering warmth on his cold skin. "Goodbye, Kunikuzushi" you bid, prying away his debilitated arms before turning to leave.

Scaramouche stands there, stunned and unmoving. Once he comes to, your silhouette had almost faded from view due to the sheer distance. He rushes after you—using his anemo vision in order to get to you faster, wiping away his tears messily.

He clutches the back of your clothing, holding back a choked sob. "P, Please, don't leave me, I," his trembling hands reach for your hands. Smack you slap his hands away gently why the hell would you hurt him physically? you loved him way too much to do that. His bottom lip trembles, heart falling to his stomach, Do you hate me? he wondered, clenching his fist.

"N, No, I'm sorry, don't hate me, d, don't hate me please" he pulls on the soft fabric of your clothing. He falls to his knees, burying his head into your kimono. "I'm sorry I'm sorry, I love you so much, don't leave me please (Name)" he sobbed, staining your clothes with his tears.

As much as it hurt to see him like this, it also fulfilled the desire to see him finally needing you as much as you did. But no no no, you mustn't stop the show there, you needed to see more.

"If.. you want me to believe you," you spoke, hooking a finger under his chin—making him look up at you with those tear filled eyes. "You're gonna have to prove it" you continue, face void of any emotion.

Scaramouche almost immediately bows till his head met the ground, "I, I'm sorry! I'll do anything to gain your trust back, I, I just want you by my side again—", you huff, "and I thought Haypasia was the one you wanted by your side" you sneered, voice laced with venom at the thought of that damned researcher ruining and coming in between you two.

"NO, I swear, you're the only one for me, the only one" he swore. Scaramouche began kissing your ankles, attempting to show his devotion. The action causes a soft reddish pink hue to paint your cheeks, the sight nearly making you combust, hell, you felt a damned pervert for enjoying it so much.

A soft giggle fell from your lips, sounding like music to his ears. "I believe you Kuni, get up already" you said, tone soft and laced with cheerfulness. The wanderer sits up, resting on his knees, full of hesitation.

You saw no merit to making him beg more, you had already seen what you wanted after all. Using the sleeve of your kimono, you wiped away the leftover tears on his cheeks. Slowly pulling him up, indigo eyes meet yours, visibly confused.

"I... I thought you hated me?" he whispered, head falling downcast. You hum, pulling his face down to meet yours. Mwah you peck him on the lips, stupefying him.

"No, I was just trying to see if you were being genuine" you hummed, pulling him into your embrace. "I already forgave you the first time... I just... wanted to see if I mattered to you as much as you mattered to me" they trailed off.

"I.. was wrong to treat you like that—I grew to be so used to you being by my side so I—" his voice croaked, tears building in his eyes once more. "Shh, hey, it's alright now, just don't do it again okay?" you whispered.

"I, I don't deserve you" he sobbed out, pulling you close.

extra:

You and Kunikuzushi had gotten married, with the blessing of Ei of course. Shortly after he apologised to you, you both had ventured back to Inazuma.

Of course, Yae nearly apprehended him because she thought he was still the Balladeer, but with the help of the traveller, you of course explained that he's changed and that you've returned in order to get his mother's blessing for your marriage.

Yae thought you were lying until she saw the rings on both of your rings, hell, she even had Paimon rant to her about letting the lovely couple get married already.

Oh, OH but the real hurdle of the entire ordeal was seeing Ei apologise to Kuni, you see, your lovely husband always thought his mother wanted to get rid of him—turns out she just wanted him to be free.

They were laughing about it at first but then they both started sobbing like crazy. "Psst, console your wife, I'll console my husband" I said to the fox lady, motioning for her to go comfort Mrs. Ei already.

Anyways, they made a huge deal out of our marriage, it was kinda awkward to see so many people at the venue but hey, at least we're married now? Mr. Morax, I mean, Mr. Zhongli even made us sign a contract.

Oh and, I told Kuni about the weird obsession I have over him, he thinks it's fine but traveler said I was a yandere?? I don't know what that is, haha.

Me and Kuni and considering asking his mother to make us a kid, because we obviously don't want a mortal kid of ours to die in front of our very eyes, yeah, no.

#lawless.writes #genshin.writing #scara x reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #gn reader #genshin scenarios #the balladeer #wanderer x reader

[timetoeatthebread-blog]

Aphelios x Reader - Dreaming of You. (Part 2)

(yes the silver eye color is a plot device you'll see)

(Thanks to a redditor I was able to collect more information on the noctum flower. Here is a link: https://www.reddit.com/r/loreofruneterra/s/Y7rq8uEhmG)

Oh, well. You could probably ask Alune later. You doubt that Aphelios would speak to you, even if the noctum poison wore off.  

Checking on the fish, you noticed that they were almost done. They were impaled on two sticks and the sticks were partially buried in the ground, so they didn't need to be constantly watched. As you crouched beside the fire, you enjoyed its warmth it provided. The flames were trying to lick at the fish, trying to burn them. But the attempts were futile, as the fish were too much out of reach of the flames. Soon, you deemed the fish done and you picked up the first stick.  

Deciding to pass the food to Aphelios first, you walked up to him as he was resting with his eyes closed, still leaning against the tree, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted ever so slightly to the side. His black hair fell to his left, where he tilted his head. His hair was slightly longer on the left compared to his right side. With the hair temporary out of the way, the crescent drawing of the moon was fully visible. He was partially hidden from the sun, the tree casting a shadow over him, but not fully.  

"You should eat, Aphelios, the fish is done." 

He opened his eyes, two black orbs stared back into your silver ones. His gloved hand reached out towards the stick you were passing him and all he offered was a nod as a thank you, not that you minded. Then, you took your own fish and started eating it and enjoying the fire, the slow cracking of the wood had a calming effect. Soon, after eating, you threw a quick glance towards Aphelios and thanked him for caching the fish and starting the fire. It was a good thing you knew the lore, otherwise you were pretty sure you would have become offended and thought that he is mute or ignores you.  

As you were getting ready to rest, you noticed something strange. It was almost like a soft current made out of pallid mist and it was showing you the way. You stood up and made a few steps in the direction, not noticing that Aphelios was keeping an eye on you as soon as he noticed you walking further and further away from the camp. The thinly veiled mist was gravitating towards the forest softly, almost as if showing you the way. You were deep in thought as you followed the mist and stumbled upon a cave.  

The darkness seemed almost welcoming as you stepped deeper into the cave. Soon, soft trickling of the water could be heard coming from somewhere, but you didn't pay much attention. Touching the side of the rough and sharp wall, you gradually made your way downwards the cave, vision becoming darker with each step. With each step as the cave became darker, the mist seemed to become more visible and thicker, almost as if leading you to something greater than you would have ever imagined.  

The trickling of the water became louder the closer you got to the source, which was located at the end of the cave. There were luminescent drawings on the wall, and you recognized the symbols to be drawn by a Lunari, there was no mistaking it. You brought your hand closer to the symbol of the moon and touched it, the hard surface of the wall so hard and sharp that you didn't notice it when it prickled your finger. As if in a trance, you ignored the pain and continued to touch the markings and tried to analyze them, not noticing your hand gathering more cuts the more you touched the wall. The pain was basically nonexistent at this point. Where you touched, blood could be found on the inscriptions, silver mixing with red.  

When you touched the last engraving, a hidden path has appeared to your right. Although you didn't understand much of the situation or the signs on the wall, the mist was telling you to go inside. It sounded like the source of the noise of the water was coming from the hidden path. As you ventured deeper, you finally noticed two streams, one on each side of the wall. Cyan flowers grew under the water, their buds closed off, but still gave off a delicate light. However, there was no sweet smell in the air. Instead, the air was cold and refreshing. 

At the end, the two streams connected and created a large pond, with more flowers pooling inside. What was the most interesting, however, was that on the flowerbed, in the water, lay two shuang yue blades, made out of moonstone and moonsilver.  

You carefully reached into the water with your hurt hand, water mixing with the leftover blood. Then, completely by mistake, your open palm brushed against one of the flowers, the mucus from the flower touching you. Your mind was screaming in pain as you reached for one of the blades, tears running down your cheeks from the agony. As if controlled by a higher power, you couldn't make a sound. But that didn't stop your body from being honest. Your hand trembled so much that you accidentally cut yourself again, this time with the blade. At that point, your hand was hurting so much that it felt numb. With the other hand, you reached for the second blade, inspecting both blades next to each other, now out of the water. Tears clouded your vision as you blinked rapidly, clearing your vision as a result.  

They looked exactly the same, they were twin blades. The engravings were the same as the ones on the wall in the cave and you didn't know what it all meant. But you stood up, your expression pained, with tears still gathering at the corners of your eyes. But you couldn't say anything, feeling dizzy as blood tenderly started to decorate the blade you were holding in your hurt hand. It piled together in one place before a blood drop was created, and then gingerly ran down the blade, before falling off and landing on the stone floor. 

You breathed heavily as you tried to get everything under control, trying to calm down and reclaim control over your own body. But it was hard, almost impossible. Lifting up your gaze, you finally noticed Aphelios, observing your form not too far away. "A-aphelios? What are you doing here?" You tried to say his name, but your voice cracked at the beginning, the pain stil existent. The numbing was wearing off and it seemed like now was the begining of true suffering.  

It took everything in your will not to scream at the pain you felt as you made your way towards Aphelios, your eyes looking into his. He looked at your face for a few seconds longer, his expression unreadable as he changed his focus to the blade in your hurt hand. Taking your hand, he glanced again at the wound, gaze focused as he took the blade out of your hand gently.  

Then, he traced his thumb starting from your wrist and over the palm of your hand, making you instinctively open your palm. After you opened your palm, he properly grabbed the underside of your hand and spread your hand some more, getting a good look at the cuts you have created in your trance. You held your breath as you stared at his face but were snapped out of it when he grabbed your wrist instead, holding it firmly as he dragged you out of the cave. 

No words came to your mind as you followed after him, observing his behavior. Although his hand was gloved, it still gave off warmth as he dragged you through the forest floor. It was eerily quiet, there were no animals and even the wind barely made any sound while gliding between the leaves of the trees.  

Aphelios continued to look ahead as he walked, sometimes glancing at your form to make sure you were alright. 

#aphelios x reader #aphelios #league of legends x reader #lol x reader #lol aphelios #lol fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

[teenandbeyond]

Hi dear, may i ask for Raph x broadway musical actress reader headcannons pls? And remember to hydrate love 💗

Raphael x Fem. Broadway Reader

Thank you, you too! Edit: Honestly, I wrote this way better originally, but my computer randomly decided to update and Tumblr doesn't automatically save, soooo yeah.

Want more from me? M a s t e r l i s t 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🧶The Mutant of the Opera🧶

Warning(s): ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Among your admirers, there's one special turtle who's your biggest fan.

✨✨✨✨

The first thing about you that Raph fell in love with?

Your voice.

It was strong and soulful, drawing him in, but warm enough to keep him rooted one night at practice.

It was your third musical, first in New York, and you were a supporting character, so you didn't have to come every night considering you didn't have many parts.

And opening night? He was mad you weren't the leading role.

You had the looks, the voice, and the charisma.

Hence, the giant turtle currently on the roof ignoring his communication device.

He made sure to show up each night, soon coming to the roof mere moments before you appeared. He had you timed.

🎶"Lift your head up, darlin'!... Never let them see ya' down. Never be afraid of yourself, keep your feet up off the ground...as you fly! To the sky! Reach your dreams, way up high!"🎶

He hoped to see you again.

And he did, the next year, you were a main character, yet not a leading role.

He hated not being able to watch you like everyone else.

But you had such a presence, it honestly didn't even matter.

And after that musical, you had a fanbase.

Raphael created an anonymous account to fanboy with the others.

Then he was waiting, waiting for you to come back.

Then news came, you were coming to New York to stay.

You lived there now!

And a year and a half later, you got that leading role.

"'Bout time. She ain't fit for anythin' else but lead," Raph complained.

"What're you talking about?" Mikey peeked over his shoulder at the newspaper article Raph was reading.

"Don't worry about it--"

"That broadway star you have a crush on?"

Raph scoffed, awkwardly looking away, "It's not a crush..."

"Dude, you've been talking about her for at least three years. It's a crush."

"Is not!" he weakly defended.

It kinda was.

He didn't tell anyone about the magazine he stole that you did an interview in.

And he refused to actually show Leo how excited he was when he came home with a poster of you for him.

He was excited for tomorrow night, you got a role that you deserved and he couldn't wait to see you play it out.

Okay

He was not ready

Your voice sounded different, a good different like you've been working hard on it. It had a different strength to it.

You pulled off a dark, edgy look quite well

And combined with your stage presence being stronger than ever, he was quite flustered by your performance.

🎶"I might be the good girl goin' bad. Getting hotter by the degree. But this freedom makes me glad. I'm happier just bein' me!"🎶

Okay, yeah.

He could admit the dark look was hot on you.

Well, what he could see from this angle anyway.

By the time the show ended, he hadn't even realized it.

No one had, you were that captivating to your audience.

Thundering applause.

And then the musical was over.

But something, something that night had him following you as you left the theater after everyone was gone, your shoulders sagged in relief as you stopped in the alley for a moment.

"Sheesh. That was so nerve-wracking! I hope I did well..."

Are you crazy? You could've been a tree and still be the star of the show, Raphael thinks.

"But I suppose I always get nervous the first night..."

He might have a thing for your voice.

You bite and release your lip as you go into thought.

"Now I have to drink all that wine by myself, everyone kinda just dipped out on me. Even the staff left..."

And the worst thing happens.

Raphael unconsciously adjusts his footing and you hear movement.

"Who's there?"

Raph wished it wasn't him.

Your arm snapped up in defense, "I have pepper spray and I'm not afraid to use it!"

He couldn't help but smile at the cute case the painful spray was in. If not for the contents inside, it wouldn't be very intimidating.

"Come out! I know you're there! Don't bother trying to leave now!"

Fierce little thing, aren't ya'?

"I don't wanna scare ya' doll face," he graces you with a response after some silence.

"I don't scare easily, I lived in Baltimore for a while, so I've seen a lot."

"You ain't seen me."

"Try me."

He sighed, time to scare his crush.

He eased down and out of the darkness, hands up in surrender.

You dropped your pepper spray in shock.

"Well. You're right, I haven't seen someone like you, before."

Your eyes were wide, trying to process what you were looking at.

"I won't hurt ya'...I was just watching you--That don't sound right, uh..."

You tilted your head, the large man--was he a man, he seemed more like an animal...a shell, a turtle--seemed to be more afraid than you were.

"Are you male?"

He didn't expect that to be the first question you asked...he didn't expect you to ask anything at all.

"Yeah. I'm a guy, why?"

"Just checking...I...I know some animals are genderfluid or whatever. I don't know how it is for...turtles, right? You're a turtle. Not a tortoise?"

"I'm a turtle."

You blinked, "A...big...turtle. I don't remember them being that big."

"Mutant turtle, princess."

"I...see."

"You're not scared?"

"Honestly? I'm too confused to be scared at the moment."

"Suppose that's fair."

You apprehensively put away the pepper spray after eyeing his weapons. "I'm [Name]."

"I know."

"..."

"I-I didn't mean for that to sound creepy...I just--I'm a fan..."

A giggle bubbled from your chest, "You're a fan of mine?"

"How could I not?"

Then he continued to go into a ramble.

Which was flattering.

"Eh...That's so embarrassing."

"It seems you've been watching my work for a while."

"I've watched every show you've done here."

"Really? Where? I would've thought you'd be noticed for sure."

"The roof."

"The roof? You could hardly see much from up there."

"Well, I mainly just listen to ya'. I see what I can."

"Hm..."

Raphael did not expect to get a private performance in the empty theatre.

After double-checking everyone was gone and the cameras were off, of course.

You were such a doll and ordered pizza, too.

He snuck in a little wine.

No one had to know.

He'd crack some jokes in between, cutting off your singing and trading it for laughter.

"Raphael--let me--let me finish!"

He had lots of fun.

And during the ordeal...he found his heart beating even harder for you.

#raph x reader #raphael x reader #tmnt raphael #raphael #tmnt fluff #tmnt headcanons #tmnt raph x reader #raphael x hc #headcanons #raphael fluff #raphael x fem. reader #fluff #tmnt bayverse #bayverse raph #teenaged mutant ninja turtles x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / chapter twenty four

Sonya

I watched my brother slip into the shadows as he disappeared down the hallway with Kitty and Liam. I did my best to swallow down the knot of sorrow and fear that had tangled and lodged in my throat.

I'd held it together all night locked away in that little room. I'd managed to put my own helplessness on the back burner, kept up a smile for the littlens. Done my best not to let my Aunt Pol's shadowy gaze haunt me. Though it was all I could think of then as I stood in the dark of that early morning hallway watching the last of my family walk away from me. Forgetting for a moment that I wasn't alone.

Needless sacrifice. That's what Polly had spoken of. That was the answer the cards had given us when I'd asked them about Sylvie. Needless sacrifice, a rift between two halves. I swallowed down again. There were pinprick tears in my eyes.

"Sonya..." Bonnie's voice was soft, a little gravelly where the long night had worn him out, "c'mon darlin y'look like y'need y'bed."

I turned my head to him when I felt his cool fingers brush my arm. He'd reached out to draw me out of my apparent daydream only to be met with the gleam of fresh tears in my eyes. One look and he could tell the extent of my distress, the way my breath caught in my throat. The fragile way I suddenly felt but was doing my best to keep control over.

"They haven't found her..." I started, my fears confirmed when he shook his head, his eyes pooling with sympathy, a quiet understanding I wasn't used to seeing in the eyes of my brother's men.

"They will," he said, "she's left a trail but... you're tired sweetheart, look at ye you're fallin asleep on y'feet," he offered me an almost smile, something awkward in the way he reached for my hand and tugged me towards him. Something awkward in the way he looked down at me when he had me stood right in front of him, my chin tilted to the ground because I felt too close to look him in the eyes.

He didn't do anything then, just stood there uncertain, his hand held mine but that was it. We just stood still and quiet. He was looking down at me and I was looking down at my socks on waxed wooden floor.

When he looked up at the ceiling he let out a tired sigh. Yawned dramatically on purpose trying to draw a smile from me as he made a point of stretching his arms behind his head.

"C'mon girl," he said quieter even than before, his voice perhaps even more gentle than it had been when he'd first spoken that evening. His fingers linked loosely with mine, a gentle tug on my hand before he let them go. Waiting for me to follow him before he led me back to my bedroom.

In my room he stood by the window looking out at the dark garden. John had turned the floodlights off now and the lawn was shadowed once again, the only light coming from the moon and from a window downstairs where lamplight flickered through drawn curtains.

He reached for the tie to draw mine but my voice stopped him.

"Leave them open," I said quietly, forgetting my manners and wincing when I realised how entitled I'd sounded, "please?"

"Not plannin on sleepin?" He asked leaning in the window, his brow raised, his arms folded as he watched me quietly. I shook my head.

"It's not that I just, always sleep like that..."

"What even in London?" He screwed his face up, "Sonya lass that's mad..."

"No, honest it's nice... our flats near primrose hill so you don't get as much light pollution as you'd think and you can see the trees y'know," I said but Bonnie just smirked and shook his head. Left the curtains open and shunted the window up and open just enough to let the muted lull, the cool air from the garden in. It smelt sweet and autumnal, the first woody tones of a turning season. That was something you didn't get in London, even on Primrose Hill.

"No offense love," he said with a little chuckle, "but that's the saddest thing I've heard all day."

I watched him with a frown, stealing my eyes from him when I felt his on me, felt the amused smile on his lips burn humiliation into me.

"Yeah well," I stiffened, "sorry they don't let us live in tents at my school..." I said cooly, pulling the covers up over my shoulders and shutting my eyes, determined to ignore anything else he said as if he thought he was superior to me.

But if I'd been expecting some kind of sanctimonious lecture I didn't get one and when I heard him move from the window to Sylvie's bed and settle down without another word, I felt a tug of guilt on my heart strings. An anxiety that made it difficult to get to sleep.

We lay in silence for awhile, I wasn't sure if he was sleeping but I knew I couldn't.

My head was too noisy, my thoughts buzzing, tucking and weaving in and out of one another. Sylvia, my brother's, Bonnie, Aunt Pol and that strange dark look she'd given me, full of sympathy, full of warning. Full of knowing because she'd divined something I couldn't yet understand. Knew more about me than I knew myself.

I lay there for too long. Grew conscious of my back aching on the unfamiliar mattress, grew conscious of every blink, every twitch. Grew conscious of my hairs on my arms, on the back of my neck, the hair on my head beginning to itch against the pillow. I couldn't ignore the sensation of cotton brushing my skin. Couldn't tune out of the low crackling sound in my ear canal from being pressed against a pillow.

When I rolled over it all only got worse.

I listened for Bonnie's breathing. Tried to work out whether he was awake.

Even whispered his name once only to be met with silence. Whispered his name again ten minutes later just to be sure, only to be met with an unconscious mumble. He called me Floss and told me to go to sleep. Left me wondering who Floss was as the sun began to rise in the sky. As the milky orange glow washed the garden in a soupy ginger hue which stretched from the trees at the edge of the lawn up the long gravel drive. Touched everything with honeyed morning. Made it look sweet and sticky. Made the garden irresistible to my troubled mind.

So without really thinking I let myself slip from the bed to the floor. Feet touching quiet and gentle on the hardwood as I flickered over the floor to the bedroom door. Opened it quietly, not wanting to disturb the boy asleep in Sylvie's bed. Knowing he'd been up all night with my brother, knowing that looking after the spoiled brat Shelby was probably exhausting enough already, without her waking him up at 5am to go for a swim in the lake her brother had had made especially for her.

I'd been rude to him earlier and now I felt guilty. That's why I let him sleep. Why I snook away downstairs on my own, drifting through the house like a ghost.

The house had that strange early morning half lit, dreamlike quality to it so that as I wandered down the stairs and into the kitchen I felt as if I were only really half awake. As if there were still a part of me lying on my back in that bed upstairs holding Buttons to my chest, gazing at the ceiling wondering why Sylvie had left without saying a word.

I didn't like the way it left a numb weight in the tips of my fingers, how I felt the let down feeling wrap around my spine like a blanket, a kind of cotton wool dulled ache. It didn't hurt, it just felt strange. It just felt like there was something there, something extra.. or perhaps I was confused, perhaps it felt like something which had been there once, had now been taken away.

I opened the fridge and took a bottle of milk from the door, watched myself tilt it, watched my fingers leave a print in the condensation, watched as slowly it filled my cup. I used a match to light the stove and gazed down at the burner wistfully, playing with the dial to make the blue flame burn too hot to fast, the flames growing tall and licking at the side of the pan, only to twist the dial right back down, watch those same flames shrink away, grow timid and tiny.

"Shouldn't play with fire Fen," Polly's voice was a warm break to the quiet, something firmer to hold onto than the hiss of the burner and the simmering of my milk. When I turned around she was standing just behind me, watching my fingers twisting the dial back down to simmering.

I offered her a small smile and shrugged my shoulders but I didn't say a word. I knew she was smirking because I looked like my sister. Knew she was smirking because even when we were apart me and Sylvie would always be entwined one way or another, never quite able to untangle or escape the others shadow.

"Let me make that," she said nodding to the milk, "you're not a girl anymore love, that old recipe won't work the way it used to..." she said her voice laden with meaning, her eyes shadowy when they met mine so that I felt a kindling inside myself. Knew deep inside that she knew too many things I didn't. Too many things about me. "Sit down love."

It was funny how quickly I reverted to the girl I'd been aged five when my aunt Pol had sat up with me late at night brewing a remedy for the bad dreams which had haunted me ever since we'd buried my mother. Funny how I settled down, how I did as I was told.

"What're you putting in it?" I asked leaning forward on my hands to get a look at the chopping board in front of her where she was currently crushing something under the flat of a blade.

"Cardamom, ginger and black pepper,"

"Will it help me sleep?"

"It isn't sleep you need is it girl," she said softly, her voice gentle as she abandoned the wooden spoon in the pan and turned to me. She sat down opposite me then, leant forward in her chair at the table and took my hands in hers. Her hands were warm, her skin a little calloused around her finger joints and when she rubbed her palm slowly over my knuckles I felt a shiver of nostalgia grip me. Felt it reverberate down my spine and leave me with that hollow melancholy. I didn't know what to do with myself, just had to sit there with the feeling and hope that whatever she said next would be a comfort.

"You've been away too long Fen, both of you... should never have let Tommy send you away, should have kept you close after your mam... should have kept you here with the family..."

"We wanted to go Pol," I said quietly, chewing the inside of my cheek, struggling to hold her gaze and choosing to look down at her hands holding mine instead, "bein ballerinas was what we wanted to do... more than anything..."

"Didn't have to make it hurt so much though did we, coulda visited you..."

I didn't say anything then because I didn't want to show her how much it had really hurt. How much it hurt to hear someone say it now.

"Fen do you really think she's gone to Camden?" she asked then. I was acutely aware of the milk in the pan bubbling, acutely aware of the gas burners quiet hiss. I thought about my sister, about the secrets we'd shared with one another the night before she'd disappeared. About Alfie and what he'd said to me when he'd found me fighting my tears down by the lock. He'd wanted to talk to her. Perhaps she'd wanted to talk to him.

And then I thought about myself. Sylvie hadn't told me where she was going. Hadn't shared that secret with me. She must have known I wasn't capable. That of all us Shelbys I was the weak link, the one who didn't really fit. I'd betrayed the family once before already because I'd let my emotions, my desire cloud my mind. I was the emotional one, the one who couldn't be trusted. It was what Tommy thought, what all my brothers thought. Now it was what Sylvie thought too.

So I closed my eyes and ignored the tug in my chest which wanted me to tell the truth.

"I don't know Pol, what did the cards say..." I shrugged trying to dismiss them, feeling a guilt inside because I knew I couldn't.

"Those cards didn't have anything to say about Sylvie," she said letting out a small sigh before she let me go, patted my hands and turned back to the stove stirring the simmering liquid before pouring it into my cup. When she placed it down in front of me the milk was a pale gold shade and the steam which rose from it warmed my cheeks. She took a tea spoon of honey and stirred it in slowly and then she pushed it towards me with a softer smile.

"Sonya love," she started, knowing the answer to her question before she'd asked it, "are you late?"

"Wh..." I started, the tremble in my voice all it took to answer her question so that even when I shook my head and tried to lie she knew.

"Fuckin Sabini bastard," she murmured her hand reaching for mine, her sigh sympathetic when I shook my head.

"I'm not Pol, barely... a week at most but thats normal for me I..."

"Listen love, don't panic alright theres no use in panicking..." she started her voice steady and gentle, her wisdom trying to wrap me up in a comfort but it couldn't. There wasn't a shred of comfort I could take from the world if what she believed was really true...

"I'm not pregnant Pol, its not.. it isn't..." I said standing up sharply only for her to stand too, her tone changing, her whole demeanour changing so that suddenly she was that stern mothering figure from my childhood.

"Listen to me Fen," she said her hand on my arm, "sit down and drink your milk," she said lowering her voice again, she was trying very hard to be gentle and I knew I should have been grateful because had it been my brothers before me now they wouldn't have shown me the same forgiveness. "You need to be calm now love, you need to sit down, you need to drink your drink and then you need to talk to your Aunt Pol alright... ain't gonna work this one out by yourself, y'need your family... you need me."

And she was right, and I knew she was right. That didn't make it any easier to sit down and do as she said. Didn't make it any easier to hold my cup in my hands, steady my trembling fingers and take a sip of the sweet spicy drink.

"Now the ginger is for your immune system... your mam used to put that in your milk when you were young, the cardamom and the pepper, they're for your blood and the honey will keep you well,"

"Pol..." I tried to speak but my voice shook a little, an urgency stuck like a stone in my throat, my mind all stirred up, "Pol I can't be pregnant.."

"Have your drink Fen you'll feel better," she said nodding to the steaming mug once more, waiting for me to do as I was told. Watching me patiently, sympathy lingering behind her eyes.

"I can't be..." I said again desperately trying to work my cycle out in my head, trying to pin point the exact day to find a fault in it, to prove her wrong.

However, though it was true that I wasn't exactly regular, that some months I trained too hard and ground myself down too far that I didn't get a period at all, now that she'd said it, planted the thought, I couldn't shake the feeling. As if she'd simply stated something I already knew.

"I'm not," I said again, only really trying to convince myself, *I'm not Pol some months I don't even..."

"Fen, love what did I tell you eh, drink..." she nodded to the mug which was shaking with my hands, "settle down and then we'll talk... this isn't a disaster, there are things you can do."

But there was nothing to be done as far as I could think. I wasn't pregnant because I couldn't be, because if I was it would fuck with my already fucked up life even more. Because if I was it would be Freddie's child, a Sabini and if I wasn't already seen as the family traitor, I would be now.

So I shook my head and put the mug down, didn't finish my drink and didn't talk to her.

"I don't know where Sylvie is, she didn't trust me with her secrets anymore than the rest of you..." I said only stopping when I felt Polly's hand reach for mine, her fingers entwining with mine though not quite strong enough to hold on. "She knows what I'm like..."

"Just like your mother that's what you're like," murmured Polly, her voice only just loud enough to reach me. Her words freezing me for a second before I let out a long shaky breath, one I struggled to control.

🌸🦢🌸

The lake caught the morning sun with a warm glimmer, a slight sepia shade to the reeds which grew at the edge where the land sloped to the shore of silt and grass tufts.

I sat at the waters edge with my toes in the water, the slight breeze sending little ripples lapping at my feet in soft waves whilst I drew with my fingers in the silt.

Polly hadn't followed me outside and for that I was grateful. She might have thought that she was what I needed then, and maybe if I'd been kept close to the family all those years ago, she could have been. But I hadn't and she wasn't and the only thing I really needed just then was some quiet. A quiet place to sit and wallow in my melancholy. I didn't want her to tell me my problem could be fixed, didn't want her to swoop in and save me.

I just wanted to be left alone. To think about Sylvie, to try and work out where she'd gone, what kind of danger she might have put herself in. To think about Freddie... I hadn't heard from him since that evening when I'd left his flat in little Italy. Since I'd given him the cold shoulder trying not to show him the fear and the tears I was trying to swallow down. I regretted that now too. Being so cold. Turning my head away from him, not allowing him the opportunity to show me his innocence.

Perhaps if I'd stayed a little longer he'd have said something to prove he'd had nothing to do with the hit on Michael. That he wasn't like the rest of his family.

But he was, if I was being honest with myself he was just like the rest of his family. He'd been raised in a tight knit circle just like me. Kept closer than I had been by mine. Been working for his uncle since childhood, slowly climbing the ranks of trust. If he hadn't been like the rest of his family he wouldn't have owned the things he did, the fancy car, the expensive designer clothes. He wouldn't have been able to shower me in precious gifts, all the jewellery he'd given me, all the flowers and presents he'd left in my dressing room at the opera house... all of it was stained the same stain worn by everything my brothers had given me.

But just because he was the same as his family, the same as mine, that didn't mean he didn't love me. Tommy had done evil things before, John and Arthur too, even my aunt Pol had killed before, they all still loved me. So Freddie could too and I had to believe it was true. That he wouldn't betray me the way Tommy seemed so convinced he already had.

"S'a good job you're predictable miss gray..."

Bonnie's voice made me jump and when I flinched he dropped down to sit beside me in the dirt, his eyes flickering over the listless little lines I'd drawn in the silt.

"Haven't exactly got many places to choose from." I said looking up at him with a forced smile, trying not to look as torn up as I felt on the inside.

"Lucky for me eh, your brother woulda skinned me if he'd found ye before I did..."

And suddenly I realised I was being told off and I felt myself squirm with a familiar discomfort, feeling a little small, a little too much like I'd just been reminded which Shelby I was. The naive liability.

"Sorry," I said, "you were sleeping an I didn't wanna disturb you... me brothers kept you up all night."

"As sweet as that may be lass," he said with a wince, his cheeks a little rosy as if he were worried he was about to sound ungrateful, "I'd sacrifice me sleep to avoid the wrath of Tommy Shelby any day, maybe that's just me though eh," he added with a wink before using the tip of his trainer to flick a little water over my feet. His whole demeanor softening in an instant. "What about you though eh, you were up all night an all..."

"I'm used to getting up early," I shrugged, "used to get up before 5 some mornings so I could practice before school, technically this morning I had a lie in..."

"Y'know one of these days Sonya," he sighed leaning back in the grass with his hands behind his head, "you're gonna tell me somet that won't break me heart..." he said with a grin, his eyes lit up teasing me, coaxing a small smile from my lips, more than I'd expected from myself in that torn up state he'd found me in.

"Shut up," I smirked turning away from him, partially to hide the rosy stain on my own face, partially to look out at the lake instead, thinking that watching the ripples would calm me. Lull the unease inside me. The knot in my stomach which had been sitting there for days.

"I know you're worried about Sylvie lass," he said kicking his shoes off, one foot with the other and kicking them to the side, doing the same with his socks so that he too could dip his feet into the lake and feel the cool water on his skin. "She's with Isaiah though and honestly lass... from the looks of it, it's everyone else who should be scared..."

"What do you mean?" I asked inching myself closer to the water, feeling the chill on my ankles, a little relief from the strange numb feeling, the cloak of anxiety.

"I don't know if I'm really meant to tell..."

"You've started now," I cut him off a little more harshly than I'd meant to, "I'm not a child I'm sure I can stomach it..." I said, turning the cold up to ten, the ice in me shocking him so that for a second he was quiet. Had I turned around I'd have seen his smirk, small and impressed... but I didn't so I didn't see it and I carried on thinking that Bonnie saw me just the same as my brothers. Naive.

"eh, I know that lass..." he said with a soft chuckle which left my cheeks burning because I thought he was laughing at me again.

"You said she's left a trail..."

"Aye," he nodded. When I looked back at him his eyes were closed, his hands behind his head, the picture of tranquil. It didn't match the the words which left his lips. "Man who lives up the road from yous has been shot, killed actually... bikes been stolen..."

I didn't say anything though I felt like I had to. Felt like I had to say something just to show him I wasn't scared. That if I stayed silent the way I was, my brow knitted in the middle, he'd think I couldn't handle it, that I wasn't as brave as I'd just told him.

But I didn't know what to say to him.

"Been a break in about half an hour up the road too, someone's cars been had..."

"Sylvie stole a car?" I asked with a gasp, struggling to bite back my laugh, the thought totally astounding to me, my grin contagious because when I looked back at him he opened his eyes, saw my smile and started grinning himself.

"Y'know what with yous being twins I kind thought you might already know..." he said still smiling despite the sudden push in his serious eyes. Like he was waiting for me to confess something to him.

And for a moment I thought I might be about to but it was only when I realised I wouldn't be telling him what he thought he was going to here that I decided to bite my tongue.

Changed my mind again a few seconds later when we drifted into silence and his waiting smile faltered and faded away.

"Don't think I'm that kind of twin..." I said quietly, guilty edge to my voice which caught his attention, which had him propped up on his elbows, watching the back of my head as I spoke to the water and not to him.

"What dya mean?"

"Not like the rest of my family I don't know... all that Romani shit I don't have it..."

"Being close to your family ain't 'romani shit' to be fair lass..." he said with a small chuckle, "knowin your family's hardly exclusive to one set of people like..."

"Don't mean it like that," I said with a self aware smirk, realising I'd said another stupid thing, shown myself to be the uneducated, out of touch girl I really was, "I mean all of it, don't have any of that instinct Pols always talking about, I'm not like my brothers... an even Sylvies stopped telling me things hasn't she... cause I'm not guarded enough... I mean look at me right now, cryin in front of you again... too much like me mam and not enough like the rest of them... got the wrong blood in my veins..." I felt ever so tragic confessing to it all, voicing the suspicion only making it feel all the more real, all the more certain to me.

"Your mam was a traveller wasn't she?" He frowned.

"Well yeah," I said sucking my cheek in, biting until I felt blood, wincing when the taste hit. "Not Romani though an..."

"You're givin a lotta weight to somet you were throwin around as an insult two days ago lass," he said with a grin, definitely laughing at me, gentle though, gentle enough that it didn't really hurt to be laughed at.

"Told you I was sorry for that..." I said quietly, fingers drawing in the dirt as I felt myself growing more selfconcious by the second. The truth that I shouldn't have shown him so much of myself so soon dawning on me. Making me wish I could run and hide again.

The gentle smile he offered when he sat up, hugged his knees to his chest beside me, knocking my foot in the water again, his smirk contagious.

"Ain't necessarily a bad thing not bein like your big brothers y'know... I wouldn't want me sister's to be too much like me."

"Sylvies my twin though..."

"Well no offense lass but if Sylvies just like your brothers, am glad it's you am stuck with." He knocked my arm with his elbow, his smile lighting his eyes up, lighting mine up too so that for a minute I felt lighter. Didn't feel quite so pathetic when I sniffled and dried my eyes on the sleeve of John's pyjama top.

"Glad I'm stuck with you an not Isaiah if I'm being honest..." I said with a smirk, a little flush to my cheeks when he laughed and told me he'd be telling him that.

"Oh," he said suddenly, reaching into his jacket pocket to present me with a flask, "Pol gave me this, said you forgot it..."

@jomarch-wannabe @zablife

@elina-777 @call-sign-shark

@zablife @everysage

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

#peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders oc #trouble

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: “The Black Gate Opens”

What’s this?? Another chapter review within a week of the last one??? Gasp! Incredible! Unheard of!

(I just didn’t have a lot of stuff to draw for the last chapter, haha. We’ll see how this one goes.)

Haha another reference to people traveling “in the van”. Guess I’ll have to draw another Volkswagen ;-P

Aww, Merry is left behind…poor thing. Poor all of them, really.

“Bergil was with him, and he also was downcast; for his father was to march leading a company of the Men of the City: he could not rejoin the Guard until his case was judged.” Oh nooo, Bergil, bby 🥺 Has to watch his father leave, wondering if he’ll come back. Argh.

And Merry has to do the same thing with Pippin!! Argh! This is just like that one scene in the movie, but without Aragorn at his side to comfort him…

“Everyone that he cared for had gone away into the gloom that hung over the distant eastern sky; and little hope at all was left in his heart that he would ever see any of them again.” Merry noooooooo 😭😭

“He was roused by the touch of Bergil’s hand. ‘Come, Master Perian!’ said the lad. ‘You are still in pain, I see. I will help you back to the Healers. But do not fear! They will come back. The Men of Minas Tirith will never be overcome. And now they have the Lord Elfstone, and Beregond of the Guard too.’” BBY SON 😭😭😭 Bergil has inherited his father’s defiant optimism. You keep up your spirits, buddy.

The king’s head!! They put the king’s head back on the statue!!

And they broke the bridge to Minas Morgul and set fire to the sickly white flowers. Good. This may only be small pocket change compared to the might of Mordor, but any way they can destroy the darkness and ruin and replace it with beauty and light is a good thing.

Imrahil urging them to use the name “King Elessar” for the psychic damage is GoodTM.

EYYYYYY MABLUNG MY DUDE

Aragorn guessing the mind of Sauron is giving me huge Death Note vibes. “He knows that I know that he knows, etc. etc…”

Oh now this is interesting. Some of the men from Rohan and Lossnarch are too afraid to keep going towards Mordor, so instead of scolding them, Aragorn tells them to turn back and take the port city of Cair Andros back from the enemy if they can. Some of them do, and it’s good, because they’ll still have the chance to prove their courage with a battle that’s more their speed. And others choose to stay with Aragorn, who treated their weakness with kindness.

I could make SO many spiritual parallels here, like SO many, but I think I’ll save that for a future essay post.

Ohhhhhohoho Mouth of Sauron time—

“At its head there rode a tall and evil shape, mounted upon a black horse, if horse it was; for it was huge and hideous, and its face was a frightful mask, more like a skull than a living head, and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame.” OHOHOHO DUUUUUUUDE

NOBODY TOLD ME THAT THE HORSE OF THE MOUTH OF SAURON WAS THIS METAL BRUH

Aragorn: *has a staring contest with the Mouth of Sauron* The Mouth: “I CAME OUT HERE TO HAVE A GOOD TIME AND I’M HONESTLY FEELING SO ATTACKED RIGHT NOW”

“And there to the wonder and dismay of all the Captains [the Messenger] held up first the short sword that Sam had carried, and next a grey cloak with an elven-brooch, and last the coat of mithril-mail that Frodo had worn wrapped in his tattered garments.” aND A BROKEN PAIR OF EYEGLASSES HAHAHA F R I C K—

Gandalf: “Bring out the halfling, and we’ll consider your terms!” The Mouth: “👀 Umm…ahaha…about that…er, ah, FOOLS! HOW DARE YOU CHALLENGE SAURON!”

I love the fact that the Mouth of Sauron panics here 🤣🤣 HE DOESN’T HAVE FRODO!! SAM CAME AND GOT HIM AND THEY ESCAPED! LOLOL

Actually, if you look at his words carefully, you can tell that Sauron actually has no idea how bad he fumbled this. He speaks of ONE Halfling, not two. He speaks of a SPY, not a carrier of the Ring. He briefly panics when Gandalf demands to see Frodo as evidence. Don’t you think Sauron would take the chance to brag about it, if he’d gotten the Ring back from Frodo?? But he hasn’t!! The Halfling(s) slipped through his grasp! And he has NO IDEA how big of a cock-up this is!!! HAHAHAHAHA GET REKT DIAPER-BABY

But in the moment, we don’t have time to pick apart his words. In the moment, the tiny army of the Free Peoples is surrounded by an enemy host more than ten times their size. It is reasonable to assume that they are all about to die. Hoooolyyyy crap.

Pippin thinking these grim thoughts about the end of his life, noooo. “I might as well die quickly and get it over with. It’s all gone wrong.” And he thinks of Merry, and he thinks of Frodo, and “I wish I could see cool sunlight and green grass again!”, and AAAAAHHHHHHH—

AND HE STABS!! A TROLL!! TO SAVE BEREGOND’S LIFE!!! AND IT FALLS ON TOP OF HIM AND CRUSHES HIM AND I *SCREEECH*

*sobbing* The Eagles are coming! The E-eagles are comi-hi-hiiing!

“‘This is my tale, and it is ended now. Good-bye!’ And his thought fled far away and his eyes saw no more.”

SHUT UPPPPPPPPPP 😭😭😭

(I would just like to issue a formal note of gratitude to C. S. Lewis for not letting Tolkien HECKING KILL PIPPIN in this scene. You have done the Lord’s work, sir. We salute you.) EDIT: Sorry, this is an unconfirmed rumor started by the RotK movie trivia website. Should’ve checked my facts first. :-P More discussion can be found here.

#aragorn #gandalf #meriadoc brandybuck #merry #peregrin took #pippin #beregond #bergil #imrahil #mablung #mention of: #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #assorted thoughts #sorry this was late!! my app was glitching

[dang-itshauntedinhere]

I Don't Love You, But I Always Will - Chapter 2

Summary:            

I watched The Exorcist with a friend and spent the entire time staring at Father Karras, so of course we crafted an elaborate story surrounding his and reader's life together. Falling in love with a Jesuit priest and watching his faith fall apart in front of you is not problematic at all actually, and your life in this story will proceed in abject simplicity. (Lies, slander) Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 (You are here) - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Find also on my Ao3

Divider by @racingairplanes

Word Count: 6.8k

When you decide to go home to New York for Christmas this year, planning the department Christmas Party becomes the bane of your existence. Going home is an uphill battle, but you are rewarded when you see a familiar face.

TW: Emotional abuse, References to Physical abuse

Three Days Until Christmas.

The tinny echo of the steel wool on the copper pot filled the kitchen. Almost every surface of your kitchen was populated with bowls and baskets of produce, glass jars brimming with spices and flour, recipes strewn across the counter. So many of them required so much preparation - two days was barely early enough to have everything ready for Christmas Eve dinner, and if there was a dinner that needed to be perfect, it was going to be this one.

You had spent the last three Christmas dinners in Athens with your in-laws, after agreeing with Chris that you would have one of those marriages where you wouldn’t fight about things like that, and that you would alternate every year between his family and yours, you’d also agreed that the five-minute drive was much easier than the 11-hour drive to New York. 

All the same, the last three years had passed sluggishly, clumsily, but admittedly, happily. You found you enjoyed the trials and tribulations of keeping a house, and Athens had proved to be a beautiful city; all things considered, you were very lucky to be where you were. The snow seemed clearer here - whiter. Tonight, it fell quietly through dark skies, catching your eye through the many windows of your home. 

You peered into the pot. More than clean. You set it atop your tower of dishes drying into a towel on the counter and dried your hands. The ghostly quiet of the house seemed to draw you out of your thoughts, to where you blinked hard, realizing how tired you were through dry eyes. You turned to look at the mess of your kitchen and elected to leave it for the morning, shifting your thoughts to the cascading checklist of foods and items you had left to prepare. The wall clock seemed to echo with every second passed. About 10:30. I’ve got more time.

Pineapple for the ham, pecans for the pie, cherries frozen, cards stamped, I’ve got to get Chris’ Watch wrapped, and of course the dining room will have to be cleared and vacuumed, and the guest bathroom is cleaned, so that only leaves getting the coconut for the shrimp- maybe Jo has some? Your hands found a rag and wrung it in the sink as you stared into the static out the window. You tried not to think about Chris out there this late - Nearly 11pm now on the Sunday before Christmas - not too late for a late work night, of course. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes - before you remembered he wasn’t here. You rolled them as hard as you could and smiled to yourself. 

The familiar yellow shine of the headlights cast window-shaped squares across the wall. Finally, you sighed internally. 

You ran lightly to the door and stuffed your bare feet into galoshes, opening the door and stepping quickly into the wall of cold. The car idled in the driveway as you stepped precariously through the light to the garage side door, hitting it with your hip and wrenching the handle, cracking through to the still cold of the garage. Your fingers felt for the switch next to the door, finally reaching a plastic rectangle and pushing. The garage door rose, mechanisms screaming creakily through the cold. 

The car revved quietly, rolling onto the cracked concrete and illuminating the small room. You stole a glance at the boxes of easels, half-painted canvases, and books collecting dust in the furthest corner. You tried not to come in here anymore… you didn’t like seeing all your old things like this.

The car door slammed shut next to you, and you tore your gaze away, smiling in the sudden dark at Chris.

“Long night for a Sunday,” you reached up to straighten his collar, missing in the dark and finding his face. He winced.

“Ah- your hands are cold!” He said with a tight smile, lifting your hand away. “Hardings are coming to Christmas- sorry to add to your plate. I know you’re juggling a lot already.” You smiled. 

“Eh, what’s two more?” You sighed. “How was work?” You trekked back to the house, shutting the garage behind you as he spoke, gasping silently as your knuckles stung - splitting in the cold air. You brought your fingers to your lips, pressing your tongue to the iron-taste of blood.

“Would’ve been home earlier if mom hadn’t dragged us to church this morning,” He said with a huff once you were finally in the warmth of the house. “It’s all so asinine. What are we proving? I truly don’t think anyone in there actually believes in a god - it’s just another political club, except it evades its taxes legally.”

You shot him a look over your hand as you stepped past him to the bathroom. 

“Sorry, forgot,” he said with a small smile, raising a hand in defense. He didn’t even try to hide his eye-roll. No you’re not, you thought. I have the spiel memorized by the way, and no matter that your mom loves it.

You reached the bathroom, running a hand under the water and searching the cabinet for a band-aid with the other, half-listening to him as he talked. 

—

Two Days Before Christmas.

Chris opened the door with a single, hard movement, stepping into the heat of the house. You followed behind him, carrying two baskets and a bag packed with pie-making supplies. Frozen cherries, a two-pound bag of pecans, syrups, every pie dish you owned, and about a hundred other bits and pieces. You hiked the bag up on your shoulder, moving clumsily through the door.

“Ma? We’re here!” He called into the light of the hall, shaking snow from his hat. You shut the door haltingly, struggling against your baggage. 

“Merry Christmas my dear,” Jo stepped into the hall in her festive red and green plaid apron, hugging her son quickly before taking one of the baskets from your shaking arms. 

“Thanks,” you sighed with a smile. She kissed you warmly on the cheek, moving a handful of long hair from your face as you followed her to the kitchen. 

“Your father’s in his study, dear.” She yelled as you reached the kitchen, hoisting the basket to the top of the counter. “Would you bring the serving dishes from the living room so I can wash them?”

Her kitchen was spotless, somehow perfectly clean while in action. Though she’d clearly been working for some time, the evidencing apple peels and cores sitting in a tall pot and recipes standing against the checkered backsplash appeared somehow like they belonged - like the cover of a cookbook. You always preferred working in your mother-in-law’s kitchen, though you envied the perfection she seemed to embellish her home with. 

Keeping a house wasn’t something you were trained in, and though you’d found your stride in maintaining your home, it was never easy. Georgia hadn’t been easy. 

You thought of the strange looks you got the first time you attended a staff potluck at the university, the whispers you feared were all for you, the attempts Chris had made to be helpful, “they’re just not used to you yet,” “That’s church folk for you,” “You don’t happen to have anything a little more formal, do you?” Not to mention, the pained looks of the fellow wives. “Dear, you have got to demand something a little nicer for your allowance, is he giving you anything to work with at all?” “Art is just so important, what a brave choice!” “Get those visits home in soon, before the kids get here!” You knew they meant well, but the sort of hopeless, condescending tone in their voices scared you. 

Making friends here had been difficult at first, but you’d adjusted quickly enough. Your wardrobe became lighter, more “professional,” populating your closet with cocktail dresses and floral blouses. You grew your hair too, straightening it every morning and tying it up into a tidy bun. The change suited your career as a schoolteacher, and the comments on your appearance ceased. 

The other teachers and wives opened up as time went on, and soon enough, you found you could enjoy their company. You’d exchange recipes, whisper small complaints on your husbands’ late hours and condescending explanations, and find solace in walks throughout campus and downtown. They were really very smart, and kind, in their own sort of way. You looked out for each other.

During your walks, you couldn’t help but think of the shady streets of DC, the crowded brick and the rush of the streets. Worse yet, you’d think of your old friends, your bright Sunday School Students, the dusty sunlit halls of the college, and the comfort of knowing every face you met on the street in a given neighborhood. The musty smell of the subway, the quiet shuffle of the sidewalks, your cozy apartment. The warmth of Damien's arm in yours on a cool morning, the smell of water-damaged discount books, the deep, whiskey pools of his eyes. 

You’d shake yourself, remind yourself, and wrench yourself back to reality, like getting out of bed on a rainy weekend morning.

I have a life now, and what’s done is done. There’s work to do.

“Jo, do you have any coconut? Like the flakes, I’m making coconut shrimp for Wednesday.” You retrieved an apron from the pantry door, hauling out the flour bin and wrenching it up to the counter top. 

“I think I’ve got some frozen for New Years,” she answered. The dull ‘thock’ of a knife on a cutting board accompanied your light conversation rhythmically, as bowls filled with fruits and flour, a radio crackling out Christmas tunes and Bing Crosby. You reached across the counter for a teaspoon, but your hand was met by Jo’s.

“What’s this?” Concerned, she turned your hand over in hers, inspecting the band-aids around your knuckles. 

“Oh it’s just been dry out. My knuckles are cracking,” You hand felt heavy in hers. You smiled, not thinking much of it. “This time of year, you know.” She brushed her thumb over your fingers, suddenly quiet. It’s not that bad, is it? Sure, your hands had been cracking from all the preparation for the department party, but it was nothing to be worried about. Maybe the bruise from the counter this morning makes it look worse. Your skin prickled with sweat at the thought, suddenly very aware of the light purple skin blooming on your left forearm - you’d pushed up your sleeves to work. 

Your attention fell on her face however, where her eyes had grown wide and distant, staring at your hand. She looked terrified. 

She let go of your hand quickly, looking up to where Chris walked into the kitchen, carrying some festive looking ceramic bowls in the shape of a horizontal snowman and a star. 

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” He set the bowls down by the sink, leaning over the island to examine the contents of the bowls. 

“A little of everything.” You smiled at him, handing him a sliver of apple. Jo seemed to awake from her trance at that, cheery as ever. If Chris noticed your hands, he didn’t comment.

—

Dinner with the Martins was always a slightly awkward affair. At first you’d been nervous to make a good impression on Mrs. Martin, paranoid after hearing so many “monster-in-law” stories from your few married friends. Chris was a momma’s boy if anything, and you worried that a bad impression would ruin your chances completely. 

Her tall, perfectly curled blonde ringlets, long red nails, and tortoise-shell horn-rimmed glasses were intimidating, after all, and you’d introduced yourself timidly to what you believed might be the bane of your married existence. That was until you saw her soft gaze, deep smile lines, and cuticles chewed and bitten back in expertly concealed hangnails. She had laughed, asked gentle questions, and humored your joking comments on Chris’ inability to do his own laundry with abandon. Slowly, your worry fell away - you were like old friends. 

So, you turned your attention to his father. He had a strained relationship with the man, a strict disciplinarian who drew on a past as a WWII veteran and having “paid his way through med school” during the depression in his parenting. He was a difficult man to talk to, silent one moment and booming the next. He wasn’t rude by any means, and he treated you with the utmost respect, laughed easily around you, and praised your restoration work. 

You didn’t know what to make of him. He scared you, of course, but you expected the feeling to fade like it had with Jo. It didn’t. Chris never seemed like himself around him either, becoming defensive and challenging, unable to take a joke. 

You’d held him together that night, running your fingers through his hair and listening as he whispered his fear of his father into the dark. He made him feel so small, so worthless. He valued his opinion above all else, and each time was met with some comment or look that absolutely convinced him his father was somehow disappointed. He couldn’t win. 

That seemed to change with you around, however. With you, Dr. Martin began to smile at his son. They’d share inside jokes, discuss politics, and seemingly share a mind. As the years passed, he’d tell you how he thought his father had changed, how age had mellowed him, how happy he finally was. Over the years, you found yourself gravitating towards Jo, and Chris to his father. It made sense to you - mothers and daughters, fathers and sons. 

You almost preferred her company to Chris. Guilt prevented you from entertaining the thought.

 The dining room was pleasantly festive tonight, yellow light blending with the reds and greens of the Christmas tree, bathing the room in warm colors. The whole house smelled sweet with spices and fruit, mingling strangely with the savory steak diane you ate now. The room was light with conversation and the clinking of silverware on plates as you discussed the party preparations with Jo. Chris and Dr. Martin spoke in serious tones, Chris occasionally asking you to weigh in - listening to two conversations was challenging to say the least.

“I’ll have everything ready for you in the fridge, all you’ll need to do is get it in the oven,” you rose and collected a pad of paper from the kitchen, writing down times and temperatures. “We’re doing the ham and the pies, but the girls will be bringing everything else. Ah, what’s the time on the shrimp?” She moved to check your bag. 

“How do you find anything in this thing??” She called with a laugh. Chris said your name. He’d survive a few moments without you.

“Like you’re any better - why do you have to bring a candle with you everywhere? Are you afraid of having a candle emergency?” You shot back. She huffed and handed you the recipe card. 

“When will you be back?” She asked, looking at the list. 

“I should be back about an hour before the party,” You said, rubbing an eye. You heard your name again. “Just a moment dear - the girls will bring everything else, most of it won’t need to be heated up for a bit anyway, but Caroline is bringing snakes in a blanket, which should probably go out first-” 

“Y/N.” A crash shook the table, and you whipped around to see Chris standing, hand splayed out on the table where he’d hit it. Your blood rushed with an icy wash and your face was hot with shock, the house silent. 

You looked at him, incredulous, you didn’t know what to say. His face was red, mouth formed in a hard line. He looked away. 

“Stop fussin,’ I’ve been trying to get your attention,” he said, voice lowering as he sat. His gaze darted to his father and back to you. “Would you serve me some more of that delicious sauce you whipped up?” He was all at once pleasant again, gaze softening into an easy smile. You breathed. 

“Is that all?” You’d meant for it to sound accusing, you were baffled - he’d never done anything like this before. Who was he to interrupt you? Why wasn’t anyone saying anything?

But it came out as a weak question, and you took his plate. His hand brushed yours and he gave you a tender look. 

“Thanks, dear.” He turned back to his father, seemingly picking up where they left off. You turned quickly back to the kitchen, only then looking up at Jo as you passed her. Your breath caught in your throat. Her eyes were wide, her face frozen in cold terror. The same look as earlier. 

You set his plate back down in front of him and he moved to kiss you on the cheek, but you turned away. You sat back down at the table next to Jo, where she ate quietly, eyes glued to her plate. No one would look at you. You felt suddenly embarrassed, swallowing thickly. You pretended to eat slowly, cutting and turning your food on your plate. You felt sick.

—

The car ride home was quiet. The spongy crunch of the tires packing down the snow on the road was deafening. For some reason, you didn’t like leaving Jo alone with your father-in-law after this, and you elected to call her early in the morning. You felt horrible suspecting anything of him, but you were putting the pieces together on her expressions tonight. She wasn’t safe at home with him - maybe she’d never been. 

You relished in the fresh air of the night as you stepped out of the car, grateful for some air that wasn’t drenched in tension. You took a deep, cool breath before stepping into the house. 

“What was that?” You asked, hanging your coat in the hall. Chris looked past you at the wall. 

“I- I’m sorry.” He shook his head, closing his eyes. “I just wanted to get your attention - do you know how that feels? In front of my father?” You looked up at him, lost.

“You’ve never done that before, it scared me.” You crossed your arms. His eyes shot up at you, and he looked away again, disbelieving.

“You’re acting like I hit you,” his voice shook. He stepped toward you, raising his hands to cup your face gently, running a thumb over your cheek. “You know I’d never hurt you, right? I will never, ever hurt you.” You met his eyes, burning. You held his hand against you, leaning into it. 

“Of course I know that.” You said quietly. You closed the gap between you, wrapping your arms around his neck. He held you like that for a while, and you savored the feeling. It had been a while since he hugged you like this.

“Maybe - maybe I shouldn’t go up North tomorrow,” you said haltingly. I can’t leave him like this, but - you regretted saying it immediately. He held you tighter. 

“No. No, you should,” He said into your hair. “Maybe I should go with you.” You let go of him, looking up at him in the dark. Somehow, you didn’t want that. You were awash with guilt, face hot. Why didn’t you want that? You were grateful for the dark of the house shielding your expressions. You smiled wearily. 

“Think about it, okay? It’s been a long day.” You held a hand to his cheek. You couldn’t see his eyes in the dark as you searched his face. 

“Good idea.” He kissed you quickly, lingering for a moment before turning to search for the light switch. You busied yourself with your coat, all the while hiding your face as casually as possible. 

—

Christmas Eve.

“You know, Damien- David and I are heading over to Katie’s for dinner tonight,” Father Dyer’s affable voice boomed in the empty echo of the sanctuary. “You’re more than welcome to join us.”

Damien glanced at him with a thought, lifting the stole from his shoulders. The church was shrouded in the long shadows of an early winter night, a deep black painting the vast windows. 

“I’m spending the holidays with my mother,” He said, shifting out of the white robes. “I’m booked.” 

“Of course, or course,” Dyer said, taking the stole from the pew where he’d deposited it and beginning to fold it. “That was some sermon.” He glanced up at the altar. Damien nodded absently, shaking the white robe out before folding it over his arm. 

“I only come to these things for the wine,” He said with a half-smile, taking the stole from Dyer. He smiled up at Damien as he put on his coat, watching him. A hint of sadness flashed in his eyes. He knew his mother’s health hadn’t been doing well in the last few months, and that Damien hadn’t been taking it well. He’d always been an attentive son, but he’d barely seen anything of him in the last few weeks when he wasn’t working feverishly or drinking silently in his room. He was worried.

“Door’s always open.” Dyer looked out at the night as snow began to fall. “Stay warm out there.” He smiled once before turning to the front hall of the church. Damien nodded, and pulled his coat closed before following to where Dyer held the door open. A few people lingered in the hall, huddled in the low light of the church muttering prayers or laughing outside its big doors. 

Damien said his thanks to Dyer, and began the cold walk through the snow to an awaiting taxi. 

“Oh, father?” Dyer called from his small group, Damien looking back to him before stepping in. “Tell her Merry Christmas from me.” Damien shot him a tired smile, before shuffling into the musty warmth of the back seat.

He listened to the static-y Christmas tunes through the radio and humored the small talk from the driver just long enough to let him down easily. He wasn’t going to be much of a conversationalist tonight. He sunk back into the patchy leather of the seat and settled in, trying to find a comfortable way to doze on the way. That was when he remembered the scarf in his pocket, the perfect neck pillow for a snowy drive. He pulled it tenderly from his coat, running his fingers over the worn knit. 

It was soft, a long pattern of maroon, gold, and navy blue in alternating squares. Most of the scarf was expertly crafted, even stitches feigning factory-made from the practiced hands of his mother. The better part of the last half of the scarf was different however, and the craftsmanship turned from even and machined to patchy and loose, the colors less even and the occasional stitch dropped or fixed, dotting small loops and loose ends throughout. Where y/n had finished it, after his mother’s Parkinson's had worsened. She’d given it to him the Christmas before y/n left.

He let his mind wander to her then, to her easy laugh, her bright smile, to her flowers, to her strong hands and deep eyes. Before she was married, she’d always spend the night of Christmas Eve with him. She’d find him in a soup kitchen, at his mother’s, at St. Mike’s or wherever else he drifted for the night, where she’d push a poorly wrapped package into his hands and watch him open it, a broad smile on her face as she’d try not (and often fail) to spoil the gift before it was unwrapped.

Her gifts were always small - often practical. He thought of all the gifts over the years, wondering if he could manage to recall each one. New socks, sour cream cookies cut into lumpy stars, shoe polish, bookmarks of pressed flowers and newspaper. And then there were his favorites - the books. She’d give him a book he hadn’t read, sometimes soft and second-hand, sometimes crisp and new, but she’d always leave notes. Scribbled questions and thoughts around her favorite or least-favorite parts, sometimes a sketch. If it related to some current event, he’d even find a newspaper clipping tucked in the page. He took special care of those books, re-reading them, hearing her voice in the blue ink. He treasured them now more than ever, now that he was sure he’d never get another.

He wondered how she was. Far better than me, he thought. 

—

You’d been driving for about eight hours when you came to Georgetown. Though the original plan had been to go straight to your parents’ in New York, and the sun was already setting with bad weather on the horizon, you just couldn’t help yourself. Something about the thought of not seeing your old life for even a second longer made you want to stop. Mom and dad won’t mind if I’m a little late. 

You weren’t sure what you expected when you arrived - the city was beautiful, but there was absolutely no parking. Downtown seemed to be in full swing, lights, carolers, the works. You drove slowly, taking it all in. That warm excitement of the holidays crept up on you, giving you a warm sensation you savored. It finally feels like the holidays, you thought with a smile. 

Finally, you managed to find a place - outside St. Mikes. You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but the church glowed invitingly with a warm yellow light. You rolled down your window to get a closer look, cold air flushing into the creaking station wagon. Are you preaching tonight, Damien? 

You thought you caught a glimpse of him then, a tall, dark-haired figure in black robes crossing a window. Your face flushed and you looked away. Not him. What am I doing here? He wouldn’t want to talk to me anyway, at least not without trying to save me from my own decisions. You realized you’d been sitting there for a long time, staring at the church. The car was icy cold. 

You rolled up your window and drove away. On to New York then. 

—

When you finally reached Manhattan, it was 11pm. Navigating the streets was as difficult as it had ever been, and the holiday traffic didn’t help. You white-knuckled your way through the flurries that had begun to fall, praying you’d be able to find somewhere to park before the subway. When you finally found something, it was by a park, deep in the back streets. You remembered this park, thinking fondly of the long walks and scrappy wildflowers you used to collect. Its image was far more shadowy in the dead of night.

You left the car hesitantly, deciding that sitting alone in the cold car did little more to keep you safe than the walk itself would. The empty ache of doubt crept up on you then, chilling you as you locked the car. Maybe I should have made Chris come, you thought, taking your first shaky steps into the snowy night. The orange glow of the street lamps lit the night, the snow seeming to glow amber. You knew this part of the city well. Too well. This was near Damien’s childhood home. 

A raucous laugh echoed through the empty hills of the park, and you watched cautiously as a few young children trampled through the snow. You smiled and were a bit ashamed of your skittishness. I grew up in this city, I’ll be fine. You decided to cut through the park. 

You walked along quickly through the night, readjusting your bags on your shoulder what felt like an embarrassing amount. As the rush of the road quieted, you felt your fear creep back in. Every sound in the night was turned into a horrifying scenario in your mind: a swaying swarm of drunks, the desperate eyes of a bolting thief in the night, a twisted, snarling street dog. Your eyes darted around in the night, catching every snowflake. 

You could hear him asking you what you were thinking. Telling you you should have stayed home. Forbidding you from being in the city alone ever again. 

Why is this so hard? Walk faster, walk faster, walk faster-

“Y/N?” a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. A shiver prickled through you as you turned. You’d walked right past him.

The park seemed to fall away as you approached, too surprised to come up with anything to say. He sat on a metal bench, his hunched form draped in a long black coat. He was wearing the scarf you’d finished so terribly. He was flushed from the cold, or maybe the shock of seeing you, and his deep brown eyes pierced yours in quiet shock. He looked just how you remembered him.

Everything seemed to crash down then, and your fear crumbled in a wave of anxious joy. You had to stop yourself from running to him. 

“Damien,” you sighed, unable to hide your relief. You elected then, to be composed, to remember your last words to him had been said in anger. To remember you hadn’t seen him in three years. To remember it was nearly midnight on Christmas eve. He stood to meet you, searching your face. 

“How have you b-” You cut him off, dropping your bags into the snow and wrapping your arms around his sturdy frame, a smile spread across your face. You couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t know what you were thinking, only that you missed your friend. 

He hesitated stiffly, his arms hovering over you before finally wrapping around your shoulders.

“I missed you,” You managed through his coat. He seemed to relax, holding you tight against him in the cold. 

“I missed you too,” he breathed. You stayed like that for a long time, relishing in the warmth of his embrace. When you finally let go, you lifted your face from his coat to find you’d managed to undo a button. Or maybe it was like this? 

“Sorry,” you said with a half-laugh. His gloved hands fell from your back, resting lightly on your shoulders as you fixed his coat, tucking the scarf around his collar. “What are you doing out here?” You sniffed - you didn’t notice the tears in your eyes, looking up at him. You couldn’t stop smiling. A closer look showed you a tiredness in his face, and deep bags under his eyes. You skirted a hand through his hair, brushing away the snowflakes that had accumulated on his dark hair.

“Visiting my mother - your hands are so cold.” His brows furrowed with concern.

“Sorry-” You went to draw your hands back when he caught them, encasing your icy fingers in the warmth of his broad hands. He brought them up to his mouth, blowing warm breath between his fingers, pushing heat back into the frigid skin. Your heart skipped a beat before it seemed to remember how to pump blood, as warmth spread across your body.

“What are you doing here?” He stopped between breaths to ask, eyes finding yours.

“Spending Christmas with my folks - I could only find parking out here, I was on my way to the station,” You explained. Your heart hammered as you struggled to keep your composure. He nodded, finally releasing your hand before tugging his gloves off, offering them to you. Your hands lingered near his face before you took them, grateful. You met his eyes. “You look tired, Dames.”

“It’s been a long three years.” He looked away and smiled. You could tell he was forcing it - there was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Well?” You asked. “How do I look?” He turned back to you, his gaze softening.

“Beautiful,” He smiled warmly. You saw something light up in his eyes then, like a spark of something bright and honest. His eyes were always warm, but that flash hadn’t been there when you first saw him in the snow. In fact, it hadn’t been there since you last spoke. You felt sort of proud at having brought it out now. You wanted to hold on to it, watching his eyes until he looked down.

“I’ll walk you the rest of the way to the station.” He started to pick up your bags, brushing away the snow. Suddenly you couldn’t stand the idea of leaving him again, clinging to whatever you could remember of him for years - you wouldn’t, couldn’t do it again. You took his arm, lifting a bag onto your shoulder. 

“I hate to ask this-” you struggled through every social grace and hesitation that rang in your ears, it’s nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, I haven’t seen him in years, The last time we spoke was a fight, He isn’t expecting a guest, and asked. “Would you- would you like some company? I’d love to see your mother again.” 

He looked struck only for a moment, before pulling your arm closer and smiling brightly. 

“I’d love that.” The spark was back in his eyes. You started to walk, strolling slowly through the snow, no longer in any rush. “So, tell me - how have you been?” 

You had so much to tell him.

—

Christmas Morning.

You talked all night. Or morning, rather. You told him all about Georgia, about your school, about each of your students. You didn’t tell him about the Christmas party, only mentioning your family in passing, as happily as you could manage. You hoped he wouldn’t ask, and to your relief, he never did. He told you about the church, about his classes, about his mother and her health. You held his hand and the two of you worked away at a bottle of cheap wine. 

You talked quietly, whispering and rambling and laughing into the small hours of the morning. You relished in the warm closeness of the apartment, eyes catching on old photos, breathing the smell of ash and fresh bread. Mama Karras always bakes for an army. But you only noticed a few loaves - far below her usually canvased kitchen. She didn’t have much energy this year, I guess, you thought with shaky realization.

When Mrs. Karras shuffled into her living room early Christmas morning, she almost didn’t recognize you - until your hands found hers, ghostly thin, and her face lit up. Then she was just like her old self, scolding you for staying up all night, demanding you eat more, kissing your face.

“My girl, my girl,” she repeated, shaking her head. You followed her dutifully around the dusty kitchen as she pulled from cupboards and shelves. When she finally discovered her son, they spoke brightly in Greek - you could tell she was upset with his tired look. His eyes had softened, and he smiled between their banter. 

You spent the morning cleaning and fixing small things quietly in the apartment with Damien while his mother scrambled eggs, occasionally calling out over the radio to ask Damien something. 

“She seems in high spirits,” you mentioned, holding a ladder while Damien changed a light bulb too high for her to reach. 

“She is,” He said, coughing in the dust. “I haven’t seen her like this for a long time.” He looked down at you while you passed him a rag. The light blinked to life, lighting the dark walls in a yellow haze, illuminating a snow of dust. 

“Thank you,” You said after a while. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time either - it’s good to see you both.” You held his eyes for a moment, smiling. 

“You too.” He leaned against the ladder, resting his head on his arm. The tangy, warm smell of eggs and tomatoes and burnt toast filled the house - you suddenly realized how tired you were. You stared at the soft bulk of his arms as he worked, fascinated by the way the dark hair on his arms bristled as his muscles moved. Pressing your cheek to the side of the ladder, you let your eyes close.

In the middle of a yawn, something fell into your face, startling you into the land of the living. You yelped and pulled the dusty rag off of your face, coughing, your face flushing. 

“Just trying to wake you up,” You heard Damien laugh through your hacking.

“Asshat,” You snuck between coughs. Mrs. Karras called something through the hall, and Damien descended the ladder, tousling a hand through your hair and showering you in gray chunks of dust. “-hey!”

“Mama says breakfast is ready,” He said, walking away quickly. You followed him, swatting him with the rag, trying to get as much dust on him as possible. When you came to the kitchen, you were a giggling mess - that kind of tired where everything is hilarious - and you didn’t want the feeling to end.

Crossing into the kitchen, a clock chimed softly from a wall, and you counted the bells with bated breath. Your heart sank as the 7th chime told you it was time to leave. You put a hand on Damien’s shoulder and he looked at you, mouth full.

“I have to go,” you whispered, trying to show as much resolve as possible. You had to be back in Athens by tonight, and your parents were probably substantially worried at this point. It had been easy to forget now that you were home. He chewed, brows furrowed. 

“I’ll walk you down.” He swallowed.

“Eat, eat! Δεν φεύγεις μέχρι να φας,” Mrs. Karras tugged at your sleeve. You complied carefully, trying to tell her you had to be on your way. She wouldn’t let you get through your sentence, so you settled for thanking her profusely. She shook her head and added more to your plate.

—

The subway was eerily empty, the dark halls echoing and shaking. The few people there either lay curled in the corners of the station, dark masses of clothes hiding tired eyes, or there was an elderly couple waiting on a bench, talking quietly. You stood on the platform facing the track, yawning almost constantly.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? You’re going to sleep through your stop.” Damien looked at you over the collar of his dark coat. You shook your head through another yawn. 

“You’ve already been so generous,” you said. “I’ve crashed your Christmas, Dames.” You caught the flash of a smile.

“You made Mama’s year,” he said. “She adores you, you know.” 

“I missed her,” You smiled. “It’s hard not to love a Karras - they’re very endearing.” You leaned into his shoulder where he held your arm, losing your resolve. I don’t know how I’m going to drive back like this, you thought. The noise of the subway faded, and all you felt was the rough fuzz of his coat on your cheek. You thought about all the things you had to say to him. Everything that went unsaid after your last goodbye - I wonder if he’s forgiven me? 

The sudden, crashing roar of the subway broke through the haze, and you forced your eyes open, blinking hard. You weren’t sure when he’d put his arm around you, but his arm fell away as he picked up your bags. You took them from him as the abrupt dread of saying goodbye poured over you, your throat tightening. The train drifted to a stop behind you, and you looked up at him. Your mind scrambled for something to say, something that would be good enough - something that would keep the moment from ending like you knew it would. 

He looked away from you at the opening doors. You had to say something.

“Thank-” you were cut off by his arms wrapping around you. You hugged him back, everything you had to say falling away, and you savored his embrace as the moment passed in a flash. When he let you go, you looked into his eyes, and suddenly reassured, you dug in your purse, finding a receipt. You scribbled your address, gathering yourself in a mad shuffle. You pushed the paper into his hand, dragging yourself to the open doors of the subway car. 

“Write to me,” You said as he followed, standing a few feet from the open doors. He smiled. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said, holding the crumpled paper with both hands, as if it would fly from his hands at any moment.

“Merry Christmas!” You shouted, cut off by the closing doors. You held his gaze for a few moments through the foggy glass before the train shook to life, speeding away with a grinding scrape. Your heart slowed from its racing pace, and you realized how red your face had been, pressing a cold hand to your burning cheek.

You were awake now. 

#damien karras x reader #damien karras #the exorcist #damien karras/you #friends to lovers #mutual pining #my first fic #slow burn #christmas special #what if instead of writing a fic like a normal person i wrote a novel

[caffeineivore]

Send Whiskey, A Prequel

For my R/J peeps.

May need to read the other Send Whiskey snippets (tagged “writing”) for this to make sense. Rated a high PG13 for mentions of violence and drug use.

Winter is a silent killer in the projects. Jaime—named after a probable father who overdosed in an alley eight months after his birth—huddles in front of a rickety space heater and eats a cold and bland dinner—white bread and a slice of American cheese. The space heater was a definite fire hazard in the cramped, dirty room, but as the gas bill hadn’t been paid since October, one did what one had to. Jaime’s mother was working and had not been home since sometime last night, but the money would go towards drugs first and foremost before the gas company would see a dime. 

The sound of someone knocking on the door draws his attention, but Jaime stays still and keeps quiet. There were no such thing as friendly neighbours in a building such as theirs, and his mother’s associates would know that she wasn’t home. He’s about to finish his sandwich when the door bangs open on its hinges, and before he can react, a sweaty man in gang colours bursts into the room and he’s lifted off his feet, the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against his jaw. “Come any closer and the brat buys it!” The voice is vaguely familiar, likely one of his mother’s paramours. Jaime drops the remnants of his sandwich and watches, wide-eyed, as a woman in a black trench coat comes to a halt in the doorway, her eyes hard as the pistol she kept trained on her quarry. 

“This will not end well for you.” Her voice is mellifluous, bearing none of the harsh consonants of the locals or the rasp from his mother’s that came from long-term smoking. “You won’t find a hole deep enough to hide in if you hurt a child, Craig. You know this.” 

“I don’t give a shit! That bastard set me up!” Spittle flies from Craig’s mouth and lands on Jaime’s face, but he’s too scared to do anything but wince. “You’re going to drop that gun and back the fuck up, bitch!” 

“As you wish.” Her voice is calm, almost bored, as she lowers her gun and takes a step back. Craig keeps his own gun pressed to Jaime’s face, and doesn’t move it away until the woman lays her pistol on the floor, about a foot away from the ancient space heater. She makes a show of standing up slowly and taking another step back, and then the next few moments are a blur. 

A knife, thin as one of Jaime's fingers, whizzes through the air to embed itself in Craig’s throat. His arms slacken and he falls to the ground with a sickening gurgle of blood, and Jaime runs towards the doorway. The woman catches him by the upper arms, her hands firm but gentle, and frightened blue eyes meet amethyst ones. “It’s all right, honey. You’re safe now.” A faint, slightly careworn smile crosses her lips. “What’s your name?”

“Jaime.” 

“Well, Jaime, I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m sure you’re scared. Probably hungry, too. You can call me Abby.” 

The woman named Abby takes him out of the cold, dirty apartment and buys him a burger and fries. Her car is black and spotlessly neat, with a booster seat in the back and tinted windows. It smells pleasantly of some floral air freshener and the radio plays soft music heavy on violins. Jaime is almost afraid of dirtying the car with his food or the blood staining his ragged sweatshirt, but hunger eventually wins out and he inhales the meal. 

“I have a daughter about your age,” Abby tells him, her eyes kind as they glance into the rearview mirror. “Probably a bit younger. I’d set up a play date, but I don’t think your mother would like that. Maybe someday.”

She takes him to a cozy little house at the outskirts of town, where he gets a change of clothes and a shower with hot water and bubbles, and he falls asleep on a soft couch, watching cartoons on a big TV in a nice living room. When he wakes up, he’s at a police precinct, an exhausted-looking social worker with dark circles under her eyes and caffeine jitters in her hands asking questions about his home life and the horrific scene with Craig. The social worker makes mention of Abby, but calls her Absinthe for some reason. He answers the questions as best as he can, but at ten years of age, he isn’t deemed a reliable witness, and he’s returned to the tenement building where his mother lives and a drug dealer held a gun to his head. Strangely, though, the gas bill is paid, and every week, a load of groceries gets dropped off on the stoop. It’s cans of soup and pre-sliced fruit and sandwich fixings at first—easy enough for even a little boy to make by himself without adult help. By the time Jaime turns thirteen, though, it has shifted to food that requires a skillet or an oven. He burns a few things, over-seasons a few other things at first, but gradually learns.

Life takes another turn for the bizarre when he’s on the cusp of seventeen. As the years went by, the sightings of the woman who’d birthed him become increasingly rare. The work comes less these days, as her looks and health deteriorates with the years of hard living, but she benefits from the mysteriously paid bills and groceries just as he does, and finds herself at liberty to spend all of her earnings on the pills and heroin. Jaime comes home one day from school to find her on the floor, a band still wrapped around her forearm, already room-temperature and stiff. 

It's a different social worker who talks to him at the same police precinct, but the dark circles and caffeine jitters are familiar. Jaime has no relatives on record, but there is paperwork stating that a benefactor has set aside money to provide for him, including a trust fund to be paid out upon his twenty-fifth birthday. The social worker gives him a business card bearing an address downtown, and Jaime takes the bus down to the commercial district, finds himself standing in front of what looks like a bar called “The Distillery”, all but deserted in the light of day. 

He half expects some burly staff member to kick him out for being underage as he pulls open the heavy wooden doors, and wonders if the address was a misprint. The Distillery is dimly lit but clean, all dark wood panels and moody lighting. The Barkeep is a grizzled man of perhaps sixty, whose diminutive stature nonetheless gave an impression of hidden reserves of strength, and Jaime feels pinned by the rheumy eyes under the cap of iron-grey hair. “Is there something I can help you with, son?” The voice, too, is deceptively genial, and something about the question feels off. 

“My name is Jaime Bradley. I got a card with this address,” Jaime comes to a stop at the bar, but doesn’t take a seat on one of the stools. “Supposedly someone here has been paying my bills, setting aside money for me. I don’t have any idea what that’s about.”

The Barkeep holds out a hand to take the card, and just as Jamie slides it across the bar top, the swinging doors to the kitchen open, and a young girl walks out, fine-boned and lovely, unbound hair a raven waterfall flowing to her waist. Jaime’s breath catches in his throat as his eyes lock with her amethyst ones. She’s perhaps his age, perhaps a year younger, but the features are unmistakable, and he remembers a burger and a booster seat in a black car, a gunman felled with a knife thrown so fast he didn’t even see her move. “Abby. She told me her name was Abby.”

The old man’s lips curve up in a sad sort of smile even as he scans the business card, which under the dim lighting shows a peculiar watermark in the paper. “She would have, sonny. I daresay you were too young to remember a name like Absinthe. She did tell me about you, all those years ago.” He lays a broad hand on the slim shoulder of the girl. “I tried to encourage her to take over for me in here after Ruth was born, instead of handling orders and shipments, but she was a bit of a chip off the old block. Stubborn. She didn’t like leaving a loose end, especially with a child.”

The past tense in reference to Abby doesn’t escape Jaime’s attention, and the Barkeep reads the question in the younger man’s eyes. “Cape Town, five years ago. She had already made arrangements for you, though.” The old man wipes down the already-clean bar top with a white towel, and meets Jaime’s eyes. “It’s up to you, son. If you have an idea of where you want to stay, what you want to do, I’ll have my accountant write you a check.” The towel gets put away, and the old man sets a bowl of beer nuts on the bar top, surveying Jaime shrewdly. “If you’re not sure yet, maybe we could talk.”

The girl named Ruth scowls up at the old man, and she’s even prettier when she’s angry. Jaime is also almost positive that if he were to say so, she’d eviscerate him. “We don’t know him, Grandpa.”

“Absinthe never missed, little one,” the Barkeep admonishes. “And I could use a strong back, an extra pair of hands.”

“I’ll do it.” Jaime’s decision is made on an impulse, but then again, having some semblance of a home and a job seems wiser than being given a lump sum of money that he had no idea how to manage. “She saved my life, after all.”

He has no idea exactly what “it” entails, but the Barkeep’s lips quirk up in a smile. “All right. I’ll show you the ropes. You’ll be a decent Barback, I daresay, after a bit of training. Ruth will help.”

Ruth glowers and crosses her arms over her chest. “You can’t make me.”

“Now, now, let’s not have any petulance. My name is Louis, but you can call me Lou, son, and I think I’ll call you J. Have you any knowledge of the different types of spirits and their uses?”

Jaime only knows so far and so much as how much of a bottle it would take before his mother, or one of her associates, would be slurring, or mean, or unconscious. “I know that they can all fuck a person up, if enough is had,” he says baldly, then winces at Ruth’s haughty expression. “Pardon the expression.”

But the Barkeep chuckles, leans back on his heels. “That’s a start and a true statement. We’ll go down the line.” One hand gestures the shelves behind him, at the wide assortment of bottles. “Whiskey. Gin. Tequila. Rum. Vodka. Brandy. These are the most famous, most utilized ones. But we do have several other varieties on offer as well. Aquavit. Calvados. Bourbon. Moonshine, for example. Each has its own distinctive qualities and characteristics. If the intention is simply to, in your words, ‘fuck a person up’, anyone can do the job. A real Barkeep, however, is quite discerning about what spirit to utilize for what purpose. What would best suit the wishes of the client and the personality of the customer. And a Barback is the Barkeep’s right hand man, one who supports the Barkeep through all the orders and their individual needs, maintains the flow of the business so that everyone leaves out happy at Last Call.” He’s a good four inches shorter than Jaime, but he doesn’t require the height to hold the younger man’s complete attention. “Are you ready for it?”

Jaime doesn’t quite know what the Barkeep is referring to, but he’s almost positive it has nothing to do with actual drinking. “I’m willing to learn, Lou.” Ruth’s expression next to her grandfather’s is snide, and it puts his back up. “Whether or not everyone’s willing to teach me.”

Lou glances from Ruth’s mutinous expression to Jaime’s raised chin, and lets out a chuckle. “You’ll do, J. You’ll do.”

***

The lights of the city never quite die down, but outside, it is finally that time of night that the streets are mostly quiet. In the manager’s office of The Distillery, Ruth nurses a cup of coffee gone cold, meticulously tallies up accounts. It’s the end of the month, and all invoices are due. The month had been a profitable one, all things considered. 

The door opens behind her, and J walks in, sets down a plate next to the computer keyboard. There’s a burger on it and a basket of fries. “Eat something if you’re going to pull an all-nighter,” he says in his patient way. “You’re going to be no good tomorrow if you’re sick and exhausted.”

She glances up, and though he’s definitely filled out more, gained a few tattoos and a handful of scars and a dozen or so close calls since twelve years ago, his eyes meet hers with the same forthrightness, the same hint of awe. He’s more at ease, though, and presses a kiss to the top of her head as though he had a perfect right to her, before dropping a napkin down by the plate. 

“You’re very bossy for an employee.” Ruth tries to sound cross, and almost succeeds. J blithely ignores the statement, and gives her a smile designed to disarm even the most suspicious of characters. He could have, with the right training, become a formidable part of the guild, traveling far and wide with the rest of them, but Ruth is selfishly glad that he’d never opted for that route. Something in his spirit—an altruistic, caring part that remained determinedly kind and faithful despite the cruelty of the world he’d always known, might have been extinguished in those dark alleyways and blood-soaked rooms of the world. He might have lost some of his great capacity for love, and she would have been bereft without it.

“Someone needs to keep you in line,” J gently turns her swivel chair until she is facing him, then bends at the waist, kisses the point of her cheekbone, then the corner of her mouth. “I’m pretty sure it’s in my job description.”

“Barbacks support Barkeeps with the flow of business, running tabs, and the cleanup. I don’t think there’s anything about ordering me around.” 

“Stubborn. It must be hereditary.” J shakes his head, then pushes the plate towards her. “I made a promise to Lou, and to Abby’s memory. And even if I didn’t… I’m yours, til the end.” He cups her cheek with one hand, and this time she relents, meets him halfway with her own mouth for the briefest of seconds before she gives him a gentle shove on the shoulder. 

“I’m busy. You’re distracting me.”

“All right, I’ll make myself scarce. But eat your food before it gets cold.” J gives her another gentle smile, and shuts the office door quietly behind his back. Ruth scoots her chair back up to the desk, and picks up a fry, dunks it in ketchup. The warm familiarity of the meal tastes like nostalgia, like a decade of teamwork and long nights and bickering. 

Like not-quite childhood sweethearts and a stolen kiss before a murder. 

Absinthe never missed, indeed.

#writing #R/J

[riahlynn101]

"Teatime."

A/N: O!Ciel is referred to as Astre. R!Ciel is referred to as Ciel.

Summary: While investigating the hotel in Brighton, O!Ciel runs into his brother and Undertaker.

Trigger warning: a character gets sick, but it's not super graphic.

--

Astre coughs. He feels much too hot, but it’s nothing he can’t endure. It’s almost wintertime, which means his immune system is practically nonexistent. 

“Oi, you!”

He sighs, heavily. It’s been weeks of this nonsense. While his servants investigate elsewhere, Sebastian and he have chosen to investigate the hotel in Brighton.

The place is in better shape than he expected, though it is still covered in dust. Which has been just a dream for his finicky lungs. Besides that, the hotel is remarkable. Astre is beside himself in jealousy that he didn’t think of buying it first. It seems a nice place to stay while on holiday. 

But he isn’t on holiday. He’s undercover, which means he must act as one of the workers. In some vain hope that they’ll let spill the deep, dark secrets of this place. 

No such luck, though Sebastian has been promoted twice since they’ve been here. 

Lucky bastard!

He slams the desk drawer shut. Suppressing a snarky remark, Astre greets the patron with a smile. 

“How may I assist you?” 

The man goes on to ramble about some minor inconvenience. His manager is quick to step in to resolve the issue. He watches idly, going back to his notes. 

It's frankly a miracle no one has recognized him yet. He’s a spitting image of his brother, and his picture was plastered on the front newspaper. But for some reason no one’s commented on it. Astre would count himself lucky, if his luck didn’t come with the price tag of ruining every bit of his happiness. 

Most likely, his brother and Undertaker have been notified. They’re probably biding their time, keeping tabs on Sebastian and him. 

A hand is waved in front of his face. He looks up at his manager’s scowling face. He always looks so stressed out. 

“Dalles, pay attention.”

“Yes, sir, I apologize.” 

His manager grumbles something under his breath, walking away. 

Coughing again, Astre tries to muffle the sound in a handkerchief. It really is dusty in here, and the bitterly cold weather outside doesn’t help matters. 

The front doors open. 

Astre goes to greet them, not wanting another “stern” talking to by his manager (though he uses the word, “stern” very lightly). “Hello-” The words die in his throat. 

Across from his desk stands Ciel and Undertaker. “Pleasant surprise to see you, Little Phantomhive.” 

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to summon the snark he’s been suppressing for literal weeks now. But he can’t speak. Not when his brother-his very dead brother-is staring at him, looking very much alive. 

But he isn’t alive, Astre reminds himself. He hasn’t been alive for years now. This thing is just his corpse. There’s no soul, no real motivation besides whatever Undertaker has told him. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He quips. 

Astre scowls.

“Care to join us for some tea?” Ciel asks, bright blue eyes shimmering with stolen life. He sounds so much like his brother. It hurts.

“I do apologize, but I’m very busy-”

“He’d love to,” his manager tells them, suddenly behind Astre.

When had he gotten there?

“But-”

His manager waves dismissively. “Go on, now.”

-x-x-x-

He walks side-by-side with Ciel. He thinks briefly of calling for Sebastian, but the demon is prone to resorting to violence. And this might be his only chance to find out anything worthwhile - Undertaker might lower his guard if his attack guard of a butler isn’t around. 

He’s led to a drawing room, one that he hadn’t realized existed. It’s quaint, with soft pastel colors and a fire roaring in the fireplace. Ciel sits at the table. Undertaker takes a seat next to the fireplace. 

Astre forces himself to sit across from his brother.

A servant with a tea cart sets the table. 

Astre coughs. He doesn’t miss the wide-eyed look his brother gives him. “Fine,” he says between coughing fits, “allergies.”

“Little Phantomhive, if you aren’t feeling well-”

“I’m fine,” Astre snaps. He takes a sip of the Earl Grey tea. The warm liquid eases his throat. “Now, on to more important matters.”

Ciel continues to stare at him. 

He shifts in his seat. It’s been a while since he’s been made to feel so small and weak and-

“Stop bloody staring at me!”

“You don’t look well.”

Astre takes another sip, scoffing. “You don’t either.” He sends a sideways glance at Undertaker. “Neither of you do.”

Undertaker cackles. “Observant as always, aren’t you, eh Little Phantomhive?”

Astre rolls his eyes. His lungs constrict. He’s sent forward, coughing and hacking. His body trembles, and the room spins.

Why now? 

The force of his coughing sends him to the floor. He can vaguely make out Ciel and Undertaker trying to get his attention. His vision swims, and his stomach twists. Sick clings to the sides of his mouth, and he’s only half-aware of the fact that he’s dry heaving. 

“Seb-” Astre tries to suck in air, but all he can do is wheeze. “Seb-” 

Someone shushes him, but it’s hard to recognize who through his own blind panic. His vision darkens further, the voices grow louder, more concerned. 

“C-iel….?” 

His knees can no longer support his weight. The room continues to spin. He collapses forward, everything going pitch-black. 

-x-x-x-

Astre groans, feeling and awareness coming back all at once. He still feels much too hot, and his body aches. But there’s not an overwhelming need to cough up a lung, so that’s…..something. 

“Awake?” Undertaker croons. “Going to sleep the day away, hmmm?” 

He doesn’t miss the slight concern underneath the man’s mocking tone. But it’s probably just his imagination, and no amount of trying to reason with the madman would ever make him stop tormenting Astre. 

He opens his eyes. The room is dark, lit only by an oil lamp on the nightstand. Ciel sits in a chair at the foot of the bed, watching him. An oxygen mask is looped under his nose, and the blood transfusion machine-running with stolen blood-pushes and pulls blood from his brother’s veins, replacing and replenishing it.  

“Wha-”

“You look awful,” Ciel comments, voice strained.

Narrowing his eyes, Astre clenches his jaw. His brother looks whiter than a sheet, and his veins are black. But somehow, Astre looks terribly? 

“You’re one to talk.” 

Ciel giggles at that, shaking his head. “Ah, glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Astre is not, in fact, feeling better, but the idea of spending any more time with these two lunatics is ludacris.

“If you two don’t mind, I’ll be on my way now.”

Ciel’s lips purse into a thin line. His eyes narrow, and he scoffs. “Back to that demon, I suppose?”

“No,” he deadpans, sliding off the opposite side of the bed from where Undertaker and Ciel sit. 

“Oh, really?” Undertaker asks, sounding just the tiniest bit pleased. 

“No.” It’s Astre’s turn to laugh at their dumbfounded expressions. “Of course, I’m returning to Sebastian. He’s probably wondering where I am.”

He turns to the door. It’s a shame that this plan didn’t work out, but it’s too much of a gamble to continue investigating here. Maybe-if he’s quick about it-he can order Sebastian to sniff out the blood operation. 

“Brother?” Ciel calls to him.

The sound of his voice, soft and sweet and so close to the brother he lost, makes him freeze in place. Even if this thing is just a poor stand-in for his real brother, the sweet melody of its voice makes his heart clench painfully. 

“We’ll find a way to rid you of that demon.”

Astre smiles at the ground. Oh, how hopelessly naive his brother is. “Goodnight, Ciel, Undertaker. Until next time.”

And there will be a next time. If Astre’s body wasn’t so weak, he might consider fighting them here and now. Sebastian might enjoy a rematch (or maybe not, as Undertaker seems to freak him out just the slightest bit. Though, if Astre were turned into a human piggy bank like Sebastian had been, he too might not want to get too close to Undertaker’s scythe).

#real ciel #cross posted on ao3 #black butler #black butler fanfiction #cw asthma #manga spoilers #kind of

[chinchillinator]

@raedear had some thoughts abt dark!joe this morn and i havent written something for the boys in a hot minute so yk. friendship r whatever.

no graphic violence but warning for blood mention. under cut:

Nicolò doesn’t realize until he kisses Yusuf.

When he was a boy, he used to sit at his window and stare at the moon. Unable to sleep throughout his childhood (well into his adulthood, as well, though he masks it far better now), he watched the moon rise and hang there in the sky as if from a rope, then slowly descend should exhaustion not claim him before the day claimed her. His mother, seeing him still awake far later than he should be, always said he would go moon-blind. With the darkness of the night sky as his background, the only point of true light being the curve of the moon’s hanged head, one day, she said, the rest of the world might go just as dark around him. Nicolò doesn’t think she meant the smoke.

Nor does he think she meant he would still have a moon to trail behind in his arc across the Earth.

Moments ago, Nicolò called him that. His moon. The light that rises during his darkest moments, but never sets. Always present, always bright. Yusuf rather likes the comparison. The moon is lovely. Perhaps he’ll repeat the words back to Nicolò some day, perhaps it will seem an act of devotion to echo him. Yusuf will remember.

Never has Nicolò put much mind to what the moon might be like where he to reach out and touch, but it happens that he is cold. Not to the tips of the fingers Nicolò has lighted on his jaw, no, his skin is warm. But there is a chill in the dark eyes that watch him as he draws back, one that he should have perhaps seen before. Despite having kissed him less than a breath ago, there is suddenly before Nicolò a pane of smooth glass. A mirror.

“Nicolò,” Yusuf sighs, not unlike the sound Nicolò made himself when their lips finally brushed, before he kissed Yusuf with true abandon. But this close, Nicolò can only see his eyes. And they remain cold.

The moon never warmed him like the light of the sun, still Nicolò kept him like a lover.

“Do you want me?” he asks Yusuf. There is a spark there, life where there was nothing in the blink of an eye. This close, Nicolò can feel the twitch of Yusuf’s hand. He knows which side he carries his dagger, has seen him draw it often enough.

“Of course,” Yusuf says. His voice, too, is different. There is no repetition here, the surface of the mirror splintering with true desire. The thing on the other side pressing through to reach out.

“How?” Nicolò asks. Yusuf’s fingers are familiar on Nicolò’s jaw for the fact that they fall exactly where Nicolò’s still linger on Yusuf’s. Nicolò wonders that he’s never noticed before. His touch always returned in replicate, a false confidence of imitation lacking all the humanity of sweet uncertainty.

“However I can have you,” Yusuf says.

Someone said that to Yusuf once. Not Nicolò, but someone else. Yusuf did not need to pretend to see the romance of those words, though his partner then cannot have known truly what he was asking. Yusuf could not have known truly what he wanted. But regardless, blind devotion always sets in the ear like beauty holds in the eye. To never be undone once one decides to appreciate it. Nicolò might appreciate this.

“And how would you have me?” Nicolò whispers. Another spark. Yusuf is light as he watches Nicolò back.

“I would carve you open to bury myself within,” Yusuf whispers. Nicolò breath catches on his throat.

Yusuf has done it before. And before. And before. And was that the moment Nicolò went blind? To see the blazing bright of him set against the darkness of the day as Yusuf blistered warmth up from Nicolò skin in every split of his blade. Comparing to the moment of their lips meeting, Nicolò would call forth that life of him to keep away the chill emptiness he saw at his kiss.

“Where?”

Pale as he is, Yusuf once told Nicolò he could see the blood rushing just below the surface. The travel of it in his veins. He knows where to cut to bring it welling to the surface, fast and flowing and free of its prison under the skin. He is hungry. And Nicolò, maybe, is asking what Yusuf has always wanted to answer.

When Yusuf draws his dagger, Nicolò doesn’t flinch away. It gleams in the night, a sharp shiver of reflection, though Nicolò cannot say exactly which light it’s catching. His fingers do not tremble on the ties of his clothing. Yusuf’s do.

His eyes are pools of darkness and the night is cold around them. On the night of no moon, he still bends over Nicolò as he falls to his back. Blinded, Nicolò closes his eyes.

#sometimes i write stuff #sometimes its for my friends!

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Ch. Three)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC

Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance

Rating: 18+

Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f receiving), I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

Ch. 3 Wordcount: 16k

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Seokjin yawned and stretched and blinked at the early morning light until a shrill pssssst reminded him where he was. He lowered his hands and pointed them at Hoseok like they were cocked pistols and winked, trying to look cool about the whole thing.

“Are you going to mount, Your Highness?” 

“What are you doing with your fingers?” Hoseok whispered harshly. 

“They’re like hunting rifles only smaller,” Seokjin explained before realizing they wouldn’t have seen the secret intelligence that a kingdom to the north had developed such a thing. Pistols. The drawing looked interesting but apparently the recoil was so bad that you could tell who used them by their missing teeth. So not something exactly taking off right now; King Dong-gun had laughed himself out of his chair about the reports. Seokjin thought maybe they ought to pay more attention to those kinds of innovations, even if quality results were way off, but this was one of many areas in which he and his father differed. King Dong-gun invested his money into things he could see with his own eyes or ideas that came from his own head. Seokjin was fascinated by the dreams that other people dreamed, since he lacked any real dreams of his own. His life was a scheduled, walled-in reality, not a dream.

Seokjin turned his finger pistols on Taehyung and smiled and nodded, like this was all a part of his plan. He didn’t have to see it to feel Jimin’s sigh, but the valet stood dutifully to the side, waiting to mount his own lesser steed until his liege had. 

There were few things in life Seokjin hated rising early for more than a hunt and yet, here he was, because there Nasimiyu was, and her parents, and their entourage, and a bigger gathering behind them of the lords and ladies King Dong-gun had said could come this time. It was hard to predict how many people he’d feel like dealing with at any given time. Right now, the answer appeared to be not many.

Despite his social limits, Seokjin’s father was clearly thrilled at the morning ahead. He strode around the stableyard on his massive black steed, chin high and hand raised as he greeted each person in turn, wishing them a good hunt. His announcement earlier that whomever killed the white bear would win a special prize had not earned him the cheer he wanted so now he was demanding cheer one by one.

“It’s too early for a hunt,” Seokjin muttered to himself, clearly not the only person who thought so. He watched as Nasimiyu, in a fitted dark green coat and riding pants, climbed a box to mount her horse. The women in Priva thought pants were unfashionable on a woman and wouldn’t be caught dead in them, but he rather liked it. Practical. Safer for riding. Gave a delicious view of strong thighs and a round backside. He didn’t care what a man’s backside and thighs looked like. Might as well put the men in the dresses! Fashion had developed as wrong as the idea of an early-morning hunt.

Hoseok’s painful-sounding throat clearing tipped Seokjin off that he was staring. He surged into action, slipping his booted foot into the stirrup and flinging his leg over as he recalled the reason he’d looked at Princess Nasimiyu: she looked very sleepy. Her eyes were soft and unfocused. She went where her maid or her mother nudged her. She had the most natural, neutral quality to her expression he’d ever seen on her and the whole package was doing dangerously soft things in his chest because this was a very important thing he now knew about his future queen: she was not a morning person. He suspected her maids had dressed her and pushed her out the door. Maybe the bright silky scarf holding her hair back was because she’d overslept and there hadn’t been time to style it; he knew a thing or two about that. And now he also knew that she greeted the day naturally beautiful and someday he’d wake up looking at her. Someday he’d see her in the mornings even before her maids did. His stomach twisted itself into knots.

It looked like she was only bringing one maid on the hunt, the one with the long braid. One of many things he found interesting about Nasimiyu, and different from the other noble women who flocked around the palace: she seemed to prefer a small entourage. Often there was one maid and one guard and that was all. He could respect that about her, that she didn’t seem to want to make such a big deal of herself. He really admired that, actually. He was like that too, after all. Yes, he wanted to look his best, and she obviously did too, but to not have all this fanfare every time he rose from a chair would be so freeing. 

Maybe, too, she knew how safe she was within the palace walls. The idea she already felt comfortable enough to only take one guard with her when she wandered the halls warmed his heart. She was very safe here! He hoped she trusted that, or would trust it in time. Security in this palace was the best to be found in the kingdom. His father ran a remarkably tight palace. No weak links here. No threats to the future Queen.

King Dong-gun raised his fisted hand and shouted, “Are – we – ready – hunters??” A jovial laugh erupted from the gaping black hole of his mouth. Seokjin couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of his own after this tongue failed to trap it. The response was forced and lackluster from all those around. A pitiful showing next to the king’s enthusiasm.

But his father misunderstood and crowed, “My son is ready! I believe today shall be another victory for the Kim family, eh Prince Hamisi? We Kims always catch what we hunt.”

“Is that so?” Prince Hamisi grinned, leaning forward in his saddle. “I’m only slightly sorry to be the cause of you or your son’s disappointment today. Hopefully my daughter can comfort your son’s wounded ego later.”

Seokjin didn’t quite follow why both men laughed so hard about this. Was it because Nasimiyu’s coldness towards him was so obvious? Was it because Seokjin successfully made it look like his ego was puncture-proof? Were they dreaming and joking about their children having sex? Or was it because they were each so certain of their own ability to catch the white bear that they could taunt the other now? It didn’t matter, Seokjin’s ears were on fire and he couldn't look at Nasimiyu’s face.

“What do we hunt with?” Nasimiyu asked. He sat up straighter in hsi saddle, because she didn’t seem to have directed the question at anyone in particular, which meant he could dive for it.

“A rifle,” Seokjin answered, startling his horse with the quick command to draw closer to her. King Dong-gun and Prince Hamisi had begun to lead the procession from the far side of the stableyard, but he and Princess Nasimiyu were closer to the middle so not moving yet. 

“Oh.” She looked down in her lap like she expected a rifle to be nestled there.

“They’ll hand them to us once we’re in the hunting grounds,” Seokjin explained. “We keep weapons like a rifle tightly controlled. They aren’t allowed in the city.”

“Isn’t it inevitable? I’m sure they’re already there.”

Seokjin shrugged, “Maybe they are or maybe they aren’t. I’ve never seen any. We have tight security and er, final consequences for being caught even with the powder. Anytime any sort of group tries to rise up with shady business, we shut them down.” And kill everyone involved , he chose not to add.

“So if you don’t see it, it must not be happening?”

“A lot happens that nobody sees,” Seokjin admitted. It was a joke about where they were headed, but since she didn’t know that yet, he realized it didn’t make sense. He nudged his horse a little to the left so he wouldn’t bump into her before offering, “When we get there, I can show you how to use a rifle–”

“I know how to use one,” she interrupted, then bobbed her head and added, “I think…” He wasn’t sure if that was meant as an apology or a confession, but either way was endearing. Short temper? Defensive? He was slow to anger so maybe that could be a good balance between them. Or something. 

“Ah… let’s make sure,” Seokjin said, chuckling. “It’s not the kind of thing you want to be unsure about.”

“I mean, I’ve used one before I just don’t know which kind you have… And where exactly are we going?”

It was like he could see her waking up as they followed the procession down through the back gates of the palace landing, to the back side of the mountain that wasn’t visible from anywhere inside the city. A narrow, winding, twisty path here could lead you all the way to the bottom and you’d be out of the capital city of Priva; it was the most direct way out. For even faster transportation, you could take the cable car that would let you cut the twists and turns and just slide right down, though it was dangerous and a little nauseating and really just for emergencies or for quickly transporting supplies that was safer not to send through the crowded Privan streets. Seokjin had only been on the cable car once and it was every shade of terrifying you could dream of and then some. He still had nightmares about someone just cutting the cable and dropping him to his death. It could happen! Jungkook had told him exactly how it could happen! Jungkook was always a little too excited to point out catastrophic dangers, eager to impress without thinking about the horror and fear his words could cause. Sure, they both had active imaginations together but at least Seokjin knew when to shut his mouth!

Jungkook was, of course, entirely too chipper about the hunting trip. He was all smiles, big eyes sparkling as he rode beside Nasimiyu’s guard behind them, a stern, much larger man who had never said a word as far as Seokjin knew. Behind them, Jimin and Nasimiyu’s maid rode beside each other. Seokjin saw Jimin say something that earned a glance but no response from the maid. Damnit, he really needed to memorize the names of Nasimiyu’s staff but sometimes names flowed in one ear and out the other like water through a hollow gourd –the words of Mr. Jung, not his own. Often words flowed out of his mouth the same way –the words of Hoseok, not his own, followed by a teasing but friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder, and then Jungkook pretending to take Hoseok down, and Seokjin playfully scolding them both, feelings not at all hurt by this accurate assessment. Why should he stop the words? His jokes were great.

Like now as he joked, “Like Kalamaouche , we descend into the subterranean…”

Nasimiyu blinked almost owlishly at him and asked, “What did you say?”

“Kalamouche?”

“And… subterranean? I don’t understand anything you’re saying right now…” she admitted. He could see her lean away. That made the misses more embarrassing, that she physically recoiled from him when it happened.

“You’ll see… One of the most closely guarded secrets in Priva…” He was trying to be mysterious and wiggled his eyebrows but she just looked confused. “Oh, but what if your secret cave is better?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He sighed and shook his head, “I got ahead of myself with the grand reveal but of course yours is probably better, You have a much more elaborate cave network.”

“ What?”

Directly in front of them rode Lord Balor Jehoram and his son Prassani, and it was the former who let out a hearty laugh and tossed back, “Speaking about a ladies caves is a little uncouth in such a crowd, is it not?”

“Father…” his son warned, looking scandalized. He sent Seokjin a nervous glance. But now Seokjin heard his own words, now that Lord Jehoram had pointed them out. Oops.

“Oh! Ah, no, uh… I meant… literal caves… Marvono is full of them! Right?” He looked to Nasimiyu for confirmation. He felt like he might throw up.

“Oh. You, uh…” It was like a blanket passed across her face and her expression shifted entirely, her sharpened glare relaxing into one of relief, “Yes, we have an elaborate cave network in Marvono.”

“There’s only one cave here, and it’s the best cave in all of Yeonhalbi,” Seokjin said. He didn’t know if that was true but suddenly hoped it was, because he had hoped this could impress Nasimiyu and now realized it probably wouldn’t. Because her home was full of caves. Natural ones. Not this man-made monstrosity, this place of nightmares, this genuinely insane thing his father and grandfather had done and that nobles creamed themselves over getting invited into.

He grimaced at his own mental language. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Taehyung were rubbing off on him. No, not that way! But maybe this vow of total sexual abstinence he’d taken was starting to backfire… Jimin had told him it was a bad idea but frankly he was worried about his nerves getting in the way when he and Nasimiyu became intimate and the physician had suggested he stop taking matters into his own hands for a while. A little built-up frustration can be good for you! Seokjin’s life was full of frustrations but he’d never let himself suffer long in that department until now. Fuck, what if he was going to start letting those kinds of jokes or comments slip?! He better not! The mortification… he’d quite literally just sink to the floor and die. Nasimiyu seemed like the kind of woman who arched her eyebrow in judgment and that would be the end of Prince Seokjin. No more Kim dynasty.

“I suppose we’ll see about that,” Nasimiyu said, briefly making him panic that she had read his mind. But she hadn’t, just lifted her gaze curiously as the parade took a right at the fork in the path, curving around to heavy stone doors that had been unlocked and dragged open that morning. This was the only fork in the path, the only space wide enough to turn around and go back up, and also the only entrance to where they were going now. Seokjin could hear the noise of those doors grinding open every time there was a hunt, and it always filled him with a sense of dread, but even more so this morning…

But what could he do about it? Nothing except make the best of it. He wondered how long it would take before someone brought up that one time…

He paused briefly before going through the gate, torn between a terror of looking out at the long drop on the other side of that low railing and terror at the cold dark lifeless air that hovered in the entrance. His horse shied away, and Nasimiyu’s horse stopped too, as if in solidarity.

“Are you all right?” she asked, brows knitting in a beautiful curiosity.

Seokjin gave her a broad smile, “Yes, why wouldn’t I be? Just taking a moment to enjoy the crisp cave air. Are you all right?”

“So far…” she answered, and Seokjin laughed as his heart soared. A joke! She was joking with him! He didn’t know if it meant he was growing on her, or if she actually was afraid right now and that vulnerability had slipped out in the guise of a joke. He was beside himself either way. It was time for him to be brave. After all, he knew what lay ahead, and it was just a yawning black hole to her.

“Just wait, you’ve never seen anything like this, I bet,” he assured her. “And if you have, I’ll eat my hat.”

“You’re not wearing a hat.”

“But I own many. I’ll even let you choose which one I consume.” He nudged his horse into a walk and hers followed at her nudge. To put her at ease, he continued to describe his various hats to her to amuse and distract her as their horses stepped from the bright sunlight of outside into the bright lights of the cave.

“What in the world…”

Seokjin actually did, for once, feel a little pride as Nasimiyu and those with her stared up and around in awe. 

This entrance cavern was huge, plenty of space for forty people and their horses to pause so that servants could collect rifles from the armory hollowed out in one side of the massive cavern. Despite the yawning darkness seen from outside, inside and past that initial spooky passage, the cave was well lit.

“What is that?” Nasimiyu gasped –not, not Nasimiyu, her maid, who’d ridden up close. A moment later she blinked away from the organic lights overhead, temporarily blinded by the brightness. Nasimiyu watched her with obvious concern and curiosity and turned to Seokjin for an answer.

“Lumilyte,” he said.

“What’s lumilyte?”

“Discovery out of Therepin,” he said, chest puffing up. “You’re looking at all that exists in the world except for a small sample they still have there to study. There’s a scientist trying to see if he can reproduce it.”

“It’s incredible…” her maid said mused, still glancing up even though she was rubbing her eyes.

Nasimiyu lifted a hand as if she could touch it, asking, “It’s a rock? It just glows that bright forever?”

“Yes. It’s been here since my grandfather’s time.”

“It could light households all over Yeonhalbi for– for nothing, no wax, no oil, no wicks, no– it could completely change the lives of…”

Seokjin nodded, “Right! That’s what they’re trying to figure out in Therepin. Plants will even grow under it, though not as quickly as under the sun–”

“But why in Therepin?” Nasimiyu demanded. “You have an entire cave of it right here!”

Ah. Seokjin’s mouth twitched nervously because… well, yes. There was an entire cave of it right here. This cave of it –not to mention where it appeared through the remaining caves– could at least light all the homes in Priva, maybe even one or two more principalities, but not all of them. He didn’t really have a head for those types of calculations but… but yes, he had thought of the same thing, a question that had died on his lips when he’d asked his father, who had scoffed at the idea with the simple rebuttal it’s the only thing that can light our cave; are you saying there should be no hunting for nobles in Priva? How will we keep the nobles in line if we have no entertainment to offer them? And the hunting grounds create jobs…

It hadn’t been worth fighting over. What was Seokjin going to do, climb to the ceiling of the cave and steal the rocks and distribute them himself?

But now he had the uncomfortable situation of not being able to answer all of this. Maybe once Nasimiyu was his wife, he’d be more comfortable explaining to her the ways of the world, or saying things that might, to some, sound like a criticism of his father. The situation was complex and Seojin knew his limits. Nasimiyu would understand it in time too. Ruling was complicated. Seokjin was terrified of the day it would be his turn. 

“Yes, unfortunately this stone must stay in here,” he said simply. “Some of the other areas are lit by windows in the ceiling or great fires –be careful around the fires, there have been injuries before…” Now he looked more closely at her head scarf and worried. The truth was the hunting grounds weren’t exactly a safe place. Accidents happened all the time. Burns, animal attacks, mistaken shots. Probably not everything was accidental, truth be told. One particular cave was jokingly called ‘The Widow Maker.’ He knew Prince Hamisi had been eager for the hunt but now Seokjin wondered why Nasimiyu had come along for it.

She was asking him something else but he suddenly offered, “We don’t have to hunt if you would prefer not to. We could ride through the city instead? You said you like to ride.”

“I want to see the caves,” she said simply, and called to her maid, “Will you fetch us rifles?” He felt like he’d missed part of their conversation; she’d moved so quickly from awe to… determined? Focus? Annoyed with him? He felt like she was annoyed with him.

The handmaid looked surprised but she didn’t need to go anywhere to get anything; there were palace staff bringing around the rifles and ammo as the Master of the Hunt went round by groups and gave the instructions. Seokjin accepted the rifle and slung the ammo bag over his shoulders, fingers itching to help Nasimiyu as she did the same.

At least, to his great joy, she asked, “Will you teach me how to shoot?” At first Seokjin didn’t think the question was leveled at him, but she continued to stare at him as the armorers walked off to deliver weapons to others. At the last second, she called back, “For my maid?”

“Servants don’t hunt, they fetch,” an armorer told her.

“I want mine armed,” Nasimiyu argued. The maid looked mortified but stayed silent.

Embarrassed himself by anyone arguing with her, Seokjin quickly intervened, “Why do you act like we are short on servants to fetch things? Let her maid carry a rifle. Are you afraid you’ll be shot? Worry more about those nervous lordlings over there and bring someone else to fetch for the Princess and… and a servant for her servant as well, if she wants!”

The handmaid actually leaned out of her saddle, touching Nasimiyu’s arm. The whole exchange was odd –who would arm a lady’s maid?!-- but actually Seokjin was relieved. Nasimiyu was a noble! She was supposed to be a little odd! If she was odd, she’d be more likely to accept his own oddities, and she’d probably get along better with his father. A noble without oddities was much, much scarier because probably they were just too good at deeply hiding whatever was wrong with them. Something really terrible. At least among men. Maybe that wasn’t necessarily true about the ladies; many of them were just without much substance, but Nasimiyu was full of substance from what he could see, so there must be some oddities and eccentricities in there as well. Right? Please?

Nasimiyu only visibly relaxed once her maid and bodyguard were holding rifles. It made Seokjin suspect she was just nervous overall. He could understand that. It was soft if she was nervous, especially as the first pops of practice shots began to echo around the stone cavern. Nasimiyu’s whole body flinched; her bodyguard and maid sat up higher in their saddles and looked for the source of the sound, but the echo obfuscated it, and anyway, more shots started.

“It’s all right,” Seokjin assured them. “It’s just practice shots over there. It’s fine.”

At Seokjin’s nod, Jungkook slid down and leaned close with Nasimiyu’s guard to talk about the rifle, which he did not seem familiar with. Seokjin brushed away several hunting staff offering to help the Princess in favor of walking her through it himself. Hay barrels sat against a wall at the far end of the cave for practice shots, and soon the deafening echo of rifle shots bounced around.

“Oh this is awful,” Nasimiyu murmured, reaching behind her. Seokjin offered his arm, which surprised her despite reaching for it. 

“We have wax for your ear, if you’d like,” he offered. “But then you won’t hear things once we’re further in.” He had to lean close to feel certain she could hear him.

“Is what he said true? There are really animals loose down here and we run through all these caves searching for them?”

“You may walk or ride, whichever you prefer.”

“Deer and rabbits and even birds, all raised down in the dark, just waiting for…” She trailed off and looked to him with something like awe, despite her shoulders twitching every time a new shot rang out.

“Let me show you, you'll pick it up fast. Father will start the hunt soon so people can move out,” Seokjin assured her, moving her more quickly towards the hay stacks. Belatedly he looked back and gestured to her maid, “You need to learn too, right?” She looked startled to be addressed, but Seokjin thought it was pretty important that a woman potentially firing a weapon anywhere near Nasimiyu needed to know what she was doing.

The noise and punctuation of practice shots meant teaching Nasimiyu and her maid was not quite as romantic as he would have liked. He showed them how to load, how to aim, how to fire, both well-cautioned about the recoil and how to brace against it so they wouldn’t hurt themselves. There were already two bloody noses down the line, lordlings who would not be joining the hunt now.

As he leaned in to make sure Nasimiyu was holding properly,he added quietly, “You don’t need to shoot anything if you don’t like and if at any point you just want out of there, let me know and I’ll whisk you away.”

“You don’t seem to enjoy the hunt much, Your Highness.”

“I think it’s an acquired taste,” he suggested. “One which not everyone acquires.”

“Well I assure you I am just as capable of acquiring a taste for the hunt as any man.” She sounded so bold as she said it, chin lifted, eyes flashing. But every time another shot went off, she twitched, and her hands shook as Seokjin led her and her maid back to their horses. Proud , he thought. Strong. Brave. But soft too.  

Maybe this whole hunting trip was worth it if he could learn so much so quickly about Nasimiyu, and it felt like she was finally paying some attention to him! 

In all the chaos, Seokjin hadn’t realized that he’d managed to lose both Jimin and Jungkook, until Jimin came running up and said, “King Dong-gun is looking for you to start the hunt. Will you be riding or walking?”

“Riding,” he answered, glancing at Nasimiyu to see if she’d disagreed. She did not. He figured on horses they could take some of the side paths and get away quickly from the bulk of people. It would be quieter and safer, which he suspected she would appreciate. “We’ll begin, Princess. Can I mount you?” He bowed and held his hand out, trying to be as romantic and debonair as possible.

She gave him a stunned expression; behind him, he heard Jimin start to choke. Seokjin didn’t understand; was his offer really so unkind?

The maid took Nasimiyu’s rifle but the bodyguard was the one to step forward and help lift her onto her horse. He tossed the maid onto her horse too. During the commotion, Jimin leaned forward and repeated his own words.

Well. Well shit. 

Seokjin wanted to melt into the floor and die. Things had been almost going well? Except for the constant headache-inducing, heart-stopping echo of rifle shots hopefully fired with purpose into the hay. 

“Let’s start the hunt,” Seokjin said, probably inaudible but too mortified to say anything else. He ought to apologize, right? Assure her he simply misspoke? He did not want to –he had done his absolute best not to think of Nasimiyu sexually yet but– well but she did look like that and he couldn’t help where his mind wandered at night and– all right, so he did , and now he couldn’t stop thinking about what his own words had revealed… 

Better just to forge ahead and not think twice about it. About what he’d said. And about mounting her! Definitely it would do him no good to be thinking about sex right now when they needed to survive this hunt without getting themselves shot or mauled, all because King Dong-gun’s idea of a good time was… this . And apparently Nasimiyu’s father’s too. Something they had in common! Seokjin would make sure everyone in their party came out unscathed. Somehow.

Except Jungkook. He might shoot Jungkook, whose whole face was red except for the spot on his lip, white where he’d been biting to keep from laughing. His eyes danced with amusement. He looked like he was about to be sick from the effort of holding his laughter in.

“I’ll kill you,” Seokjin whispered to him. 

Which unfortunately wound up not being a whisper due to some inexplicable hush that washed around the area.

“Not truly,” Seokjin quickly corrected at Nasimiyu’s shocked look.

The laughter bubbled out of Jungkook, unprofessional but clearly not threatened. 

“Seokjin!” he heard his father shouting. Not happily. “Where is my son so we can begin?!”

Seokjin gave Nasimiyu a watery smile and said, “Welcome to the hunt, Princess. Don’t take it too seriously.”

He saw the question on Jimin’s face and ignored it, tugging his horse to the right so he could lead the way to his father. What the fuck does that mean? Don’t take it too seriously? Fuck if he knew… Would he ever manage to look serious and competent in front of the princess? No, probably, sadly, not.

The Privan hunt was the most ostentatious, elaborate, magical, selfish, gluttonous, ridiculous thing Nasimiyu had ever laid eyes on. 

She knew more than she let on about this to Seokjin. She never had fired a weapon herself but she’d seen them before, though certainly not in a mob in a massive but echoing cavern. Her father had told her about an underground hunt with magical lights, but never more than that and it had failed to arouse the actual experience in even her wildest imagination. And to watch the way the other lords and ladies sped off on horses down the large paths or on foot down the smaller paths once the firing of a pistol straight at the ceiling marked the beginning of the hunt–

It was disgusting. Nasimiyu struggled to keep her lip from curling and her brow from lowering in what would have been too obvious a judgment.

“Do you hunt in Marvono?” Lord Téo Ascanio asked. Nasimiyu glanced at him and quickly softened her look when Dulce sneezed, an obvious nudge from her maid that her face was revealing her annoyance at being addressed. When she and Dulce had agreed to follow Seokjin, she had hoped it would mean they were away from everyone. She thought Seokjin hoped that too, judging by his disappointment when three lords and two ladies had clomped after them, giggling that the betrotheds shouldn’t be alone just yet and also that maybe Seokjin had a lead on where the elusive white bear was hiding. The one the king would pay you a handsome reward in gold for. For killing him, this poor bear who was just trying to eke out a living in this vast underground cave network he’d been trapped in by men. To exist only as something to be hunted.

A fucking travesty.

“There is a hunt, yes,” she said. “With bows, not rifles… it’s annual, meant to curb invasive species and provide meat for those without.” 

“And you do it? Hunt? How are you with a bow?” Lord Jothi Harker pressed.

Nasimiyu didn’t know why these men were so interested in her when there were two perfectly good women in their party, one of whom was single. Curiosity? Or nosiness? She decided she wanted to sound strong and capable and confirmed,

“I do very well on the hunt, yes.”

“Bet your hunt isn’t anything like ours though,” Lady Cassia Clet insisted. She was in high spirits, having brought down a large goose in the previous watery cavern so tall that the fowl had taken to the air and disappeared through an unreachable passageway at the first echoes of gunshot. They weren’t quick enough in their escape though. Lady Clet and her husband Sarvesh both had geese to show for it.

“That is very true.”

Nasimiyu didn’t consider herself overly fond of animals, but she thought it required a hard heart to not see this as tragic. She could not, for the life of her, figure out what Seokjin thought about it, which had her curious. He kept contradicting himself. In all things, sure, but in this especially, where in one breath he would brag about the life-changing stones they hoarded for their pleasure and then reassure her that they did not have to partake in this at all with a shockingly apologetic look on his face. She had to be misunderstanding him, right? She longed for a moment alone with Dulce to ask her thoughts, but with so many wild idiots loose with weapons, her bodyguard stuck obnoxiously close to her. 

And honestly, that was a little comforting. This whole thing was so stupid and she found herself thinking well here’s the solution, you could assainate anyone in this cave and no one would ever know. Had King Dong-gun really made this so easy? Surely not… Just like surely no one would be surprised for the King to disappear into these caves and later be found dead.

“Wow.”

Nasimiyu turned at the gasp of awe from Dulce as they entered another massive cavern. None of this felt real. The entire capital city of Priva was built on these breathtaking caverns, so large it was easy to forget you were even underground except for the spiderweb of passages connecting them. Dulce’s eyes reflected the thing that impressed her, the glittering star-like dots of light against a dark sky that cast a bluish glow on the forest they looked down on from their high path. Outside was a crisp morning sun but in here felt like twilight. A craggy cliff on the far side looks like any other mountain aboveground. A buck with a massive set of antlers lifted his head majestically and looked at the intruders in his space. It was breathtaking.

Nasimiyu’s gasp seemed to echo in the wake of the crack of a rifle. For a moment the deer shuddered and froze, then it turned and ran a few steps before lurching to the side, where it tumbled right down the cliff into the forest below.

“Ah, damn, it wasn’t a clean shot,” Lord Ascanio said to Lord Harker, who’d taken the shot.

“It was! He went right now!”

“No, he took a few steps and stumbled.”

“Yes from the bullet through his heart.”

“No, he’s probably still alive down there.”

“After that fall? I doubt it.”

“You’d better go look,” Lord Clet suggested.

“Damn,” Lord Harker grumbled, looking at the thick forests and the steep climb down. “Don’t know what else might be down there…” He did not look inclined to follow Lord Clet’s advice.

Lady Clet gave him a pointed look and pressed, “Didn’t you think about that before you shot? Even if you’d dropped him up there, you’d still have to find a way to retrieve him.”

“What ever do I need to get him for? That’s the fetchers job,” he motioned to the mounted servants behind him. “Besides, you all witnessed the kill.”

“So you’re planning just to leave a dead or dying deer out there,” Nasimiyu found herself snapping. That was certainly not how they hunted in Marvono, where anything killed was used down to the bone, every organ and sinew and scrap of meat.

Lord Ascanio turned to one of the servants assisting them on the hunt and ordered, “Go fetch it.” The servant’s eyes grew very large as he looked to the other servants. Three of them in all, plus hers and Seokjin’s bodyguards and personal servants. Such a large mounted party and yet the deer hadn’t fled immediately when they entered this place. They didn’t fear people in here despite their whole existence built by the hunt. It made everything even more disgusting to her. She hoped there was something down there in those ominous trees that could take out a few people now and then, just to balance the scales.

She missed whatever Seokjin said, though after five days she was beginning to recognize the low hum of his voice muttering –he seemed to talk to himself a great deal without expecting anyone was listening. Dulce had told her he was sometimes narrating whatever he did and other times making “what appear to be jokes because he seems to laugh at them even though they don’t make any sense to me…”

This time his bodyguard appeared to have heard him though and suddenly slid from his horse and tossed the reigns to the big-eyed servant, 

“All right, I’ll head down, but you wait here with my horse.”

“You’re going to get it?” Miss Sotiria Tulia asked, mouth dropping with interest. The bodyguard gave her a rather charming smile and Nasimiyu thought Dulce’s initial impression was probably right that he was a flirt. He sure looked like one.

“Oh well if it’s all right for him to go down, I’ll go too–”

“Please stay on your horse, Lord Harker,” Seokjin interrupted, raising a hand. “Jungkook is familiar with these caves.”

“But it’s my kill. Your man there will find my dead deer, stab the corpse, and claim it was his.”

“Care to go with me?” Jungkook the bodyguard asked, pushing up his sleeves and eying the drop as if he was going to run and jump. “I can probably carry you both back up. Might take two trips.”

“You didn’t even want the body,” Nasimiyu pointed out. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt compelled to agree with the Prince that Lord Harker shouldn’t go but she did. “Besides, can’t you tell what the cause of death was?” She glanced at Dulce.

“Maybe not if the injuries are that close together,” Dulce admitted, earning scandalized looks from the other women –either about her knowledge of death or because she’d dared to speak when her superiors were debating.

“It’s not about the body or claiming a kill,” Prince Seokjin insisted. “It’s about not leaving a deer to die a slow and painful death if the shot wasn’t good.”

“The shot was good.”

“My man will confirm and you will remain horsed,” Seokjin said, and there was an edge of authority to his voice Nasimiyu had not heard from him in the six days she had been in Priva so far. It bookered no argument. It was shocking.

The group fell silent, long enough that for the first time the noise of the forest actually reached them –chirping birds and rustling leaves even though there was no wind and occasionally the snap of a twig. Without the inane chatter, it seemed suddenly very dense and wild down there. Nasimiyu looked down at the tops of the trees and again considered how very easy it would be for an accident to happen. She didn’t need Dulce to point that out. She could have figured it out for herself, and in under a week!

“Trouble?”

They all spun at the voice, not of their party. A shriveled, gnarled old man approached, a moving pile of furs and leather clothing.

“No, Master. A deer was shot and fell, so my man is going to make sure it’s done with.” 

Who was this man Seokjin referred to as Master? Nasimiyu glanced at Dulce and the others but read no answer in their expressions.

The old man nodded, “All right, I’ll show the way, come with me, young buck.” Jungkook looked amused by this and followed the old man. Just like that, Seokjin let his bodyguard walk off. He must feel pretty confident he was in no danger, and Nasimiyu could practically hear what Dulce would say about it in her mind: don’t assume he’s stupid, he may have security you don’t know. Maybe the valet is secretly a second bodyguard. People don’t hold onto a crown by being stupid. Nasimiyu didn’t know if that was true, based on what she’d seen so far but… well, she wasn’t wed yet, so it wasn’t like she could just push him off his horse over the cliff and be done with it anyway.

Nasimiyu felt like she did not understand what was happening as Seokjin insisted the others ride ahead but motioned for her to stay put. The others didn’t want to go, the ladies laughed that shouldn’t they stay to chaperone? , but Seokjin was adamant and Nasimiyu was stunned by his sudden and unexpected authority. Maybe the others were too and that was what convinced them to go.

Once it was only Prince Seokjin, his valet, Nasimiyu, Dulce, and her bodyguard left, Seokjin let out a sigh, “I’m very sorry about all of… that.”

“All of what?” she asked, not sure what he meant.

“The… well, you were upset, weren’t you? You don’t need to be –Jungkook will make sure the beast doesn’t suffer and–”

“I am no wilting flower, Your Majesty–”

“Seokjin,” he suggested, and she felt both annoyed and flustered by the soft way he looked at her. “Or Jin.” Oh dear, was he trying to have an intimate moment with her? In an ostentatious, absurd cavern of wasted resources and the distant rhythm of rifles firing? She shuddered to think what would happen if those sorts of weapons permeated Yeonhalbi. No, when. If there were so many here in the cave, they were definitely elsewhere too. Maybe Dulce could help her manufacture some accident where every single one of them got destroyed…

“I don’t believe in the waste of animals,” she continued. “But I know where our food comes from and I’m not above dirtying my hands when it’s necessary.” She paused, feeling her cheeks heat up. She shouldn’t get worked up in front of Seokjin. She shouldn’t appear too smart or too threatening or too aware of the world. 

“Jothi and Teo were too riled up, and the forest down there is… unsettling. They would have shot each other thinking one of them was a wild hog, I just know it, and then we’d have to deal with that… and it wasn’t a clean shot, so someone needed to go down, but I don’t think Jothri could finish it up close,” he rambled, watching her closely, as if testing whether what she said was true or not, that she was unbothered. “I thought they or this whole thing were upsetting you…”

“I’m all right,” she insisted. “I certainly know shooting from a distance is different than finishing something up close.” 

“Yes, exactly.” The unspoken addition: but your bodyguard is comfortable with either. And Nasimiyu thought smugly to herself so is my maid.

They settled into silence. Seokjin gazed out at the forest as his horse shifted, bored and calm.

“It was a beautiful deer,” Seokjin admitted after only a few minutes, like he couldn’t bear the silence after all. “I wouldn’t have shot it. But don’t worry, nothing shot in these caves goes to waste, even if the nobles don’t understand. The game masters make sure of it. They keep a tight ecosystem running down here. Even if Lord Harker had left it, Master Boutros or one of the others would have found it; they do a look through all the caves afterwards, make sure nothing is permanently damaged, see what needs to be done to restore the peace.”

“The peace,” Nasimiyu repeated. She didn’t flinch this time but glanced towards the hall the others had disappeared down as the echo of gunshot reached them It was ‘unsettling,’ to re-use Seokjin’s word. “When we hunt in Marvono, it restores balance. We hunt things like boar which overpopulate and can push out other species. We hunt wolves, if there are too many coming into the towns. We only hunt a limited number of deer and birds to make sure numbers remain stable without crowding. We restore the peace. But this breaks the peace, you said. You think that?” 

She shouldn’t have said that. She watched him closely, reckless but curious how he would respond to a rather thinly veiled political statement, a rather scathing remark –if he understood it– about this frivolous hunt. Was all of his talk since they’d come down here actually hinting at a royal prince dissatisfied with the world order? It had never occurred to her that Prince Seokjin might be rebellious in that way, but surely she couldn’t be the only young noble in the world one who realized they needed to use their privilege and power to make things better for more than themselves… and how much good could a prince accomplice if so motivated! How much good should this prince have already done if so motivated… The idea of Prince Seokjin as some secret force of good died as soon as the thought entered her mind before he even opened his mouth.

“Well the real peace down here was… nothing,” he said. “Nothing lived down here when my grandfather found these caverns –well except for these trees and some fish in one of the others. They didn’t even have eyes.”

“The trees?”

“No, the fish.”

“No, I mean that the trees were here? With no light?”

“These lights were here,” Seokjin said, pointing up to the faux-starry sky. “It always looks like this in here.”

“That’s… You’re telling me the truth?”

“I always will, Princess!” 

“But doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “Yes, it does.” 

“How did a King even find this place?” Dulce asked. Nasimiyu turned, having momentarily forgotten her handmaid was even there. She’d gotten wrapped up in trying to feel out Seokjin, apparently, and did not come away quite satisfied. He seemed in awe of his father and grandfather again. How disappointing.

“Huh,” Seokjin mused, lips pursed. “I never asked that… Does seem strange a king would wander this far into a dark, lifeless cave… Maybe my father knows but I’m not sure you’d get an answer from him.”

Dulce looked quickly away, but Nasimiyu smiled fondly at her. Dulce was curious, though she tried to hide it. Tried to act like she didn’t care about anything ever. Don’t ever let anyone know what you want , she’d told Nasimiyu. Nasimiyu had taken that advice to heart. At least she’d tried.

Seokjin’s smile grew as he continued, “Ah, it’s a really good question though! Maybe he was looking for someplace to be alone. This is a beautiful place to be alone, isn’t it?”

“It’s terrifying,” Nasimiyu corrected. “We’re underneath a city. You don’t know what’s in the forest down there.”

“Oh, that’s just Jungkook.”

“No, what I mean is–”

But Jungkook actually was on his way up, grunting and huffing his way up a narrow ramp carved into the cliff below them –it was invisible from the top but she saw it now as Jungkook dragged himself onto the path, a massive dead deer over his shoulders like a knapsack. It was grotesquely ridiculous.  

“I will get the sled and take it out for you,” the Game Master said, scurrying off fast and sort of hunched over. Had he looked that old before he came down here or the caverns aged him like that? What sort of life must it be to work down here? Did he ever leave? Nasimiyu found it heartbreaking; how many lives were ruined for this “game”?!

The deer’s, certainly.

“You carried that by yourself?” Nasimiyu gasped, stunned into it as Jungkook squatted and eased the deer off his shoulders with the help of Nasimiyu’s bodyguard.

Jungkook smiled, “Yes, Princess–”

“It’s not that big,” Seokjin quickly interrupted. 

“Two hundred pounds. Maybe a little more,” Jungkook said, turning that cocky grin to Seokjin. Oh yes, Dulce must be right, Jungkook was probably trouble with the ladies and maybe more. How did she notice things like that so damn quick?! But that was the smile of a man who had no social power, only charm to get his way.

“I can carry that–”

“Bloody dead deer?” Jungkook asked. Interrupted his prince without a second thought! And just as surprising –or maybe not at all surprising for Prince Seokjin– he didn’t seem to care either. 

“I’ve hauled you dead drunk…” Seokjin defended only to trail off, looking at his valet as if he was the actual authority here. Nasimiyu glanced at Dulce, to see if she was seeing this too, but Dulce was looking at the dead dear, its head resting at an odd angle.  

There was a shift in Jungkook’s voice as he suddenly dismissed, “I’m more belligerent, that’s true. The deer isn’t that impressive. Your shoulders are broad enough, we know you can carry it. Want me to cart it out or… I’m–”

“Was it already dead?” Dulce asked. Jungkook seemed surprised by the question. That quickly shifted to exactly the sort of smile Nasimiyu would expect a man like Jungkook to level at a pretty woman like Dulce –particularly a woman he thought nothing more than a soft, shy, quiet handmaiden.

“It was not but I ended its suffering fast,” Jungkook assured her. “You don’t need to worry about it, miss.”

How did she do it, keep that straight face? Nasimiyu herself didn’t know how much suffering Dulce had put an end to –namely by murdering the people causing the suffering. But she endured this patronizing from Prince Seokjin’s bodyguard and just closed her eyes and lowered her face like she was gentle and emotional and grateful to hear this. She suspected Dulce was mentally plotting Jungkook’s demise and it amused her. 

To hide her inappropriate smile, Nasimiyu asked Seokjin, “Is there really a white bear down here?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never seen it. The Game Masters say yes but… would they tell me the truth?” He arched his eyebrow at the one now returning with a rolling cart. “My father says there is and so we hunt.”

“Even if it’s not true? An empty promise?”

“Even if there is no white bear, isn’t the search part of the fun? The possibility? All these wonderful experiences we get to have along the way?” He gestured to Jungkook and Nasimiyu’s bodyguard helping Master Boutros load the deer onto the cart. The back of Jungkook’s tunic was a sheet of shiny, slippery red. Seokjin’s valet held his jacket, which a moment later hid the carnage from sight. 

She still couldn’t believe Jungkook had piggy-backed that thing up the side of the cliff. He must be stronger than he looked for someone so thin and even a smidge shorter than the Prince himself. Were they only joking Seokjin could have carried the deer? Jungkook must have just said it to tease or flatter the Prince. Which was interesting, if the bodyguard felt so comfortable teasing his Royal Highness, but it was also curious if Seokjin was stronger than he looked, too. 

Dulce’s snort surprised her. She must have missed something, but she saw the way Dulce looked quickly out at the forest and lowered her brow, disengaging, probably so as not to reveal something a handmaid shouldn’t understand.

This place was giving Nasimiyu the creeps now though. It felt like the forest had suddenly gone silent, so she insisted,

“Let’s continue. I’d like to hunt something but… not a deer.”

“Oh? You would? I can lead you to the right place then.”

“A white bear.”

“You… you want to shoot a bear,” Seokjin clarified, obviously stunned.

“No, I just want to hunt for it. I’m just a wilty little girl who can’t handle a hunt. I could never shoot a bear unless it directly threatened me or those I love. Maybe not even then.”

Seokjin bowed his head, “Very well, Princess. On we go. Let’s see if we can find a bear for you.” 

I know exactly where the bear is , Nasimiyu thought.

They did not find a bear. Nasimiyu never fired her rifle once, nor her bodyguard or maid, despite Nasimiyu’s insistence they be armed. They also never got a moment as alone as they had in the forest cavern; instead they fell in shortly with more hunters, eventually Prince Hamisi and Seokjin’s father as well even though Seokjin had tried to stay clear of them. From that point, Seokjin had to work harder at not letting his disdain for the hunt show by actually pretending to hunt. The last thing he needed was a scene with his father in front of the Princess. 

So he fired a few times at things that weren’t there, laughed good-naturedly when his father made a few jokes about his aim, cracked jokes to calm the mood when some others made jokes about his aim and King Dong-gun became very serious and very frightening, and then finally rescued a turtle that had managed to wander right into the path as the trumpets sounded through the caverns, letting the hunters know the day was done and it was time to return aboveground for lunch.

He thought no one was paying much attention to him as he’d slid from his horse, scooped the small tortoise up, and carried it to the side of the path. He paused to consider whether it was better to leave the tortoise here or take it with him. He preferred soft fuzzy pets, but if this tortoise had wandered onto the path once, he’d likely do it again. Trampled, not even a glorious end. But what if he had a little tortoise family down here? What if he liked it down here? Could anyone like it down here? Maybe you could, if it was all you’d ever known. Should he do the kind thing and show the tortoise there was more to the world?

“Your Highness,” Jimin called, and Seokjin heard the warning in his voice. Don’t smuggle a tortoise out.  

All right, that sealed it. He didn’t know anything about tortoises, but he’d find someone who did. He tucked the tortoise into the satchel at his waist and headed towards his horse. Once mounted, he realized Nasimiyu’s handmaiden was watching him. 

Damn, had she seen him take the tortoise? Did she have an opinion about that? Would Nasimiyu have an opinion about it? At some point he was going to have to introduce Nasimiyu to his animals and he had not gotten a sense from this trip whether that would go well or not. He couldn’t tell whether she had a soft spot for animals or just found blood-thirsty competition a bore. Would she think his fur babies were cute or disgusting? At least he didn’t think she’d be afraid of them, the way other ladies might be. One of many reasons he had never taken a woman to his bedroom before…

To cover his tracks, he called loudly, “You there, did you enjoy the hunt?”

“Um…” The poor handmaid looked panicked. She turned her face away and nudged her horse to hide herself behind Nasimiyu. If she’d noticed the tortoise, maybe she’d forgotten in her panic. Or maybe she thought it was a nice thing! She’d been worried about the deer too. Poor thing. This must be even more overwhelming to a handmaiden not used to this kind of wealth and splendor. Nasimiyu seemed less naive about how ridiculous wealth could look. 

Well now he realized he’d better hurry up though so he could deposit the tortoise in his room until he found someone to help him with it. He was all too happy to fall into line behind his father and lead the way out of the caves, both wonderful and unsettling. The sunlight felt warm and safe but also a tad foreign, like he had already started to forget what wide open sky looked like.

“Just hang in for a little bit,” he murmured, patting the satchel.

He could feel Jimin’s dissatisfied glare and it made him smile the entire ride back.

“He took what ?” Nasimiyu asked, paired with an incredulous look.

“A turtle. Thing. A turtle kind of thing.”

“He killed nothing but he kidnapped a turtle.”

“I think he likes animals more than people,” Dulce mused. Her eyebrows raised suddenly as she admitted, “Oh… I didn’t tell you… there’s a rumor he keeps all kinds of small animals in his bedroom.”

Nasimiyu blinked at her. Her mouth dropped. There was a long pause before,

“What kind of small animals. Cats?”

“No one means ‘cats’ when they say ‘small animals,’” Dulce pointed out. “Maybe like rats or something.”

“He keeps rats in his bedroom!?” At Dulce’s shrug, Nasimiyu covered her face and groaned, “I need you to get in there and tell me exactly what he’s keeping in his bedroom. We have been here six days and if at some point I make my way into that bedroom and am presented with small creatures that I don’t expect, I will not be able to maintain my composure. I will stab someone and I will not miss, thanks to you!”

“Well… you could go see for yourself. You’d have an easier time getting in there than I would and if you got caught you could just pretend that–” Dulce began, but Nasimiyu grabbed her wrist and glared, “Do not finish that thought.”

“All right, fine. Don’t go into his bedroom until I’ve scouted it out. See if you can resist him that long.” Her mouth twitched with almost a smile as she lifted her glass. It earned a somewhat mean smile from Nasimiyu.

“While you’re at it, I think you need to fuck Jungkook.”

It was a true testament to Dulce’s composure that she simple finished her sip of juice and set it on the side table calmly before looking right into Nasimiyu’s face and asking with a steady voice, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me,” Nasimiyu snickered now. “And you know I’m right. Fuck his valet while you’re at it too.”

“Hm.”

“You’re pretty and you know it’s the easiest way to get information from men.”

“That’s not always true,” Dulce mused. She tapped her chin. “I’ll think about it…”

“You’ll do it.”

“You don’t have the authority to command me to fuck someone.”

“It’s kind of fun,” Nasimiyu teased. “I like it. Anyway, don’t go through with it if you don’t want to and can help it… Certainly don’t come right to my bed afterwards… but I think Jungkook thought you were sweet. Use that.”

Dulce picked up her juice glass again and only said, “You do your job, Princess, and I’ll do mine.  Like you said, the easiest way to win a man over…”

“Oh, you’re telling me to fuck the Prince? Oh that’s rich,” Nasimiyu scowled at her now. “I must at some point and I don’t need you rushing me to it.”

“Then trust me that I know what I’m doing with your timeline here. There’s a proper order here. No reason to rush. You know that. It’s very important.”

“Fine.”

“Once I fuck them, I won’t get a second chance.”

“Oh, you’re not that bad–” Nasimiyu burst into laughter at Dulce’s glare. “Fine! Take your sweet time. But find out about the rats for me. That seems… high priority.”

Dulce nodded. But Nasimiyu felt like they’d just had a fight after an already-upsetting morning underground , and she wasn’t happy about it. It was just sex. Honestly, Dulce should be happy she got to fuck Jungkook and Jimin. Seokjin probably made jokes in bed. He probably giggled while he orgasmed. Nasimiyu was going to need a lot of alcohol or maybe some good drugs when the day came…

She discarded from her mind that moment when he had commanded the nobles in the cave. It had been a fluke, that was all. It was so unusual, it slid quickly from the record of the day. The prince acting like a prince was impossible. Even more unusual than glowing rocks on a ceiling. Instead Nasimiyu watched Dulce lift a slice of apple to her mouth and tried not to think about her maid fucking those men and tried not to let on how relieved she was Dulce had said no. It was just sex but… Dulce was right, better not risk it yet.

Dulce felt like they’d had a fight too. 

She didn’t know why Nasimiyu had told her to fuck Jungkook and Jimin if she was going to immediately get pissy about it. But what should she have expected? Nasimiyu was a princess, after all. She was used to getting her way. She was used to getting what she wanted. She was not used to sharing.

Men, women, it was all the same to Dulce, sex wasn’t particularly enjoyable in most cases, and she wasn’t good at flirting. She wasn’t one of those women who could just seduce their way into whatever they wanted, and she was tired of Nasimiyu always making jokes like that, jokes when Dulce’s clothes came off that all she needed to do to get what she wanted was strip. It wasn’t true, it wasn’t how Dulce worked, and it just felt offensive. She got the information she needed by being clever, observant, and occasionally stabbing someone. Flirting was not her strength and she thought her poor flirting skills probably made her less suspicious and how would Nasimiyu like it if Dulce said she only got her way by being pretty and rich? Dulce knew for a fact she didn’t like it.

Besides, Dulce didn’t want to flirt with anyone yet. She understood how to use that –it wasn’t like she never did– but unless you were playing the long con, it wasn’t something you should do if you were going to be in close proximity to your target for months or even years. The falling out could cause problems you didn’t plan for. If she was going to attempt to seduce Jungkook or Jimin or anyone for that matter, it needed to be because she had a specific short-term goal in mind. And Nasimiyu needed to not know she was doing it, in case she failed, because the shame would be unbearable. And because, Dulce realized, the Princess might be a brat about it. That made Dulce smile. 

She’d been grateful to have the afternoon to herself and spent it mostly just tucked away in one of the gardens, enjoying the sunlight and sea breeze after the whole weird experience of the caves that morning. But her breaks were rare and short-lived, and by the evening she was requested back at Nasimiyu’s side just in time to witness the dinnertime debacle.

“What is this?” Dulce could read on Nasimiyu’s lips as one course after another were brought out. Dulce would eat other things afterwards and hadn’t paid much attention to what the dinner staff were bringing out except that things smelled strange . She figured it was some fusion menu, especially after King Dong-gun had announced that a Marvonesian cook had been hired to bring the Prince and Princess’ cuisine into the Privan palace.

It was obvious from the faces that something was very wrong. At first no one wanted to say anything. Dulce stood against the wall with a few other servants who weren’t on food service but were required. Mostly guards. She watched as faces slid from concern to confusion to displeasure, before ultimately nervously turning towards the king.

It wasn’t long before King Dong-gun turned to Prince Hamisi and said, “Never when I have visited your home has the food tasted like this.”

“No,” Prince Hamisi agreed. “This is not my food.”

King Dong-gun nodded, wadded up his napkin, then stood and bellowed, “BRING ME THE COOK.” 

Anyone still holding silverware dropped it as servants fled the dining room like rats from a burning ship. Dulce glanced at Nasimiyu, but it was Seokjin’s stricken face that held her attention. 

A man was dragged out, not someone Dulce had ever seen around the palace before. He looked annoyed until suddenly standing before an angry king. King Dong-gun had towered there in front of his knocked-over chair the entire wait. No one else had moved a muscle either. Dulce watched this all with rapt attention, taking in which faces seemed stunned and which seemed nervous and which seemed like this was business as usual. 

King Dong-gun looked at the man closely for a moment, then opened his mouth to begin, “You are no cook–”

“My apologies, father,” Prince Seokjin said, springing from his chair. Maybe it was his father but he’d still interrupted a king and even Dulce felt an internal wince at the obvious transgression. Prince Seokjin blundered on, announcing, “I poorly vetted the new cook. His skill was not as strong as I believed and we did not give him a proper mentor.”

King Dong-gun stared at his son. Everyone held their breath. Dulce began to wonder if the King was actually going to lob the man’s head off right here in the dining hall. That seemed to be what everyone else thought.

“Who else vetted the cook?” King Dong-gun demanded. 

“Only myself. The cooks argued against it but… I found the man and I thought I knew best.”

Dulce felt Seokjin’s words twist her gut in a strange way. He… said that. He actually just said that, right in front of everyone. It didn’t make any sense. Either he did believe he knew best and would never admit to being wrong or he knew he didn’t already know best and so then why would he make himself look like an incompetent ass in front of everyone whose dinner had been ruined? Part of Dulce wondered if the food could actually even be that bad. 

It was odd. It was as odd as Nasimiyu had declared his behavior in the caverns, when he had “briefly actually seemed like a man” after the deer had been shot. Dulce understood what Nasimiyu meant then and saw it now too, though not quite enough to fully understand it yet. The prince could be more competent than he let on. Or he could just be more entitled than he let on. He might not care how others perceived him at all, especially since he was so eccentric. It wasn’t like Nasimiyu could call the marriage off because he was weird. He took strange actions at strange times and, frankly, Dulce was starting to find him kind of baffling. Baffling in an extra way. Something about him just wasn’t making sense even after six days and that was kind of… annoying.

Something wordless passed between father and son. When Seokjin sank back into his chair, blinking rapidly and not looking at anyone, Dulce thought this was not going well for Seokjin.

“Take this imposter to the dungeon for now and bring us something else to eat. Do not leave my guests hungry and waiting. Bring wine to wash this taste from our mouths. Every staff in the kitchen has shamed my house by allowing this meal to shit on my table. After we have been served, the staff will bow and apologize to our guests, especially the Prince and Princess whose delicious cuisine has been spat upon in this way!”

Prince Hamisi and Princess Simisola said nothing. They did not look happy, so maybe they felt the apology was justified. Dulce wanted to roll her eyes. How bad could it be? Bad food was still food, these people were just entitled. 

Dessert –which was apparently passable– was brought out to fill the time while new food was prepared. The stress of the servants was palpable. The secondhand embarrassment when the entire kitchen staff shuffled into the room to bow to the floor in apology was nauseating. And for the first meal since they’d arrived in Priva, Prince Seokjin didn’t speak another word to Nasimiyu the entire time.

Perhaps that was why Nasimiyu was starved for conversation afterwards, and dragged Dulce along to an evening sitting in one of the parlors with other ladies and her mother, and then only let her go long enough to eat her own supper while the other maids helped Nasimiyu bathe for the second time that day and prepare for bed.

Nasimiyu lounged on her sofa in only her robe and had just motioned Dulce closer with body language that said fuck but a look that said I want to hear everything you thought about tonight . It had been such a long day that Dulce was honestly still reeling. These were marathon days. On her own, she’d dart into and out of situations, not spend all day everyday working like this. But just as she drew closer, the bedroom door flew open and in marched Nasimiyu’s parents. 

Dulce sprang away from the couch and bowed to the Prince and Princess, grateful they had not come in a moment later. It was one thing to know and blackmail her with it, another to actually walk in on it. Briefly she wondered how Nasimiyu would react to understanding for herself how many secrets her own parents kept from her. She thought so highly of her own perception, and she loved her parents a great deal, and also made no secret to Dulce she thought them to be incredibly stupid much of the time. They were not stupid. In fact, they were rather cruelly smart.

“Leave the room,” Prince Hamisi told her now.

Nasimiyu frowned, “Why are you dismissing her in my room? Am I in trouble? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It’s not that,” Princess Simisola said. “Dulce, go get something for us to eat from the kitchens. The debacle of dinner– well, we won’t dwell, but get us something to eat while we speak.”

Dulce turned on her heel and fled the room, grateful for an excuse to go and a job to do. She had no desire to be any more in the middle of the family’s affairs than she already was. 

She made her way straight for the kitchens, expecting them to be somber and quiet after the king had so publicly wrapped them all up in the blame for the meal.

Somber, yes. But quiet, not exactly. She paused just outside the door, hearing the familiar tone of Prince Seokjin’s voice inside. Was King Dong-gun there too? The last thing she wanted to do was walk into staff still being punished. From one family’s bullshit to another. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, so to speak.

But the answering voices didn’t sound in danger, just tired, and she didn’t sense King Dong-gun. She peeked around the door frame and confirmed first that King Dong-gun wasn’t there, and then that only a small handful of people were in the whole kitchen from what she could see, clustered around a far counter. She recognized the valet Jimin and Seokjin’s favorite bodyguard Jungkook, and a cook, and that charming man always hovering by Seokjin around the palace though she didn’t know his name. And the stablehand! The one she’d see in the hall! And only one cook. 

Torn between curiosity and a desire to not step into any more shit tonight, it was Princess Simisola’s command that tipped her into entering the kitchen despite her reservations.

She’d been spotted anyway; she wasn’t sure who pointed her out, but Prince Seokjin called, “Oh! Princess Nasimiyu’s handmaid!”

“Dulce,” Jimin said. She didn’t know if that was for Prince Seokjin’s benefit or the others’. It still startled her to hear her name said by someone in his party. She was connected to the Princess; of course they might learn her name and probably they had tried to look into her background too. They wouldn’t be able to find anything. 

“Loves deer,” Jungkook added. He sat casually on the counter and looked so boyish that it was hard to believe he was the same man who’d hauled a dead deer up a mountain on his back that morning. 

She definitely had the feeling now that she’d wandered into something she shouldn’t have. This wasn’t a cluster of unrelated people going about their business. She felt like she’d interrupted a sort of… party. They all seemed casual together which was extra strange since one of the people present was the actual royal prince, though it only seemed to confirm to her that it wasn’t only his bodyguard and his valet who seemed comfortable and casual with him. For a second it made it feel like everything had been a joke, that the man in front of her wasn’t the royal prince at all, just an imposter they’d subbed in, like the fake Marvonesian cook.

“What can we do for you?” that very prince asked now, letting go of a wooden spoon he’d been stirring a pot with, as if he was the kitchen staff here.

“My apologies for interrupting… the Princess sent me to fetch something to eat for her and her parents.”

“Ah… supper was…” The Prince turned away, shaking his head.

“It was well-intentioned,” Jimin insisted. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” the stablehand insisted. At Dulce’s glance, he gave her that same boxy grin and introduced himself, “Taehyung. ‘Horse-shit’ is fine too, if you want.”

“What? Horse-shit.”

“It’s an inside joke,” Taehyung dismissed Jungkook’s question. “Only she can call me that. She’s prettier than you.” Jungkook glared.

“It was that bad,” the only one of them who actually worked in the kitchen said. He shook his head sadly and leaned forward to look into the pot.

Dulce hesitated before she couldn’t help herself and asked, “Didn’t you have him cook a test meal first?” Might as well see if Prince Seokjin’s obvious leniency with servants extended to herself as well.

“That’s the way it should go, right?” the cook agreed, motioning to her like she’d settled a debate. He also gestured to the nameless one for bowls which were passed to him. “That’s the way it usually goes. Why we skipped procedure suddenly this time…” he trailed off.

“Didn’t the Prince…” Dulce began, then stopped herself. Dangling a little bit to see what they’d say.

Prince Seokjin cleared his throat, “Oh right, yes, I–”

“The Prince did nothing except protect those who made the call,” the nameless well-dressed one insisted. “Do you think the Prince hires household staff here?”

“That’s usually the Queen’s job,” Dulce answered, like it was a question on a school test. “But there isn’t a queen. Only Lady…” She remembered the name perfectly but pretended not to. It was unsettling to just be here with the Prince and she didn’t want to accidentally give anything away while she was still trying to decide whether he was smart or stupid. Chances were at least someone in this room besides herself was smart. Honestly, her money was on the valet or the tutor.

“Your Princess will have her work cut out for her,” the cook mumbled. Dulce didn’t understand the sharp look the Prince gave him, but it seemed a little more like what she’d expect from a prince. 

“We have a household manager who assists my cousin. The hiring of this cook was rushed in an attempt to find a Marveonesian cook. It was a well-intentioned idea and perhaps the one doing the testing got carried away and skipped the process to try and beat someone else–”

Dulce assumed he was vaguely referring to the cook, and the cook must have thought so too because he quickly spoke up, “I’ve got leads on several and I’m putting them to the test before I ever let them into this kitchen. Lucero was an idiot to think this was the way to beat me to it and now…”

“Will he be killed?” Dulce asked.

Immediately Jungkook smiled kindly at her, “Don’t worry about it…” Ah. He liked stupid, demure ladies. That was the conclusion she drew about him now. Probably women who could be impressed by his muscles and not worry too much about what he had going on in his skull. She knew exactly what was in the skulls of men and it was not as impressive as people made it sound. Speech and thoughts and dreams all came from nothing more than a mushy lump of oatmeal. Some mushier than others.

“My father can be firm and… but we aren’t heartless here,” Prince Seokjin assured her, just as fooled by the soft woman act. “No one was harmed, only our egos as your host. How bad is the damage? Ah… it’s mortifying…”

Dulce felt a little bad for him with that dejected look as he stirred the pot again even though it wasn’t even bubbling yet. He was always making jokes and laughing but there was some extra shadow to him right now. He seemed actually sad in a way she hadn’t seen before. Tired. Was it the dinner? Or was Nasimiyu’s lack of fondness breaking his little royal heart?

“They’re just hungry,” Dulce assured him. “They eat multiple meals a day. One isn’t likely to ruin everything.”

He looked up, a smile catching quickly as he seized on this argument. He dropped the spoon and took a step forward, as if suddenly recognizing what a trove of assistance Dulce could provide, if she was convinced to.

“And this morning? Did the Princess enjoy the hunt or…? I haven’t figured out yet how to tell when she’s happy…”

“You haven’t seen her truly happy yet,” Dulce answered without thinking. Well, thinking of other things. “She found some of the caves impressive.”

“But not the hunting. Me neither, you can tell her I said that. She likes riding but it’s a multi-day trip to actually go to any good riding,” he sighed, looking at Taehyung the stable hand who just nodded. As he held a tortoise to his chest and tried to tempt it into eating a lettuce leaf.

Misunderstanding her stare, he held the tortoise out and introduced, “This is my tortoise.”

“What’s his name?”

“Why don’t you name him for me?”

Her eyes narrowed. She thought he might be flirting with her. He certainly was smiling right for it. Well, maybe that could be useful down the line.

“Tuga,” she suggested without explaining it was short for Tortuga . It was unlikely any of them spoke Loman anyway. Paloma was always an afterthought when listing the principalities of Yeonhalbi, as the smallest, poorest, and most distant.

“Tuga the Tortoise, I like it!” 

“Tuga the Torta,” Prince Seokjin repeated, then laughed when the others did because he’d said it wrong. He repeated it several times anyway.

“You found his weakness. The Prince loves a good word joke,” that nice-dressed companion of his said. Jung, she recalled now. Family name; she didn’t know his first name yet. 

While all this had been going on, the cook had been busy with bowls and cups and pulling things out of cabinets. Dulce had only partially paid attention to him. Occasionally he’d tell the Prince to stir the pot, or Jimin would. But now he nudged them out of the way and rolled a cart towards her with a mountain of food.

“With our apologies for supper,” the cook said. “It was a…”

“Travesty,” Prince Seokjin suggested with a deep sigh.

“A fucking embarrassment,” the cook muttered.

“Language, there’s a lady,” Jungkook said, giving the cook a baffled look and gesturing at her. On either side of him, Taehyung the stablehand and Jimin the valet laughed. 

Prince Seokjin was quick to assure her, “They’re not laughing about you. Of course you deserve respect, even if you weren’t my betrothed’s favorite handmaid.” He raised his eyebrows as if warning all of them.

“Then what’s the joke?” she asked, feigning innocence. 

“The joke is his language is bad,” the Jung man assured her. 

“But I’d never speak like that in front of a lady like yourself,” Jungkook assured her. She found herself wondering if he actually would be very easy to seduce information out of or if he was too worldly and clever for it. A ladies’ man could go either way. 

“I’ll roll the cart for you,” Jimin suggested, suddenly darting forward.

“It’s all right.”

“I insist–”

“This is for you,” the cook added, handing her a plate directly. A plate on which sat a beautiful piece of the white and strawberry cake the nobles had for supper. Definitely not something given to the servants.

“Oh wait, she needs more cream,” Jungkook said, reaching to the side for a bowl. Dulce just stood there as he leaned forward, never sliding from the counter, and spooned an obscene amount of cream over the moist cake. “There you go.”

“Thank you so much.”

She turned away from his grin but wished she hadn’t, so she could see what had been done by whom to make him mutter ‘ow.’ She’d had to, not to laugh in his face. Was he stupid? Desperate? What a strange band of misfits this was with the Prince in the kitchen so late at night. This was really the Prince’s royal retinue? 

Instead she said to the cook sincerely, “Thank you…”

“Min Yoongi,” the cook answered. “Just find me anytime you need something for the Princess and I’ll make sure she’s only getting the best things here.”

“Ambitious,” Dulce recognized and Yoongi smiled broadly. Maybe she shouldn’t have admitted she could see that. But it made her feel better about the cake. It was a bribe. A cook who had not fucked up yet was trying to get in good with the maid of the woman who would soon make household decisions about things like, say, who ran the kitchen. She could appreciate naked, honest ambition.

Jimin’s reason for insisting on helping her was less immediately clear as they began to walk, because he didn’t pester her with questions. Instead she was left to ask,

“Does the Prince often spend time in the kitchen like that?”

“Oh. Well… yes. See… he cares a great deal about the things that go on in this palace and… also he likes food a lot. He likes to cook.” The halting way he spoke made it obvious he was trying to spin a web without having ever learned to weave well. She wasn’t sure how much of what he said she could trust simply because it sounded so honest.

“A prince who can cook?”

“He’s very particular. Um, very detail-oriented.”

“Yes, the Princess is like that too.” The things they were saying didn’t mean anything. They could be about anyone. Dulce took it to mean Jimin didn’t not trust her, but he also didn’t trust her yet. Until the Prince and Princess were close –and maybe not even then, depending on the marriage they had– their servants would remain in this hovering space, not sure whether they were working together to serve a couple or independently to protect the best interests of their masters. Masters. What a disgusting word. Employers? She doubted Jimin and Seokjin had the arrangement she and Nasimiyu did but… who ever really knew? 

“The Prince keeps you close,” she mused. “Are you his only valet?”

“He has some lower ranking ones but I’m his favorite,” Jimim bragged. “You’re the Princess’ favorite maid.”

“I’m the most competent.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What’s the other man’s name who was there? Jung?”

“Hoseok. He and his father were the Prince’s tutors and now are sort of… etiquette guides. They help with appearances for the King and Prince..”

“Ah.” They were silent for a few minutes, reaching the correct wing after taking the shortest path possible. “Well, my advice: the prince would impress the Princess well by dancing nicely at that ball coming up. She loves to dance. She’s very particular about dance.”

Jimin’s face lit up, though Dulce felt like there was a strained note behind it.

“Ah! Thank you for the suggestion. We will take it seriously,” Jimin bowed his head. “Do you need help taking this in or–”

“I’ll take it from here.”

“Your cake?”

“I can sneak it. The Princess treats me well, she won’t mind.”

Jimin nodded, “That’s good. The Prince treats us well too. We could have it worse, right?”

“Right.”

With another pleasant grin she wasn’t sure she believed, Jimin took his leave. Dulce knocked on the doors, waiting for the answer before motioning to the guards to open them for her, her own cake balanced on the bottom, under the obscene amounts of cream Jungkook had so generously spooned on.

“But why are you leaving even sooner than you said, that’s what I don’t understand,” Nasimiyu complained to her parents. They sat next to each other on the sofa, still as proper and poised as they would be in public. Even she never saw her parents really any more relaxed than this. She had always thought it strange but Dulce was rigid even in repose too, and it left Nasimiyu wondering once again if there was something strange about herself, that posing felt like such a performance even when she was born into this role.

“We’ll be back,” Prince Hamisi insisted. “But you need to ingrain yourself better, faster, and it’s not happening while we’re here. You still have Seokjin at arm’s length.”

“It’s only been six days.”

“Which means the time for love at first sight has passed. You have to let yourself be charmed,” her mother insisted. “But it’s not only that. We have other people to see and meet before the wedding. You did say you wanted to bring it ahead of the six months originally planned.”

“If I can without raising suspicions, yes.”

“Right now it will raise suspicions,” her mother said. “But I have faith in you, Nasi. I know you can manage this and I think you will do better with us out of the way.”

Nasimiyu sighed, “I spent all morning hunting with him. But it’s not just me… I can’t figure out what he likes yet either, he seems so eager to please.”

“Well put Dulce on it. She’s good at figuring out what people like and using it against them,” Princess Simisola suggested. Nasimiyu rolled her eyes. Her parents thought they understood everything, even her’s and Dulce’s relationship. Why did they think Dulce was here? Because playing a maid was so more much fun than freedom? For her . Dulce didn’t have power over her, even if Nasimiyu was fond of her. She trusted Dulce. Sure, yes, Dulce’s skill with her tongue was unrivaled but not actually enough to bring down the Princess of Marvono into doing anything stupid. They were careful. No one else knew and even if they did, it wasn’t unheard of for royalty to be fucking their staff. As long as Dulce was only known as a maid, no one would even bat an eye if that got out, except that people might think Nasimiyu preferred women and was a bad match for Seokjin. Which would be really funny but ultimately undermine her goals. 

Prince Hamisi actually rolled his eyes, “You women are– who cares what he likes? He likes Nasimiyu! That’s been obvious from the beginning. The boy’s tripping on his tongue every time Nasimiyu walks in the room. It requires absolutely no effort for you to win him over. He sells the story for you. You are the one who seems hesitant.”

“So it can seem even more real when he wins me over,” Nasimiyu insisted. “The love of a century.”

“You’re lying to me. Do not ruin this for our people, Nasi. This is about more than you and your appetites.”

“My what ?”

“You heard me. Pick a personality and seduce him with it and marry him. We’ll be here one more week and then you’ll have some time without us to assimilate into this palace. Focus. Do not rush. And bed the prince!”

“If you get pregnant, everyone will understand why you rush the wedding,” her mother nodded eagerly. “Romantic!”

“That’s not romantic.”

“Guaranteed royal bloodlines are very romantic.”

“King Dong-gun is the hardest one to convince. I can tell from the things he said on the hunt this morning… he’s not sure about you,” Prince Hamisi said. “He’s a joyful, loud, sometimes undignified man, but he loves his son and wants happiness for him. You must convince him that’s you or he will shred your betrothal agreement himself.”

“All right. I’ll do better. Trust me.”

At the knock on the door and Dulce’s voice announcing she had food, Nasimiyu’s parents called her in. Dulce came with an entire cart of food. She wheeled it over and then slipped a plate from the bottom away, carrying it out to the balcony. Her parents eyed Dulce as she went but didn’t call her back or tell her to leave. Prince Hamisi frowned after her. Nasimiyu knew he didn’t like Dulce but he tolerated her for this. She was the best, after all. The only time she’d ever been caught was… well, Nasimiyu’s fault. She’d make it up to Dulce someday. She would.

“Oh thank goodness, this is so much better than what they had at supper,” Princess Simisola sighed into her plate. 

“I’m shocked the King didn’t cut down that false cook right there.”

“He’s that kind of man?” Nasimiyu asked, though she’d heard the stories from her father before, enough to have expected it too.

“He’s all about a good time. Don’t ruin his good time, you know? I don’t blame him for being suspicious. The kitchen invited in a stranger? He could have poisoned us all. I think more than the false cook will loose his life for this.”

“At least he could have given us food poisoning with that terrible food!” Princess Simisola agreed.

“Once they’re sure they know what they need from him, he’ll be dead and so will anyone who hired him for this, I’m sure. Such is the way a royal palace runs.”

“Is ours run that way?” Nasimiyu asked curiously. She’d never heard of her father having someone executed for such a thing.

Prince Hamisi grinned, “No, because we only hire intelligent people who would never do something this stpid. You have to choke the weeds at the root level. Once they’re in your garden….”

Nasimiyu thought about this, then asked, “Isn’t a weed just a plant growing somewhere you don’t want it to be? What’s the difference between a weed and a flower?”

“Flowers are lovely to look at,” Princess Simisola pointed out. 

“What is this nonsense you’re talking about?” Prince Hamisi scowled between them both. “Come, dearheart, let’s take our food to our room. This was a long day. The King seems intent to host us into an early grave. You can’t insert yourself into routine here until we leave so routine can establish itself again. Every day it’s hunting and walking and drinking and parlor games. I’m tired!”

“Oh, all right but…” Nasimiyu didn’t know how to put it into words. She’d never been away from both her parents before. And while they’d told her from the beginning they wouldn’t stay long before going south to speak with others who were aligned to their secret cause, it was different to have an exact date they’d be leaving now. It made all of this feel even more real. Prince Seokjin wasn’t just some strange noble with an annoying propensity for jokes that didn’t even make sense. He was going to be her husband , for at least some period of time. Her parents were leaving her here because this was her future and she had to stop putting it off and really deal with that now. How fucking scary. 

It left her somber once they departed and she took cake out to join Dulce on the balcony. Her nose scrunched at the sticky air that had not yet cooled off with the night. Dulce sat with crossed legs on one of the chaise lounges, licking cream from her fingers.

“Steal that?” Nasimiyu teased.

“Kitchen boy gave it to me.”

“Oh, you’re making friends, huh?”

“You told me to,” Dulce grinned at her. “Prince Seokjin was in the kitchen too. Apparently he likes to cook.”

“He was cooking in the kitchen!? The same kitchen that makes all our food? So he really was the one who hired the bad cook?”

Dulce shrugged, “I don’t think so. They told me he was covering for the staff who did it.”

“Covering for someone who might have poisoned and killed us all?”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if he’s actually trying to kill his father too?” Dulce mused, tapping the spoon against her lips in thought. Actually this was suspiciously relaxed for Dulce. She was in a good mood and they hadn’t even fucked. That made Nasimiyu curious. “It could mean he’s trying to frame you or your parents though.”

“ Is he?”

“I don’t know… but it’s something I was thinking about so I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“You seem…”

“I seem what?”

“Strange,” Nasimiyu admitted.

“I found out what happened to the tortoise. I think the Prince gave it to the stable boy to keep. They let me name it.” Dulce said this was a straight face, but it made Nasimiyu laugh.

“What did you name it?”

“Tuga.”

“Tuga the torta– Tuga the tortoise.”

“You know, Prince Seokjin made that exact same slip.” Nasimiyu glared. “Even exaggerated the ‘s’ the second time that same lispy way.”

“I don’t have a lisp.”

“The bodyguard does, just a faint one.”

“My, you learned an awful lot suddenly. Were you drinking with them? Why are you so strange?”

“Honestly? This cake is just… the best thing I may have ever eaten in my life,” Dulce admitted, one corner of her mouth lifting into one of those rare, precious smiles. 

“I didn’t think it was that great.”

“You don’t like sweet things. You’re too used to them. No noble can ever truly appreciate sugar and cream.”

“I like salty things better.”

Dulce slid onto Nasimiyu’s lounge chair and, before the Princess could say anything, promptly upended her plate right over Nasimiyu’s chest. An obscene amount of milky cream spilled right down into her cleaves, across the tops of her breasts, all over the front of her dark maroon robe. She yelped at the sticky, wet feeling and looked at Dulce in absolute shock.

“I like both,” Dulce mused, sliding the shoulder straps down Nasimiyu’s shoulders. Nasimiyu sat up and maneuvered her arms out of the ruined fabric, cringing at the cream flowing down her body. “You’re so upset!” Dulce noticed. And smiled

“This feels disgusting!”

“Don’t worry, Princess. There won’t be a drop left in you when I’m done.”

“Is this punishment because I didn’t let you shoot anything on the hunt?”

“It’s my reward for not shooting anyone,” Dulce agreed and slid down her body to lap the cream gathering in the creases beneath them.

“Not a drop left on me, Dulcie…” Her voice was softer this time, eyelids drooping as she watched Dulce’s tongue drag across her skin, up and around her nipples, leaving goosebumps in her wake.

“Not a drop left in you, I promise.”

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#seokjin fics #kim seokjin ff #seokjin x oc #seokjin fic #prince jin #bts ff #bts fanfiction #kim seokjin fanfiction #kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin x oc #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin e2l #arranged marriage #kim seokjin #royalty au #jin smut #jin fic #bts smut #jin x oc #jin e2l #tkak #tokillaking

[wild-houseplant]

Where the dirt congregates- Chapter 1

Soooo in my failure to make any decent headway on HWWT, I ended up starting the story of Rhodri’s cousin, Tancred (Tank) Hawke! Rest of chapter 1 under the cut, or on AO3 here! Content warning for abusive parenting (mild physical, mostly emotional) and ableism.

§

I wish your Mum didn’t blame you for my death, Tank, even if she’s right. Your brother and sister are starting to believe it now. They hate being under the same roof as you, hate breathing the same air, hate that you leave fingerprints of the person who killed their Dad on the windowpanes whenever you touch them.

I wish you’d sat down and paid attention to my lessons like your sister did. I wish you didn’t spend your life mucking around on those stupid machines and wandering Lothering staring at the sky all day. I wish you’d done as your mother asked you to, when she asked you to do it, so you might’ve found me in time. 

I wish you’d make yourself useful to someone for once in your bloody life. Most of all, darlin', I wish you weren’t so much like me.

—---------------

In the toothless heat of the Fereldan summer afternoon, Tancred Hawke shoves their sleeves halfway up their arms and feels more satisfied than they will for exactly one year. 

They've been washing Carver's things since mid-morning. Their fingers are icy and waterlogged, and the creek bed they're doing it in is nearly dry, but they've decided it's a good day and that's the end of it.

Screw's close by, more than earning her namesake as she damn near bores a hole in the ground chasing her tail. She twists and winds her way over to where Tank's working. Whenever she draws too close, Tank startles her out of her whirlwind with a bark, laughs like a fool, and then plasters a kiss on her head, and the dog feels forgiven enough to start up again. Spin-bark-kiss. Spin-bark-kiss. 

Once the last shirt's scrubbed to Mother's impossible standards, Tank rises with the basket of wet clothes on their hip. There’s barely a hip to rest it on, but it’ll do ‘til they’re home. 

"Screw? Screwy. Can y’-?" They freeze as the spinning dog nearly knocks into their knees and sends the laundry every-bloody-where. "Orright, keep orbiting, then. Hang a right when you pass our house."

Screwy straightens up, watching expectantly. Tank scratches their head with a free hand and nods at the path up ahead. “You comin'?”

Screw barks. Tank chuckles. “That’d be about right.”

The fifteen-minute journey from the creek to home passes through the forest and the outskirts of Lothering. This time of the year, the birdsong is deafening, and the sunlit leaves glow like praise. No mud, no snow, and, most importantly, no hidden tree roots to stumble over. If there was a spell to draw out summer, Tank might have taken an interest in Dad’s blood magic lessons after all. 

On the edge of the Lothering town square, with the Chantry needling into the corner of their eye, Tank catches the gaze of a frowning, dark-haired mage, and stops dead. The frowner looks over at them; Tank’s washing basket falls to the ground. 

'R?' They thump the sign over their heart. 'R? R? R?' 

She’s gaping, lurching into a run toward them with three other people and a dog in tow. Tank's already bawling by the time they’re snatched into an embrace.

"I don't believe it," Rhodri’s voice is a whisper. "Oh, Tank. Hello."

Tank sobs a little harder, and gets a kiss to the head for their trouble.

"My older cousin," Rhodri says to the others after a moment. She peels Tank off her and beams down at them, swiping three fingers over her heart, again and again and again. 'I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.'

Tank already knows the redheaded Chantry sister, Leliana, who gives a kind nod and keeps quiet.

The tall, burly man beside Leliana hums. “You know, I see the resemblance!” He grins like he’d deduced the relationship unassisted.

"How long has it been?" Rhodri asks Tank, signing brokenly as she goes. 'Thirteen ye… Y-E-A-R-S?'

Tank cries too often to be much ashamed of the outburst, but they force themselves to stop all the same. They sniffle, give a wobbly smile, and nod. 'Too long. Long-long.'

Rhodri understands the last sign and nods sadly. 'Family where? Auntie? C? B?'

'Home. Come on.' They hold out their hand to Rhodri, and she hurries to take it in the same way she did as a child and it was just the two of them. 'Your friends can come too.' 

"Are you leaving the clothes as a donation to the Chantry?" one of the women asks, rolling her eyes. 

Tank stiffens. The woman looks like a Witch of the Wilds, carrying that staff as though she's confident it won't be used to impale her if the Templars get half a chance. 

Rhodri chuckles. "Ah, the laundry! Thank you, Morrigan." She puts the pairs of escaped underwear back in the basket and carries it under one arm, still grasping Tank's hand as she goes. “Cousin Tank has invited us all home. Who’s coming?”

Tank's relief almost betrays them as everyone but the witch accepts. She disappears with a huff.

Rhodri introduces the man as Alistair, Leliana says hello again properly, and only after that does Tank realise that Screwy has been socialising with another dog. Jeppe, Rhodri says his name is.

—--------------------------

 Tank flees Lothering with Mother, the twins, the dog, and, according to Rhodri, about 10 000 sovs’ worth of jewellery she’d taken off her person and shoved into their hands. Sold to the right person, it’ll get them all out of Denerim and to safety (and the plushiness Mother misses) in Kirkwall. 

They evade Mother when she tries to make them take the valuables as they trudge along the main road out. They’d only lose it, and they know it. Tank snatches an extra heavy bag off her shoulders and hauls that around instead; Mother walks behind them, bitching and moaning and crying for a solid hour ‘til Bethany finally rolls her eyes and snatches the money bag off her. 

“You shouldn’t make your sister have to carry that, Tancred,” Mother says. “It’s risky traipsing around with that sort of money.”

Her accusing voice cuts like glass, but it’s the unsaid things that really sting. Tank knows the main message by heart because they hear it every day. If it’s not about Bethany, it’s about Carver, or the dog, or herself, or anyone else: If someone has to die, I’d rather it was you.

When Tank’s had enough time to wipe their eyes and cough the lump out of their throat, they silently take the money bag out of Bethany’s hands. Bethany doesn’t stop them; she hasn’t stopped them in years.

—--------------------------------------

 They decide to hang the money bag off their arm by the drawstrings. Waking, sleeping, it’s always there, only moved to be slung onto the other arm when their leg hurts too much from it smacking into their thighs all day as they walk. By the end of the first night, there’s a bruise the size of their palm on one leg, and by the second night, there’s one on the other leg. Tank wants to tear both legs off by the third day, but the bag stays put, smacking and smacking and smacking. At least they know where it is.

—------------------------

 A strange deal with a witch gets the five of them– plus a redheaded woman with granny smith apple eyes. Aveline, her name is– carted off through the sky to a long, abandoned stretch on the Brecilian Passage to Gwaren. Tank wouldn’t have dreamed of walking on a main road without a soul in sight for fear of bandits, but with the sudden lack of Darkspawn trying to eviscerate them all, bandit country on the way to the arse-end of nowhere looks pretty peachy. 

—--------------

 Tank’s bruises have bruises by the time Gwaren’s twenty mile away. The skin on their legs looks like dropped fruit, thin and swollen and agonising enough that they can’t move without limping. Mother tells Tank to straighten up and walk properly, shoots apologetic look after apologetic look at their company as she does. Tank cries again; Tancred’s always crying, Mother half-explains, half-assures Aveline. No bother, says Aveline quickly. She offers to take the heaviest bag off Tank with a kind smile, and Tank starts to sob. 

The only solution is to take some of the jewellery out and wear it. They put on two gold bracelets encrusted with Orlesian lion’s blood rubies (according to Rhod). Maker knows how much the bloody things are worth. More than them, no doubt. 

—------------

 After weeks of tramping along silent roads, Gwaren feels like a metropolis. Pissweak wooden bungalows and port warehouses with weeks of forest behind them go down to the water's edge, and encroach on the sea, too. The ocean's probably more hospitable, Tank decides.

Everyone's out, nobody's home. No home cooks gazing out their windows, no washers pounding the laundry. Front doors are ajar, some of them half off their hinges. Everyone and their dog is trying to skip town by cramming onto the nearest boat with everything they can carry. The dog goes on first, then the kids, and finally the adults.

“Let it never be said that Fereldans have their priorities wrong,” Tank mumbles. Screwy barks like a politician at that.

They wait in the hot sun for hours, shuffling along in the glut as they wait for their turn to get loaded up on some sinker of a vessel. Tank keeps a hand wrapped firmly around the wrist with the bracelets, barely believing their luck that the bag hasn’t disappeared yet. A little more of this, and they’ll be on the boat, and there’s only so far a thief can get away out on the ocean. The bag’s lighter now, and less painful when it hits their leg now that the fanged rubies are sitting pretty on their wrist. Things are looking up. 

It’s almost dinner time when they’re face to face with the harbourmaster. You could hold water in the rings under her eyes, and she doesn’t bother to ask where they’re going. She doesn’t ask how many, either, she simply says it. How many.

“Five people and a mabari, please,” Tank says with a smile, and reaches for the bag, finally ready to pay and get into the clear. They go to pull the drawstring open to fish out something worth the passage fee of fifty sovs, and their stomach drops as the bag swings up like it weighs nothing. 

Their voice goes. Tank squashes the bag in their hands and it crumples like a sheep's lung, nothing but soft suede between their fingertips. Their eyes fill with tears before they can even squeak.

“Where's--?”

“Tancred, is there–-”

"The money's gone!" Carver glares at everyone in seeing distance, his teeth gritted tight enough to crumble. “Has to be stolen! Who pickpockets refugees? Maker damned filth!”

"Tancred!" Mother grabs Tank and shakes them a little. "When did--? How did you not--? Speak!" Her voice grows shrill. "There was then thousand sovereigns' worth of jewellery your cousin gave us! SPEAK!"

The harbourmaster watches the space behind their heads. Her gaze clouds over. “If you don’t got the money, can’t travel.”

Tank’s mouth is empty. Their hands shake as they break free from Mother's grasp and hold their wrist out to to the woman. The bracelet’s dancing, and Tank’s cheeks are dripping. The harbourmaster’s eyes come back into focus and lock onto the bracelets.

“I’ll take both of ‘em.”

Mother’s face reddens. “Both? These are worth more than a hundred sovereigns apiece! Those are real rubies!”

“Yeh. And the feller before you was tryin’ to tell me his fistfuls of silver were coppery because they’d tarnished. I’ll take ‘em both and that’s my last offer.”

The woman gets both, and Tank gets the silent treatment until they dock in Kirkwall.

#Tank Hawke #Tancred Hawke #Cousin Tank #god what the hell tag did I give them someone help please #Where the dirt congregates #WTD #(I know i left off the C I'm lazy) #chapter 1 lessgooooo #Dragon Age 2

[cookietastic]

Thank you @dykesynthezoid

This seemed fun so I'll try it out 😭

3 ships:

1. Lawrusso- I'm a basic bitch. Leave me alone😭. Come on fam it's rivals mixed in with 35 year history mixed in with in with the problem with toxic masculinity mixed in with breaking the cycle of abuse mixed in with different ways of coping and realizing they aren't healthy (ex: Johnny drinking and Daniel totally thinking that pretending everything is fine or going from 2-10 VERY fast)- Just smacking Lawrusso on the head like " this bad boy can fit so much shit-damn go to therapy together."

2. Samtory- Wanna rewatch the series again and focus on them more really adore them/love their dynamic. Like it's funny walking into the show and seeing Robby and Miguel interacting and going on this is supposed to be our Johnny and Daniel? And then you see Tory and Sam interacting and you're like not only is this supposed to be our Daniel and Johnny but also- hello?👀

3. I have list, but to mix it up with different fandom- Grayghost- Danny, and Val really was that end-game feeling. I remember jokingly saying they had to keep Val out of season 3 as much as possible because if Danny even made eye contact for more than 1 minute, that would be it. It's funny cause they seem like the most natural relationship out of the whole show, yet the one they want people to like last minute is the one they had a whole episode on why they shouldn't be together/not ready for that.

1st ever ship:

Damn- I don't know to judge this one. Cause it can range from anywhere to I thought they should be together when I first saw something or searched content for it. Going with Alice and Kyo from Alice the 19th aka the manga set I found at goodwill at 12-

I am 1000% sure 12-year-old me should have not been reading this with all the dark shit happening

Last song:

Little too cringe to put here lmao

Currently reading:

Well listening to- Paper Backs From Hell by Grady Hendrix talks about the history of Horror from paper backs in the 1970s-1980s and dealing with topics of art on the covers grabbing your attention as well as the wild stories within them.

Little book summary

Take a tour through the horror paperback novels of two iconic decades . . . if you dare. Page through dozens and dozens of amazing book covers featuring well-dressed skeletons, evil dolls, and knife-wielding killer crabs! Read shocking plot summaries that invoke devil worship, satanic children, and haunted real estate! Horror author and vintage paperback book collector Grady Hendrix offers killer commentary and witty insight on these trashy thrillers that tried so hard to be the next Exorcist or Rosemary’s Baby. Complete with story summaries and artist and author profiles, this unforgettable volume dishes on familiar authors like V. C. Andrews and R. L. Stine, plus many more who’ve faded into obscurity.

Last movie:

I was supposed to watch Friday the 13th yesterday

I could be wrong cause my friend and I saw a bunch of movies that weekend but "Lost cat corona," which now has one of my favorite movie quotes said/top 10, aka "HAVE YOU SEEN MY FUCKING CAT?"

Currently consuming:

Crustables and gummies fruit snacks- Because I have the diet of a 4th grader on summer vacation

Currently watching:

Art videos- I like listening to things while drawing, and artists rambling about stories or their own art experiences are one of them.

Currently craving:

Go Go Curry 😭

I'm always so happy when I get to do these things/when people tag me! But feel like I'm annoying when tagging people- Just know you don't have to do this! 😭

@we-serve-spirits @babyhellboy @schnuffel-danny @snaileo @raveyardantics @they-bite

#Fun little ask game for those who want to click more to see!