#{ *:･ﾟ✧ the past╰ and from the ashes i rose.

[deadsetobsessions]

Ghost King Phantom was an odd addition to the League. J’onn was often the last to find others odd but from the get-go, Phantom was the only quiet spot he’d have in his telepathic field. At first, it was off putting as most of the people that slipped beyond the reach of his immediate field tended to be villains and the like. But as Phantom remained in the Justice League, J’onn had come to learn to appreciate the calm spot in the turbulent sea of his friends’ and coworkers’ thoughts.

“You have taken to me faster than the others. Why is that?”

Phantom hummed purringly, another peculiar sound that J’onn had yet to see any of his human or alien heroes recreate with any success. They sat at their usual spot, face facing the cosmos and backs guarded by their friends. Plus, J’onn and Phantom could look directly into the sun without painfully loosing their sight.

“I guess I’ve always been fond of the stars. Of space, and everything in it. What about you? Why did we become friends so fast?”

J’onn shook his head, a human motion he’d learned a long time ago to imitate. “No, we became slower friends than most, as my telepathic abilities allow for easier communication and understanding of one another’s motives. With the exception of Batman but I have found he is often the exception to most expectations.”

“That checks out,” King Phantom laughed. “Well, I’m glad we became friends. It’s very cool to meet a Martian. Space is one of my Obsessions, you see.”

J’onn nodded. “I see. I am sorry that I am the only Martian you will meet.”

“You are?”

J’onn nodded again, slower. Sadder. His facial muscles, in this form, does not imitate human patterns well and he knew that most people could not pick out his emotions without his verbal expression.

Intuition tells J’onn that Phantom knew regardless.

“Would you mind telling me what happened?” His voice is gentle, the emotions that Phantom pushes at him are gentle and questing, but not demanding. It has been a long time since anyone has asked him of memories he clung to. And so, J’onn J’onzz speaks in the way that was natural to him, the way his people communicated.

With his mental voice flowing into Phantom’s head, J’onn tells him of the wonders that used to be his home. He provided images and sounds of how his home shone as the sun rose, how the shadows that fell when the sun dipped beneath the horizon felt as comforting as a Martian’s first telepathic cradle. He tells Phantom of his twin brother, grief and agony entwined in the memories of someone he had loved. He spoke of his wife and their daughter, and their cozy home on the windswept plains of Mars.

King Phantom sat still with him as the Watch-Tower moved along, around a king and his friend who was recounting the stagnant grief of his past.

J’onn tells him of the virus, borne of his twin’s hatred, and how he watched everything around him burn. How he had desperately tried to prevent his wife and daughter from using their telepathic abilities. He spoke of his failures. He wove together a tapestry of insanity and grief, built upon the burning bodies of his wife and their beloved daughter. He tells Phantom how the Mars now was just ashes and dust of his former home. How he could not look upon the planet and not see the shades of his wife and daughter and parents and friends, walking upon a barren planet that no longer held anything familiar to the last Martian.

Phantom had hummed again, a soothing rumble. Sadness dripped from the edges of his consciousness.

“If it was not for the Doctor, I would be dead and shattered.” J’onn spoke for the first time in three hours. “It is… less painful to live. I have purpose.”

“I am glad that you are not either of those things.” Phantom stood. “Come with me. I have to show you something.”

J’onn trusted Phantom, and thus followed the king into the glowing green portal.

They flew past many doors, Phantom often glancing at him before shaking his head and changing directions.

They stopped at a door that felt familiar. J’onn knew it from somewhere.

“Go ahead, open the door. But know that you can’t stay long. You don’t belong to this realm quite yet. Not for quite a while.” Phantom moves, hand gesturing towards the door without a knob.

“How..?”

“How else? You have telekinesis, don’t you?”

J’onn blinked. Right. He opened the door and- oh.

The door warped with the screaming storm of grief and love and oh-how-I’ve-missed-you that J’onn unleashed.

Because there in front of him were M’yri’ah and K’hym, his wife and daughter.

The door was an imitation of his home, back when he had not known true loss.

“Impossible,” he stumbled back.

“You are in the realm of the dead. You didn’t think the title of the Ghost King was for fun, did you, J’onn?” Phantom smiled and- a move J’onn would definitely engage in petty payback for, later after he’d gotten over the shock- pushed him flying right into the room.

M’yri’ah and K’hym cradled him with telepathic swirls of love and husband!-dad!-love-love-love-safe!

And J’onn shuddered and gathered the his world in his arms to say goodbye.

——

[lokisgoodgirl]

Mine, Utterly [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After making Prince Loki a little jealous, he lays down the law on the eve of an important occasion. (w/c 2.1k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Minors DNI. Dirty talk, language.

Your hands hit the mattress and grasped at the silken sheets, as if that would save you.

“My Prince,” you gasped, breaths scorching against your lungs as he ripped the chiffon around your thighs.

All you’d done was smile at the guard. Okay, maybe flirt a little…just enough to rouse the jealousy Loki had suggested with a mischievous shine in his eyes before taking his place on the Royal banqueting dais.

A palm landed on your exposed ass cheek. Crying out, you shot a glance over your shoulder. Prince Loki stood, storms in his darkened eyes, the leather belt that had been slung across his chest now dangling from a fist. "You dare to make a god jealous?"

Your stomach dropped. What if it was a test; what if he was joking? But for all his antics, the Prince wasn’t known for his humour when it came to matters of the heart—or the flesh. He didn’t share, and as that thought sank in, the knuckles on the fist whitened. You inhaled sharply, grip tightening on the sheets.

Something struck your ass again, but this time it gripped. Loki’s back was pressed to yours. The emeralds studded into the intricately constructed doublet pinched through the thin fabric of your bodice as he whispered, “Perhaps I wasn’t clear that when you are mine, you are mine; utterly.”

His knuckles trailed down your bicep, those fingers that had been wet with your cum too many times to count in palace corridors and dark corners dancing across your skin. Those digits had fastened around your wrist and torn you away from the feasting hall, his obligations forgotten, and whisked you in an explosion of green light to the candlelit expanse of your own bedroom.

Now, Loki’s cock pressed through the layers of leather and velvet covering it right into the swell of your ass. It was a familiar feeling—but he’d always resisted. Only his fingers, his tongue, his words—that was the only relief he gave you over past months since your arrival at court. Never his pleasure—never his cock.

Norns, how you wanted to fuck him; wanted to ride him until his own name scattered on the wind like ash, feel him slam into your cunt until his brilliant mind was a blur of lines like wine spilled on parchment. You wondered how your name sounded on his lips when he came: staggered, gasping, choking for mercy.

His nose drew a line up your neck, inhaling at the pulse point like a hound. “You are mine, aren’t you?” he murmured.

In answer, your hand slid up his temple and knotted into Loki’s hair. A growl built in his throat, swelling your confidence in time with the heat throbbing between your legs. “No more, and no less, than you are mine, Loki Odinson.”

His teeth sank into your shoulder, just enough to make you squirm against his cock. He spun you around, tipping your over the edge of the mattress while he towered in a silhouette of black and forest green pulsating in amber flickers.

His fingers made quick work of the laces at his groin and then, his legendary, iron cock was in his hand. It was even more perfect that you’d dreamed. A well of saliva rose indelicately beneath your tongue. Loki stroked it, back and forth, as you watched: hypnotised.

“Tonight, I will show you what it is to be mine,” he said, low and thicker than molasses on a winter’s eve. “After that, I’m afraid you will be ruined for all others…” A devilish smirk lit at the corners of his mouth. Your heart pounded as you sat up on the bed, trying frantically to untangle the dress sprawled around your hips. Loki’s knees hit the mattress.

"Allow me," he said, before ripping the dress from your body in one, swift movement.

Your eyes widened as it fluttered to the floor. Only the corset remained. "My Prince…I," you said, attempting to keep the game fluid; but Loki pressed a finger to your lips with a hush. It was still warm from the friction of his cock.

"We have talked long enough, you and I. I would very much like to fuck you…" His eyebrows rose. "I will, fuck you. I will have you; utterly."

As the final syllable melted, so did his clothes. The emerald encrusted doublet was first, then the sigils of his station, then the boots and—oh, gods—the leather trousers.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him: carved like marble, the tremor of his muscle beneath taut skin as he rested back on his heels, thighs spread, enough to make you howl. Loki’s chin dipped to his chest, unbound hair falling around his milky shoulders like hot tar over battlements. His cheekbones flashed in pulsing candlelight as he said with a touch of malice, "I will not be kept waiting. Not anymore," but his eyes glinted.

You crawled the space between you and hoisted onto his lap. With your arms around his neck, your bare cunt pressed against the throb of his flesh, you couldn’t imagine it ever not being thus. And then, you kissed him; one sliding into the next like spring into summer, like night into day.

Loki’s kisses were a medley of ravenous restraint; morphing like his magic between complete desperation and tenderness. His hands cupped your ass, scooting you further up his lap. The tip of his cock rubbed against your slit.

"I want to consume you," he whispered, lips wet from your kisses. "And you will never be anothers."

"Never." A ragged moan ripped the air as you sank onto his length. Loki’s groan of pleasure was everything you’d dreamt of—a primal flash beneath the regal façade you wanted to tear at with your bare hands. His chin tipped back, nailing you with his dilated stare as his hips pushed up.

"Loki," you gasped, clutching at his back muscle. He was huge. The Prince bottomed out, teeth clenching. 

"You’ve no idea how much I craved this little cunt," he panted as your hands fisted in his hair. "How many times I’ve wanted to pin you against the wall and fuck you until all thoughts of other men were shaken from your mind forever."

The squelch of your pussy jammed with his cock punctuated every word. "How you’ve teased me, played with me; ruined me—all for the want of the Valhalla I knew would be between your legs."

Loki’s head fell back with broken cry of anguish as you clench around the root of his cock, dragging up before slamming down onto the meat of his thighs.

“Fuck, kvinne…now I find myself tricked…” he said, breathless. The god’s head rose, strands of sex damp hair plastered across his brow. "I want you more than ever."

His eyes narrowed, and then his lips collided to yours, tongue demanding entry with the sureness of a tide on the shore. His nails dug into the curve of your waist, guiding your hips. Every gyration made new sparks burst to life, sizzling from your clit to the deepest parts of your body and mind that had never been so alive.

“I will never be sated,” Loki growled, thrusting faster, “Never…never.” With a rumble, he flipped you onto your back. Loki’s lips worked down the hard sinews of your neck, sucking against supple skin, palming your breasts upward. He was possessed. Loki’s name was a chant in your throat, the absence of his cock inside you becoming unbearable.

"Fuck me," you whined, and Loki looked up from where he’d been distracted with your nipple between his teeth.

“Ruined for all others,” confirmed Loki, smirking. He crawled over your body, settling his legs on either side and drawing the leaking head of himself through your sopping folds. “Beg for it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Beg…my pretty, pretty whore.” Loki’s lips grazed across your cheek like wind through barley; a short, trembling sigh flooding your ear.

“Maybe you’re my whore, Odinson. Did you consider that?”

His thick cock twitched against your heat as he stared down at you with your perfectly styled hair mussed, your thighs spread, your lips bitten and stinging, before he whispered, “I consider everything.” Dark curls hung down either side of his jaw, framing the angle of his jawline as he licked his lips and settled into a cage around your head. The muscles of his forearms twitched with the effort of not fucking you into the mattress. The words bubbled in your throat, spilling forth before you could second guess them. “Well, if you’re my whore, then satisfy me.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” Those words shaped his tongue like summer storms. “And you will have everything you desire; always.”

You scraped hair back from his face, the beat of his heat thumping through his skin. His hips dragged against your clit, making your knees tighten around his ribs. “I’m yours,” you whispered, “Utterly.” Loki’s cock squeezed inside, and his face twisted in relief absolute. One of his hands flew to the ornate headboard; whacks of ancient wood against stone sounding with every thrust. His pubic hair dragged against your swollen clit, moans mingling with the fragrance of sweat and sex that clung to your bodies and rose like steam.

The god knew your body like you thought only you did, and every grip of his hands, shift of his hips, work of his mouth—you couldn’t catch your breath. His lust was the chop of waves, drowning you on the undertow of his strength, and scent and the hair brushing your lips as he fucked you. You never had a chance. Need scorched up your skin as climax broke. It flooded through your body, Loki’s name a rattle in your throat as his exhales of pleasure pounded in your ear. He hissed as fingernails dragged down the wide expanse of his back, the slide of his cock primal and wet, balls smacking against cum-slick skin.

The prince’s thrusts slowed, rocking you through the final threads of orgasm stringing you together. You gaped at him, heavy eyed and open mouthed as his torso rose between your legs, his palms splayed on your thighs, his abdomen flexing with every glacial, devastating thrust.

Loki’s head fell back, his black curls a sheet down the faint flush of pale skin.

The veins in his neck hardened, jaw clenched to the ceiling as deep lines settled on his brow. Your breath hitched.

Every glide of his cock was met by the gluttonous squelch of your cum. Loki rocked on his heels, guiding himself over the edge inside your perfect cunt.

“Gods,” he choked to the murals above the bed. And then, he came.

His face screwed up as the wave hit was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Loki’s groan trembled through your skin, beneath your flesh and vibrating your bones. His fingers tightened, and you knew that tomorrow your gown would hide the evidence of obsession marked in blue and purple shadows of devotion.

Devotion, you thought lazily as he gasped out the syllabled of your name and collapsed on your chest; meeting your lips with open mouthed enthusiasm.

Somewhere, a bell tolled. Loki sighed, slipping himself out of you with a mutter of irritation. He clicked his fingers, and the elaborate garb assembled on him like a blossom of ink. His lip curled. “The next time I see you, it will be in white.”

“Mmm…” “And yet they will have no clue what a fantastically depraved wretch for me that my intended is.” “I think they might know that already if the maids who caught you pleasuring me in the kitchens last week weren’t mute—and besides, perhaps they’ll just think my intended is a bad influence.”

“Gods, I hope so,” Loki murmured against your skin before biting your cheek softly, melting into a kiss. “Until tomorrow, then.” Loki drew away, his eyes serious but a small smile playing at his lips. “When you’re my wife, you shall never be rid of me.” “Gods, I hope so,” you echoed, and in the space of a heartbeat, Loki vanished.

Tags in comments! 🤗

[r3starttt]

A CHOICE

PAIRING: Act 2. Caitlyn x reader

SUMMARY: Combat scene with Ambessa but with caitlyn and more romantic cs ughh...

CW: soft sex ig. fingering. I think that's it, this is kinda boring

TAGLIST: @Kaimythically @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @kiki5gigi @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @rob1nbuckl3ys @femininologies @dinakisser @viajeros--sin--destino @GodessAgrona @patronagrona

The room reeked of sweat and frustration, a fitting backdrop to the shift between you and Caitlyn. Once the principled enforcer driven by justice, Caitlyn had become something you barely recognized, something that mirrored the things you had both mocked in others. War had done that—it twisted ideals, reshaped alliances, and blurred the lines between hero and villain.

You weren’t exempt from its grasp either.

You weren’t on anyone’s side anymore, and if that made you selfish, so be it. All sides had their vendettas cloaked in the guise of justice, and trust had long since dissolved into ash.

The only constant left in your life was Caitlyn, and even she seemed to slip further from your reach with each passing day. Still, she was all you had left, and you clung to that tether as tightly as you could.

Ambessa stood nearby, her towering frame casting a shadow over the training room. She had a presence that demanded obedience, her sharp eyes studying every move you and Caitlyn made. Her judgment hung heavy in the air, fueling Caitlyn’s relentless determination. The younger woman was eager to prove herself—desperate to show she was more than the pretty face people often dismissed her as.

“Again,” Ambessa’s voice boomed, authoritative and cold.

Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. She lunged, and within seconds, you were on your back, her weight pressing down on you. An annoyed groan escaped your lips as you met her gaze. There was no triumph in her eyes, just an unspoken apology that felt like a slap in the face.

She had pinned you down four times already, and she didn’t seem to care that it was staged, that you were holding back to give her an edge.

“This is the fourth time you’ve lost,” she muttered, her tone quiet but cutting. The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at her lips, a deliberate attempt to needle you. You were doing too much, and a lie like this was one Caitlyn would never be able to hold on for so long.

You shoved her off and rose to your feet, brushing the dust from your uniform. “Aren’t you exhausted?” you asked, frowning as you reached for the long training sticks.

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. Her confidence was unyielding, but the subtle tremor in her stance betrayed her. She was tiring, but she’d never admit it. Not in front of Ambessa.

You rolled your shoulders, loosening the tension building in your muscles, and tossed her a stick.

She caught it effortlessly, though her brows furrowed as she examined the weapon.

“Isn’t this what we’re here for?” Ambessa stepped past, her hand brushing your shoulder. “Don’t disappoint me,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she left the room, leaving the two of you to your duel.

Caitlyn frowned, her fingers tightening around the stick as she moved into a defensive stance. Her eyes narrowed, scanning you for any sign of weakness.

She dodged your first strike with a fluid step to the side, her frown returning as she countered with a quick jab to your arm. The impact stung, yet, with the adrenaline of it all, you barely flinched.

You shifted your stance, testing her defenses. Her movements were agile but predictable, and you exploited that, pressing her with a flurry of strikes that forced her to retreat. She tried to parry, but your blows grew heavier, faster. The sound of wood colliding echoed in the room, each clash a reminder of how far you both had come— how far you had fallen.

You gritted your teeth and feigned an opening, luring her in. When she lunged, you sidestepped, your stick sweeping low to catch her behind the knee. Inmediatelly, you shot again, pivoting and landing a strike on her shoulder. She winced but didn’t yield, pressing forward with a renewed ferocity.

The tension between you was palpable, each movement charged with so much—frustration, pride, it was complicated. You weren’t just fighting for dominance; you were fighting to hold onto the fragile thread that bound you together. Caitlyn’s determination was admirable, but you could see the cracks forming beneath her resolve.

Caitlyn moved with a desperation that mirrored your own, though her strikes lacked the precision and control you'd honed over countless battles. It was frustrating—not her lack of skill but the raw determination she wielded like a weapon. She had something to prove, and even as she pushed herself past her limits, you could see beneath.

Ambessa stood like a sentinel on the sidelines, her sharp gaze dissecting every move. You felt her judgment weighing heavily on you both, a silent reminder of why you were here.

She’d orchestrated this fight, thrust you into Caitlyn’s orbit once again after convincing her to become a commander. It wasn’t loyalty or trust that kept you by Caitlyn’s side now—it was survival. War had made enemies of everyone, and holding onto her, flawed as she was, felt like the only tether to a life that wasn’t entirely consumed by violence.

Caitlyn lunged, her movements fueled by frustration more than strategy. You parried her blow with ease, countering with a sweep of your stick that forced her back. She stumbled but recovered quickly, her brow furrowing as she adjusted her stance.

You didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, you pressed forward, your strikes gaining momentum. She dodged the first few but couldn’t keep up with your relentless pace.

Finally, your stick connected with her side, and she yelped, her expression twisting into a mix of pain and anger.

Before she could recover, you closed the distance between you, slamming her back against the wall. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her, and her stick clattered to the ground.

For a moment, the fight was over. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling as she stared at you blankly.

And yet, despite it all, you couldn’t bring yourself to finish her. Even as you disarmed her, you hesitated.

Her breathing was ragged, her eyes locked on yours, but there was no surrender in her gaze. Only defiance.

You released her, letting your stick fall to the floor beside hers. She stayed against the wall for a moment, her gaze distant as she tried to regain her bearings.

Ambessa’s steps cut through the silence. “Is this enough?” you asked, turning to face her.

Ambessa gave a curt nod, her expression unreadable. “I hope so. Kiramman, do better next time. And you—one victory means nothing.” With that, she turned on her heel and left, the door closing with a decisive thud behind her.

Caitlyn slid down the wall, her movements slow and heavy, until she came to rest on the cold floor. She drew her knees close to her chest, one hand pressing firmly against her side. Her breath came uneven and shallow, each exhale barely audible. She didn’t speak. You crouched in front of her, setting the bundle of sticks aside. “Did I hurt you?” Your voice softened, words deliberate.

She shook her head, but her gaze never lifted. “I’m fine... just tired,” she murmured, her voice frayed and fragile, like it might disappear if she spoke any louder.

You frowned, unconvinced, studying the strain etched across her face. “You sure?”

Her nod came again, mechanical, unconvincing. The tension in her hand betrayed her, fingers digging into her side as if she could smother the pain through sheer will.

“Lay down,” you said, firm but gentle. “You need to rest.”

Her lips parted in protest, though the words carried no weight. “I can’t just... lay here,” she muttered, struggling to push herself upright. The attempt lasted only a heartbeat before a soft groan slipped from her lips, her body folding under the effort.

You scoffed lightly, standing and extending your hand. “No? Then come on.”

She shook her head, stubborn as ever. “I’m fine,” she repeated, but the hollowness of her tone betrayed her once again.

With a sigh, you knelt beside her. Your gaze softened, the sharp edges of impatience giving way to concern. “Come closer,” you said, quiet but insistent.

For a moment, she hesitated, then obeyed. Her movements were sluggish, every inch forward laced with reluctance. Her hands trembled as they left her side, her shoulders heavy with the weight of exhaustion. The moment your hands found her, warmth against her cool skin, she stilled. Her head dipped forward, her breath steadying as if surrendering to your care.

“This will hurt, but it’ll help,” you warned, brushing her uniform aside just enough to place your hand where hers had been. Her muscles were tense, coiled like steel beneath your fingers. You pressed gently but firmly, seeking the knot of pain she couldn’t hide.

Her sharp inhale cut through the silence, a quiet hiss of discomfort. Still, she nodded, letting you know you’d found it.

Your touch was careful, each motion slow and deliberate, coaxing the tension free. Her body softened under your hands, her breathing evening out with each pass. The furrow in her brow smoothed, and her grip on the pain began to wane.

“There,” you murmured after a time, pulling back.

Caitlyn sat straighter, her movements measured. She exhaled a breath she seemed to have been holding, her eyes finally meeting yours. “Thank you,” she said, her voice subdued but sincere.

You stood, brushing your hands together as if to clear away the weight of her pain. “Mhm... I’ll need more than a thank you for all this, Kiramman,” you teased, extending your hand to help her up.

Her lips twitched, a faint smirk breaking through her weariness. “Kiramman?” she echoed, an edge of curiosity in her tone.

You nodded, tugging her to her feet before letting her hand fall away. She studied you for a beat, the faint crease of a frown touching her features. Her silence was telling, and so was yours. Her last name had rarely, if ever, passed your lips, and the air between you now seemed charged with the acknowledgment of it.

Her smirk returned, wider now, her gaze sharpening with mischief. “You have a choice,” she said, her voice low, her confidence cutting through the quiet.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I don’t.”

“You do,” she countered, stepping closer. Her hand brushed lightly against your waist, a deliberate gesture that sent the air around you rippling with unspoken meaning.

“You think so?” you asked, your tone flat but your gaze steady on hers.

“I know so,” Caitlyn whispered, her words a challenge as her face hovered close to yours. Her eyes flicked briefly to your lips, then back to your own.

Your smile tilted, equal parts playful and defiant. “I don’t,” you repeated, stepping back and breaking her grip. You reached for the water bottle, taking a deliberate sip, ignoring her lingering gaze.

“So, you’re just going to ignore me now?” Her arms slid around your waist from behind, her touch light but persistent. She rested her head against your back, her body swaying slightly as if to disarm you with her childlike ease. You glanced over your shoulder, raising a brow.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, your voice calm, though her closeness stirred something unspoken in the quiet between you.

Her breath caught for a moment, but then she let out a soft huff, her grip tightening briefly before she released you. She stepped back, her silence filled with the weight of a thousand words unspoken.

And yet, you knew better than to believe it was over.

Your hand reached for hers before she could retreat any further. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, wary yet undeniably drawn to you, as though your touch was the only thing grounding her.

You stepped closer, closing the space between you, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Her lips parted as though she was about to argue, but instead, she fell silent. Her fingers brushing your chest, tentative at first, before sliding up toward your neck.

Seconds after you felt her digits threading through your hair, pulling you closer with a subtle urgency that betrayed her earlier distance. And you followed, like you're used to.

The rhythm between your lips guided urgency, desperation. Her breaths mingling with whining and gasping. Even now there was a fight for dominance, trying to prove each other a worth none of you had to.

And so the kiss breaks, a mutual eyeing to prove this is real and is mutual. Caitlyn feels your lips hovering, the quiet gasps for air almost turning into moans hitting her skin fervently.

She diggs into your shoulders, taking the chance to slip her tongue through your lips. And as you're used by now, the action is reciprocated by your saliva mixing with hers.

Mingling breaths coming in shallow gasps as you deepened the kiss, your hands exploring the somehow familiar curve of her body, the softness of her skin.

Your hands roamed down her back, pulling her closer, pressing her pelvis against you before sliding your digits beneath the red fabric of her uniform, fighting to undo her pants.

The task was easy, a somehow known ritual between both. Your fingers slid with ease, cupping at her pussy before rubbing your digits up and down her wet folds. Your hand behind her lower back to savour on her skin, hold her in place like you're always doing for her.

Her arms came to wrap around your shoulders, tangling her fingers on your hair while her face came to hid at your neck. The sweat on your faces enveloping each other's warmth with each move.

Her quiet whimpers felt perfect against your skin, like it was meant to be this way. And for once you allowed yourself to hold onto her as well, enjoy the pleasure of having her like this.

Caitlyn let herself be vulnerable once more, no longer fighting or hesitating but simply letting you hold her.

"Shh... feels good?" Your fingers brushed over her clit before finally circling over it, gentle, slow. Caitlyn murmured a quiet acknowledgment, pressing herself closer to you- pressing your body closer to her.

You left your thumb circling over her clit, just sensing her wet, teasing at her hole before thrusting your middle finger inside her. An overlapped gasp at how she swallowed you, how her hips followed you to get more depth, more friction.

"Look at me." Her head suddenly tilted back. Nails digging at your chin as she forced you to obbey her command- another usual between you two.

Her eyebrows were slightly curved, teeth gap showing through her parted lips. Your thrust growing faster each second until you took the chance to use your ring finger too.

You could see it on her chest, sense on how tight she was, hear the squeal with each thrust- she needed this as much as you.

Her lips begged for yours. Blue eyes eating you until her nails digged too deep- enough to make you hiss. And so, her tongue met yours once again, teeth clashing in a sloppy kiss, giving each other the privilege of the quiet gasps, low whines and quite heavy pants every time your fingers pumped into her pussy with more force. The palm of your hand hitting on her clit every time.

It never stops, not even when her lips part and break the kiss. Her hand going down to your wrists while her head tilts back. "Stop..." you whisper in a weak command, needing her to cum on your fingers, still pumping into her pussy. "Cait... please." You would scream at her and return all the anger she's let on you. But how she looks, with the sweat still on her face, some small hair sticking to her forehead. The warmth of her hand around you while her legs can barely hold it. Your fingers trapped between her thighs and her wet, under her underwear- so trapped and growing harder to move them. She's letting herself enjoy the moment, no talking but just quiet touching and gasping between both to guide each other.

Because she knows no one could ever understand and touch and feel like you.

And for once, getting to enjoy that silent admission- it blinds you into just pleading her to not be an ass once more.

Which she obbeys, drenching your fingers before she's holding onto you once again. Ragid breathing and a stupid smile on her face.

[cabinetofquriosities]

A F***ing Trial

Agatha x Rio x Reader

Warnings: sex pollen-like story and SO. MUCH. SMUT.

Reblog this if you like it 🖤

Agatha and Rio were already awake once you rose from your exhausted slumber.

After barely surviving the last trial that cut your group down to three, you had conked out by the fire. Your entire body was sore and your emotions in a frenzy. The night’s sleep helped your body and mind. You were still sad about your other coven members, but you also didn’t know them before meeting them three days prior.

Agatha, though. You had met her years ago in Westfield. She finally snapped out of the Scarlet Witch’s spell and found you. She had a list provided by another member of the new coven and your name was on it.

You had no clue you had any magic at all until Agatha tested you. Granted, throwing a chair at someone wasn’t the safest way of testing them, but it worked in your case. You flinched and the chair burst into flames, falling to ash as it hit you. You were a fire witch. A protector.

However, you were a fire witch who could only use your powers that one time. After that, it was as if you had a block. Agatha had thrown other things at you as her way of “helping”, though you wondered if she just wanted an excuse for a bit of violence. Nothing. Books and a wooden spoon bounced off of your head.

“Well, we’re just going to have to see what unlocks you,” she said.

The road was brutal and unforgiving, killing one witch per trial. It scared you to know that the next three could do the same to the remaining witches, yourself included.

Rio seemed strangely unaffected by the death surrounding them. Agatha did as well, but seemed a bit more sensitive to it than her ex. You had been a crying mess after the first loss. Now you were just afraid.

You had grown attached to the two other witches. Agatha was captivating. She was intensely ambitious to the point of selfishness, but also contained multitudes. You could see the layers of her emotions peeking through every now and then. She was larger than life and spellbinding. Rio, meanwhile, had more teeth. She was aggressive and passionate. While she seemed detached at times, she had this insatiable desire to live life to the fullest. It was as if she were new to it. Little did you know, she was out of practice when it came to feeling genuine attachment to people and being among the living.

You could tell straight away that the two had a long history. The tension was thick, hanging heavily in the air. The rest of your now deceased coven could feel it too.

When you woke up alone, the two surviving coven members were nowhere to be found. You walked out a bit into the woods, looking for them. You stopped short at the sight of Rio being pinned against a tree by Agatha.

Rio was smirking at the other woman as if to challenge her. Agatha leaned in, biting at Rio’s lips. Her thigh was pressed against her core, grinding against her leather pants. Rio smiled as she craned her head back against the trunk of the tree. Agatha’s hand let her wrist go and slid down her front, dipping beneath her waistband. Rio let out a gasp, earning a smug smile and arched brow from Agatha.

You tried to sneak away, but accidentally stepped on a twig, the snap alerting the couple to your presence. They both looked at you, making the blood in your body rise to your cheeks.

Your fingertips suddenly sparked, the magic you were previously unable to access now activating with arousal. You had always repressed your desires in the past, having been raised in a strict religious family. You had been intimidate with a partner in the past, but it was all very vanilla.

Agatha noticed your hands burning with fire, her mind working to decipher what that could mean about your power.

“I… uh, sorry,” you said, quickly retreating back to the fire, jumping when the flame surged on the burnt out logs.

You could hear Rio laughing mockingly in the distance.

A few minutes later, the pair found you. Rio sat next to you with that same smirk from before while Agatha barely even looked at you. Her eyes fell on the newly lit fire.

“Interesting,” she said, her face illuminated by the glow.

“I’ll say,” Rio said, her hand resting on your knee.

The moment Rio touched you, the fire grew in intensity. Agatha’s eyes widened, looking both alarmed and excited about what this meant.

“I guess we finally found your spark,” Agatha said, giving you a sly smile.

Two small flames jumped out of the fire, catching on the dirt in a way that wasn’t physically possible. A trail ignited, two lines of fire forming and spreading out. Agatha’s fascination turned to worry.

“Alright… enough spark, let’s pull it back…” she said nervously.

“I’m not doing anything!” you said, your heart racing.

The fire formed a path, the flames staying in two controlled lines that led them to a tower in the distance. Rio tilted her head, toying with a flower she bloomed from her hand.

“Well, I guess we know whose trial this is,” she said.

Your heart was in your throat. Your power was still so unpredictable. You had used it once in self defense on a chair and once just moments ago. You watched as the two other women led the way. Agatha turned around, regarding you before speaking.

“You can do this. The road wouldn’t be calling you if you couldn’t. Let’s go.”

She spun back around, dramatically flipping her coat with no regard for the flames. You took a moment to steel yourself before following them.

The path led to a tower made of ice. The walls reflected the moonlight, giving it a glow against the backdrop of the sky. The door had a stained glass portrait of the full moon with fire surrounding it.

You pushed the door open and stepped through, expecting the usual costume change. You looked at Agatha and Rio to see that they were naked. Agatha looked nonplussed while Rio had a wolfish smile. Looking down, you were mortified to see your own naked body with one addition.

“Well, I didn’t know you were packing more than magical heat…” Agatha purred, looking down at the sizable dick that had been bestowed upon you.

“No, I… I don’t have… the road did it!” you said, shocked at your new anatomy.

“Well, the road has wonderful taste,” she replied as you tried covering it with your hands.

“Enough admiring, we should find the challenge,” Rio said, looking you up and down once more before searching your surroundings.

The ceiling was out of your sight, positioned at the very top of the massive tower. There were portraits lining the circular frozen walls. They were lined up like film, carvings of stone with bodies in different positions. The floor was cushioned and covered in silk sheets and decadent pillows.

You walked along the wall, finally distracted enough to examine the room. You touched a wall and felt the cold against your fingertips. You stepped back to the center with Agatha and Rio. Once you were all in the middle of the room, an ice hourglass began to slowly fill with water, the cube on top melting as time passed. A shelf emerged with four icicles attached. A circle of low burning fire surrounded the coven as the timer began.

Something resembling snow fell from the ceiling, breaking into a fog the three of you breathed in. Your heart began to race and you felt a flush burning your cheeks. There was an iron frame that appeared over one of the portraits. It was a carving of two people entangled in the missionary position.

You noticed the other two women struggling to keep their focus. Their pupils dilated and focused on you. You looked down and saw where all of your blood had rushed to.

Agatha looked up at the carving.

“I think we know what your trial is,” Agatha said, her voice a bit raspy, “Little miss purity has to discover a few things.”

You would have been resistant if you had been with anyone else, but the two other women had been present in your dreams since the beginning of the road.

“Wait, what?”

“You heard her, firestarter,” Rio said, stalking up to you.

A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, causing a layer of goosebumps to break out. She looked like she was about to consume you.

“I know you feel it too. That need rushing through you?” she said, leaning in to whisper into your ear.

“The air of arousal,” Agatha said, her body nearly shivering with desire, “That’s what we breathed in. If we don’t satiate it, it can kill you. Are you okay with this?”

Agatha actually seemed to care about how you felt about this, despite the irresistible lust taking her over.

“Yes,” you said eagerly before you could stop yourself, “I wanted it before.”

You turned to Rio, who was standing an inch from you, her hands running along your arms. You pulled her into a kiss, the heat within you passing the point of no return. Rio fell back, pulling you with her. You landed over her, catching yourself with your hands. Seeing her beneath you like this was more intense than you could imagine.

Rio reached between you, her hand wrapping around your cock. Her touch sent a shock through you, the flames of the circle rising a bit. You lowered your hips down as she guided you into her. You both gasped at the sensation. Your eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling.

“Move,” Rio ordered.

You opened your eyes and locked onto hers. You slowly moved your hips, getting used to the motion. You let out a whine as you began to speed up. Rio rolled her hips with yours, bucking and grinding against you. You didn’t know what else to do but thrust. She reached down again and began playing with her own clit. Her cunt squeezed around you as her mouth fell open into a moan. The flames grew another foot. An icicle fell from the shelf, crashing against the floor. There were three left.

You could hear a cranking sound as the portraits spun around the room, the frame now over a carving of a woman riding a man. Rio sat up, about to top you when Agatha interrupted.

“You already got one,” Agatha said to Rio.

She nearly tackled you to the floor, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. She straddled you, grinding herself along the side of your cock. You squirmed, your breath shaking at the feeling of her wet lips massaging you. She reached down and positioned you before sinking down onto you. She threw her head back, her long hair falling down her back. Her chest was shamelessly pushed out as she moved. Her hips rocked and circled, leaving you without a thought in your mind. You bucked up, drawing a gasp from her. She took you by the wrists and guided them over her breasts. You held onto her as you fucked her, your back arching off of the cushioned floor. You sat up, kissing and sucking at her neck. Her arms encircled you, her hand tangled in your hair as she held you to her throat. You moaned against her skin as she rode you.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck…” Agatha whispered as she moved faster.

Suddenly, she tensed up, her body freezing her into a vision of pleasure. Her mouth hung open, her eyes squeezing shut. Her slick walls pulsed around you, making you shudder with your own orgasm. Another icicle fell as the fire grew again. You were still terribly hard in a way that was painful.

The whirring of the portraits snapped you from your haze. The one that was picked made your pulse quicken. You could see it had the same effect on your coven members. Rio smiled and Agatha looked you up and down.

Something inside of you took hold. You grabbed Agatha by the waist, flipping her onto her hands and knees. You looked at Rio, saying, “Move.”

Rio didn’t have to be told twice. She sat and opened her legs in front of Agatha. You checked the time, the hourglass half full. Sweat trickled down your face, the magic nearly driving you insane.

You moved to your knees behind Agatha, reaching down and grabbing her by the hair. She let out a shocked moan as you pulled her tresses before slamming into her. You shoved her head down into Rio’s pussy.

Her mouth immediately went to work, drawing hitches and sighs from Rio. You grabbed her by the hip with your free hand and pulled her into each thrust. The sound of moans, the wet sounds of Agatha’s mouth exploring Rio, and your thighs slapping against Agatha’s ass filled the tower. You felt a feral need to make her cum. Your hand went from her hair to her back. You dug your nails in and scratched down over its arch. You could feel the way Agatha reacted to it, knowing then that Agatha had a submissive side.

“Slap her,” Rio growled, “She loves it.”

You reared back, your hand coming down against her ass with a force. Agatha let out a wild cry against Rio’s warmth. She then went back to sucking on Rio’s clit, earning higher and higher moans. You knew she was close and also knew how to help Agatha to catch her up. You reached your arm around her and played with the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ah! Fuck, yes!” she cried out, pressing her cheek to Rio’s inner thigh before returning to her.

The two women’s moans rose in pitch until all three of you broke. You fell forward, catching yourself on your hands before crushing Agatha. You could hear the shattering of another icicle as it fell. One left. The flames were several feet high and licking at the walls.

The carvings spun one last time. This one was more confusing than the others. Two women, lying one on top of the other facing the sky. The man was inside of one while the other held her.

“Ah, I see,” Rio said.

She guided Agatha as she laid down. Rio lay under her, her front pressing against her back. They were stacked on one another, waiting for you. You looked at the hourglass and saw how close you were to the end of your time.

You were on your knees when you held Agatha’s hips and thrusted into her. Her head fell back against Rio’s shoulder. You took no time for foreplay. You fucked her with abandon before pulling out of her, earning a violent glare.

You then slid into Rio, fucking her with the same force. She kissed and marked Agatha, her neck one big bruise. Your hands covered her breasts, pinching and tugging at them. She leaned down and kissed Agatha, pouring all of the hidden desire you had been harboring for her into it. You pulled out of Rio and sank back into Agatha, a whimper escaping her lips driving you absolutely insane.

She screamed as her cunt strangled you, her body spasming with her climax. You looked at her wild hair and her blissed out face. You wanted to remember this forever.

You then sank into Rio, pulling an animalistic growl from her that slightly scared you. Your thighs ached as you sped your thrusts, angling to find the part of Rio that made her scream. She shook and shrieked as she came with you following soon after, the pleasure blinding you for a moment.

The fire shot up, reaching the top of the tower as the final icicle fell. The walls melted down, water falling and rolling down to the ground. The carvings fell from the melted walls into the dirt. The hourglass filled and broke before disintegrating into a puddle. The fire that had been emanating from your magic returned to your hands. You looked down and your clothes were back and your member was gone.

“Well,” Agatha said, standing on wobbly legs before dusting herself off, “Good job, team.”

Rio snorted with a laugh, getting up and offering you a hand. You took it and walked with them, now knowing the trip down the road would be much more fun.

Thank you for reading! Reblog this if you liked it 🖤

[mischiefmanagers]

Eris Vanserra Fic Rec Library 🍁❤️‍🔥

these fics are a mix of Eris x reader, Eris x OC, and a few general Eris fics with no pairing. if you've never read an Eris fic before, I highly recommend starting with the first rec below (gust & flame) because that fic made me fall in love with him. enjoy ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

gust & flame (series) 🥀💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

here in your arms. 💞

like you wanna be loved 💞

by @acourtofmenandthirst

The Fox & The Hound 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Destiny's Battleground (series) 🥀💞🔥

In Spite of Our Differences (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

Great Rite 🔥

The Prince of Blood

by @profound-imagination

Finding Home 💞

Rose Gardens

by @munsons-hellfire

Happiness in the Heart 🥀💞

by @sweetcarolina-24

Scorched Shadows

by @azrielbrainrot

Fire on Fire

Mind Over Matter 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Rescue 💞🥀

Fake Sleeper 💞

Peace 💞

Seekers 💞🌼

Did You Just Say No?

Song of Death

Starfall Revelations 🥀💞

Guilt 🥀💞

Kisses 💞

by @redbleedingrose

Till the End of Time 💞🥀

Pretty? 🥀💞

by @b0xerdancer-writes

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This 🥀💞

by @thisblogisaboutabook

Bad Idea, Right? 🥀🔥

by @azsazz

Cherries, Juniper, and Orange Slices 💞

Fire & Water 🥀🔥

by @honeybeefae

Cauldron Fated 💞🥀🔥🌼

Forgotten Ties 🥀

Valentine's Mini Fic 💞

A Court of Wings & Fire (series) 🥀

Past and Present 🥀💞

Coronation Day 💞

Potions 🔥🌼

by @we-were-beautiful

The Fox and the Hounds 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

My little flame 💞

Her 🌼

My tears ricochet 🥀

by @2thestars-andbeyond

The Fire That Burns Within (series) 💞🥀🔥

by @simkaswriting

What if…Eris had danced with y/n instead?

by @jeannineee

Daylight 🥀💞

Breeding 🔥

by @jdeclerc

a brother's intervention 🥀

by @azrielsdove

Playing With Fire 🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected 💞🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @fieldofdaisiies

Late Again 🥀

Brother 🥀💞 no pairing

Falling 💞🌼

by @azrielsoulmate

Covered in you 💞

by @cupidojenphrodite

Morning After 🔥

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Loose Lips 🥀🔥

by @thelov3lybookworm

Remember me? (series) 💞🥀 from Rhysand x Reader to Eris x Reader

Bloodshed 🥀💞

Not what I expected 🥀💞🌼

by @fineghkst

How Eris acts around his mate 💞

by @ladyescapism

fractured bonds 🥀

by @clairebear08

Woven 🥀

Use Me 🔥

by @historiaxvanserra

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power 🥀🌼

I Am Not a Martyr, I'm a Problem

by @shadowdaddies

Autumn's Eden 💞

Bramble 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Fake love. 🥀

by @crypticandmachiavellianaugustine

Sweet Nothings 💞🌼

by @readychilledwine

Death of Peace of Mind 🥀🔥🌼

Safe Haven 💞

Relief

Unconditional 💞

Leap 💞🌼

Kissed By Fire

Lapcat 🔥

Pack Mentality 💞

Tainted Love 🥀

by @throneofsmut

Bound In Flames (series) 🥀💞🔥

by @parkerslatte

Overlooked 🥀🌼

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

by @prythianpages

Like An Angel 💞

Cruel, Wicked Thing

by @saphirered

Frozen lake 🔥💞

by @thehighladywrites

Professor Eris 🥀💞🔥

by @thevanserrras

Breaking Point 🥀

Den of Foxes 🥀💞

Happy Equinox at Last 💞

Wake Up 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

Petty 🥀💞

by @secret-third-thing

Never An Honest Word 🥀 no pairing

by @nocasdatsgay

From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

by @lucienforhighking

Hounds of Love 💞

Dancing 💞🔥

by @callmeblaire

when fire and ice dance

by @moonlightazriel

Symphonies 💞

When no one hears your calls 🥀💞

by @sellyoursoulforagoodfic

Monstrous Secrets 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

Flame, Shadow, Beast 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @serpentandlily

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny (series) 🌼

Last Solstice 🥀💞🌼

by @fever-fluff

Unconditional

by @yearning-for-autumn

Would That I

[villainousauthor]

Hero's hands clutched the bouquet of roses with a grip strong enough to snap the thorny stems as they opened the trashcan.

Without so much as a ceremonial look, they dumped the offending red flowers quickly, shoving them down.

This was the third bouquet to show up on their doorstep in the past week, even more elaborate than the last two. It seems Villain was trying every combination of flowers until they figured out Hero's favorite.

Hero's nose curls in disgust. People were dying and suffering in the streets because of Villain's tyranny, and yet they sent Hero petty gifts like a lover or admirer.

It must be another way to taunt them, to mess with their head. Another way to show that Villain knows where they live, could leave anything at their doorstep any time they want. There's no guarantee Hero won't come home to find Villain themselves on their door, lethal smile on their face, weapon behind their back.

Biting back the fear, Hero refuses to react to any of these displays. Each bouquet left at their home is quickly and methodically disposed of, as if without a thought.

Of course, this feigned indifference only spurs Villain on even more. Soon, the gifts are being left daily, as if begging for a reaction. Hero can feel the increasing agitation in Villain's actions. More flowers, jewels, trinkets, and baubles. All in the trash. It's only a matter of time before something has to give, but Hero refuses to give in.

More gifts, punctuated by more violence in the city. A pretty necklace that catches the light ever so, followed by an entire neighborhood reduced to ash. Different flowers this time, more pointless deaths.

After one particularly long day spent pulling more people out of rubble, they return home to see the front door completely bare. A first in weeks. For just a moment they feel hopeful that maybe Villain had gotten bored, hope that is quickly squashed when they enter their home.

Every surface, window, shelf, or tabletop in their home is lined with large blossoming flowers. Orchids this time. Hundreds of them, the room is filled with the fragrant smell. Villain is escalating, showing Hero there's no true barrier stopping Villain from coming after them whenever they choose.

Their phone rings, breaking Hero out of their stupor. It's an unknown number, but they already know who it is, a deep, uncomfortable feeling swirling in their gut, the hairs on their neck raised. Still, they find themselves answering anyways.

Villain's voice crackles through the screen, low and amused.

"So what do you think of my gift? Are orchids your flower of choice, or are these going into the trash as well?"

Hero forgets how to speak for a moment, floundering to come up with a response. Villain doesn't give them a moment, continuing to speak in that same saccharine tone.

"You know, the color of flowers holds meaning, red orchids in particular-"

"I don't give a shit about the meaning." Finally finding their voice, Hero cuts them off suddenly. "How'd you even get into my house?" They try to keep their voice steady, even.

Tsking through the other side, Villain completely ignores their question. "You should care. Do you think the gifts I send have no significance?"

"The significance is obviously to upset me." Hero rolls their eyes as they speak, despite the fear in their stomach. They wring their hands, wanting to hang up, but something stops them. "To scare me, threaten me."

Villain sighs, voice sounding particularly raspy through the line. "You really are so foolish if you think that's what this is about." They speak in a low rumble as they continue. "Have I not been ardent enough in my affections?"

Hero's stomach is a mess of warmth and anxiety. They feel a pinch of pain as they dig their fingernails into their palms. They take a steadying breath before speaking again.

"Stop pretending there's any point to this other than to intimidate. Stop pretending you're some lovesick admirer." They bite, ending the call before Villain can come up with another retort. Before they can cause more confusion in Hero's mind.

Moving with efficency, Hero begins to grab as many vases as possible, to shove them into the trash, as many will fit. They pause though, upon the largest bouquet on the table.

There's a note attached, wrapped around it with silky ribbon. With a shaking hand, Hero reaches for the note, opening with a sense of dread.

There, written in sickening, half dried blood, is simple line.

I love you.

[diejager]

how does a (monster AU) phoenix! reader sound? ...I kinda imagine 141 (except price) getting a heart attack when reader takes a bullet and bursts into flames and then a heap of ash, and then (im pulling a harry potter description of pheonix but its ur choice) the most ugly bird or something pokes their head out of the ashes and they're like '...oh'.

I remember watching Fawkes burning and turning to ash before he popped his head out. So adorable.

Ashes Cw: burning, death, rebirth, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost knew when someone was lying, able to sniff out a liar within a mile. Your dimmer smile, shorter laughter and exhaiusted expression, nothing seemed to make your days better than a warm bump of tea once or twice a day to sooth the ache in your bones and the strain in your muscles. He’d approach you with a clear mind, wanting to get to the bottom of your sickness, why you’d occasionally cough, voice weak and breathy until it cracked. You told him you were fine, that it was just the weather affecting you, but he’d seen this kind of sickness before, a cold that sunk into the bones and clogged every sinuses with intent —sick and vulnerable.

He wasn’t alone in this thought, Alejandro and Gaz shared similar doubts, coming forth to Price with their fears rather than sneaking around like he did, but Price had waved them off, telling them that it was a seasonal thing, you got sick from time to time and rose back from it as if death failed to catch you. This did not seem like something simple and mundane, Ghost could see death follow you like it followed him, it was ever present, so much so that Alejandro and Horangi - the two with the weakest nose out of the four - could smell it ooze off you like a dark miasma plaguing your body.

It seemed as if the both of you shared something that the others weren’t privy to, a low whisper in the dark that they failed to catch or the secret you shared through confidentiality higher than even a colonel. The captain knew you before you joined them, forming a tight connection through past trauma and fuck ups. Perhaps that’s why Price seemed almost chipper about your saddening state.

It seemed that Ghost was kept in as much darkness as the rest, the higher ups had kept it hidden from him, from König and from Alejandro who should’ve had the jurisdiction to have access to your documents. Especially after seeing you burst into flames after being shot in the neck by a surviving sniper (Ghost was quick to shoot him down), body gone in a coud of ash and dusted feathers. He panicked, but he wasn’t the only one to rush towards what remained of you. Despite their panicked mumbles and frantic thoughts, Price had reassured them that it was normal, that you were still alive —all they had to do was wait a few seconds for you to reappear.

Appear you did, a small, ashen head, beak the length of a child’s thumb, small ad brittle, big, rounded eyes blinked at them, narrowed in confusion until you called, a tiny croon from a chick’s throat. You shuffled your way through the mess, featherless wings flapping as you hopped towards Price, who quickly met you half way, picking you up with one nimble swoop.

“Look at you,” Price cooed, pressing his thumb to your forehead, feeling the soft, newly grown feathers that glowed white, “About time you burned, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” it was the only thing he could answer with when his mind was building up these theories, every little thought in his head went to understand what and how you were made. It was as close as Soap’s Steamin’ bloody Jesus or König’s dumbfounded Was.

“Is that why you told us not to worry, Captain?” Gaz’s ability to think clearly in adrenaline-inducing moments was a blessing, able to restrain his unending thoughts to connect two together and conjure up a sentence - a few words, a mumble or a plea - to understand whatever happened to you. “What happened?”

Price let out a deep rumble, a laugh from his belly, deep and amused, a striking contrast to their worried frowns. He handled you softly, petting and pinching at the young feathers growing on you while he turned you around, showing them how Price held you with such careful ease and soothing smile. Ghost doubted that Price didn’t have any prior experience in caring for you, seeing how loving he was with you —like a lover caring for his sickened, or a dragon guarding his treasure, Ghost wasn’t sure which one was right.

“Hunter’s a phoenix, “ he smiled softly, eyes gleaming with too much glee, a silent laugh at their sudden bewilderment, approaching you slowly to admire you themselves. “They burst to flames every three years or so, the last one was around five years ago- long overdue for a reset.”

Soap and Horangi were the first to attempt to touch you, the excited dog and the curious feline, tentatively poking at you with a finger until you pecked it, annoyed by their incessant jabbing. You let out a shrill cry from your throat, small and hilariously fierce for something so small and fragile. You crawled to the ends of Price’s fingers, wings flapping to urge them to pick you up instead of pointing a finger and cooing at you as if you were an exotic animal. You somewhat were —exotic, that is.

“A wee thang, aye, Cap?” Soap awed, cradling you in his palms, you weighted so little, as light as a feather on Gaz’s wing.

“Ugly as a rat too,” Horangi snickered, making light of the situation that had made their hearts stop.

You screeched, shaking your head wildly at him, his shoulders bobbing while you showed how offended you felt by acting out, an angry, little chick putting on a show of aggression and courage. His dark thoughts receded, Ghost’s fears and demons falling back into the depths of his mind when his eyes met your beady ones, round and doe-eyed, your age shining through the innocence of a newly-hatched. It made him wonder how you’d look once your feathers grew out, would you be as majestic as the stories portrayed phoenix did, with your great wings and great strength, feathers bathed in the sun’s warm embrace and tipped with the power of undying flames of power. Phoenixes were seen as symbols of immortality, resurrection —of life and death. Untouchable by death and favoured by life, you would live in a cycle of ashes and flames, embers cracking until it softened to flickers, a soft, gentle flame ready to yield to nature.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143

[jiarkives]

julia’s favorites ! (v)

♡ - fluff ; ♤ - angst ; ♕ - nsfw ; ☆ - series

jujutsu kaisen

♡♤ throughout heaven and earth - gojo satoru

♡ drunken angel - nanami kento

↳ @chuluoyi

♡ sleepy!megumi x shy!reader - fushiguro megumi

↳ @just-jordie-things

~

top gun maverick

♕ slow ride - jake ‘hangman’ seresin

↳ @vivwritesfics

~

marauders

☆ time warp - james potter

↳ @astonishment

☆ what we were, what we are - james potter, sirius black

↳ @jimblejamblewritings

♤♡ opening about past sa (tw!) - remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

♡ talking to a cat - james potter, remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

♤♡ temper tantrum from draco - sirius black (cbbh universe)

↳ @ellecdc

♡ blurb - james potter, remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

↳ @moonstruckme

♤♡ say don’t go - james potter

↳ @pretty-little-mind33

~

a court of thorns and roses

☆ suspicious - azriel

☆ mate - azriel

↳ @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms

☆ everything is not as it seems - azriel

♡ cassian: the annoying brother - azriel ft. platonic!cassian

♡♤ use somebody - azriel ft. platonic!lucien

♡♤ capture the mate - azriel, pregnant!reader

♡ i know something you don’t know - azriel ft. platonic!cassian

♡ snapshots of time - azriel ft. platonic!cassian

♡ your little hand’s wrapped aorund my finger - azriel ft. platonic!cassian

♡♤ hickeys and the marks we leave - cassian

♡ save your tears - eris vanserra ft. lucien vanserra

↳ @daycourtofficial

☆ low on hope (tw!) - azriel

↳ @violet-shadows

☆ untouchable - azriel ft. brother!rhysand

♤ falling apart for you - rhysand

↳ @serpentandlily

☆ arrows and ashes (tw!) - azriel

☆ forget me not (tw!) - azriel

↳ @assassinsblade

☆ of oblivious minds - azriel

♡ all over again - azriel

♡ by the book - azriel

♤ to feel at home - azriel

↳ @pellucid-constellations

♡ what we make of what we’re made - azriel

↳ @illyrianbitch

♤ take them all down (i) — (tw!) - rhysand

♤♡ take them all down (ii) - rhysand

↳ @danikamariewrites

♡ forever and a day - rhysand

♡♤ love and loathing - rhysand

↳ @ughthatimagineblog

♡ colliding visions - rhysand

↳ @cherhys

♡♤ false confessions - azriel

♤♡ how we survive - azriel ft. platonic!rhysand

♡ home to us - rhysand ft. nyx

↳ @writingsbychlo

♤ in this shirt - azriel

↳ @utterlyotterlyx

♤ in every lifetime (i) - azriel

♤♡ in every lifetime (ii) - azriel

↳ @shadowdaddies

♕♡♤ all my dreaming (i) - azriel

♕♡♤ all my dreaming (ii) - azriel

↳ @theeveninghour

☆ flame, shadow, beast - azriel

☆ the artificer - azriel

♡ heads will roll - azriel

♡ he feels safe with you - azriel

↳ @florencemtrash

♤♡ was any of it true? - modern!azriel

♡♤ second chance - cassian

♡ you drew stars around my scars - azriel

↳ @flickering-chandelier

♡ bumps, blunders & baby kicks - azriel

↳ @acourtofmishapandmistakes

♡ finally - azriel, fairy!reader ft. platonic!cassian, platonic!nesta archeron

↳ @itsswritten

♤ escapism (tw!) - azriel ft. past!lucien

↳ @thewulf

~

dc

♡ count on mom - bruce wayne ft. bat family

↳ @alisonwritesimagines

♕♡ still wanna play? - jason todd

♡ meet the family - jason todd ft. bat family

♡ guard dog (i) - jason todd

♡ guard dog (ii) — (tw!) - jason todd

↳ @mostly-imagines

♕ divider — @bunnysrph

[genderlessjacky]

Dissecting the intro to Arcane S2 and predicting what the season is about before I watch it bc im hyperfixating , (pt1 because I'm gonna do the whole series)

THIS SCENE of Vi standing down bc she is still VI underneath it all , she hasn't changed , she still loves her sister , she is still clinging onto her sister , I KNOW that the line "you finally got the name right" scene happens but I saw the clip where she refers to jinx and powder as two different people and "Im not gonna let you stain her memory" so she still loves powder , she isn't killing powder , she has been dead a long time ago , she is killing Jinx now

and this scene where she stands up and does the 'pew' thing , it represents her finally leaving powder behind , bc we know in S1 , powder was still inside of her , the animators confirmed it with the rig turning powder expression to jinx but I sense this rig wont be used in season 2 . this can also be seen as her 'rising' to the throne , to take Silco's place as leader . Rising up from the ashes she created. and the way the light frames on her eyes can also represent her fully embracing jinx

also this little cut of VI not being there probably means she doesn't consider her a sister anymore , VI isn't in her life anymore , Silco isnt in her life anymore , she kills anyone who gets near her . so its just her now

GAHH this shot of Ekko standing on the line as in him standing on the 'line' between Piltover and Zuan , being the neutral side of the two battling cities is great framing actually , but the way his feet stand out perhaps means he is finally taking action in S2?

and here we see presumably Victor , with a blanket , staring at the mask , and the line is there AGAIN , so maybe he is also leaving Piltover? perhaps to return to Zuan or stay neutral if were taking the line of light into account? maybe he finally took the 'mask' off , seen the two sidedness of piltover and had enough of it

and here we see Ambessa sitting in her luxurious couch , draping the cloth over her and holding a black rose while ignoring all the scattered roses behind her , maybe Noxes is somehow involved in all this , maybe the scattered roses she is ignoring mean her past , and how is she ignoring it and only focusing on the one perfect rose in her hands .

"When my back is to the world , that was smiling when I turned" were the lyrics playing here , I heard that Cait's mother died in the explosion from somewhere so maybe this means she is gonna take drastic actions out of grief that noones supports , and it ends in someone betraying her or turning against her or she does something irrational that pushes everyone who supported her away?

"tell you you're the greatest" and here we see my boy Jayce being blinded by some type of light , and now we know that Jayce in S1 fully bought into the two sidedness of Piltover , maybe this season he somehow 'wakes up' , a light of truth shines of him , he is also injuried so maybe it was something that injuried him , that got though all his defenses , that finally woke him up to the truth

and HERE is the same black rose that I assume Ambessa was holding , maybe this season she somehow faces her past? the petal falling down may represent her somehow 'falling down' from grace?

okay if we assume this rose represents her past somehow or something she regrets , and its in the line of light and its framed in a way that it looks like a door is opening , maybe this season will bring to light her past or the thing she regretted? and she seems unwilling to put the rose in the light so maybe its against her will or something ,like she is forced to do so , maybe someone in her past caught up to her +

she is also seen scrunching up the rose the next scene so maybe this means she is trying to hide it or destroy the 'danger' from her past?

okay so the light is framed across her face and I've established that I think this line in some scenes means some sort of line between piltover and Zuan and in some scenes mean bringing something to light (and in some scenes its just for the aesthetic appeal) , and since she tried for peace in the last season before the whole jinx explosion thing. maybe this season she also tries to stand for neutrality , but the shadow hands maybe represent something or someone is forcing her to choose a side

and here we see jinx waving some sort of flag , and flag waving can mean declaring war on someone , and she looks transfixed on the flag , like shes mesmerized but also a look of sorrow? maybe she finally decides to finish what Silco couldn't , destroy Piltover and it has become her only goal

AAA okay the V on her face being an amazing detail aside , the light seems to be shining on her eyes alone , making the eye look like a similar color to Jinx's eye colour , so maybe proving my point that she somehow accepts that powder is gone and Jinx is the only one in her eyes

OKAY THESE FEW SCENES ARE A JOY TO FOCUS ON SO The lines colliding together , maybe means they are finally working together? being on the same side to stop Jinx?

OKAYOKAY SO the way they look at each other before hand and rush and kiss each other and end up 'butting heads' or flying apart? maybe they get together in this season but something or someone or some belief keeps them apart and they end up 'butting heads'?? POSSIBLE YURI MAKEUP AND THEN DIVORCE???

okay so this basically confirms that her mom died in this season or something major happens bc like the X written all over the scene and her panicking??

and also the hands in her shadow made it so that you can barely see any of 'her' in the shadow , perhaps this grief of her mothers death somehow scumming her so that she didn't even recognize her herself anymore

and her looking into the camera like she realized something , maybe she knew how horrid she was acting and the choices she made were wrong but still brought into them

and the way ekko ONLY runs on the line and never passes it? the fact that there are TWO lines maybe means he is uniting his forces against both piltover and zuan , viewing them as one entity or he is finally staying on one side?

and here , it blurs into one line , the other line cutting off and he jumps to the other line , it might mean something...

and jolly the way he jumps over the line , his feet not touching the floor and reversing time before her gets to the other side?? I fully support Ekko being a major player in this season

and the the next scene , the way Mel yells and the shadow hands immediately back away , maybe this season she is finally taking a stance on something

AND AHH the way she is in the same chair and instead of a red gown , its a white gown she is wearing (symbolizing purity ectect but ALSO possibly symbolizing her unwillingness to kill aka the reason she got booted out of Noxus) and instead of holding the black rose , she is reaching towards it and wanting to touch it and figure out what it is!! and she is also in the different pose then Ambessa , instead of looking all aloof on the couch , she looks down to earth and serious

and victors hand blocking the light and said light being the light that presumably shined on everyone , maybe he is also finally seeing the light in a way while the other had only a glimpse of it?

and him putting on the mask like RAHHH maybe he is going under some sort of facade? embracing the mask if you will? going undercover?? Turning into machine Herald??? PT 1 (you are here) / PT 2 (WIP)

[chvoswxtch]

part two: the secret

[series masterlist] | [part one] | [part three]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: if the police can't help, who can you turn to?

warnings: swearing, heavy angst, mentions of murder, conversation about past domestic abuse, mentions of alcohol, billy once again being a cocky lil shit

word count: 3.8k

a/n: y'all never fail to blow me away with how lovely & kind y'all are. i'm so happy you're all enjoying spooky slutty season so far. it's getting heavier in this chapter, but we're one step closer to the goods. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Annie was looking at you in a mixture of concern and apprehension. When she heard your scream piercing through the silence of the apartment, she’d immediately rushed into your bedroom, where she’d found you on your knees on the floor, hyperventilating as panicked tears rushed down your cheeks. She had desperately begged you to tell her what happened, but you couldn’t speak through your choked sobs. You just kept pointing to your phone that was face down on the hardwood, but when she picked it up, she didn’t see anything except your lock screen.

For the past twenty minutes, you’d been sitting on the edge of your bed, almost completely catatonic. It felt as though your body had gone into shock and just completely shut down. Your brain seemed to slip into a mental panic room, locking itself away behind steel soundproof walls those traumatic memories couldn’t break through. But you knew you couldn’t stay there, as badly as you wanted to. You had to come out, and you had to come clean.

Annie slowly reached out and placed her hand on top of one of yours that was in your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Honey, I need you to tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.”

A fresh wave of helplessness built up along your bottom lash line, and your voice was weakened with defeat when you finally spoke.

“He found me.”

Annie tilted her head to the side slightly as she looked at you, a crease of confusion forming between her dark brows.

“Who found you Y/N?”

Closing your eyes, stray tears slipped down your damp cheeks. You had hoped this day would never come. The fear of your past catching up to you had been in the back of your mind for the last three years, but you never thought it would rear its ugly head in such a horrific way. Letting out a shaky breath, you opened your glossy eyes and turned to look at Annie in despondency.

“I need to tell you something.”

You hadn’t told a soul the truth about who you were since you moved to New York. No one here knew that you’d come here to completely start over with a brand new identity. No one knew what you had run from. You thought it was safer that way. 

Annie looked at you warily, her dark brown eyes searching your own as she waited for you to speak.

“My real name is Cassia. I’m not from New York, I was born in California. I grew up there. I…I do have a family. I lied about that. But I haven’t seen or spoken to them in three years.”

“I don’t understand-”

“I had a boyfriend. He-”

Closing your eyes, you felt your anxiety start to crest again. For the past three years, you tried so hard to push it out of your head. You told yourself that was someone else, that those memories belonged to someone else. You weren’t her anymore. That girl…she was gone. You’d burned every trace of her and rose from the ashes someone new. Those painful memories, those emotional scars, you’d buried them in the deepest, darkest part of your mind, but they wouldn’t stay dead.

Annie’s puzzlement broke apart into sympathy as she heard the grief in your voice. She could see it in your eyes, the reason behind your painful secret. She gave your hand a light and reassuring squeeze, speaking in a gentle voice.

“Was he…?”

Swallowing the lump that had lodged in your throat, you nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

Letting out a shuddering breath, a few more tears slipped down your face as you ripped open your own wounds that had never seemed to heal, letting all the lingering shame and sorrow bleed out.

“I should’ve left the first time it happened. I knew it then. I just…I didn’t want to believe it had happened. I didn’t want to believe that I was like those other women…that I was like my mother. I knew what an angry man looked like. I knew how he spoke, and how he acted, and what his footsteps sounded like. I told myself that was never going to be me, you know? It wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I…I knew better. I watched my mom go through so many of them, I knew what the signs looked like, and I just…I missed them somehow…and then I ignored it. I made excuses, I tried so hard to convince myself…that it was different…that I was different.”

You never wanted to be a victim, and you never thought you would be. For the first nine months, Roman had been an almost perfect boyfriend. He was sweet, and funny, and he always looked at you like you were the only person in the room, even from the beginning. He always knew exactly what to say, and what to do, and you had thought you’d found someone that just…understood you, in a way no one else ever had. He was just so incredibly goddamn charming.

But most psychopaths are.

He’d lured you into a false sense of security, manipulated you into letting your guard down, and you’d foolishly gifted him your trust. He didn’t just break that, he broke you.

Roman’s apologies were always so sincere, and you got trapped in the cycle. He would confess to his problems, promise to get help and stop drinking, and swore things would change. And it would, for a while. The calm before the storm was so peaceful, you couldn’t see the ominous clouds darkening over your head. He swore that he loved you, but his version of love was controlling and manipulative, and it was intense. It became obsessive and violent, and his volatile temper left your heart and spirit maimed and your body bruised. He said that he loved hard, but he hit harder. 

The night you finally decided to leave him was the night that permanently altered everything. It didn’t just change your life, it changed you.

“The last time I saw him, he almost killed me. Our neighbors had heard me screaming. They were the ones that called the police. I had already blacked out when they arrived. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion and a crushed windpipe. And you know what’s fucking crazy? He only did two months in jail, because it was his ‘first offense’.”

A bitter and dry laugh left your lips that sounded more like a scoff. You’d been too terrified to feel anger back then. At that time, all you could feel was immense relief that he was locked away somewhere that he couldn’t get to you. But now, anger was all that you felt. The more you thought about the situation, the more white hot searing rage had the blood in your veins sizzling. 

“I got a restraining order, but it didn’t stop him. The only reason I was even able to get it was because the cops walked in on him choking me to death. As soon as he got out of jail, he was back. And he didn’t just threaten me, he threatened everyone around me. I was scared. I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran. I ran as far away as I could get. I changed my name, I changed everything about myself, and I started over. I had to cut everyone out from my old life in Woodsboro, to keep them safe.”

Three years ago, you’d just vanished. The terror he instilled in your bones had run deep into the marrow. You couldn’t even say goodbye to anyone. All you’d been able to part with was a hastily written note containing a heartfelt apology to your mother, and you’d fled to sanctuary across the country. New York was home to millions of people, and you thought you’d be safe as a ghost in the bustling streets. You thought you could be invisible.

“I just…I don’t even know how he found me. I’ve been careful, I haven’t told anyone about this. I just…I don’t understand. And now Adam’s dead-”

“Wait, you think he killed Adam?”

“He told me he did. He was the one who called me on the phone. I know it was him. His voice was different…but he said my name, Annie. My real name.”

Annie was staring at you in a mixture of shock, fear, and a hint of pity. You hated that look. You hated being on the receiving end of it. And you hated that you were now a dangerous burden, a liability to her otherwise peaceful life. If you weren’t safe, that meant she wasn’t safe, and you could see in her eyes that she knew that. As she glanced down at your phone, you could see her swallow thickly. 

“We need to go to the police.”

»»———　　———««

“What do you mean you can’t do anything? Did you hear any of what I just said?”

“Miss Y/L/N, the restraining order is in California, and it’s not under your current name.”

Detective Craven met your incredulous gaze with an expression of pity. His partner, however, did not share his condolences.

“Why didn’t you mention this two days ago?”

Turning your attention to Detective Williamson, the outrage you felt at his underlying accusation was clear on your face and in your sharp tone.

“Because it’s not your fucking business. You told me Adam got mugged-”

“We theorized it was a robbery gone wrong-”

“Theorized, confirmed, what fucking difference does it make? Those were your words. You said that’s what happened, so I had no reason to think it was connected to my psychotic ex boyfriend, who now not only knows where I am, but fucking called me to confess to murdering Adam. And now, you’re telling me you can’t do a goddamn thing about it because of, what? Red fucking tape?”

Detective Craven raised both of his worn hands in a placating gesture as he looked between you and his partner.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just take it down a notch.”

He shot his partner a warning glare, and Detective Williamson held his hands up in a show of surrender as he let out an irritated exhale through his nose. Turning his attention back to you, Detective Craven placed his hands on his hips.

“Miss Y/L/N, listen to me. I don’t want you to think we’re not taking this seriously, alright? Unfortunately, our hands are tied though. We don’t have any evidence from the crime scene, and the call on your phone came from an unknown number. We don’t have anything concrete to link this to Roman Walker.”

Just hearing his name out loud for the first time in three years was enough to make you feel like someone had just pressed the steel tip of a cold blade to the back of your neck. Detective Craven could see the raw paranoia in your eyes and the way you physically reacted to Roman’s name. Letting out a deep sigh, he reached out and placed both of his hands on your shoulders and spoke in a calming voice.

“Y/N, you did the right thing coming to us. You gave us a suspect with a motive, that gives us a lot to work with now, alright? Just because we don’t have any evidence right now doesn’t mean we won’t find any. Now we know who we’re potentially looking for, and that’s a step in the right direction. So please, trust me when I say that I will do everything I can to keep you safe. Until then, please just be careful.”

You rubbed both of your palms down your face in a stressful manner, a deep exhale of frustration blowing through your flared nostrils. Throwing your hands up in exasperation, they both dropped to your sides with a light smack against your jeans as your body physically deflated.

“So what am I supposed to do? Wait for another threatening phone call? Another person near me to get killed?”

“Just take some precautions. Be vigilant, don’t go anywhere alone, maybe look into a security system in the meantime.”

A light scoff left your lips at his suggestions and you shook your head in complete disbelief. As you stormed out of Detective Craven’s office, you slammed the door shut behind you with a little more force than necessary at your exit. Annie quickly jumped up from where she’d been sitting outside, looking at you warily.

“What did they say?”

“To go fuck myself, essentially.”

Meeting Annie’s disapproving look, you sighed and placed one of your hands on your hip while your other ran through your hair stressfully.

“There’s no evidence, they can’t trace an unknown call, and the restraining order isn’t in my name or in this state.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. So that’s it?”

“Yeah, their advice was pretty much to do everything I already do as a woman just existing.”

Annie let out a frustrated exhale of her own, glaring at the door of the detective’s office before brushing her golden blonde hair away from her shoulder and crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, fuck that. We’re gonna figure something out.”

In the midst of your outrage at the situation, one of Detective Craven’s suggestions suddenly stood out in your head.

“Maybe look into a security system in the meantime.”

You didn’t know anything about security or even where to start, but you knew someone who did.

“Actually, I think I know who can help.”

»»———　　———««

“You know, four months is a hell of a long time to make a guy wait for a second date.”

Glancing up from your drink, you watched as Billy took a seat at the bar next to you, flashing you his signature charming smirk. Rolling your eyes, you fought to contain your amusement as you lifted the beer bottle to your lips.

“That was not a date, and this isn’t one either.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle, signaling the bartender over with a wave of his hand.

“Hey, you called me. And, you brought me back to the place we first met. That’s pretty romantic, even if this is a shitty dive bar. ”

Billy turned on the bar stool to face you, a glint of mischief in his dark brown eyes as the edge of his lips curled into a smirk. Giving him a quick once over, you noticed he was dressed a lot more casually. You almost swore it was the exact same outfit he’d worn the night you met him.

“I thought someone as high maintenance as you would be a lot harder to please.”

Shaking his head at your quip, Billy grinned as he brought his own beer to his lips.

“Careful, you keep sweet talkin’ me like that, I might think you actually like me.”

“Oh well we can’t have that.”

Your lips were spread in a faint teasing smirk as you took another sip of your beer. Billy set the bottle down on the bar, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He eyed you curiously as he gave you his full attention.

“Alright, so if this isn’t a date, what is it then?”

Your eyes flickered towards Billy’s before glancing down at the green glass bottle in your hand. The edge of the gold label was peeling on the top right corner, and you gently smoothed it down with your thumb, spreading a drop of condensation over the cold glass.

“What kind of security does Anvil do? I mean, I know it’s mostly military stuff, but…what about private protection for civilians?”

Billy’s amusement quickly faded into a more serious expression at your question. He didn’t miss the way your voice had become quieter, no trace of your usual dry sarcasm or sharp wit. He cocked his head to the side slightly, noticing that you wouldn’t look at him.

“What’s going on, Y/N?”

“I was just curious-”

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ve never spared my feelin’s before, don’t start now. Talk to me.”

Turning your head to look at Billy reluctantly, you got a glimpse of the Marine that lingered dormant within him, hidden beneath the designer clothes and CEO title. Serious Billy was a completely different Billy. The intensity of his stare was almost unsettling. You weren’t sure what to do with this version of him. A part of you secretly longed for the cocky smartass side in this moment, wishing he’d slip another flirty quip into the conversation to bring levity to the heaviness settling in your chest.

He had a point though, you’d always been blunt with him, and if he was going to help you, you were going to have to tell him everything.

Glancing down at the bottle in your hands again, you let out a deep sigh of resignation. At least with Billy, you didn’t have to pull your punches. You didn’t have to dance around your words and take caution with how you laid this all out, not like you had to with Annie. Lifting your head, you turned to look at him again.

“No bullshit?”

Billy gave you a faint nod of his head, confirming that he wanted nothing but the raw, honest truth.

“No bullshit.”

Waving over the bartender, you ordered two double shots of tequila. You needed a little liquid courage to ease your nerves, and to ease the shake of anxiety in your voice. Billy watched you in curiosity tinged with concern as you downed the first with unnerving ease and set the empty shot glass down on the bar before turning to look at him again. The burn flowing down your throat and into the pit of your stomach like molten lava was a welcome distraction from the chilled fear that made your hands tremble. 

“Alright. Adam was murdered by my ex boyfriend, who’s the sole reason I moved across the country three years ago and changed my whole identity. He called me last night and confessed, but the police can’t do anything, because apparently they can’t trace an unknown call. Oh, and they can’t do anything about my obsessive stalker turned murderer ex boyfriend, because New York’s finest doesn’t have any fucking evidence, and my restraining order, which only ever seemed to be a really goddamn expensive piece of paper that meant nothing, can’t be enforced because we’re not in California, and it’s filed under my real name. So basically, I’m fucked.”

Downing the second shot, your face scrunched slightly as the clear alcohol started to burn in your lower stomach, the heat rising to flush in your cheeks. It made you feel a little lighter, melting that solid block of terror that had been weighing you down. Setting the glass down harshly on the bar, you licked the remaining tequila off your lips and turned to look at Billy, arching one of your brows.

“Questions? Comments? Concerns? More tequila?”

Billy’s dark brows rose slightly up his forehead as he stared at you silently for a moment. Whatever he was thinking or feeling, you couldn’t tell. 

“So, just to…make sure we’re on the same page here…you have a psychotic ex that forced you to move across the country, change your name, and he’s the reason the guy you went out with is dead. And you think you’re next.”

Blinking a few times, you opened your mouth to correct him, but there was nothing to correct. 

“That’s…a gross oversimplification, but yes.”

Taking a swig of your beer, your dark brows furrowed slightly as you set it back down and glanced at him with a faint scowl.

“I didn’t say I thought I was next though, asshole.”

“Oh, so the rant about NYPD being unhelpful and askin’ me about security for civilians is just small talk, then?”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the barely concealed sass in his voice made you want to slap him. As if sensing your thoughts, Billy let out a deep exhale through his nose as he regarded you with a more sympathetic expression.

“C’mon sweetheart. We agreed, no bullshit. You’re scared, and you got every reason to be. You need help, and you ain’t gettin’ it from the police.”

You had expected Billy to be far more smug about this. To bask in the fact that you needed his help, to hold it over your head, maybe even barter it for a date. It was almost a little unnerving that he was being so sincere and caring. You were just so used to him being an arrogant dick.

“I’m not gonna get on my knees and beg.”

Billy let out a light chuckle at that, giving a shake of his head before glancing at you with a familiar smirk.

“I’d never expect you to, sweetheart.”

Taking another swig of his beer, a look of contemplation crossed Billy’s sharp features.

“I guess it’s a good thing this isn’t a date then.”

Glancing at him in puzzlement, a crease formed between your brows as you set the green glass bottle down on the sticky wooden bar top.

“Why?”

Without missing a beat, Billy raised the bottle to his lips and shrugged casually.

“I’d hate to end up gutted in some alley.”

Billy had said those words so nonchalantly, with a deadpan expression on his face, that for a moment you were in shock. You should’ve been incredibly offended, or horrified by that crass comment, but instead, you were holding back a surprised laugh that threatened to escape. Your lips were puckered in an attempt to scowl as you slightly narrowed your eyes. Billy turned his head to look at you with faux innocence on his face and in his voice.

“Too soon?”

Seeing the way you were trying so hard to conceal your amusement, Billy’s lips slowly spread into a wolfish grin. Shaking your head, you brought your beer bottle to your lips to hide the way you were trying not to laugh or smile.

“You are such an asshole.”

Billy’s shoulders subtly shook as he snickered. His dark brown eyes flickered down to the green glass bottle in his left hand, and then he lifted his head to wave the bartender over again.

“Whiskey, neat.”

Turning his attention back to you, Billy could see the lingering look in your eyes that gave away how worried you truly were despite the front you were attempting to put up. He cleared his throat and leaned in a little closer, resting his arms on the bar as he gave a nod of his head in your direction and spoke calmly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll behave. Start from the beginning, tell me everything.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @nolita-fairytale @oliviaewl @r1kk @unlikelystarlightcowboy @imperihoe-writes

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»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

[calypsolemon]

I think something that kinda ties the whole situation with garmadon and lloyd together is that, garmadon never really got the chance to be a father to lloyd, truly. The fandom often lauds garmadon for being a good dad but like, he kinda wasn't? Not because he didn't care or didn't try, but because he was absent for most of Lloyd's childhood (likely moreso than Misako was, despite that being a sticking point in the fandom), and about half the time that he was there was spent resigned to his own bitter fate and by proxy, resigned to Lloyd's. In response to his isolation, Lloyd idolized a false image of his father nearly as much as Harumi did. He romanticizes those precious few years where his father, uncorrupted, stood by him and gave him advice and support like he should have been all along. The rose tint of nostalgia and grief and regret push him to ignore the complex reality of the man. The reality that includes the self-destructive tendencies, the weight of his many past mistakes, the harmful morals never quite unpacked. His anger towards the ressurected version of his father is anger towards being forced to see an unavoidable truth - that this unempathetic, selfish, spiteful thing is and always was a part of his father too, and it does not slot neatly into the image of "sensei garmadon" he painted from his father's ashes.

[simpxxstan]

double take

pairing: prince!joshua x f.reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage au, royalty au

summary: some lovers are star-crossed. some are destined to rise from the ashes. and some lovers are bound together by duty, but lovers nevertheless. joshua hong thinks fate is too cruel, but little does he know, that there are stars moving to keep his destiny alive.

word count: 22.7k

rating: 18+ (mdni please!) 

warning: there's a ton of angst. death of wonwoo, who is joshua's brother, in the past (not graphic), smut warnings: mentions of masturbation, vaginal penetration, nipple play. alcohol and heartbreak. wonwoo is gay. reader has some body image issues, some descriptions of a midsize body and insecurities related to that.

a/n: i poured my heart and soul into this. took me over two months to complete. i hope you enjoy this!

p.s. there are lyrics from ten songs in this fic. i hope you can find the songs! else, i can link them later if you can't find out or guess them. i'd recommend listening to them while reading their particular parts, really sets the mood.

i. 

알잖아 우리 사이엔 말보다 더 중요한 게 있잖아 

“You know, there are more important things between us than words”

As soon as the doors open, everyone gasps in awe, looking at you with adoration, jealousy, and sentiment all at the same time. The numerous cameras flash, there are audible gasps spreading across the room, the Choir instantly starts playing the traditional music played at a wedding. The room is decked up in pink and white roses, your favourite, and there are beautiful lights decorating the entire room. The glistening white sparkles off the floor, the walls, the tiles and the decor. Your parents already have their eyes moist; your friends are smiling widely, as they stand with their bouquets ready as the bridesmaids. The entire room beams with the joy of the wedding of the century. 

And yet, he, whose attention you seek, does not even flick an eyelash. His deer eyes remain curved upward in what you know is a fake smile of endearment, his lips pursed in a false look of affection. You know he does for the cameras, he knows you know it too. You feel he doesn’t really want to be here, he knows you feel it too. You hadn’t expected him to really want this, and yet your heart had hoped against hope. But he had not proved you wrong. 

Prince Joshua wants to be anywhere but here. 

Prince Joshua wants to be with anyone but you. 

Prince Joshua wants to do anything but this farce. 

The Choir starts a new song, indicating that it is time for you to step forward towards the altar, where the priest is waiting for you. Your to-be husband is waiting for you. As your heart aches, you make your way towards him, your eyes avoiding his at all costs, while his remain fixed on you. He’s searching for something. An equal apathy towards this wedding? An equal irritation towards the partner? Any hope that you’d call this event off right now and free him for the torture? Last night you had almost been tempted to do so, thinking that at least now he would not treat you as poorly as he had been treating you for the last five months. But you know too well, you cannot give him that satisfaction. 

You’re too in your head through the rituals, hardly paying attention to what vows he makes, barely caring about the reactions of the audience, not even listening to the priest’s statements. You were spiralling, trying to avoid his gaze which was fixated on you. 

Oh god, can we get over this fast?

“Do you, Joshua Hong Jisoo, take Kim Y/N as your duly wedded wife?” 

Is this even a question? This interviewer in my dream gets dumber and dumber. Obviously, it’s a-

“Yes.”

You’re quickly snapped into focus when the answer makes you realise this is not a dream. The priest now asks you, “And do you, Kim Y/N, take Joshua Hong Jisoo as your duly wedded husband?”

This is the moment. You breathe in, breathe out. It’s a millisecond to disaster. 

“Yes, I do.”

_

Joshua had not foreseen this moment five months ago when he had been called back to his country at midnight, after an emergency call from his mother. Brain dulled with grief, thoughts about you had definitely crossed his mind, but not in this way. He had only thought of how you must be coping up with the news, given that you had been next to Wonwoo when the accident had taken his life. He wondered, if it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his body for him, how much worse was it for you. On returning to the palace, he had seen your lifeless face, staring at the night sky, a look he had never seen on your otherwise bright face. 

Living away from his family for the past 7 years meant he was not feeling the grief as actively as his parents and you, who had spent much more time with Wonwoo these few years. He knew he would have to comfort his family, but he had no idea how. How could one comfort a mother of the loss of her youngest son? How could one comfort a father from the death of the apple of his eye? How could one comfort a woman who had just lost her dearest best friend and fiance?

To any other royal offspring, these would seem the most worrisome responsibilities. However, to Joshua, who had willingly given up his throne to his younger brother, who, he was confident, would be able to rule much better, the thought of becoming the Crown Prince was the most daunting. When he had turned sixteen, his father had asked him whether he wanted to become the Crown Prince. Almost immediately he had said no, convincing him to let Wonwoo take the lead. At the age of nineteen, when Wonwoo had come of age to become the Crown Prince, Joshua had left for the States to continue his education. At the age of twenty-two, when he had returned to his homeland for a 6 months break, the longest since leaving for the States, he had realised how good his decision had been to let Wonwoo take over. Wonwoo had both skill and the youthful spirit the people of the kingdom needed. His calmer and smarter personality meant he could shoulder the responsibilities better than Joshua ever felt he could. Plus, Wonwoo was a crowd favourite, being the maknae of the Royal Family, and yet the smartest of the lot, as his parents and elder brother had tagged him affectionately. 

The public had, of course, not taken Wonwoo’s death well. They had been incredibly supportive of Wonwoo becoming the Crown Prince over Joshua (their polls on social media had been another reason Joshua had left) but now it was just augmented as the general image for Joshua was that of the Prince who had Fled. Princes had to be strong, mentally and physically. Careful, enigmatic, and visionary, like Wonwoo. Not deer-eyed, delicate, and cowardly, like Joshua.

Why should we trust anyone who ran away from his duties of being the eldest, to rule us well?

Indeed, the modern Royal Family had stepped past the norms of age hierarchy, but the mathyung usually took up the reins of royal duty. Instead, Joshua had effectively fled from his duties, not just stepped down and aside. He had been away from his country for a solid 7 years, how would he ever know what the people needed? They strongly protested against Joshua becoming the Crown Prince now, but there were no other progeny left to take up the responsibility.

Needless to say, the entire country was mourning the loss of Wonwoo desperately, albeit for different reasons.  

Joshua had soon realised that he had no time to grieve. As soon as the funeral was over, he had to get to work. But how would he survive in this earthquake shaking up his life? 

The first step was getting up-to-date with everything that had happened in the country when he was away. Some of it, he knew. Learning the rest was not a tough task. After dropping out of the PhD program he was pursuing in the USA, he had ample free time in his hand to learn every new fact his advisors fed him. 

The second step was understanding how royalty worked. Having stepped down from his duties as a teenager meant he had never received training per se. He had to relearn traditional etiquette he had forgotten, familiarise himself with the advisors and royal support system, and thoroughly practise his new duties.

The third step, of course, was making himself popular and loved among the public. The PR team had come up with a long list of actions he should consider to improve his public image. His parents had rejected many of them as unnecessary, and said, "There's only one thing to be done. Marry Y/N."

Joshua had looked at his own parents incredulously. How could they suggest such a step? 

When you all were children, he had considered you nothing more than a playmate. An interesting woman, intelligent, witty and warm, a rare combination, he had realised, as he had made acquaintances with more and more people. Of course, you were always closer to Wonwoo. Joshua had known you would end up marrying each other. Everyone had already planned out your wedding with Wonwoo before you had even turned thirteen. Hence your engagement with the Crown Prince last year, had come as no shock to anyone. 

Over the years he had come to consider you as a friend. One he met only during summer breaks, always by the side of his little brother. Lately, he had tried to think of you as a sister-in-law. It was funny that he hadn't thought of you as that sooner. He had anticipated the engagement anyway. 

"I'm sorry, that's not a possibility I want to consider."

"Why?" Your father had asked you.

"She's my sister-in-law. My little brother's intended. This would be the worst way to take his place."

"Jisoo-"

"No. If you want me to marry someone, I'll be ready for whoever you choose fit. Just not Y/N."

And yet here he was. Swearing his wedding vows to you. Destiny had really done him dirty.

_

If you had thought the wedding was a trial, the wedding ball was like the guillotine. Under the attention of at least three million people and a million more cameras, your cheekbones ached from putting up the fake smile. Joshua was nearly always at your side, making small talk with the numerous people who had come to wish you congratulations, ranging from the common people to the elite crowds. His body was inexplicably close to yours, but never touching. You could smell his perfume, but never hear his breathing. You could see his smiles, but never feel the warmth. 

You knew why he was marrying you. The country needed a royal leader who knew them and related with them. Joshua was a westernised man, who forgot to bow on most occasions, forgot to speak formally sometimes, forgot even the most difficult letters of the Hangul script sometimes. You were the perfect mix to satisfy that gap- the daughter of the royal counsel, not even the offspring of a royal clan, educated in Hangul history by your own choice, and a close friend of the Princes. You were well aware that your engagement with Wonwoo had been immensely popular- the result being that you had already become the official face and honorary member for many societies and organisations of the kingdom. 

And now that Wonwoo was gone, but obviously, you had been requested by the King and the Queen to marry Joshua. 

And you had taken it in your stride. It was another responsibility for you to fulfil towards your people, who you had become quite affectionate towards since becoming the Crown Prince's fiance; towards your parents, who had dreamt of you becoming Princess since you had developed a friendship with the young Prince; and towards Wonwoo, who you knew had wanted this match since your first Spring Dance, when both of you had guessed each other's secrets a little too accurately. 

You knew Joshua would never love you. And frankly speaking, you hadn’t expected love in this kind of setup. Even when agreeing to marry Wonwoo, you had zero romantic feelings for him, only seeing him as your best friend. And when your best friend asks you to rule the kingdom at his side, to be his companion in the tough times, to be his closest person forever, how could you ever say no?

And so, you had agreed to this arrangement with Joshua. You had imagined that he would be equally practical as you, and see this as a familial duty he had to complete. You had imagined he would at least be courteous, friendly and civil with you.

But you were, oh, so wrong. He had been anything but civil with you these five odd months. 

_

If the wedding had been disappointing, then the dance after the wedding was … just sad. As Joshua stepped closer to you, his aura radiating with the white suit he had donned for this day, he could feel your breath heavy on your face. Free from the burden of conversation (usually, ladies would keep pestering him with questions and sad, unsuccessful, forceful attempts at flirting with him). He remembered hearing from the dressmaker how you had fussed about each detail of the dress, but Joshua had no doubt, every version would’ve looked good on you. And all that fuss had definitely paid off: the sweetheart neckline showed off your collarbones beautifully. Your neck was empty save one diamond pendant (which the royal family had gifted to you on your eighteenth birthday, how sweet of you to wear this memory on this special day). There were tiny flowers in your hair, bright yellows against the dark brown. Then there were your cherry lips-

“Joshua.” He sees those lips mould themselves into his name first, and then hears them (light did travel faster than sound). “Hmm?” He whispers back, his voice gravelly from the fake laughs he had to laugh through the day. “I think I just… sprained my ankle.”

It doesn’t register in his mind at first. 

A millisecond later, you’re suddenly tripping and wincing, and it hits him. His first instinct is to pick you up in his arms and take you away from the room, afraid that if you have to walk your injury may worsen. His second instinct is to signal to your aide from the corner of the huge hall. His third instinct is to drop the hand from your shoulder and call out loudly for help. 

But he follows his first instinct. Picks you up, in the bridal style the audience had been waiting to see all day. There are swoons and gasps all around, but the most surprising reaction is from you. He half expects you to thrash him, or even screech out. But you only gasp and quickly start saying something, in a low tone that he can’t properly catch, so heavy- why’re you doing this- Joshua- put me down- I’m okay- just- ugh!- argh!- Joshua please. He tunes your voice out, breathy and desperate. He tunes out the noises in the hall. He tunes out his assistants and bodyguard stepping closer to you both, trying to understand the emergency. He just focuses on you. 

Your mouth spelling out different words, your eyes widening in surprise, your cheeks becoming red with embarrassment. The way you keep protesting and yet your hands clutch his shoulders. The way your dress rides up to reveal the culprit ankle. The way your hair moves when he walks towards the door, and straight up the stairs, time passing painfully fast, and yet slow enough for him to truly feel close to you for the first time, on this day which is meant to be so special to both of you. 

But when he reaches your room, he gently brings you down to the floor, your aide already by his side. “What has happened, Your Highness?” “Y/N seems to have sprained her ankle,” Joshua says as he leans you against the sofa, carefully stepping back, allowing your maids to gather around you like fireflies. 

“I just… I don’t usually wear such high heels… I’m not used to them. So while I was dancing-” He can see your face flush, your eyes blinking rapidly, gulping after every word, and avoiding his eye. He almost smiles endearingly, at your little movements. But he dares not, lest you think he’s mocking you. 

“You don’t have to explain Y/N. It’s natural. Jiyoung, please do not let the Royal Princess wear high heels again,” he addresses your aide. 

“Can you speak to the guests? I’ll be down as soon as possible, Joshua.”

“Y/N, can you not fret? Come down when you can. And I’d honestly feel better if you didn’t come down, and instead took rest. It’s anyway been a long day for you.” 

And he leaves the room, his long suit flowing behind him, as he puts on his best smile for the worried guests waiting downstairs, ignoring the immense urge to go back to your room, remove those bloody heels and take your delicate foot in his hands, to see exactly what was paining you. 

_

To say that you were surprised would be an understatement. Uneasy. Skittish. Shocked. Your heart pounding in your chest. The absence of the warmth of his touch. The ghost of concern in his eyes when he had carried you through the hall. 

Oh, how shameful. 

As a woman of public presence, you had never cared about your image, nor your appearance. You knew the rumours about your weight, how your broad shoulders were just like Wonwoo, just like any man, how your hips looked like you’d given birth three times over, how you were utterly unfitting for the beauty standards of the kingdom. But you could care less about these statements- you simply had no time for beauty, and no value for looks. 

And yet when Joshua had picked you up, quite effortlessly, if you may add, your heart had skipped a beat, your brain a neuron, and all you could think of was how embarrassing it was. How he must be regretting this grand gesture as soon as he realised just how heavy you were, how he was doing this all under public scrutiny just to keep the audience happy, how he must be feeling burdened with the thoughts of handling the party alone. Your guilt had just driven your embarrassment to greater heights, until you were speechless and unable to do anything. You had searched for any sign of discomfort, irritation, or regret on his face, but they had completely disappeared- in fact, those had been all the emotions you had seen in the last few months, but at that moment, Joshua seemed like a different man. Could it be… no. You wouldn’t let your foolish heart take flight again, like the thirteen year old you would have. 

Sadly, Joshua was right. Your ankle felt better after the medic had checked it and given you a painkiller, but there was no escaping the dull lull of sleep clenching on to your eyes as soon as those awful shoes were off and the tight gown had been relaxed on your body to make you comfortable. It had truly been a long day, and your brain was on overdrive with all the overwhelming events of the day. Too many thoughts confusing you.

Will he be disappointed in me? I can’t consummate the marriage. Does he think I balked on him today? For all he knows, I might as well have feigned the injury to cling on to him like a desperate woman, or worse, run off from the party organised in our honour. Did he think I was pretty today? What will the public think about me now that I’ve run away from my own wedding party? Wedding… you’re married to Joshua Hong now… for good. But would he ever consider you his wife?

To avoid the thoughts from spiraling into worse demons, you let yourself fall into the easy trap of sleep. 

_

ii. 

당신이 그리워하는 것은 그대일까? (그대일까?)

아니면 미화된 기억 저편의 그때일까? (그대일까?)

“Is it you that you miss? (Is it you?)

Or is it that time on the other side of the glorified memory? (Is it you?)”

That night, Joshua Hong could think of no one but you. Tired, and yet, sleep eluded him. You had sent no word of feeling better, obviously annoyed that he had encroached upon your private space like that by picking you up- oh god, what had he been thinking- and he had felt too shy to visit you to take news about your well being. But oh, when he paced about in his room, all he could think of was how beautiful you had looked today. Although your eyes were sad, with the burden of the wedding, and your body weak, with the worry and tires of royal life, and your heart aching, with your best friend, and quite probably your lover, gone and replaced way too soon by an unwanted man… you were still just as beautiful as the first time he had met you. 

That was what he dreamt of that night. 

You were wearing a yellow skirt, which had twirled in the wind like a sunflower standing tall in a windy field. The day had been gloomy, but your presence had lit it up. He was all but fourteen years old, and you were just eleven. But just your smile had been enough to teach him what infatuation was. 

And then, what jealousy was. When he saw you spend more time with Wonwoo, being closer in age to him and sharing more interests with him.

And then, what longing was. When all he saw of you were brief glimpses in the corridors as you would play hide and seek with his brother. When all he heard of you were hums of your laughter when you would beat Wonwoo in a video game, teaching him the tricks of winning battleship wars. When all he wanted was to speak to you, address this funny feeling in his chest whenever he saw you, but you never gave him a moment to continue the conversation from greetings. Always too eager to leave, always too shy to make eye contact. 

But soon he had gotten over the crush- his puberty had settled in now, he was no longer troubled by rushed infatuations over younger girls. He had decided to focus on studies, having already made up his mind to abdicate the throne. He would meet you from time to time, generally accompanied by Wonwoo, as you were his best friend now, and sometimes by Mingyu, your twin brother and Wonwoo’s classmate. 

You were also growing fast- into a more serious lady. Gone were the giggles, they were replaced by crescent-eyed grins and shy, mature smiles. Objectively, he found you very attractive. But your closeness with Wonwoo had made it obvious to him that your heart belonged to his younger brother, and gently he had started seeing you as a friend. It was a status he was happy with for he knew you were the best for Wonwoo. And he had himself moved on. Once he had blossomed into adolescence, there was no end of women and men waiting for him to give them some attention. Although he hadn't given up on true love, a couple of one-night adventures would harm none. Especially when he was in the States. No one to stop him, no one to shit-talk about him. A stone gathering no moss, wary of a fire to melt the core.

Until he had returned and seen you.

_

It was well past midday when you woke up. You felt really refreshed, and were on the verge of breaking into a happy mood, when you realise exactly what day it was. 

The morning after your wedding. Your wedding day. Gosh. All the memories of last evening came flooding by, and you put your hands to your face in embarrassment.

“Y/N-ah!” followed by a loud thumping. 

You hear your twin brother, Mingyu’s voice from the other side of the doors, probably waiting for you to wake up and respond, or break down the door himself. So you call back, “Yeah, I’m awake!” The door opens swiftly, and your giant brother walks in with the weirdest look on his face. It’s a mix of worry, happiness, pride, and teasing. You can read him like a book, ugh. 

“About time, my loveliest sister. Everyone’s looking for you. Quite the drama you can stir up huh? Who knew you had it in you?” He sits by you, and smiles fondly, knowing very well how his words are burning you. “I know, I’m sorry for the mess.” He reaches out, holding your arm as you sit up in bed. “Hey, there’s no need to be sorry. How are you feeling?”

“Hmm, better I think. Let me try and move my leg.” And you gently kick him, taking him by surprise as he falls out of the bed. You laugh even harder at the look on his face. “Yaah! Aren’t you supposed to be injured?!” “It must not be serious, I can actually move it well now. Should I practice once more?” “Yaaah, Kim Y/N! If you’re going to take advantage of being the royal princess by KICKING ME, I’m going to take you to court!” “Now aren’t you taking advantage of being the royal counsel?” And you both are laughing fondly. It’s truly been a moment since you last sat with Mingyu, carefree like this. You only realise now how heavy the burden of the wedding was. 

But it’s certainly not the end of the burden. This is going to go on for a long time now. Forever, if you’re fortunate. 

A small face peeks at the open door, and you instinctively wrap the blanket around your body to hide yourself. It’s been a shy habit since childhood, avoidance and displeasure in sudden interactions, but when you see the face belongs to your fian- husband, Joshua, you nod at him, asking him to come in. And he looks as immaculate as ever. Hair brushed back, your wedding ring on his finger, his dapper brooch shining against the black suit he’s wearing. Mingyu breaks the ice, “And why are you so dressed up early in the morning, Hyung?” “Simply because he can,” you whisper to him, and you both giggle. Your faces are mirror images of each other, when you realise Joshua couldn’t hear what you had whispered and hence had a puzzled look in his eyes. “I- I’ve a meeting with the council in, like, 15 minutes. And it’s not early in the morning. It’s already noon.” “Noon is a fine time to be in bedclothes, Hyung, in case you didn’t know,” and Mingyu waves a goodbye to you as he leaves you both alone, winking at the other man in the room. 

And then there’s a silence. 

It’s not even a pause. It’s like a semibreve rest, which is stretched bar onto bar using more tied rests. 

And then there’s a disharmonious note clanging through the silence. 

“How’s your leg?”

“Hmmm, better. Thank you.”

“Huh? Thanking me for what?”

You chuckle. “For asking, I guess. But I mean, more generally. Thanks for letting me rest yesterday and handle the event.”

“Yeah I couldn’t let your injury worsen, could I? That wouldn’t be very… husband-like of me.” He makes brief eye contact when saying the h-word, but breaks it immediately, frisking about in the room. You bite your lip. It’s exactly like you thought. He had done it for the cameras.

“Is there anything else…”

“Oh yeah. Just - no rush, obviously,” he explains in the warmest tone ever, his eyes wide, “But the council is asking me about coronation dates.”

“Coronation?”

“Yeah, as the Royal Prince and the Princess.”

“Oh.”

“I understand it’s too soon since Wonwoo-”

“No it’s okay. We should get it over with. Whenever the council suggests, I’m cool with it.”

“Okay then.”

“Umm, also Joshua?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

Can you give me a peck on my forehead?

“Can there be a way to make up to you for the hassle you bore for me last evening? I’m really embarrassed and ashamed.”

He smiles, so smug and aware of how nervous you are. “No, Y/N. I didn’t do a favour on you. It was what my- my brain asked me to do.”

And he leaves, almost immediately, without giving you a chance to breathe out his scent that lingers so longingly in the room. 

_

iii. 

“You're my paradise, my own paradise

Everytime I look into those angel eyes”

You clearly remembered your first day of middle school. You had joined a new school, an elite school by all means. Your classmates were all nobility and you felt out of place among such crowds, considering how your mother had only recently been promoted to the position of the assistant to the royal counsel. But a stroke of luck ensured that your first day in the new school went off better than you could have ever dreamt of. Because you had met Jeon Wonwoo, the maknae prince, and he was the boy assigned to sit on the bench alongside yours. And although you were too shy to speak to him, he had extended the hand of friendship by lending you a pencil in the second class of the day. 

And then sharing your lunch with you. You two were the only ones sitting alone in the canteen, while the rest had all begun mingling in groups. You had asked if he was unwell. He had said that this wasn’t uncommon, he preferred to eat alone. You had joked about the girls who were sending him looks from the other table and were giggling endlessly. He had smirked, saying he knew it already. You were scandalised, how could he ignore them and let them suffer in this illusion? He smiled, saying he enjoyed the attention. You had asked why he didn’t initiate any conversation with them or even friendzone them. He had simply said, they’re too silly for my time. I can’t talk about nails and hair and dresses. I don’t even know the difference between light purple and dark purple, for god’s sake. And you had laughed out loud, finding your first common dislike for pick-me teenage girls whose conversations centered about appearances and crushes. 

That was the first of your many common dislikes, to be honest. And that was how you had become the best of friends, since then. 

Wonwoo had been by your side throughout, as had you been for him. And although everyone thought your relationship was more than friendship, you both knew very well that you were the best of friends and nothing more, without any regrets or disappointments. For Wonwoo had been, surprisingly, madly, crazily in love with your twin brother, Mingyu. 

You knew Mingyu was oblivious as hell. You also knew that Wonwoo preferred it to remain that way, finding security in secrecy. Even you had found out by accident, but of course how did he think he could ever hide it from you. 

You had gotten drunk for the first time at the age of sixteen, the night when his father had informed him that he had to start training for becoming the Crown Prince. “Y/N, I’m already tired of this.” “Hmm, I guess I do understand why your brother stepped out.” “I know right! The responsibility far outweighs any privileges that I can get!” 

You had laughed at his indignant words, “Yaah, what else do you want?” “Y/N-ah, are material pleasures the only thing one can desire?” “It's what most people desire, Wonwoo. There are very few other things that can make a human happy.” “Such as?” “Love. Family. Friendship,” and you had squeezed his warm hand, showing that you were there for him. “I already have most of that.” “And you’ll find love as well.” 

There was a pregnant pause. 

“I have. For a long time now.”

You thought you’d become sober with the kind of shock this information sent to your brain. You jumped up in excitement, and squealed, “Who?!” He had smiled widely at your excitement, pushing up his glasses. 

“I can’t tell you.” 

“Ayy. Don’t be shy now.” “Nope. You cannot-” “Wonwoo!!!!! Don’t be such a spoilsport! I’ll kick your ass if you don’t tell me. We had sworn, no secrets!” He smirked, “Yes of course! The day I discovered your diary entries about hyung-” “Shh! Enough of me!” “Why are you embarrassed now?” “Because that was so long in the past. But your love- it’s in the present. We have to cultivate it.” “Jeez, Y/N. It’s not a crop.” “It is, you dimwit. Now tell me,” you shook his shoulders, borderline violent with curiosity. 

But then there was a change in mood. Wonwoo began biting his lower lip, a telltale sign of embarrassment. “You don’t have to worry, hey. I’m your best friend. I’m never going to tell a soul. Not even my brother!”

He had stared at you as if you had said something wrong. 

“How do you know?”

“Huh?” 

It took three seconds for you to join the dots. But of course! How could you be so blind!

“You like Mingyu?” 

Wonwoo’s face swelled up in bright red, he turned his entire body away from you. Finding his reaction endearing, you hugged him from the back. “Hey. It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.”

He still didn’t turn back. “I- I like a boy.” 

“Wonwoo! That’s hardly something to be embarrassed about.”

“I can never tell my parents. Hell, I can’t even tell Mingyu. He’s straight as fuck.” You could hear his breath getting labored in his agitation. He swiftly turned around and clasped your hands. “Y/N. Promise me you’ll never tell him. Please.” 

And you had promised him. With complete sincerity. 

You have seen Mingyu cry plenty of times. When a dog had scratched his knee (he had only tried to play with it). When he had lost his passport (but found it again three minutes later). When you had slapped him for breaking your guitar (you had torn the love letters he had received on Valentine’s Day for he was acting too smug about them). 

But today, there are no tears in his eyes, when he prays for Wonwoo at his funeral. Just a blank face and lifeless eyes, which you know to be hiding so much. Wonwoo’s death had affected Mingyu a lot, albeit not as much as you, but Wonwoo had still been the closest he had to a friend of his own age, when he had been introduced into the world of nobility just like you. Since then, you had seen Mingyu become distracted, drinking alone in the house after midnight, avoiding any gatherings, and delved deep into his work. And today, even when the world perceives him as unaffected and heartless, you know just how broken he feels, by the paleness in his eyes and the weak shaking of his fingers. 

On your other side is Joshua. He, like Mingyu, is also stoic, but you can hear his muffled sniffles. He’s softer than both Mingyu and Wonwoo, and you’re surprised he can hold back his grief. But you guess he has to, considering his completely broken down parents standing in front of him. They seem to lose all control over their feelings as they cry and pray for their son’s peaceful afterlife. 

You’re also crying. Joshua knows you are, and he’s looking at you more than once in a minute. One time, you look back at him, and he immediately puts his hand in yours. You don’t question the sudden gesture of affection, you don’t care enough about it. All you care about is the illusion your heart keeps feeding your brain that you’re not alone even if Wonwoo’s gone. You hold on Joshua’s pinky finger for dear life, and let the tears roll down your cheeks, whispering mumbled prayers as the priests keep on talking. 

_

“It’s so nice to see you after years.” Joshua smiles at your words, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he drinks in the warmth of your presence. It feels so good to be around familiar people in this now unfamiliar world, where everyone seemed to be accusing him for something or the other. 

“Likewise, Y/N. How are you holding up?” He is indicating to your life after Wonwoo’s passing away. “Just about. Your parents want me to go to therapy,” you chuckle, but he thinks his parents aren’t saying the wrong thing. “You should, though. You were his literal best friend and fiance. If anyone needs support, it's you.” “It’s okay. If I really felt that weak, I would’ve taken the support, trust me. But I don’t. I don’t know… maybe because it’s Wonwoo? I feel like… even if he’s not with me, he’ll always be with me.” “Yeah, he does have that, doesn’t he? The little hand on your back all the time. It feels like that to me too.” “Then you understand.” 

And there had been silence. Until you had addressed the elephant in the room. 

“I’ve accepted the King’s proposal. I think it’s only fair for him to request me to marry you.”

He stumbles, trips and almost falls. Then he pauses on the walk, and looks at you. “Y/N. I think he’s being cruel, and you can honestly tell me if you feel so too. You don’t have to worry about your brother’s position-”

“Oh no!” You smile, a weak smile that doesn’t reach your cheekbones. “I don’t worry about Mingyu. I know he’ll survive in the system even if I’m kicked out. I was anyway thinking it’s high time I got kicked out, though. I have no use here anyway. I guess being your wife can be the only reason I stay in.”

You say the words so casually, his fingers burn with electricity. He can’t fathom why you’re so relaxed about it. But you read his mind, “Joshua. I’ve never really… looked for love. So it’s okay if this marriage is loveless. But I do care about Wonwoo. Sorry… did care about Wonwoo. And I think he would want me to support you in any way I can to help you settle down in this new responsibility that’s been dumped on you.”

“Y/N. Please, you don’t have to be so understanding.”

“Joshua, all I’m saying is that I’m okay with whatever arrangement this becomes. If you have qualms, I totally get that. You may not be ready for marriage- or,” he notices the slight change in pitch, “you may like someone else. If that is the case, you can tell me honestly and I’ll step back. I’m not a golddigger,” you laugh, quite sarcastic and bitter though. 

“Y/N, are you sure about this?”

“I am.”

“I’m not, but I’m willing to do it.”

And then you extend your hand to him, and he doesn’t know what to do. Are you asking him to hold your pretty fingers? Or admire the gold bracelet adorning your lithe wrist? Or-

“God, Joshua. You won’t even shake hands with me?”

He doesn’t know why his heart falls. He shakes hands with you, and laughs about his error, before you divert the topic into other matters. He’s so unfocused, mind going back to how soft your hand had felt in yours. 

Your hand feels rougher. Almost as if it’s been burnt at the edges. You have been burnt, though, Joshua thinks, as he looks at your eyes, glimmering with tears shed and unshed, your parted lips, bursting with words said and unsaid, and your face pale with sadness. 

To keep himself distracted, he thinks about why your hand feels more rough. Hurt by the worries of the royal family you’ve been forced in? Uncared for in this palace which is not your home? Calloused with the scars of this burdensome relationship? He doesn’t know why there’s an increasing urge in his heart to try and change all of that, all to see you smile widely again. But it’s too daunting of a task, and Joshua is a coward. 

_

Days pass by quickly. Before you realise, you’ve been married for a month and you’re making your first public presence since that disastrous evening of your wedding. Public presence as a couple. It’s at a conference with leaders of neighbouring countries, where Joshua is expected to speak politics and economics and you’re expected to socialise with the women. But that’s hardly what happens. 

In preparation for this event, you two had met a couple of times in the last week. Your schedules never clashed, so you hardly met each other, but this time, you had made time to meet him. 

“Joshua, I’m not going to that conference to be a flower vase decorating you.”

He had been in the middle of a serious conversation with his secretary, but he signalled everyone out of the room as soon as he realised your mood was off after receiving the invitation to the conference. “No, you’re the Princess. You’re not going to be decorating me.” “I hope so. Joshua, I don’t mingle in your public affairs much, and I stick to the duties I’ve taken up, but I don’t want to be a trophy you carry around. I’m not fit for a trophy anyway-” he coughs, but you continue, “but most importantly, I’m a human with a brain. I need to be able to speak if I feel I want to speak.”

“And you shall. What’s gotten you so worked up?”

You falter for a second, not expecting him to yield so easily. You had expected him to put up a bit of a tantrum, exercising his authority as a Prince, but he seemed genuinely confused with your outburst. 

“I don’t know… nothing, I guess. It’s just that. Historically, our royal ladies haven’t spoken at public forums too much. I don’t want to be like that.”

“I don’t think you could ever be like that, Y/N. Even if God had pledged you to be so. You’re too intelligent to stay shut.”

He leans on his desk, and you take in a breath to see him. He’s looking marvellous. Although it’s late at night and you’re already exhausted and in your pyjamas, he seems to be still working, wearing semi-formal slacks and a shirt. Your breath hitches at the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, but he interrupts your thoughts. 

“I’ve actually been meaning to speak to you for a while.”

“About?”

“About… this. Like…” you can sense his hesitation, and you drop the arms you had folded to make him feel more relaxed. 

“The PR team is asking me to hold your hand… or things like that when we’re in public. To show we’re a newly wedded couple in love.”

“I’m sure the entire world knows that we’re not in love. I’m not some despo who’s in love with Wonwoo one day, and the next day, in love with you.” You almost miss the little wince he makes when you complete your sentence. “But if they ask us to be affectionate, I suppose we-”

“No. I don’t think either of us would be comfortable with it.”

“You’re right. I think holding hands would be the maximum we can go to.” Your voice is steeling up, your heart frozen. He nods in agreement. You say, “Goodnight then, Joshua. Sleep early. You look tired, I’ll ask them to get you some tea?”

“Coffee?” he whines, almost making you smile. “No, tea.” And you leave the room without further words.

_

Joshua can’t, in fact, wait for the day of the conference. He’s been trying to find excuses to meet you, see you, and talk to you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. It’s just like it used to be back then, seeing you in the corridors, sometimes in the gardens, meeting each other only once in a week. It seems nothing like a marriage to him, but it certainly feels more intimate than anything he’s ever done. Any sex he’s had. Any relationship he’s had. Anything. Because his face burns up simply from your presence in his vicinity. His heart pumps when you call out his name. His fingers tremble after any accidental touch between the two of you. It’s foolish, giddy, and distracting. It’s a crush, he thinks. It feels just like he was fourteen, and he would have feverish dreams of playing with your hair, wondering what you smelled like, wishing to hug you and feel your soft curves melt into him. He knows you’re an adult now, and yet the sensations in his heart are so soft and innocent that he’s taken aback himself. 

But all of that changes when he sees you in the black dress you’ve donned for the evening, as he comes to your room to ask if you’re ready to leave. You’re wearing pearls, matching the thin pearl necklace he has worn, and your wedding ring shines on your fingers. He wonders how you look just like paradise without any makeup or any fakeness. 

Shit. He has to spend the entire evening with you. He’s doomed.

_

If anyone thinks they’re doomed, it’s you. You think about it when Joshua walks into your chambers wearing a black turtleneck under a charcoal grey suit, and you wonder why you’ve not burnt up in flames yet. His outfit is so contrasting to his smile, which lilts into his beautiful deer eyes that you so loved to dream about as a teen. His bangs are off his forehead, and when he speaks you notice his lips more than what he’s actually saying. 

It doesn’t help that you both sit in the backseat, quite close to each other, on the ride to the venue. 

It doesn’t help when you hear him rolling out words in English, in the sexiest accent you have ever heard. 

It doesn’t help when he walks up on stage as the Guest of Honour to deliver his speech, looking like the man of the moment, and you can’t help the feeling of giddy pride bubbling into you. Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s you scorning the ladies ogling his beautiful figure on stage (he’s your husband, you think, not theirs). Maybe it’s you simply proud that he’s getting the attention he deserves. 

He’s finishing his speech, partly in English, partly in Korean. You can see the media personnel immediately raise their hands for questions. And then you feel your blood boil as each question pours in one-by-one. 

“Why does your country still have a monarchy in place? Don’t you think the lack of a democratic system is unfair to your people?”

“What steps are you taking to fill in the gap left behind by your younger brother, especially when you’re unfamiliar with your people now?”

“Do you plan on making Korea the next America? What will you do as the modern leader of the kingdom?”

They’re so intrusive, but Joshua has the sweetest and most patient smile on his face. “I’ll take your questions one by one, thank you.”

“Firstly, I think that there needs to be a clear understanding of what our governance looks like. We’ve held on to traditions and kept the monarchy intact, but what has become quite obvious, honestly, is that our government is not ruled by the king, but by what the people say. That is because all councils are elected into power, all the members of the governing body apart from the royal family are representatives of the people.”

Someone has the audacity to interrupt him, “But your country has the highest proportion of rich nobility controlling so many resources-”

“Please do not break me off mid-sentence. I’ll be patient and hear what you all have to say. That’s why I’m here, ain’t I?” That earns a soft laugh from the audience and shuts up the reporter. 

“I understand your concerns, but the statistics are incorrect. Every economy, every nation has a few members of the society who are powerful and have control over resources. It’s quite an open secret. Due to our transparency you know who they are in our country. In other countries, it’s quite often disguised in the form of benevolent capitalists and social change mongering politicians.” Another laugh from the audience. His sarcasm doesn’t go unappreciated. 

“But yes, it’s necessary to modernise Korea. I’ll simply be following in the footsteps of my younger brother, who understood the country so well. Apart from his contributions, I have so many programs lined up too. You’ll see them unfurling soon, I request you to be patient enough and allow me to find my footing. Anyway, I have my elected representatives and council members to help me in every step, and my wife’s opinions to guide my thoughts.” He pauses, and suddenly, you feel a blush rising up your cheeks as you feel the spotlight has shifted towards you. But your eyes are still on him, as he smiles the most dazzling smile, and you’re blinded. 

With the smile of course, not by the sudden adoration you feel surging in your heart. 

His wife. It’s not real, your brain overrides any silly loops of emotions your heart is riding in. It’s all for the show. Oh, but it feels so real. It feels so good. It’s all for the cameras. 

And then there is applause and the spotlights are out, and you’re back to reality. You bite your lip to hold back the tears. 

_

iv. 

한편의 명작, 하나의 실루엣

우리의 그림은 익어가 빨갛게

“One masterpiece, one silhouette

Our paintings are ripe and red”

Joshua Hong feels dirty and disgusted. He has been nothing but a pervert this past week, and he has no one except himself to blame for it. He wants to flip over and die and repeat that for a million times, but nothing can stop the thoughts that wander into his brain every night, after he finally finishes work. Thoughts in the shower. Thoughts while walking in the gardens. Thoughts while eating ice cream as a late night snack. Thoughts while lying down in his bed. 

Thoughts about you. 

He wanted to avoid them, he really did. He knew you didn’t want him. Not in that way, certainly. You had made that clear to him, ample number of times. And yet, he found himself wanting you. Was it the lack of sex and increased stress these last six months? Or was it that night in the conference that had triggered it all off?

That night, when he said it aloud for the first time you were his wife. He felt so proud, looking at you from the stage, as you sat so elegantly, so much more beautiful than any other woman in the room, hell, more beautiful than any other woman he had met. That night, something had changed, he felt, or maybe it was a figment of his imagination. He had felt you grazing his arms with your fingers more often, on the excuse of calling his attention. He had felt you staring at him for seconds longer than usual. He had felt you speaking to him more comfortably all evening. And he had felt like a teenage boy, almost like taking out his crush to his first prom. He had been so excited to fill up your plate with food during dinner, and had loved it when you had conversed with all the dignitaries at the conference, using the smartest and most technical terms ever. He could’ve honestly, orgasmed right there. 

And that had really triggered something off in him. That night, he had put his hands between his legs for the first time in months, and jerked himself off in his shower, thinking of your voice, your little movements and your incredible smartness. It wasn’t even physical, it was metaphysical, as he explained to himself the next morning, when the guilt hit him hard. It was a one-time thing, it won’t happen again, he had reasoned. 

But god, even the heavens didn’t want him to keep his promise.

The next morning, he was called to your room on an ‘emergency’. Turned out, it was a new plan for the dams that you had thought up that night. And you had opted to explain that technology to him wearing a night suit that left nothing to his imagination. Just one thin strap had to slip off and his dirty curiosity would be satisfied forever. Jeez, Joshua Hong. Get a grip on yourself. This is your brother’s lover, she doesn’t even like you back. 

But could any rational thought help him when all he could do was stare at your smooth arms and neck, revealed perfectly by the spaghetti tank top, and your thighs which were so beautiful he could-

“Joshua. Are you awake enough to even listen to me?”

God, what was that tone? Were you scolding him? For thinking illegal things about you? Yeah, you should, he thought with a swipe of his tongue over his parched lips, as he stared into your eyes, hidden behind a pair of steel-rimmed glasses. God, you were so beautiful, he was a mess. 

“Yeah, I am listening. You can just give me the plans alternatively, and at the next council meeting, I’ll let you know and you can come over and discuss it with everyone.”

Your chest heaved, out of breath with all the explanation you had dished out, and it was a sight for Joshua’s sore eyes. 

“Okay,” you mumbled, continuing about how you were sceptical about the idea but-

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” 

And he had rushed out of the room before you spotted the revival of his morning wood straining through his cotton pants. 

_

You’re determined to make yourself more involved in the governance work, and this means spending more time in close quarters with Joshua. And even though you’re trying your best (you really are), sometimes you can’t help but steal a glance at his chiselled jawline, gaze too long at his beautiful eyes, and wish that his fingers were wrapped around your neck- shit, that was too much. But it’s been over a year that you’ve received any kind of sexual attention (the last being from a friend of Mingyu’s at his birthday party, before your engagement with Wonwoo had been made public), and let’s be fair, it’s really hard to dodge the bullets Joshua Hong, unknowingly, keeps aiming at you. Because, fuck, your brain had been all messed up and you had begun stammering when he had met you during your long late night walk in the orchid garden. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” That was the first sentence he had said to you that week, and you weren’t in a mood to speak to him, to be honest. Your period was due soon, and you had hoped the fresh air would cure the cramps. 

“My room was too stuffy.”

“Do you want me to shift your room-”

“No! There’s no need for that.”

“I mean, you could always come and stay with me. I’ll arrange for the bedroom adjacent to mine being opened and connected with mine. At least that’ll stop the tattletales in the kitchen about us sleeping apart even though the King and Queen still sleep together.”

He was right. The gossip was getting on your nerves now. It must be because she’s so darn gross and ugly, they said. It must be because Prince Joshua has met sexier women when he was abroad. It must be because she’s a brat and runs her mouth too much. It must be because she had jumped on Joshua once the other Prince had died, but Joshua can’t take her weight, haha. 

And you had tried, you really had. Gone on a diet, lost three kilograms, and focused more on the remnants of teenage acne on your cheeks. You, who had never given a damn about appearances, were now trying to please- who, exactly? The public? The press? Or was it all to get a reaction out of your husband?

One night, you cave into the weakness. You find comfort in your fingers fondling with your nipples, gasps escaping from your lips as you lie in the dark, under your heavy blankets, imagining Joshua’s pillowy lips on your neck. It gives you shivers, and you’re thankful for the warm blanket. 

But as soon as the shot of pleasure shoots through your veins, his words that you had overheard come to your mind. 

It was the day after your first conversation with him, confirming your willingness to enter the marriage. Joshua was drinking with Mingyu in the house you shared with your brother after the death of your parents. You had no idea you’d find the Prince in your house when you returned from the market, bag full of groceries and skirt dirty from the mud in the roods after the rain. 

“Hyung, if you don’t want to marry her, you can just tell your parents.”

“Do you think they’ll listen to me, Mingyu-ah?” he had scoffed. 

“They’ve always been pretty liberal. Letting Wonwoo break the hierarchy has probably been the most controversial decisions of all time, but they were strong enough to take the call. I’m sure if you explain that you don’t want to-”

“Mingyu, it’s not about want or not. I cannot marry her. It is beyond my moral capacity. I really… ugh, it’s so twisted.”

“Maybe it’s not. Maybe you’re just thinking like this because you don’t know her well enough.”

“I do. I know her enough to know I cannot get myself into this marriage. It’ll be the worst decision of my life, I know I’m going to regret it.”

And the euphoria of pleasure dies as soon as it had begun, leaving you empty, both emotionally and physically. You thrash yourself for becoming that stupid teenage Y/N again, crying for a man who you would never get. Joshua would never love you, no matter how much you wanted him to. Maybe you just didn’t deserve him. 

_

The next few days were absolute torture for Joshua. He knew exactly how you felt towards him, in fact you reminded him of it every second, and yet he could not keep his eyes off you. His stupid puberty crush had been reawakened, and somehow, he felt like he was younger when he was around you. Maybe because he trusted you to take burdens off his shoulder when you showed up to council meetings and convinced the balding, middle-aged men (who only stared at your legs and sighed at every novel idea you presented) to let you take over projects which you felt passionate about. A new legal bill for safety for women in workplaces. New schemes to reduce the drop-out rate in colleges. Revamping incentives to ensure the needy families do not prioritise employment over education for their children. 

And he would bask in your warmth. Sometimes it felt like you were the light at the end of his tunnel- when he would be tired after nights of staying awake, worrying about projects or silly politics, you’d turn up, smelling of lavender, wearing your lace night suits and carrying pots of lemongrass tea with you. You were a dream, a mist in the spring, and he was chasing the happiness he felt in your presence. 

Seeing the two of you spend more time together meant his parents were happier than ever and they began inviting you to dinners with them. 

“Y/N, you ready?” 

You open the door to your bedchamber, simply dressed in a white shirt and blue flared jeans that did nothing to hide your tempting ass that Joshua kept wanting to get his fingers on. “Yeah. Not wearing anything fancy, I don’t need to fool them about my looks at least.” 

“Fool them about looks, what are you saying?” He asks you softly as you both make your way through the long winding corridors. 

“Oh nothing.” He catches on to your disappointed voice, how you move an inch away from him after this statement. 

“Y/N-” “Don’t you read the papers, Joshua? I know you don’t have time for society gossip but I’m sure you know what they’re saying.”

Shit. He really doesn’t know. He stops walking and looks at you dumbfounded.

“What are they saying, Y/N?” Please let it not be what I’m thinking it is.

“Never mind Josh.” Josh? When did you start calling him Josh? Not that he’d ever mind.

“I want to know.” He steps in front of you, blocking your way. He can see your pupils dilate and then relax, your beautiful lips part gently to take in air, all while there are clouds in your face. 

“I don’t want to talk about this, Joshua. It’s embarrassing already to know they say all that, it’s even worse to be complaining to you about-”

“You’re not complaining. You’re my wife, you can share your concerns with me.” I want you to share yourself with me, please.

You bite your lower lip, and continue after hesitating, “I don’t know- I know I’m not perfect and I’ve never wanted to look like a celebrity or a model or whatever, and I also know I don’t have the same kind of good looks that Mingyu was blessed with, and I know I’m not size zero and-” 

He steps in and kisses you. 

And steps back almost immediately. 

God knows why he did it, but he doesn’t have time to regret it in spite of the shocked expression on your face. “Y/N. You’re so beautiful. I don’t even have enough words to describe how beautiful you are. And I’m not saying this just for the sake of it. I’ve always thought you’re simply perfect.” 

It seems you’re still out of breath from the kiss. He is too, he just wants to appear composed in front of you while breaking down inside from the fear of you not wanting it as much as he did.

“Y/N. I don’t care what the media says. And I know you’re not one to care about that bullshit either. I want you to know that those who matter to you, love you, for just who you are. We wouldn’t change a thing.”

And he steps away and continues walking ahead, at a slower pace. You start walking a few seconds later, and finally his own heartbeat stops pumping in his ear like a ticking time bomb.

_

You cannot focus on dinner after that. It’s not humanly possible, you think, as you steal gazes at your husband across the table as he laughs with his parents over silly dad jokes he’s been cracking all evening. His mood has relatively improved in the last few weeks, and now you actually enjoy his company a lot. Just like when you were younger and you looked up to him with starry eyes, in awe of how he knew so much more than you in spite of being just three years older.

But you’re dying inside. Your stomach is churning, your skin perspiring and a sheen of sweat on your forehead makes your mother-in-law ask you in concern, “Y/N dear, I’ve never seen you pick at your food like this. Are you not hungry?”

You panic and reply, “Umm, no I’m just on a little diet,” and you cover up with a fake smile, avoiding Joshua’s eyes so that you miss out on the furrowing of his eyebrows at the mention of diet. He asks you, not allowing you to escape, “Why are you on this diet? Are you trying to lose weight?”

“Yes.” It’s true, you have been trying to lose weight. You’ve stopped liking how you look in the many public photographs that get clicked of you nowadays. 

“Why?” 

And all of a sudden, there’s a palpable tension in the room. The mood is dead serious and you know Joshua is angry. 

Why is he fucking angry? Does he not want you to go on a diet? Is this continuing from what he said earlier- oh god, forget about the kiss Y/N!

“I just… I want to become fitter. I’m thinking of restarting swimming. You remember how I used to swim a lot earlier?” you casually ask him, not expecting him to almost choke. “Yeah I do… it’s a good idea. It’ll help you get rid of stress also.”

Your parents-in-law say something in enthusiastic agreement, but all you can focus on is how good Joshua Hong looks with his hair slicked back, his plain green sweater hanging loose on his shoulders, and how he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you again. Not that he would actually want that, though. More likely, he’s looking at you to erase that memory of the kiss.

_

The Crown Prince of Korea is seconds away from a heart attack and the reason is his wife. He can’t get the kiss out of his head- he’d be lying to himself if he said that he hasn’t been thinking of this for months now. He realises just how futile his attempts of thinking of you only and only as Wonwoo’s lover and his sister-in-law have been, when he thinks of just how long he’s longed to feel his lips on yours. Months? Hell, it must’ve been years. When his first choice of his plus-one to his first prom night had been you, but then the teacher said he couldn’t invite someone three years younger to him. When you had showed up at his farewell party before he left for the States, your hair much longer then, your eyes even prettier under those nerd glasses. When he had seen your selfies with Wonwoo while he was abroad, and an inch of him had wished he could share his new life with you instead of the girls who flocked around him. 

But you’re avoiding eye contact like the plague. And he knows it must have been the foolish step on his end to kiss you. So old, and yet no control on his fucking hormones? And yet, how could he, when you continued to talk utter rubbish about the stupid comments about your looks that had been rioting on social media, but he found you just as perfect as the woman he had always dreamt of?

Josh.

A pet name? He mused, as he chewed the steak slowly, savouring it along his tongue. He had tried to make the night lively, bringing up topics he knew you’d want to talk about, but he had failed. Your mood was perhaps permanently damaged now, in spite of whatever uphill improvements he had made in the last month. 

But what was marriage if not a labour of love?

Love? Joshua Hong had once been in love with you, for a short time, but now he was not. He knew he was not because he knew it would be unreciprocated. It would be spat upon and crushed with the heels of your shoes and Joshua Hong was a coward. He would never be brave like Mingyu, who was always too courageous for his good, especially after too many drinks. He would never be as determined as Wonwoo, who would turn everything he touched to gold simply with hard work and focus. He would forever be content in the shadows, watching you from aside, waiting for you to look at him with the same want his heart was burning with. 

But how long? The ache in his heart had become a familiar friend over these nights. The wish to walk twenty metres and reach your room in lonely midnight hours, and touch your skin with his lips until it cured his insomnia. The wish to see you smile at him without the burden of royal obligations, with genuine care. The wish to hold your hand when you sat together at council meetings, right next to each other, and yet so far apart. How long could he suppress these wishes?

Oh, but he had to. Otherwise he would make mistakes. More mistakes he couldn’t afford to make, such as the mistake of kissing you tonight. There were more mistakes his fingers itched to make, such as brushing his hand on yours across the table when your hand accidentally grabbed his glass of wine instead of your own, such as touching your feet with his own under the table to show you how much he wanted you, such as claiming an emergency and leaving with you right now to beg of you to love him back and let him be yours. 

When your plate is clean, and your wine glass empty and you sit back on your chair, a contented look on your face, he wants to kiss you again because it feels like a date. It makes him want to take you on a date. It makes him want to court you and woo you and win your heart as he had originally planned at the age of fourteen.

But even if he had started early, would he ever be able to win your heart? He was simply not good enough for you. Wonwoo had been your perfect fit- both in wit and in warmth. And Joshua, alas, was not. Would never be. 

_

v. 

“I'm looking at you, I can't take my eyes off

I don't know what I feel but it's feeling illegal”

“I know there’ll be a time zone difference, but if I call you late at night please pick up because it’ll be urgent.” Otherwise I won’t call you, you felt that the unsaid was quite well implied. You nod. “You eat and sleep well. Don’t get too stressed,” you mumble out, and wave Joshua goodbye as he walks away from you, a cup of coffee in his right hand and his blazer on his left. There’s some international meeting he has to attend, and although the King and Queen had asked you many times to accompany him, you knew it was best to not impose yourself in unwanted spaces. You had given the excuse of spending a few days with your brother, Mingyu, in your childhood home, as you’d been away for too long and you had started missing him, and your parents-in-law had caved in.

“Bye, Joshua!” you call out over the loud noise of the chopper. He stops at your voice, turns back and looks at you once. You think he’s going to walk towards you, his left foot lifted slightly off the ground, but then the bodyguard standing next to him motions him to move towards the helicopter and he puts his foot back on the ground. He whispers goodbye to you, or maybe you just can’t hear him. 

It should feel nice to finally get rid of him, you think, as he walks further away from you, now a speck on the horizon. But your heart feels heavy, the journey back home feels empty, and there’s a voice in your head which makes you regret staying back.

_

“I forgot to pack my blue suit,” he says over speakerphone. Joshua, the silly man he is, couldn’t wait for even an hour after landing, before calling you. As soon as he had landed in London, his fingers had itched to dial the button and call you up but he had resisted. But when he had started unpacking his luggage, he couldn’t stop himself. It’s a gloomy day, the sky overcast with clouds. His assistant is texting him to come to lunch, but he’s not hungry. He wishes he didn’t have to leave you in Korea. 

He can hear your laugh on the other side. 

“I know, I realised it when I reached home and saw the suit lying on your bed.” “My bed? You went to my room?” There’s a pause. “Umm, yeah… I was actually wondering which perfume you used. I want to buy the same for Mingyu, for Chuseok.” “Oh. Did you find it?” He wonders what else you found. 

“Yeah, I did. How’s your suite?”

“Hmm, big?” You laugh again, slightly less awkward.

“It’s obviously big. Is it, like, very fancy, or is it the modern minimalist type?”

“Quite modern, but also fancy. Like there are all these weird lamps- wait let me show you. Do you have time for a video call?”

“Me?”

“Huh, who else am I talking to?”

“Oh. Yeah I mean. One sec! Don’t turn it on until I say so!” 

He waits, his heart pumping so loud he can hear it. Then you finally turn on the video call and he sees your face coming through the black screen, and suddenly it’s not gloomy any more in London.

“Hi there.” You smile widely, your bare skin glowing, and he smiles back, almost on instinct.  For a second it’s just like that. Showing you the hotel room is a forgotten task, Joshua’s excuse to see your face has worked.

He notices that you’re sitting in your house, as he identifies the different wallpaper easily. “You’ve gone to your house so fast?”

“Hmm, felt like there was nothing to do at home.”

Home. Were you missing him? Could it be-

“Is Mingyu around?”

“Yeah, but he’s calling someone. Practically shooed me from the room when his phone rang. Might be important-”

“Pfft. Important, my foot. Probably a new person he likes.” You smile at his comment, “Yeah probably. When do you think he’ll want to settle down?”

“When he finds someone like I have?”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can even think twice and the truth of what he said only hits him when he suddenly sees your video crashing. “Hey Y/N?”

“Sorry!” Your face is back in focus, all red and flustered. “I dropped my phone. Umm, Josh, I gotta go, there’s someone at the gate.”

“Hmm, okay. See ya?”

You smile at him and wave him a hurried goodbye.

The phone becomes lifeless again.

Shit, he fucked up. Yet again. What are these uncalled-for things he’s doing? And why can’t he just control himself, for god’s sake? It’s not like he… oh god. He’s really messed up now.

_

There’s something wrong happening. It feels right, but it’s really wrong. You reckon it started from the kiss. Since then everything is changing, bit by bit. 

The night after that, he had asked you if you wanted to watch the new film in the theatres, and you had agreed, since you actually wanted to watch it (and not because you wanted to spend more time with him). He had booked out the night show in an entire hall, and the two of you had spent more time giggling over the poorly-made thriller and gasping at the unbelievable action sequences than watching the movie seriously. 

Three days after that, you had asked him if he wanted to come swim with you. He knew you had restarted practice but hadn’t said much about it except ask where you were practising.

“Hmm, sure? I mean, if it doesn’t barge into your routine.”

“Joshua, if it did barge in, I wouldn’t have asked you.” He grins, fixing his collar. “Sorry ma’am. I’m free today, when are you going?” “Today?” You weren’t planning on going today at all. “Yeah…” “Umm, in half an hour?” “Cool. Call me when you’re ready.”

And that’s when you realised it was such a mistake to bring him to the pool. Because you were too distracted by him all the time. For two straight hours, you both raced across the 500 metres pool multiple times in a marathon, but towards the end, it became too much fun as you both skipped track divisions and cheated to make it to the end of the race. He would swiftly snatch your goggles and the chlorine would burn your eyes until you had to hold his hands down and get back the goggles from him, all while whining to make him stop laughing like a clown.  Sure, you had provoked it first by kicking your leg out midway to smash him in his chest, leaving him dumbfounded and gaining you a solid ten seconds, but this was too extreme an attack. 

But at the end of all attacks, he somehow ended up pinning you to the wall of the pool, both too giddy with adrenaline to notice how you had landed in this position. 

Thank god the pool was empty. 

But your mind was not. You were now extremely aware of his gaze burning into you, his hair wet from the water and bangs falling on his face, his taut chest muscles golden and ripped, his glowing skin looking even more alive. 

“I love water.”

“I know, I remember how you used to always have pool parties for your birthdays in school.”

“Hmm, you do?” You’re sure it’s completely platonic, but when he uses his left hand to keep you locked against the pool and his right hand to swipe back his hair from his forehead, there are butterflies in your stomach and you just know you’re blushing. Not even an inch of skin-to-skin contact, just his hungry eyes and you’re dying inside.

“Joshua, I need air.”

“What?” He asks, as if he doesn’t understand.

“I need to breathe.”

“Huh ... you’re breathing, though?”

You bite your lip, and he smirks. You can’t help but think he’s doing it on purpose, but he gently pushes himself away from you, and you take the chance to take deep breaths and rouse yourself to sit on the edge of the pool. He points at you and smirks even deeper.

“I win!” He laughs, his eyes growing bigger in excitement. You laugh too, realising that the moment you got out of water, he had won. But he had won far before that…

He dunks his hair in the water and splashes water over you as he rises up again. You slowly get off the edge and stand up, fixing your clothes. You swear you can see him check you out once, but it may be a figment of your delusions.

“Y/N. I’m hungry.” “Huh?” Did you hear him right? “Yeah, do you wanna get chicken?” Poof.

It feels just like those teenage summer parties he used to host. Just you, Wonwoo, Mingyu, himself, and a couple of other friends from school. You’re feeling just as hot and bothered as then, and he’s looking just as cool as then.

“Sure, but you’re paying. Winner winner, chicken dinner!” And you’re laughing now, as you walk away to the dressing room to take a shower and get dressed again. You just want to escape before he comes out of the water and his body makes you weak in the knees again.

_

He’s hard. 

Joshua Hong is sitting through the middle of the third conference for the day and he’s shit tired at this point. Which has probably made his body want things he doesn’t have. Specifically, you. 

So he tries to hide the boner in his suit pants, and he swears under his breath every second because it’s simply impossible. Especially after that picture Mingyu had sent to him a minute ago. He shouldn’t have opened his phone during the conference, but he was too bored.

KMG-[picture]

KMG-in case you’re missing your wifey haha

HJS-what? 

KMG-she sure is. she’s whining like a little puppy. 

HJS-what?! 

KMG-don’t you get it? she’s drunk bro. it’s so obvious?? did you even open the photo?

HJS-i didn’t, sorry. unlike you, i’m in london and it’s afternoon here so i’m at work.

KMG-work?! pfffft. you’re the prince. 

HJS-you’re also drunk, gyu.

KMG-not realllly, but defo under the influence seeing that i’m texting you against my better judgement, which is the slap i’m going to get from my sister as soon as she realises who i’m texting. 

HJS-jeez. she hates me that much lol.

KMG-huh??? hate? you dumbass??? 

HJS-can you not curse me? this conference is tiring enough.

KMG-sorry. 

KMG-you d*****s???

HJS-what???

KMG-the only thing she’s talking about after eight months of living the royal life is you. and i wouldn’t say you’re the only interesting thing at the palace

HJS-what are you implying

KMG-your assistant is pretty hot

HJS-what? i choked on my water!

KMG-don’t tell me you haven’t noticed

HJS-no i really haven’t.

KMG-eww. what marriage does to a person 101.

HJS-i wouldn’t have noticed otherwise either

KMG-sure, says joshua hong who’s slept with every girl in his uni in the states

HJS-why hasn’t your sister found out that you’re texting me and given you said slap yet?

KMG-oh so you want her to find out that you’re pining for her love? 

KMG-you’re so down bad to get her attention huh

KMG-you just wish it was her texting you rn, and not me

KMG-you traitor

HJS-mingyu stop

KMG-you’re missing her so bad

KMG-and she’s missing you too

KMG-ugly missing

KMG-i can see the sadness in her eyeeees

HJS-i think it’s your soju talking

KMG-pls. i can handle my soju v well.

KMG-but you have to admit you’re missing her.

KMG-if you weren’t you wouldn’t have saved that photograph to your gallery

HJS-i didn’t

KMG-liar

HJS-accuser

KMG-cheater

HJS-dumbass

KMG-WHO’S CURSING NOW

KMG-soory this is yn if gyu was disturing you durig he meeing iapopogize. byew

That was a … chat that didn’t help at all. Now his mind is wandering even farther away from the discussion in the conference. 

And the photograph. 

You in tank tops would really be the death of him. Your silky flesh escaping through the loose edges of the satin tank, your short hair falling casually across your neck, covering up all the places he wanted to kiss. Your tiny mole below your left clavicle, and the way you were smiling, looking at the soju glass in your hand, eyes creasing and lips maroon. 

It makes him think of that evening in the pool when he had almost kissed you again, but only the devil in his head knows how hard he had controlled himself from pushing you against the wall of the pool with his chest, feeling your soft skin again his own, and your lips bright red from biting on them all day (they were chapped as he noticed from up-close). He was taller than you even in the pool, and it made him want to devour you even more. Your swimming suit had left nothing to his imagination, the pervert he was. 

He hadn’t planned on taking off his shirt that evening. But when he had started feeling the tingling in his dick after seeing the damp swimsuit clinging to your body, he had decided that two can play this game. 

And god, he had enjoyed seeing you flustered. It felt amazing to know his body still had that kind of effect on women, especially you. The last he had seen you check him out was several years ago, and even then, his blood had rushed straight to his dick when he had received your attention, just like now. Thank god you both were under water so his trunks didn’t give it all away. 

All the thoughts he had conjured up in his mind that night come floating into his mind now. Your husky voice after swimming laps in the pool. Your hair all damp and swept back from your face. Drops of water falling down your neck-

“Mr. Hong?” The lady next to him whispers, and he realises the entire hall has been staring at him. “Your thoughts on how Korea would like to be involved in the new cross-Pacific connectivity project?”

Fuck. Specifically, fuck you. Yes, thank you.

_

He has called you three times over the period of two days that he’s been away. Tiny calls, not lasting longer than seven minutes in all, but they still count as calls. He has also texted you a little bit, and sent quite a few photographs- a photograph of the brunch he had which had a lot of baked goods reminding him of you since you love baked treats; a photograph of the London Eye which he saw while travelling; a selfie in front of the Big Ben. 

And yet you were missing him. You knew it had to be that, because there was no other emotion to pinpoint at the steely ache you felt in your body, a longing for something, a desire to see someone, in vain. 

That had caused your outburst that night, when Mingyu had taken out soju and whisky and decided that it was the night to get drunk for the siblings. You were both emotional drunks, Mingyu slightly more teasing and funny than you, but you had straight up started whining about Joshua. Mingyu had, of course, texted him all about it but you had realised it a minute too late when you saw him shut up and focus on the texts on his phone, grinning smugly. You knew it wasn’t the person he liked, because he was specifically frustrated over how they were a goody-two-shoes, slept before 11 pm, and didn’t even go out with co-workers for dinner and drinks. They were a lawyer he knew through social circles, and although they had been talking for some time now, he had yet to make progress into their bedroom. 

“But I don’t mind waiting. Aaah, for them I’ll wait forever.” He had giggled, and you had punched him in the back. “Sure, let’s both see where this goes.” You wondered how long this puppy love would last.

You weren’t talking to Mingyu all day because of what he had done the previous night. Not just spread misinformation about you, but also send a photograph of you. You hadn’t been able to read the chats, he had snatched it away from you as soon as you had begun to read them, but you knew he had written enough to damage you when Joshua would come back. 

One more day, and your husband would be back. 

What did wives do when they missed their husbands? 

Call them for hours at night and sleep with their voice on speakerphone? Impossible, you lived in different time zones now. If you called him at night, it would be his afternoon, and if he called you at night, it would be your early morning and you’d be in no mood to sweet talk. 

Text more frequently? Again, not possible. There was only so much you would want to do without any expectation of reciprocation.

Send them gifts? A parcel from Korea to London would definitely take a day, if not more. The surprise would be lost. 

Send photographs? He did, but you never sent photos to anyone. Anyone. Not even Wonwoo, you were just too shy to send photos. And anyway, nothing special had happened to be worthy of sending photos. 

There was truly nothing to do to solve your crisis, but oh, it felt like despair. Two days turned into three, three into four, until you couldn’t wait to have him in front of your eyes again. On the last day, you knew from the clock that this was probably bedtime for him, and you decided to call him. Because he hadn’t called you the entire day before that, and maybe you wanted to hear his voice?

“Hello?”

“Hmm Y/N.” There it was, a voice sounding like mellow honey in a pancake, warm and sweet. “How was your day, Josh?” “Tiring? I’m getting ready to get into bed right now. Wanna switch on videos?” 

“Umm, I’ve actually just woken up so I had bed hair-”

Joshua is sending you a request for video call.

“Does it look like I care?” He grins as soon as you switch on your camera, showing him your frazzled hair. “I do! You see me only once in the entire day, I don’t want to look like a stray dog.” “You do look like a stray dog, but you’re cute.” Maybe it’s the morning laziness which hasn’t got off your brain yet, but you melt into his words. “You’re cute too. Your face is all puffy after a day’s work. Did you cleanse well?” “I did. I’m glowing even with the lights off, am I not?” He smirks, and you can’t say he’s lying. Even with the faint nightlight, you can see his features distinctly. He catches you stare at him for too long, and says, “Miss me much? Mingyu-” Your face scrunches up in irritation. “Ignore Mingyu! Ignore whatever he said that day. It was all misinfo. I swear.” “Aww now there, don’t pout.” You don’t even know you’re pouting, but you blush so hard.

It feels so fucking domestic. The bare minimum, and you’re melting into a puddle. It feels like you’ve come home, finally. 

“I’m going to eat kimchi jjigae today. I bought the perfume for Mingyu and he didn’t even like it, so I said I’ll take it back because he doesn’t deserve gifts. Then he started whining, saying that he doesn’t want to smell like you because then I’ll get confused between my brother and my-” you pause. You’ve never really said it out loud. 

He smiles, devilish but also kind. “Did he keep it then?” “No. I’ve got it back, you can use it. I’m never gifting him anything for Chuseok again.” “When is Chuseok, anyway?” “Next week. You have an entire schedule planned, don’t you remember?” 

And then the screen goes black for a few seconds, and then his face returns. 

“Hey, someone called. Sorry.”

“No no. Calling so late?”

“She’s actually a friend from college who saw on my twitter update that I’m here in London and wants to meet up.” You mouth an oh, and then he continues. “I guess she had called if we could go party now… you know, for old time’s sake…” he laughs a bit, and then continues, “But I said I’m too tired now, we can go for brunch tomorrow before I return home to Korea.”

You suddenly feel awkward. Out of place. Reminded that you don’t even know him properly, and you shouldn’t dream of waking up with him in the same bed in matching nightclothes. 

“Oh, you could extend your trip a bit though? If you have friends you want to meet.”

“No, I just want to get back home and rest a bit. Next week will be hectic.”

“Hmm.” 

Then there’s a pause.

“Alright then, I’ll go to sleep. Goodnight Y/N!” And you’re waving him goodnight as he smiles through the camera, before ending the call. 

Reality has hit you, real bad. He was never yours. You’ll never be his.

_

vi. 

“But I could never lie to you

I'm going out my mind for you”

On his flight back home, Joshua misses you immensely. If he was being honest, he wished that you’d wait for him at the airport, so that he could hug you as soon as he lands- satisfying a craving to touch you that had haunted him while he was in London. But he knew it was too extreme an expectation. At max, realistically, he could expect you to greet him when he finally reached home after the fourteen hour flight, with a smile. Over the last few weeks he had felt your warmth grow towards him gradually, and thus, this was definitely a realistic expectation in his eyes. 

“Her Highness is at a meeting, she asked me to inform you.”

He was stunned at his secretary’s words. “At a meeting? I thought she was with her brother.”

“She is with the Royal Counsel, Sir. They are at a meeting together.”

“At 9.30 pm?”

“It’s a dinner meeting.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“It was finalized just today morning S-”

“And since when are you her secretary too, Seewon? Or has her brother done something-” He sees Seewon’s eyes grow wide and he realises he has overstepped. But what is this searing feeling in his head? 

Frustration? Did he really expect you to be waiting there for him? It was absurd, he sees it now. It was absurd to think you treated him any differently than you did a few months ago.

“I’m sorry. I’m just- too tired.”

“Dinner is ready, Sir.”

“Can you get it to my bedroom? I’ll eat there and directly go to bed. I’m too sleepy.”

“Yes, Sir.” Seewon bows deep, but he is already walking away.

_

“It is for the best, Mingyu-ah.” You reason with your brother for the n-th time as he tries to convince you, futile efforts truly, to confront Joshua about the future of your relationship. “I know he doesn’t want anything to do with me. What we have now is… a nice companionship. We’ve both resigned to the fate that this is it. There’s nothing new going to happen in our love lives, and we’ve accepted it. As a teenager, we probably expected our love lives to be beautiful and magnanimous like in the movies, but this is reality. And you know I’ve never sought romance.”

“We all know why that is.”

“Huh?” 

Mingyu stares at you blankly across the table, his eyelids drooping slightly from being tipsy. His shirt is nearly off, the alcohol heating up his body, and in his longer hair, his face looks eerily like yours. Seeing him like this makes you feel colder, and you hug the cardigan closer to your body.

“Wonwoo and I were together. When we found your diary entries about Joshua.”

You’re speechless. How had Wonwoo emitted this very important detail about the biggest secret of your life?

“Hey, Y/N-ie. I know I’m not as close to you as Wonwoo. He was a better friend to you than I could ever be, although we are of the same age. And I know he’d be able to explain this better-”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Now he’s speechless. 

Never in his entire life have you called him by his full name, except when you were really frustated over failing your midterms when he had topped the class or when you had suffered the wrath of your parents when it was actually his fault.

“You knew?”

He gulps. 

“How come you never said anything to me? I can’t believe Wonwoo- that fucker- that-”

“Hey!”

“No, you don’t get it! I’ve- I’ve kept so many secrets for him. It was our pact you know- never spill secrets. And never keep secrets from each other. I told him everything and he- Oh my god. What else do you know? How much has he betrayed me?”

“Y/N-ie. He didn’t betray anything. It was purely an accident that I was there in the room when he started reading it out aloud. None of us knew what was coming as we started reading that page. And then he swore me to secrecy, and made me promise never to tell you. Made me swear on my face too, can you imagine?”

But you were not in the mood for jokes. Angry, hot tears started rolling down your cheeks. It was truly an uncalled for meltdown, but the tears seemed to be a long time coming.

“I can’t believe you know it. I’m so pathetic-”

“No, aaaah-” He shuffles closer to you, somehow patting your hair, before you smack it away.

“Don’t touch me, Kim Mingyu.”

“Okay, sorry. But Y/N. I don’t think you should be so mad at Wonwoo. In fact I had totally forgotten about it, until-”

“Until?”

“Until Wonwoo said how he was considering proposing to you, to be his Royal Consort.”

You look up at your brother. 

“You know why he had proposed.”

“I do. I just thought… maybe if I were him, and if I knew my best friend was in love with my brother-”

“I am not! In love! With his brother!”

“Y/N-aah.”

“It was a teenage thing! A crush! It happens! Hell, Mingyu, you fall in love every week. You don’t have the right to call me out like this!”

“I’m not. But that’s because- that’s just who I am, you know? I feel butterflies and I go for it. I don’t think about it. But you, you’re different. You think twice, thrice, a hundred times, before even feeling something. For the longest time, I thought you didn’t have a heart, you had two brains.”

You scoff a mirthless laugh. “And yet I’m the one stuck in this ugly marriage. How stupid of me. I’m torturing a whole man to fulfill some broken childhood wish of mine- something I don’t even feel anymore. That’s honestly the most pathetic thing in the world.”

“Hey!” Mingyu really wraps his arm around your shoulder now, and unwantedly, you cave into his touch. His body is warm and it feels safe. You haven’t hugged him in a long time, you realise. Wonwoo had always been your cuddling partner, by your side through long days and nights. Wonwoo had been your best friend and so much more. Perhaps your true soulmate. 

Wonwoo.

The thought of him brings fresh tears to your eyes, and you’re shaking violently in Mingyu’s arms.

“Y/N. Can you stop beating yourself up? First of all,” you raise your head to look at him, but he shuts you down, “listen to me for once! First of all,” he starts again, “I think you do like him. Maybe it’s not your childhood crush continuing for so long. But somewhere, you do like him. It’s like- a longing you’ve been craving for so long, and now that the sight ebbs closer to you, you can’t help but walk towards it even more.” You look at him again, tears drying up. When did your silly brother become so poetic?

“Second point is. You really shouldn’t beat yourself up for this. He’s - he’s not getting tortured, that’s for sure. He seems really happy to me, and I can read faces well.”

“No, Kim Mingyu, you’re dumb as fuck-”

“No, that’s just what you think! Because you’re my sister. I’m actually very smart. Just like I never think you’re smart, even if you’re a double masters graduate now.”

You sigh. Maybe this was true.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is. Shua hyung doesn’t seem tortured. He talks to me fondly about you, whenever we talk. Yes, he was initially very hesitant. But you know why he was-”

You’re staring at him hard, waiting for him to continue, but he just gulps. Then his eyes widen, and keep widening. Suddenly, he jumps up, and starts jumping in tiny movements. 

“Mingyu, have you finally gone mad?”

“He thinks you’re in love with him!”

“What are you saying?” Your jaw drops. “Mingyu, I think you’re really drunk, you should just-”

“Oh my god. Wonwoo Wonwoo. Aigoo, he thinks too far ahead of this time, don’t you think?” 

“What are you saying, bro-”

“Even after his death-”

“Do you mean he forethought his death too?”

“No! I mean, of course not. Just. The way things turned out. He really set you up with fate. A true best friend, aah,” leaving you still confused, Mingyu pours the rest of the soju bottle into his glass and drinks it in one go. 

“I’m going to bed. I can’t tolerate your nonsense anymore.”

“Hmm, goodnight. Sleep well, cutie sister.”

You throw him a dirty look, and have half a mind to kick his face, but then you feel too tired and you waddle back to your bedroom.

_

It’s only the next morning that you see his texts and missed calls and call him back. He’s been waiting for the call for hours now, so he picks it up as soon as it starts ringing.

“Y/N!”

“Oh, good morning!”

Your voice sounds groggy. Were you drinking?

“I was w-worried,” he stutters, “Where were you last night?”

“Oh, last night? With Mingyu.”

“Oh. I thought you’d gone for a meeting?”

“Yeah, after that. It was a good one, I’ll send you my notes later. I’m too hungover right now, sorry. Was there anything you needed from me? Any work stuff?”

Your voice? A hope to see you returned to the palace when he wakes up in the morning?

“Nothing. I was just, like I said, worried.”

“Aaah, you shouldn’t have been. I have bodyguards you know. They left me only after they saw me going home with Mingyu.”

“Hmm.”

There’s a pause. He wonders if he should bring up the question of when you plan on coming back. He wonders if you’ll ask him anything about the flight. He wonders if he can ask you what you and Mingyu have been drinking so much over.

“Please don’t worry on my account. Mingyu and I…  had some things to discuss. I’ve cleared up my schedule today. I hope you didn’t need me for anything-”

“No. No. Of course not. Enjoy your day.” Even if I won’t.

_

“Kim Mingyu? Where are you?” As soon as your call with Joshua ends, the painkillers start their magic, and you remember bits and pieces of your conversation last night with your brother. You walk towards his room, but alas, you find him still sleeping in his bed, naked except his underwear, evidently too hot after getting all drunk. 

You slap his back sharply, and he jolts up with a groan. 

“Kim Y/N!”

“What nonsense were you saying last night? Tell me now, if you have the guts to tell me when sober.”

“Huh?”

Five seconds. 

Ten seconds. You give him a glass of water. 

Three minutes. You get him painkillers. 

Ten minutes. He brushes his teeth.

Thirty minutes, you’re both awake and sober. And yet, radio silence.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember. What were we talking about last night?”

“Yah! Kim Mingyu! You weren’t that drunk!”

He tilts his head from side to side, putting on a show to recollect, but his face is still blank. You have the urge to slap his head, like one slaps a dysfunctional remote to make it work again. But you fear it’s going to damage his few brain cells forever and irreparably.

���I really don’t remember. I just remember… talking about Wonwoo.”

“Mingyu did you drink after I went to bed?”

“Yes, but that’s-”

“Fuck. No wonder you’re out like a light bulb. Did you finish the entire bottle of whiskey too?”

“Hmm, but-”

“Fuck man! Now I can’t even be sure of my own thoughts.”

“So even you don’t remember! Sucker!”

“No I do! But I was just… wondering if I was delusional or if it was real. Mingyu, try and think hard.”

“Umm, I can’t really think so much so early. And today’s a holiday, for fuck’s sake. Can’t a man relax and wake up on a holiday?”

He huffs and walks out of the room, his hair sticking out weirdly. Oh, your brother. Now you have to verify if the nonsense he spewed last night was indeed true or not. And there is, of course, only one way to do so.

_

vii.

“Turnin’ me up and back off like this

What do you want? Do you not like it?”

He had to know. Joshua Hong had never felt the pangs of curiosity so wildly as he did now. It was too much to bear. This suspense. These mixed signals from you. This wild fluttering of his heart that he had to forcefully drown out with the rational thoughts from his brain. Not a moment of bliss and yet so much happiness even in this riot.

“Can you make a cute pose for me?”

You stare at him, and then at the camera. “What?” Your reaction makes him smile. “Cute pose!” “Yah! I’m the Princess, not an idol! Why should I make a cute pose!” “Because that’s your vibe! All the media goes wild for your cuteness. That’s why you’re so popular with the young people of our country.”

“I’m popular because of my personality. I’ve raised Mingyu, okay? I know how to deal with kids.”

He’s laughing out loud now, he doesn’t care if his bodyguards are suspicious of the whispered conversation the two of you are sharing.

“But I insist. Cute pose, please?” He winks cutely, his face full of aegyo. He’s always been good at this, the baby face among the brothers. The delicate boyish charm he never lost. The mature, serious look he never gained, unlike Wonwoo.

“Joshua. I’ve never done it,” you whisper back, slightly embarrassed.

“Umm, can you do a V sign for me?”

You do it, and extend your hand ahead of you. “Now bring it up to your eyes.”

You bring the hand to your eyes, and Joshua bends your fingers slightly to make it look cuter. “Cha! Now you’ve got it! Smile!”

He smiles for the selca, and you smile too. But your smile isn’t the real one he’s used to seeing. So he pokes a finger into your cheek, just to get a reaction out of you, and clicks the burst shot at the same time. 

He’s right. 

You blush, smile and laugh in embarrassed giddiness, all in the series of shots. It’s a small touch, far far shorter than anything he would like to do, insignificant, and mostly friendly. But the effect it has on his heart says otherwise. 

At least now he has the shots the PR team asked him to prepare.

“Are you going to send that photo?”

“Of course not if you’re not comfortable!”

“No. That’s… okay. I just think it makes us look too… childish. Not the image the PR team would want to project of us, no?”

“You’re right. I’ll not send it. Sorry, I just wanted to make you comfortable and smile.”

“Pulling my cheek was your idea of making me comfortable?” You gasp, in mock anger.

He leans in, ignoring the way your eyelashes are fluttering from his sudden closeness.

“Did it work or not?”

Your shy smile is the answer he needs to satisfy his curiosity for now.

But the ugly demon never rests, and his mind remains wildly distracted for the rest of the day. Your photoshoot may have been over a long time ago, but he can’t get his mind over the photographs. He’s thankful you let him keep the photograph where his finger touches the soft pulp of your cheeks. It seems like the only thing he can look at right now. 

_

It’s just been six hours since you’re back in the palace for good. Your mind keeps going back to your conversation with Mingyu, but you’re too afraid to approach the issue. You know it’s a hopeless cause, there’s absolutely no way what Mingyu was hinting at was correct. He’s a real dumbass about feeling something, definitely a TJ and not an FP, since he was so shit at perceiving and interpreting feelings. He must have been going off on tangents which weren’t even realistic.

But somewhere within you, the curiosity burned you alive. It was hell, sitting next to Joshua at the council meeting, pretending to listen to industry experts talking scientific lingo which basically amounted to how the new slum restoration and water purification project needed more funding, but you kept thinking of the same loop of thoughts. The fact that he whispered to you little jokes about how boring it all was, his fingers sometimes brushing over the net stocking of your knees when he leaned in to hear you whisper back, drove you absolutely crazy. If his fingers slipped slightly, it would undoubtedly find out how heated your core was. 

Joshua and you have schedule after schedule, pending work which had been postponed for the trip, which had to be completed before Chuseok so that the festivities passed smoothly. When the day had started with you two eating breakfast together at a public place (actually a gimmick for media to cover it as a romantic date for the wife who missed her beloved husband) and clicking selfies to be released on his twitter, you had thought that was the end of your togetherness for the day. 

But it had seemed to stretch on, when Joshua insisted that you sit with him for all the meetings, to keep him updated on everything he had missed out on, now that you were much more deeply involved in the official world. 

“You have a secretary though?” you had chuckled, begging him to take the hint and releasing you from this trap. 

“Is it too much to ask for a friend by my side when I face the world?” he had all but pouted, and you had, of course, melted.

It reminded you eerily of what Wonwoo had said when he had proposed you. Brothers did think alike, you think, as you flip the pen over and over waiting for the current presentation on tax revenues to get over. You had already thought of questions in the first few slides, realising some loopholes early on, and now the rest of the presentation is predictable. You are, however, waiting for the presentation to end to pounce with your questions, when your eyes go to what Joshua is scribbling on his notepad.

“Hey, I thought of the same concern,” you whisper, showing your own notes on your tablet. 

“Telepathy?” he winks at you, and you smile lightly. “The Prince is too cheerful today. Why all the jokes? Did London steal my serious Joshua?”

He leans in slightly closer, until all you can see is his eyes. 

“I missed you. It’s good to be back.”

Then he leans away, and almost on cue, the presenter opens the floor for questions and his secretary prepares the mic for him to speak into it. Your questions are all forgotten, your notes forgotten, so all you can do is stare blankly ahead until your mind registers what he just said.

_

viii.

싫어 하면, 싫어지면 좋겠어

좋아하는 마음을 멈추고 싶어

“If you hate it, I hope you hate it

I want to stop liking you”

It is two days before Chuseok, but there’s a somewhat half-hearted excitement in the country. It seems like everyone is feeling the same way as you. You’re all reminded of how Wonwoo had suddenly left your side last year, exactly 365 days before this. 

Your recent visit to home had actually worsened the incisions your thoughts about Wonwoo made to your heart. It had been fun to curse him for betraying your secret to Mingyu, but deep down, as the date kept approaching, you could not bring yourself to sleep at nights. Every waking moment, you felt the same pain jarring your body as you imagined Wonwoo must have felt in the moment of the car accident. 

Mingyu and you had drunk every night for the same reason. When you had come home, you had realised soon he was not quite the happy spirit you knew him to be. And when every conversation of yours led to nostalgic memories of the past, somehow centering around the one friend you both had loved so much, but never really talking about him directly, you realised he was grieving too. He knew how to hide it far better, but you wished he would break the dam for you. 

And he did. 

All it took was playing the album that Wonwoo had bought for you and Mingyu to celebrate your 18th birthday, the first album all three of you had liked (an utter shock since you had disparate music tastes), and Kim Mingyu was a wailing, blubbering mess. His head on your shoulder as you hugged him, urging him to take it all out, even though snot was all over your sleeve. But it felt relieving to see him free his own heart, for you knew Wonwoo hated it the most when Mingyu tried to hide his feelings and thoughts.

“How do you think he is doing?”

“An angel like him must be doing well, Gyu-ah.”

He had nodded, and you both had silently listened to the album on loop. 

It was an album about loss. All the songs definitely hinted at losing a loved one. Some could think of it as a romantic loss, but you and Wonwoo had always thought the singer was speaking of losing anyone close to you- a friend, a family member, any beloved human being, or even a pet. It was so fitting for the moment, and you cried too. Ultimately you both had fallen asleep on the couch, for the first time in forever, the two of you on the same couch, cuddling in a desperate attempt to comfort each other.

Once back in the palace, the familiar comfort of your brother, both basking in the shared shadow of grief, was absent. This was an environment you still hesitated to call home, in spite of spending a huge amount of your life between these walls. 

Because there is no longer a spectacled calm sea of love called Wonwoo by your side to tie you in during the high tides of anguish, pain and nervousness. To set you free from the clutches of overthinking and the burdens of your own intelligence. To help you escape from the depths of your mind and heart, and see the world that was beautiful without any dangerous inhibitions. 

There is another person sitting next to you now, kneeling before the elaborately framed, smiling photograph of Wonwoo that is before you, surrounded by candles and flowers as the Royal Family pays their respects to the death of their maknae. Not just the King and Queen are shedding tears, the thundering sky too seems to be crying too and drowning away the tears of the world with its louder downpour. You want to be stoic, but the wetness on the rim of your eyes are unavoidable. But there are no tears in Joshua’s eyes. His eyes are dark, full of an emotion you cannot place, and suddenly you feel very distant from him.

It is this feeling, primarily, that sets off the tears in you more wildly. The only person you expect to be on your side now seems to be so far away, and it seems so cruel that you cannot help the sudden tears that escape you now. The distanced coldness in Joshua is gone as soon as he sees you in this state, reaching out to hug you, but you can't control yourself. He pulls you in one corner, thankfully, and pats your back until you’re more yourself. 

“How are you holding up like this?”

He has the audacity to shrug and break your heart even more. What cruel curse is this that the person you loved the most has not only left your side, but now there is someone you’re left with, who will never love you?

“I’ve been training myself to harden my heart. I cannot cry before my parents, they need me to be strong.”

“But what about yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel.”

“It does to me.”

He looks up at you, you’re still cowering next to him, your knees pulled up to your chest as you hope to feel warmer.

“There is something comforting in knowing that I’m not the only one who feels like their heart is being broken to pieces by a hammer.”

He winces, but puts a hand around your own.

“If it means anything, it does feel like that to me too. Probably not as bad as you though.”

“But you’re his brother. You’ve known him for longer than I have.”

“But there is nothing stronger than the loss of a lover. Not even the loss of a family member.”

Then someone calls out for him from the crowds, and you’re left to yourself again, as you try to make sense of what he said.

_

“This is the album we used to listen to all the time. Wonwoo, Mingyu and I.” You show him a faded album cover, and he reads the title. 

“Can I listen to it, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course. I wanted to share it with you. Shared grief, you know?” You chuckle, as Joshua goes up to play the album. The first few songs are not even remotely sad, but he can see a tear rolling down your cheeks already. You jerk away the cup of cinnamon coffee from yourself, to prevent it from becoming salty.

When it finishes playing, Joshua lets out a long sigh he doesn’t even know he’s been holding in. This really confirms it for him. It breaks his heart a little more, although he’s known this for years, probably, but it still hurts.

“It’s a very moving album.”

“Hmm. The lyrics are almost poetry.”

“Yes. The way the singer describes the grief of losing a lover…. No wonder you could feel it so deeply.”

You’re looking at him funnily, and he raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not about losing a lover. I think it’s about losing any person who was close to you… the feeling of missing a beloved is not limited to romantic relationships, you know? Do you not feel the same way? Your calmness scares me.”

“No, I… I don’t know how to feel. It does hurt, a lot. But… somehow, the last year has been very hard for me. It’s changed the way I feel things, I think…”

And then you hug him, your fingers squeezing his shoulder blades. You’re impossibly close to him on the sofa, but he can’t hug you back. Not when you’ve literally shown him the album right now.

Not when he knows it for sure that his love for you will be forever unrequited.

He can speak again only when you shift away from him again, breaking the hug.

“Y/N, I… This was the world I wanted to avoid the most. I wanted to run away from it so bad. I did everything I could in the US to convince myself and my family to let me stay away, to prove that I was better off living away. And I had selfishly, left everything to my little brother, who was suddenly pushed into all this without expecting it. And I feel like a terrible person. I don’t deserve to cry-”

“Hey! Wonwoo never thought like that. He knew your reasons, and he never once complained about them.”

“Did he speak to you about it ever? I just feel like a piece of shit for leaving him in the middle of it all, instead of being the reliable hyung he should have leaned his back on and enjoyed the youthful days of his life. I can’t help but feel-”

And he does what he has tried to avoid all day. He doesn’t know what triggers it- your pats on his arm, the way your eyes are glued to his, or the memories of Wonwoo finally flooding his rationale. 

“You’re not responsible for his death, Joshua. You deserve to grieve, but do not beat yourself up. He never complained about anything. If anything, he knew he was a natural at this.”

“But Y/N that’s no consolation! I failed him!” He’s positively bawling now, and you shuffle to take him in an embrace again. He fights it at first, whispering something about snot, but you only chuckle and pull him in closer. There are several moments of silence after this, while he continues to sniffle in the crook of your neck.

“The days after he left, they were hell for me. I would hallucinate, I think. I saw him in my dreams, when I woke up I would call out his name, while eating or doing any work I would talk to myself, addressing myself with his name. Everyone thought I was going to lose my mind, but then… I reeled myself in. My stronger sense of intelligence stopped my emotional senses from losing it all.”

“You’re very strong, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do if I lost my lover.”

There’s another moment of silence. Joshua feels his heart beating fast, but then there is another heartbeat bursting in his ears, and it’s way faster than his. 

He realises it is yours. 

“Wonwoo and I… were never lovers, Joshua. I don’t know why you keep thinking that?”

Suddenly, his world is spinning. Joshua Hong doesn’t know what to say.

“What?”

He moves his body backward to look at you, to see if you’re fucking with him. It’s a cruel joke-

“Wonwoo and I were never in love. Romantically.”

“But you were engaged?”

He sees you take a deep breath in, and his eyes are bigger than the sun as he waits for you to answer. It’s a do-or-die moment for him. He keeps searching your eyes for any sign of a joke, but you look dead serious.

“That’s because… because Wonwoo was gay. He liked my brother. But he could never come out before the world, he knew he would die by public guillotine if he did that. So he decided to do the next best thing to marrying the love of his life. He decided to marry his best friend. That’s all.”

“Marrying his best friend? Wonwoo gay?”

“Yes,” he’s definitely delusional right now. He’s hearing all sorts of bullshit. This is why he was reigning in the tide. Too many tears and he’s light-headed. Drunk in his own pathetic feelings.

“He asked me about his dilemma, and what he was thinking of doing as a solution. We agreed to it as the best thing. I would support him in this tough journey, he knew that. And I knew that it was better to marry him than spend my life in an arranged marriage because I was not even looking for love-”

“Not looking for love?”

It’s your turn to look like your breath had been knocked out of your lungs, but you quickly recover, when you whisper to him, your voice suddenly far softer.

“Joshua…”

“Why did Wonwoo spoil your chances of finding love? You could have found love, you know?”

“Not when the only man I have ever loved was millions of miles away from me.”

No, he’s delusional for sure. It can’t be- no- never…

He sees you freeze, standing up, and suddenly the room is too cold in spite of it being the middle of September. Your body steps away from him, but he can’t move. Can’t seem to get a word out of his mouth, not a single thought in his mind. 

“Oh. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

And then you sprint, shutting the door behind you, and Joshua still can’t move a limb.

_

ix. 

“I love the way that you're designed

Love thе way we intertwine

Still don't need a rеason why

You're beautiful and now you're mine”

It seems like an eternity before you can stop crying. An eternity of unrequited love is burning itself down to atoms in your heart, and your whole body seems to be out of control. It’s been a long day, worn down by the grief of losing your friend, and now the pain of ruining the one friendship you had left.

As a teenager, you had anticipated this moment several times. Especially during the sleepless summer nights, when you would wonder how it would be if you ever confessed to Joshua. You had almost done it too, on so many occasions which kept floating to your brain now. When he had come to see you at your first debate finals in school, and he had hugged you after you had won, and treated you (and Wonwoo and Mingyu, who were your teammates) to bulgogi japchae and fried chicken. When he had patted your hair after you had scored your first goal in football, one of the many games you played with the boys. When he had given you the extra piece of dumpling from his plate because there were no more left and you had just remarked that it was the best dumpling you’d ever eaten. 

You are so lost in your own thoughts that you miss the footsteps behind you. A shame truly because Joshua is extremely loud in his running. Anyone in their right minds would be able to hear him from miles away. But not you. Your mind is blocked too much with echoes of your own voice, pathetic as you must have sounded when you had confessed your silly little infatuation. 

An infatuation that had lasted the struggles of time. 

All the lies you had always said. Not looking for love. Focused on my career right now. Too busy to date. I don’t believe in soulmates and that shit. All excruciatingly stupid excuses to hide the ache your heart made even after years, just at the thought of Joshua Hong. Even when you knew very well he was way out of your league and too far away, physically and emotionally from you, you had chosen him over any other person up your way. That fact in itself was so wretched: you had, like a fool, chosen him over and over, giving up any opportunities to embrace a now that would gratify the innate human need for romance, in hope for an extremely uncertain future. Over Yoon Jeonghan, who had fluttered his pretty lashes and drawled in his cherry sweet voice- but you were insecure that he was way more beautiful than you, and the only reason he was going on dates with you was to boost his ego about his own beauty. Over Xu Minghao, the calm, witty and incredibly romantic boy who matched you in every way possible, almost designed to be your soulmate by your own admission- but even the easily affectionate days you enjoyed with him in your college days had been overshadowed by the flickers of hope that one day, you would make Joshua’s heart race in the same burning, desperate way he still made yours race. 

Your body is exhausted from the overdrive. 

You’ve cried too much, it’s sucked out all the moisture from your system. You’ve not eaten in hours, and the pain of your heart is overcoming you in whole. So you let sleep take over you, expanding the memories to erase any sense of consciousness you retained for so long in vain.

_

Sickening how you’re dreaming of him even in your sleep. It’s extremely hazy, but you see his face smiling down at you, the dawn covering his features with shades of pink and orange that make his eyes glitter even more brightly than usual. 

He’s an angel, you think. 

Except your body is feeling too warm for it to be a dream. His smile seems to grow wider, and you can slowly see more of his face. 

Then he bends down to kiss your forehead. Then you’re asleep again.

_

When you finally wake up, he’s still staring at you. The slow breaths you take and release as you sleep so calmly in his lap, your head ever so lightly shifting from time to time. The edge of the wooden bench pokes his waist, but he would bear anything to see you sleeping in his arms like this. He can scarcely believe it, and he’s afraid that if he moves even a bit, it will disappear, like a myth he had gaslit himself into believing. 

So when you finally wake up, he can’t help but smile at you. The smile that’s been stuck on his lips ever since he realised seven hours ago, that you loved him back. That he was not an absolute fool in hoping he could make you his. That he was not the only one whose heart burned with the desire to touch you every time he saw you. 

He finally understood your point about shared grief. 

As the stars disappeared when the sun rose, he quietly prayed to Wonwoo. It was mean and selfish, to be grateful to him for bringing you to him by giving up his life. But he was able to ignore the demons in his head by thinking that the kind soul Wonwoo was, he had always brought you to him, he was the only one who had pushed you away in spite of his unending efforts. 

Hyung, can you come watch our debate finals? Y/N and Mingyu are also here…

Hyung, let’s call Y/N for your birthday too! She’s your friend too…

Hyung, can you help me choose which photos to post for Y/N’s birthday? I can’t choose, she’s too cute in all of them…

And he had saved all the photos. You were not just cute in all of them, but also the most elegant and beautiful lady he had seen. He was sure he found it harder than Wonwoo to pick just three photos, but he had to suppress the storms that blast his heart from time to time whenever he thought of you.

To think that you were in his arms now, waking up on a beautiful, clear, warm morning, your soft body shifting against his own. Your bright eyes finally opening to see him, as he continues to smile at you, urging you to wake up so that he could finally see the stars in your eyes, although they were long gone from the skies. 

“Good morning, princess.”

_

You’re hallucinating. Or you’re just still sleeping.

But it feels too real. Joshua’s warm body engulfs you as you wake up. 

“Good morning, princess,” he says again when he thinks you haven’t heard him. Oh, but you have.

“Joshua?” your voice is cracked, from sleep and tears. 

“Yes, Y/N?”

His voice is like honey dripping from a fountain of all things sweet and delicate.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at you?”

“What? Why?” you’re genuinely confused as you try to get up, but his strong arms prevent you, and keep you trapped in the warmth of his soft lap.

“Because I’ve waited for thirteen years to see you wake up in my arms. And I’m not letting go now.”

You have to sit up now, so you resist his arms, and sit up, your body twisting to face Joshua. 

“What are you saying, Joshua Hong?” A single tear rolls down your cheek, fighting the urge to smile before you’re fully convinced this is real.

“I love you, Kim Y/N. I have, forever. Ever since I realised what love is. I never-”

“What?” Your jaw is open, so he smiles at the sight.

“I never imagined you would like me back.” His voice is softer as he leans closer to you.

You touch his cheek slowly, hesitantly, before completing placing your palm on cheek as he leans into your touch. It’s not real. No. You’re…

“Are you for real?” He smiles again, that angelic smile. 

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“Are you kidding me? Joshua! Please don’t joke with me. I’m dead serious!”

“So am I!” His eyes go wide, and you know now for sure.

It’s still so unreal, that you’re suddenly overcome by embarrassment and you hide your face in his shoulder. He chuckles, a melodic sound.

“Y/N, will you have me as yours?”

You can’t even look up at him, unable to look at the way he’s looking at you. The loving gaze in his eyes that makes your stomach somersault. You better get used to it, Y/N, you tell yourself. 

“As long as you want me as yours.”

“Always have, princess. And always will.”

_

x. 

“Spend a summer or a lifetime with me

Let me take you to the place of your dreams”

The next few days are a dream. A dream you had never dared to dream for longer than five seconds. But now, it seemed to engulf your entire existence. 

For loving and being loved by Joshua Hong is a happy heaven beyond imagination. It’s waking up, in his arms for the first time, on wooden benches in the lawns. It’s waking up next to him, in his arms again, as the sun catches your eyes and breaks your slumber. It’s waking up to the scent of rose and vanilla, which you think is his natural scent even without any perfume. 

It’s also sleeping in his warm embrace. It’s sleeping with minimal clothes but still feeling hot in the night because of how closely your bodies are entangled. It’s sleeping with your faces touching each others, so close you’re breathing in the carbon dioxide he is exhaling.

It’s an elixir that adds a million years to your life. 

It’s a honeymoon phase you know will never end. Not as long as Joshua Hong looks at you with the edges of his eyes crinkling up in explicable fondness, when you explain to him why it’s not correct to use each other’s toothbrushes. Not as long as he kisses you all over your neck and shoulders, complaining about how you had teased him for months in your tank tops. Not as long as he knocks out the breath from your lungs whenever you look at him, and you know that’s a feeling that’s never going to go away.

Or maybe it is just the happiness of Chuseok that permeates into you now, making you feel happier than ever.

_

Joshua knows this is what a dream coming true looks like. It looks like you wearing the softest, fluffiest yellow hanbok, designed to match with his own golden hanbok. Your hair is pushed back, revealing your full cheeks even more prominently, and when you smile, you look like the cutest strawberry.

As you walk up to him, still blushing, as the flashes of the cameras go off, he whispers, “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I’m so lucky to be your husband.”

“Shut up! Don’t make me more shy than I already am.”

He latches his own arm to yours as you both bow to the crowds waiting ahead of you to open the celebrations for the day.

“I love it when you’re shyly blushing like that. Boosts my ego like nothing else.”

“God, Joshua Hong! You menace!”

“I know,” he whispers later at night, in your ears, almost a low growl, when you say the words again to him, but the annoyance in your voice is now overcome by a desperate neediness that not just boosts his ego but also shoots straight to his dick. For Joshua can’t think without his dick these days. Not when he strips you out of the hanbok, thanking god you had hidden up your curves all day, because if he knew you were wearing his favourite pearly white bra today, he’d not be able to function all day. Not when he kisses your nipples with growing fondness, having quickly realised how sensitive your breasts were. Not when his fingers slide easily into your wet cunt, almost like a habit now after the last few nights. 

He can cry thinking of how many times he’s imagined this, but when finally sinks himself into you, he loses it. Every fucking time he does it, he loses it. 

Tonight, he flips you to sit you down on him, and your eyes are going wide at the new angle, and you try bouncing on him, eager to make him feel good. And you are making him feel amazing, especially when he feels your breasts bounce on his face as he licks the valley between them. But he knows you’re getting tired with how many times his dick slips out when you raise yourself and you have to push yourself back again.

“Let me help you, baby.” And he thrusts himself up into you, causing a scream to leave your mouth, as you lean back against his knees. “You feel so good, Josh! Aaah- aah-” he cuts off your words and makes them into moans with his continuous thrusts. He whispers little words of encouragement to bring your orgasm faster as he feels himself getting closer with every little clench of your cunt. And when you finally cum, he shakes all over and cums into you too. Thank god you gave him the green light to fuck you raw, as you were habituated to your birth control pills. 

“I love you,” he says even later into the night, when he’s kissing you again, the post-orgasm bliss dissipating into a soft love that seals you both into a bubble of love that he thinks can never be broken. 

“I love you too, Joshua.” You kiss his forehead, and wrap your legs around him. As he feels his breathing stabilise against your own, he knows he wants nothing else from life.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Vampiric.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: Vampire AU, Blood and Violence, Unbalanced Power Dynamic, Predator/Prey Dynamics, Implied Past/Future N0n///C0n, and Obsessive Behavior.

He came to you in the midnight hours.

You’d learned, by now, to wait for his nightly visits in privacy, to sit on the corner of your bed farthest from your window and listen for the distant sound of claws digging into wood, of a body dragging against stone, of nails scraping against glass as he beckoned you to let him in willingly. Of course, you didn’t, and of course, he didn’t need you to – your bedroom window crashing only a moment after you would’ve reached it, a pair of talon-doting hands wrapping around your windowsill before Miguel hauled himself inside, scarlet blood already dotting the collar of his white undershirt. Clearly, he’d already fed, tonight. His appetite had already been sated, which meant he’d only come to you to wash the taste out of his mouth.

The alternative would’ve been kinder. When he came to you half-starved, you could blame his violence on his hunger, his cruelness on his desperation. Whatever he did tonight would only serve his own twisted sense of entertainment.

He was grinning, too; crimson painted over his lips and dripping from his chin, coating his pointed fangs and spilling onto the fine silk of his tunic. With your back to him, your shoulder pressed into the plain wood of your headboard, you watched from your peripheral as he stepped into your bedroom, letting out a bark of a laugh and arching his back before stiffening, his smile falling in an instant with a sharp, venomous hiss. He didn’t flee or melt into a pile of ash and bone as you’d hoped, but only turned back to your window, catching the wreath of purple and white flowers posted above it on his claws. “Garlic blooms,” he muttered, crushing your wreath in his fist. The ruined flowers were allowed to drift pathetically to the floor, but you forced yourself to look away before they landed. “Trying your hand at botany?”

“Someone told me that garlic was good for keeping away for keeping away unwanted pests, but they must’ve been mistaken.” You didn’t move, didn’t turn, keeping your back straight and your hands wrung together in your lap. It was all you could do to keep your voice steady, to hide how much you wanted to buckle into yourself and beg him to leave. That’d come soon enough, when you were drained of all things good and vital and had only the strength it took to hold yourself. For now, you could play confident. “Tell me, would it be worth the time it’d take to hang a crucifix?”

You felt his weight on the plush of your mattress, your stomach turning as he grew ever-nearer. “I wouldn’t think so. You know how fond I am of holy ground.”

It was true, you did. You’d never be able to forget the night he first cornered you, the hours you spent pinned against the alter of an empty chapel as a beast you’d mistaken for a man buried his teeth in your neck and he forced his body into yours. For as long as he’d tormented you, you’d thought that night would be your final one, that he’d split you open and eat you alive before the sun ever rose, but here you sat, alive and breathing and still completely in the dark as to why he hadn’t devoured you, why he hadn’t left you in the same decrepit state as the rest of his mortal victims – a dried husk, barely a shell of a corpse left in a gutter or alleyway to be found by some poor soul the next morning. Your only guess was that he took more joy in being the ghost that haunted your every waking thought than the beast who would rip you to shreds the moment you stepped into the moonlight, and even then, it was hard to tell which fate was crueler. It was hard to tell if you were glad that he’d shown you mercy, or distraught that he'd chosen to keep you as a plaything, instead.

A bitter taste spread over your tongue. His cold breath fanned over your exposed back, and reflectively, motivated by the same instinct that propels the rabbit to writhe in the fox’s mouth, you tried to stand, to flee Miguel before he thought to bite down. You made it all of half a step before a strong arm caught you by the waist, dragging you back onto your bed and against Miguel’s broad chest. There was a throaty laugh, a flat tongue ran over the curve of your throat, and then, the fox put the rabbit out of its misery and Miguel sunk his fangs into your neck.

It hurt the same way it always hurt. The pain was sharp, hot – searing your veins as he bit into you, drawing a sharp cry from the base of your throat before you could hope to swallow it down. He held you like that for a moment, then another, your body pressed against his and his teeth burrowed in your flesh, before pulling back with a rolling growl, barely giving you time to draw in a ragged inhale before his lips latched onto his fresh puncture marks, his coarse tongue over the twin streams of blood. A thin trail of scarlet slipped past the corner of his mouth, only growing thicker as he nipped at half-healed ‘love bites’ and throbbing bruises too often abused to fade. His hand fell away from your wrist and rose to your collar, finding its way to the base of your throat and catching you in an inescapable grip, holding you steady as he drank from you. Sometimes, he let you fight it, took joy in pinning you down as you shoved and kicked and screamed, but he usually preferred a submissive meal. Tonight, he was clearly in the mood to pretend you were willing prey.

You expected him to leave after he’d drunk his fill, to pull away and slip back out of your bedroom window, but you were not that fortunate. Rather, he sunk lower, burying his teeth in the curve of your shoulder. The impact was dull, just forceful enough to bruise – meant more to mark than to maim. A love bite, in the place of a puncture wound – the former just as painful as the latter. “It’s like wine,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. You felt his hand on the collar of your nightdress, starting to drag the delicate fabric downward before he lost what little patience he still had. Before you could brace yourself, before you could think to bed him not to, your body was slammed against the wood of your headboard, his fist still wrapped around your neck, his claws still tearing at your clothes. “If I had less control, I would’ve drained you weeks ago.”  His voice in your ear, his hands on your skin. He dropped lower, to your chest, and yet, you never seemed to rid yourself of the awful feeling that he was looming over you, consuming you. “You’re lucky that your blood’s not the only part of you that tastes so—”

“Please.” It was barely a whisper. Without his uncannily keen senses, it could’ve easily been lost underneath the sounds of his lips against your skin, underneath his throaty growls and stifled moans. Still, he raised his head, his scarlet eyes flickering up to meet yours as you went on. “Please, Miguel, not tonight.”

For a moment, he did not move, did not speak. You pictured, in a part of your mind you’d lost control of the day you met him, Miguel burying his talons in your chest, carving out your beating heart and making it so you’d never be able to deny him again, but the blow never came.

A small, teasing smile spread across his crimson-stained lips as he raised his head. He kissed you, the gesture gentle and lingering, before straightening his back and releasing your throat. “Not tonight,” he said, watching as you sunk into yourself. “But soon. I can’t let my amor spend their nights alone for much longer.”

You opened your mouth, but he was already gone – vanishing into the moonlight and leaving you covered in your own blood, shaking in the tatters of your nightdress, and already dreading his next visit.

[novaursa]

rhaegar targaryen redemption arc 🙏🏻🙏🏻 thank you for your work queen ♥️ (he was fr a villain in the books)

The Crown of Winter Roses (Redemption)

- Summary: Rhaegar starts the Rebellion by stealing his sister, you.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Note: I've blended in your request into this series, dear anon. I hope you don't mind. 🙂 And yeah, I as well blame Rhaegar for everything that happens in ASOIAF.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The years had weathered Rhaegar Targaryen, carving lines of age and regret into a once-youthful face. The sun was low in the sky, casting shadows across the courtyard of the modest estate they now called home. He stood at the edge of the training yard, watching the figures move before him: a young girl with silver-gold hair that glinted in the fading light, her sword flashing as she sparred with her teacher, her laughter ringing out clear and bright.

Daenerys. His daughter. His salvation.

She was everything he had hoped for, everything he had feared he would never deserve. Born in a time of chaos and loss, she had been the one light that had kept him from drowning in the darkness of his own guilt. He watched her now, so vibrant and full of life, a fierce joy burning in her eyes as she practiced the sword forms she had insisted on learning. It was not the way of the Targaryens to wield steel, but she had her mother’s stubborn spirit, and Rhaegar had not had the heart to deny her.

He glanced over at you, standing a little distance away, your gaze fixed on Daenerys with a look of quiet pride. You had forgiven him—gods knew why, but you had. Even after everything, after the lies, the betrayal, the war that had torn the realm apart, you had stood by him. It was your strength, your love, that had given him the courage to change, to try to atone for the past.

The rebellion had ended in blood and ruin. Robert Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne now, his rule uncontested. The Targaryens had been shattered, scattered like ashes in the wind. Rhaegar had fled with you, with Daenerys, to this distant corner of Essos, where no one cared about fallen kings or broken crowns. He had abandoned his claim to the throne, left behind the dream of prophecy and power that had once consumed him.

In the quiet years that followed, he had learned what it meant to truly live. It had not been easy. The weight of his sins was always there, a constant, silent companion. The faces of those he had lost, those he had failed, haunted his nights. He could still see Elia’s eyes, the terror in them as he left her behind, could still hear the cries of his children as they were torn from this world before they had even truly lived. 

But through it all, you had been there, your presence a balm to his wounded soul. You had been the one to pull him from the abyss, to remind him that there was still something worth fighting for, even if it was no longer a crown or a kingdom. And then there was Daenerys, the unexpected miracle that had brought him back to life. She had been born amidst the ashes of his old dreams, and in her eyes, he had found a new purpose, a new hope.

He watched as she parried a blow, her movements fluid, graceful. She was strong, not just in body but in spirit. She had inherited your fire, your fierce will, and every day he thanked whatever gods still listened that she had also inherited your heart. She did not carry the burden of prophecy, of expectation. She was free to be herself, to choose her own path. And that, more than anything, was his redemption.

Once, he had believed he was meant to be the savior of the realm, the hero of some grand destiny. Now he knew better. His role was not to save kingdoms or fulfill prophecies. It was to be a father, a husband, to protect and cherish the family that had somehow come to love him despite his failings.

Daenerys glanced over at him, her face flushed with exertion, her eyes bright. “Did you see that, Father?” she called, her voice full of pride and excitement.

Rhaegar smiled, the simple joy of that moment filling his heart. “I did, sweetling. You’re becoming quite the swordswoman.”

She grinned, a flash of white teeth, and then turned back to her training, her focus unwavering. He marveled at her resilience, at the strength she possessed. He had tried to shield her from the shadows of his past, from the darkness that had once consumed him, but she was wise beyond her years. She knew more than he wished she did, understood the burden he carried even if she did not fully grasp its weight.

As he watched her, he felt the familiar pang of regret, the ache of old wounds that had never truly healed. But it was different now. The regret did not consume him as it once had. He had found a way to live with it, to carry it without letting it destroy him. And that was because of you, because of Daenerys, because of the life you had built together here, far from the shadows of the Iron Throne.

He turned to you, his heart full as he looked into your eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly, the words carrying the weight of everything he felt, everything he could never truly express.

You smiled, that smile that had always been his sanctuary. “For what?”

“For this,” he gestured to the courtyard, to Daenerys, to the life that surrounded them. “For saving me. For giving me a reason to keep going.”

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to clasp his. “You saved yourself, Rhaegar. I just reminded you that there was something worth saving.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, the warmth of your body a comfort against the lingering chill of his memories. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking with the intensity of his emotions. “I love you so much.”

You held him, your hand running through his hair, your touch gentle, soothing. “I love you too, Rhaegar. We’ve come so far, haven’t we?”

He nodded, his throat tight. “We have. And I will spend the rest of my life making sure that what we’ve built here, what we have, is never taken from us.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’ve already done that. You’ve given us a home, a family. You’ve given Daenerys a life free from the chains that once bound us.”

He kissed you then, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of love and loss, of gratitude and hope. When he pulled back, you smiled, and he felt a sense of peace settle over him, a peace he had never thought he would find.

Daenerys ran over, her training session finished, her face flushed with triumph. “Did you see, Mother?” she asked eagerly. “Did you see how I beat Ser Jorah?”

You laughed, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “I did, my dragon. You were magnificent.”

She beamed, and Rhaegar felt his heart swell with pride. This, he thought, this is what it means to be redeemed. Not the grand gestures of kings or the fulfillment of prophecies, but the simple, everyday moments of love and laughter, of family and home.

He watched as you and Daenerys began to talk, your voices mingling in the quiet of the evening, and for the first time in so many years, he felt truly free. Free from the shadows of the past, free from the ghosts that had haunted him. He had found his redemption not in power or glory, but in the love of his family, in the laughter of his daughter, in the warmth of your embrace.

And as the sun set below the horizon, casting the world in hues of gold and crimson, he knew that whatever lay ahead, whatever trials the future might bring, he was ready. Because he had found his way back to the light. Because he had found his way back to you.

[2kverrr]

MIKE MUNROE - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Mike Munroe x reader

he’s known not only by the group to be a player, but also by your entire school.

so when he started trying to talk to you a bit more, you were more than prepared to shut. it. down.

there was a sour ending between him and emily soon after hannah and beth’s disappearance, and at this rate, jessica too (she was clearly still hung up over their summer fling).

his confidence surpassed yours and he was relentless. joining you ashley and sam, uninvited and unexpected:

“hey guys, what’re we talking about” the brunette seats himself next to you, purposefully nudging your shoulder. “we were talking about y/n’s next cheer competition” sam sighs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms as mike slowly starts to put his arm around you, “erm- what is this?” ash points, glaring at your arm, causing you to look down to see his big, tan hands creeping around your shoulder. at an instant, you shrug him off as your face flushes red. this boy was going to be the death of you.

pulling you out of classes with white lies to your teachers:

“yeah, she needs to head to the attendance office” he beams his charming smile towards the teacher then winks at you. “what the fuck do you want?” you query with hands on your hips stepping out of your english lit class. “you.”

notes in your locker. but it as sweet as the action was, it didn’t phase you, you didn’t want to be his next side-piece:

roses are red, violets are blue. flowers mean shit, i want you.

me, you, a couple of beers and my dads garage?

why are you playing so hard to get, we’ve known each other for like forever. you only make me like you more.

eventually you’d received the painfully awkward video message from josh, opening his lodge up on mount blackwood for the winter.

you’d had message after message from the boy, invites and offers to take transport together, it was a little bit sad how hard he was trying, he usually breathes in a girl’s direction and they’re ready to chew his food for him.

so you accepted, you’d known him since you were 5 after all, what’s the harm?

and then it started, all with him asking to hold your hand on the ski lift, insisting his left hand was cold. pathetic but cute.

during this you were spotted by a wild josh, lively and charismatic as ever considering the circumstances, he made sure to let everybody within a 20 mile radius know of his suspicions upon the two of you.

the attention had its positives and negatives. jess didn’t approve, nor did sam. josh, chris and ashley were happy as ever. nobody ever knew what emily was really thinking so you tried your hardest to ignore it, whereas matt was glad mike was busy with anyone but his ex.

“soo… i think it’d be wrong not to ask you out right now.”

you honestly thought, from the deepest most sincere part of your heart, believed your were mike-proof. but through all his little tactics he managed to make you actually like him, romantically.

a lot of girls gave off the wrong impression of mike; man-whore, cheater, horndog. maybe they were the problem because you couldn’t ask for anyone better.

he cooks surprisingly well, though he refuses to wash up, he has some pretty good experience in the kitchen.

he doesn’t mind too much about what you do and where you go, maybe it’s because you’re the same with him, unlike one emily davis, “a human gps with my location on lock and an accusation weapon system activated”

he always smells good. he has gone through at least 4 of his favourite colognes within the past year, which also means you’ve got an easy birthday/Christmas present option.

weirdly enough, he loves going on shopping trips with you. you think he’s pretty useful fashion-wise whereas he always enjoys convincing you into ‘rating your clothes’, aka - watching his girlfriend undress while sitting in silence.

amongst these positives, you can only name one terrible feature with mike. he’s a snorer. not just a little soft breathy snore. it’s a full on mouth open, putting his entire body weight on you, speakers blasting snores. it could also easily be mistaken for a helicopter taking off.

eventually emily warms up to your relationship, managing to see eye to eye with you. you’ll never know what her ulterior motive is but you have enough trust in mike to bat off her ways.

[lalunanymph]

i feel like rin's prone to nightmares considering his daily stress and bottled emotions from his childhood :(( like u see him sleeping with furrowed eyebrows and heavy breathing :(( oh the urge to suck him off while sleeping orz

im so sick for him he makes me crazy, you're so real for this nonnie thank you for letting me play w your big brain idea 🫶🏼

tw. somno, nightmares, established relationship, female!reader, oral s*x, rin and reader are gooey for each other

Silk sheets pressed in between two breathing bodies splayed across the deepening of a velvet night.

Wedged close to your boyfriend, sleep was slowly dissipating, the feeling of him stirring hard enough to pry your eyes wide open. 

You slowly blinked the fog from your mind and rubbed the crust from your eyes.

In the dim slate of the city lights spilling onto your dark sheets, you eased up onto your elbow, recognizing the cadence of his breath; the twitch of his arms.

Rin’s dark green hair was dyed the deepest shade of night, pale lids scrunching and relaxing in stuttering stops and starts—intermittently followed by a pout which tugged on your heartstrings.

“Rin-Rin?” you cooed quietly. When he didn’t stir, you sat up, on alert. “Rin?” 

A whimper answered your inquiring inflection of his name. Seeing Rin now, without the glaring stadium lights and the pressure of Japan’s growing sports industry constantly looming over him like an ash cloud, you thought he looked more like a boy than the man you fell in love with. 

His forehead was covered with a sheen of sweat, fists clenched at his side. The black shirt he wore to sleep stuck to his broad chest that rose and fell with staccato pants.  

“Rin?” 

Another nightmare.

This was the third time in the month.

If you could trace back this strange occurrence, you thought it might’ve been because of his recent match in Spain. 

Through your woozy memories, you recalled another pair of flinty teal eyes. A frigid glare. How Rin hadn’t spoken a word since he boarded the flight from Madrid back to Tokyo, according to Isagi. 

You were worried for him, teeth catching on your lower lip. 

“Rin?” 

Your voice was weak. Hesitant. Afraid of waking up old ghosts.

The rational thought of waking him up was replaced by hesitating contradiction. Rin would get mad if you interrupted his sleep, his mood cranky and uncommunicative for the whole morning. On the other hand, he didn’t look like he was exactly enjoying his dreams, and the thought made your heart twist in a dichotomy of care and crippling worry. 

Trying hard not to wake him up, you pressed your head onto his chest, slowly rubbing his belly. 

It was a trick your mother had taught you—when she had to soothe your own night terrors back in the days. 

Instantly, Rin’s breathing grew deeper, and he stopped twitching. Chancing a peek up at him through your lashes, you drank in the stubborn scowl still etched onto his mouth. 

Even in sleep he was so gorgeous it hurt to even look at him. Those thick eyelashes framing closed eyes, the perfect chiselled cheekbones.

You thought you might’ve saved an entire busload of orphans from deep diving down a cliff in your past life to be able to call Itoshi Rin yours in this lifetime. 

Exhaling softly, the air was fragmented with the thickening of your heart, full to bursting. You swallowed hard, once, then twice—and inched your hand past the waistband of his joggers.

He was warm in your palm, all skin and velvet softness which lost its doughy pliancy the more you stroked along your favourite vein. You felt his heartbeat kick up a notch, his breathing giving a little hitch.

Worried that you might have woken him up, you stopped.

But, Rin didn’t make a move to break your hold on him. Stuck in sleep, you hoped his dreams were taking a turn for the better now that you were here to help.

You just wanted to help, you reiterated in your mind firmly. Your boyfriend needed you, and this was what you were good at; giving him a piece of heaven when he was constantly surrounded by the embers of his draining career and hidden secrets.

A sticky drop was smeared between your thumb and forefinger, Rin’s body responding to yours in kind. Even locked in unconsciousness, he was still sensitive, and you cooed at his reaction. 

Gaining more courage, you dared to lift your head, pecking a gentle kiss to his left pec, as you trailed your way down between his thighs. Tossing the blanket aside, you shivered from the sudden brush of cold air on your exposed cleavage, keeping your eyes steady on him if he should wake up.

Rin and you had discussed this a million times before—the line toeing pleasure and coercion.

You adored it whenever he refused to listen to your whimpers of overstimulation, much like how he would get hard enough to cut through steel whenever you played with his cock at the most inopportune of times.

The memory of him crowding you against a plane’s bathroom door shone in your mind. It was a holiday or another—his monthiversary gift to you. Rin had somehow managed to coerce you to join him in the cramped toilet where he had hooked your thighs under his elbows and fucked into you until you came hard enough to almost sprain your hamstring; both titillated and terrified at the thought of being caught.

This time was no different. Your heart was a pumping mess, beating twice as hard at the thought of what you were about to do.

Grabbing the elastic band of joggers, you tugged it down, enough for his cock to spring up, half-hard and already drooling.

The taste of him coated your tongue, and you hollowed your cheeks, docilely taking him down your throat. You moaned, enjoying clean musk saturating your tastebuds. Bobbing your head, you were dedicated to your cause, freeing Rin from his nightmares and replacing it with nothing but heated sensations and deepening valleys of adoration for his girlfriend who would give him the world.

Feeling his abs constrict under your palm, you sucked on the flushed mushroom tip, the plump nib throbbing hot and insistent, pinning your tongue down. 

Sucking your boyfriend off was your favourite pastime, and if anyone asked, you were happy to spend hours on your knees worshipping his cock. That didn’t mean Rin didn’t show you the same amount of devotion. He was equally as insane for your taste as you were for his, and fate couldn’t have created a more perfect pair. 

His breathy moan filled your ears, and you put in more work to try and get him off; using your throat as a fuck sleeve. What you couldn’t fit down your throat, you used your hands to squeeze and tug.

Massaging his balls, slotting your face closer to his taint to kiss and lick circles on the soft flesh. You were so deep into your act of pure love that you didn’t feel his hand in your hair until a sharp tug pulled you off his cock.

Those beautiful teal eyes were ablaze, nostrils flaring. Seeing him from your angle below, Rin could easily overpower you; using his defined and hefty muscles to pin you down and make you pay for ever waking him up. 

But, he grunted, eyes fluttering shut and opening again, lucidity evading those aquamarine pupils.

“What’re you doing?” he slurred, nose scrunched adorably.

In answer, you smiled and kissed his tip. Angelic and filthy like a devil in disguise.

“You had a nightmare so I was helping you.”

Rin’s exhausted growl rang through the room. He tugged you up towards him, lips crashing insistently on yours with sloppy, heated kisses.

You poured all your devotion and love into his mouth, sweet moans filling him up. 

Neither of you cared for morning breath or anything else but devouring each other; egoist to enabler, predator to prey.

You felt him push your babydoll nightie to the side, exposing your bare pussy which was already soaked for him. Rin never allowed you to wear underwear while you slept next to him for one reason and one only.

He toyed with your soaked entrance using the rough pads of his index and middle finger, strands of dark hair tinged with the faintest hue of dark green in the weak light sticking to his forehead.

“Well, you did more than help,” he started, sinking two thick fingers easily into your willing cunt. Your mewl was lost in his shoulder, tiny fingernails digging into his broad back. 

“So, I suggest you put that slutty pussy to good use and finish what that pretty mouth started.”

screams i need to munch him 😭

©️lalunanynph