#14k gold filled
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âš Discover the magic of rose quartz in a delicate embrace! âš
Our Dainty Rose Quartz Bracelet is a treasure trove of feminine energy and timeless elegance. Crafted with 14k Gold Filled and Sterling Silver, this Shokoro Dainty Crystal Jewelry piece is the perfect companion for your minimal fashion moments.
Imagine the soft pink hues catching the light, reminding you of love and inner peace. It's more than just jewelry â it's a daily dose of positive vibes wrapped around your wrist!
Looking for the perfect birthday gift with meaning? This natural beauty is your answer. Or maybe it's time to treat yourself to some self-love?
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Shokoroâs Blog: "Top 35 Best Canada Jewelry blogs and websites": Subscribe to receive our latest blog post
( topic: Jewelry, Crystals, Fashion, Life Style, Self-Growth and more)
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#rose quartz bracelet#dainty bracelet#birthstone gifts#valentinesgift#daintyjewelry#delicate bracelet#14k gold filled#jewelry gift#lovely gifts
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This delicate Amber and Carnelian necklace features gold-filled beads and gold-filled findings, including a gold-filled circle clasp.
$100
Buy it here: https://www.ameliaannearts.com/product-page/amber-and-carnelian-necklace
#art#tumblr art#artists on tumblr#jewelry#jewelry for sale#independently owned business#independent artist#small business#necklace#handmade jewelry#handmade#handmade necklace#carnelian#amber#14k gold-filled
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Selling fearless bracelets đ„°âșïž
#the beads are 14k gold filled#and Iâm selling for less than what others on etsu sell for#but theyâre much better quality xx
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Available Size - 14" inches/16" inches/18" inches/20" inches
#2mm Multi Tourmaline Necklace#Tourmaline Choker Necklace#Micro Faceted Round Beads with 14k Gold Filled-Silver Clasp#Gift Necklace
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Flat 35% off only for today, Hurry up
#arabic name necklace#name necklace gold#name plate necklace#14k solid gold name necklace#flower name necklace#diamond name necklace#14k gold name necklace#gold filled name necklace#old english name necklace#baby name necklace#name necklace gold 14k#solid gold name necklace#gold name necklace 14k gold#double plated name necklace#gold plated name necklace#name plate necklace 14k#gold name plate necklace#14k name necklace#infinity name necklace#real gold name necklace#14 k gold name necklace#vertical name necklace#large name necklace#kids name necklace for mom#name logo necklace#custom name necklace 14k#cursive name necklace silver#name necklace gold vertical#name necklace with message card#custom name necklace with birth flower
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only have eyes for you đ
author's note: request by @urantisocialgay <3. i accidentally deleted your ask when i finished the fic. thank goodness that it was saved somewhere else too!! anyways, thank you for your request!! i love weddings and proposals!! you can never annoy me with writing this au. đ„čđ„č
content: so so much love.
word count: 1.5k
song: i only have eyes for you by the flamingos
wedding au. | fic inspiration. | proofread by: @katemartinis <3
The ring was perfect. It was a vintage style emerald cut signature solitaire with double claw and details on a 14k yellow gold band. All Paige could do was imagine your ring finger wearing it. She knew it was the one when she saw you admire it at the jewelry store.
Paige needed to take her chains and earrings to get cleaned. Your favorite thing to do was imagine what your engagement or wedding ring would look like. You always thought engagements, weddings, and all the planning involved were magical. Plus, wedding cake is always so yum.
One thing you made sure to always tell Paige is that you don't want to suspect you were getting engaged. You wanted to be completely surprised. Planning the proposal was not a breeze for her. Paige knew you better than anyone. She knew your favorite sunset was in San Diego. She remembers how you danced around in the sand and water that night.
To keep you oblivious, Paige surprised you with weekend getaway trip with your closest friends. Your friends were told to let you have all the fun you wanted. The day of the proposal was the last night of your trip, so all of you get ready for a nice dinner by the water. Well, at least that is what was supposed to be happening.
âౚà§ËâĄË àŁȘ
Azzi called Paige panicking because you noticed your girlfriend's location was off which never happened before, and as an overthinker everything you could think of ran through your mind. You would call Paige, and her phone would go straight to voicemail. The thought of going out was the last thing you wanted to do.
"She's not budging! You need to call her if you want to be engaged by tonight." Azzi whispered loudly over the phone.
Paige sighs, "Okay, okay let me call her. Hopefully she can't figure out that I'm lying to her." She knew you were smart enough to piece everything together.
After so much convincing from Kayla, you were finally getting ready when she Facetimed. âHeard someone missed me,â she smiled teasing you.
You sigh starting to feel silly for worrying, âMhmm. Did you forget to charge your phone again?â
While you were putting the finishing touches of your makeup, Paige was admiring you. She couldnât stop staring and thinking about spending forever with you. A part of her couldnât believe an angel like you could love her.
You look from your mirror back to your phone when you didnât hear an answer from her. âYouâre staring.â
âYouâre so gorgeous.â You rolled your eyes playfully.
âLook whoâs talking. Such a pretty girl with her bun and braids.â
Now it was your turn to make Paige shy making her cover her red face. "Yooo, I'm talking about you right now." She says with her face in her hands.
âUghhhh, get a room!â You heard KK and Ice yelling from the phone.
Paige rolls her eyes and hears Kayla ask you if youâre ready. âCall me before bed, princess?â
The way sheâs looking at you right now makes you want to melt. Your favorite feature of Paige was always her eyes.
âNow look whoâs staring,â she laughed.
âShh, Iâll call you before bed. Keep your phone charged!â
She laughed again, âAlright, alright. I love you, *kiss kiss*. Bye.â
âౚà§ËâĄË àŁȘ
You and your friends were all going to wear white to dinner. They thought it was a good idea to match to keep you from questioning anything. Before you left the room, you stood in front of the mirror to make sure everything was okay. For some reason you had a feeling you couldnât describe. All day felt magical and dreamy.
The ride to the ârestaurantâ was filled with whispering and giggles. Kayla was documenting the whole trip with her camera, so it was no surprise to you when she leaned forward to the passenger seat and took a video with you.
Paigeâs proposing went through your head just for a second. You donât know why but your intuition is never wrong. All the pieces started coming together; the random planned trip, dress, & her being MIA all day? You started to feel a mix of excitement, happiness, & sadness. You always dreamed of this moment, but this meant a chapter of your life is closing. The last time youâll be a girlfriend. The last time itâs just you. You closed your eyes and quietly said goodbye to this chapter of your life and to the little girl in you.
You took a deep breath and processed how surreal this is. The possibility of becoming a fiancé gives you goosebumps and butterflies. The girl you love with your whole heart could be waiting for you with a ring reading to give you, her heart.
âౚà§ËâĄË àŁȘ
"Kayla just texted me letting us know they are about five minutes away." KK came running out of the house full of excitement as she should be since her and Nika introduced her to you, but that is a story for another time.
"Okay," Paige deeply sighed trying to release any worry and anxiety. She knows you love her and vice versa.
"She loves you, Paige. Everyone knows and sees it," Nika reassured and hugged her twin.
Tears welled up in Paige's eyes as she was hugging Nika. She laid her head on Nikaâs shoulder squeezing her tight.
âNah, you arenât going to cry yet!â Paige laughed and finally felt all her nerves leave.
KK heard car doors slamming coming from the front of the house, "Okay, they're hear. Are you ready?" She asked Paige.
Paige nodded letting the two girls run back to the house to watch from inside. She took a deep breath and prayed a small prayer to release any doubt she felt.
âౚà§ËâĄË àŁȘ
Instead of arriving to a restaurant as you thought, you were standing in front of a beautiful baby blue house. The front of the house was decorated with tickseeds, cosmos, and sunflowers. There was a white porch swing with pillows covered in seashells.
Your friends started walking through a garden gate that was to the right of the house. You gasped at the beautiful garden in front of you. For a moment, you thought you were in a fairytale storybook.
The further you walked you started seeing the beach. When you finally reached the middle of the garden, you saw Paige standing there surrounded by white roses. She was wearing a lace short sleeve shirt and shorts with blue adonis flowers. Her hair was in a bun with her two signature braids.
Kayla took all of your things and let you walk to your girlfriend while everyone else went inside. You felt like you were floating those 30 seconds you ran towards Paige. All the moments you thought this only happens in movies vanished. You pinched your finger to make sure you weren't dreaming. Nope this is real and ouch.
All the nerves and doubt were gone when Paige saw you standing in the garden. You looked like an angel in white surrounded with flowers. She swears she saw you glowing. Both of you were giggling and crying so much Paige almost forgot to ask you.
You ran into Paigeâs arms, and she lifted you spinning you in a circle. The both of you couldnât stop smiling and laughing. The love you had for each other radiated off you.
Paige put you down and grabbed both of your hands. She brought them to her lips and kissed both of your knuckles.
She squeezed your hands three times silently saying I love you. âThey say when you know, you know, and Iâm so glad I know. I canât possibly describe how much I love you in a short time. Youâre the light of my world and the stars of my universe. Every day I am so blessed to be loved someone as precious as you. I canât imagine my life without you and your love. Youâve shown me how beautiful love is. I admire you and how strong and intelligent you are. I love the love we share and want to do it forever.â
Tears were rolling down your face as you looked into each otherâs eyes. You and her laugh at how much of mess you both are. âThank you for always showing me a love that is so magical. I never want to find it anywhere else. You show me a genuine adoration that I will forever cherish.â
Everything felt like a fairytale. You couldnât believe how lucky you were to be hearing such beautiful words coming from someone who loves you. You felt so many emotions all at once. Your heart was full of love and happiness.
ïżœïżœI love you so much and I promise to always for all of my days.â Paige took a breath before getting on one knee. Although you knew she was going to propose, it still felt surreal seeing it happen in front of you. You arenât dreaming.
You cover your mouth from shock when you saw the ring. THE ring!! The one you tried on weeks ago. You vividly remember how right everything felt when you wore it for those few seconds. The same feeling you feel right now with Paige.
âI want to share every moment with you. The good and the bad. I want to laugh and cry with you. Youâre my sweetheart, best friend, and soulmate. Youâre my person. Will you marry me?â
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige bueckers fluff#paige bueckers imagine#paige bueckers x fem!reader#paige bueckers x y/n#uconn wbb#uconn huskies
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Iâm Yours
a/n : hi!! I canât believe Iâm finally posting this fic! Iâve had this concept sat in my drafts since March and I went through a bit of a hard time with writing but Iâve now turned this idea into something that Iâm really proud of đ„č this is the first time Iâve attempted to write something where the reader and Mase arenât already in an established relationship, so I really hope that I did it justice and that you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!! These two are my babies đ„ș I really hope you enjoy â€ïž feedback is appreciated as always đ«¶đ» (also itâs my first time trying an actual header so please let me know what you think)
word count: 14k +
genre: fluff and smut
âThere you areâ
The deep rumble of your best friends voice startles you, his suit clad body brushing against the bare skin of your arm as he appears next to you.
Mason pulls out the chair beside your own, sitting down with you in the secluded corner of the crowded room.
The Together for Short Lives gala is well and truly underway, the large ballroom decorated in elegant black and gold furnishings as people talk amongst themselves around the room. Itâs packed, an amazing turn out for such a meaningful event.
The evening so far has been nothing short of special, with a dinner followed by an auction, all of the money going to an amazing cause. Your heart filled with pride watching Mason up on the stage and youâre so grateful that he chose to share this night with you.
âYou disappeared on meâ Mason pouts, glancing down at the cocktail youâre holding in your hands before taking it from you and lifting it to his lips.
He takes a sip and you giggle at the face he pulls as he clearly didnât enjoying the sweet tasting drink as much as he thought he would.
âSorry, I just went to get another drink and then I couldnât find youâ You tell him, taking your glass back when he offers it to you.
âYou shouldâve called me, Iâd of come to find youâ He replies, and you try to ignore the way your tummy flutters at his words.
âI know you wouldâve, but I can handle being alone for a bit, Iâm a big girlâ
Thereâs a playful glint in his eyes when you look up at him.
âBut what if I wanted to come and find you?â
âWell youâre here now, so it couldnât of been that difficultâ You grin, watching as he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and youâre briefly distracted when he reaches up to adjust his tie.
You and Mason have been friends for as long as you can remember.
Your dads used to work together when they were younger and they always had a close relationship both in and out of work, which led to your families becoming close as well. Your mums became inseparable when they were introduced, and a few years later, when you and Mason were born only a few months apart, you naturally became inseparable too.
You grew up together, your parents keeping you close despite the fact that you attended two different schools, and as you got older, your bond only grew stronger.
Some of your best memories are with Mason, youâd stay the weekend at each others houses, spend long afternoons doing homework together before playing in the garden, and there were even a few summers where your families had joint holidays.
It was the two of you against the world, and it had always been that way.
That is until his football career started to take off. You were so proud of him. Your friend was playing for one of the best clubs in the England and you were over the moon to see him doing so well.
But, it unfortunately meant that he became busier and was spending more and more time in London and away from Portsmouth. You tried your best to stay in touch, messaging all the time and video calling when you eventually got phones, but you canât deny that it was hard not having him around anymore.
Things only started to get difficult when he went on loan to Vitesse when you were 18. It was harder to keep contact with him being away and being so focussed on football, but youâd never blame him for the fact you drifted apart.
You were in college at the time, spending any available minuet that you had on your classes, making sure you could pass your exams and get into the uni youâd always dreamed of attending.
It was difficult, you couldnât be there for each other as much as youâd of liked to be, and as much as youâd both tried your hardest to stop it, it started becoming harder and harder as time went on.
Youâd only see each other at family events like birthdays and weddings and it got to the point where youâd only talk once every few months or so. Even when he came back to the UK and was living in Cobham, youâd video call to catch up and then not speak to each other again for weeks unless you had something specific to talk about.
It was all part of growing up though. He was still one of your best friends, someone you knew you could trust and could call if you ever needed anything, and you were the same to him.
You both became increasingly busy, especially when he began playing for the first team and you were going through university, so it made sense that it became harder to make time for each other.
But, last year, it all changed.
After graduating from university and receiving your degree three years ago, you were presented with an amazing job opportunity in Manchester, which you just couldnât say no to. It was a big change for you, moving somewhere so far away from home and having to start a new life in a new city, but you wouldnât change it for the world.
Youâre doing amazing at work, having received a promotion not even two years after joining your company, and youâve got a cute little apartment that youâve well and truly made your own.
You really didnât think it could get much better, but you were proved wrong when Mason transferred to Man United last summer.
After a lot of uncertainty surrounding his career, Mason was relived to finally know who he would be playing for next season and was excited to start his new life up in Manchester.
You were one of the only people he knew in the city, and when he reached out, you offered for him to stay in your spare bedroom whilst he settled in and found a place to call his own.
He obviously took you up on your offer, loving the extra time he got to spend with you and the familiarity that came with being in your presence.
You had the best month living together. It was like youâd never been apart, all of those years of having distance between you forgotten. Youâd cook dinner together, have movie nights, talk to each other after youâd had a bad day at training or work and even after he moved out and into his new home, you still spent as much time together as possible.
You had your best friend back, and you had truly never felt happier.
Now, fast forward 8 months, and youâre questioning if thatâs really all you are anymore.
Youâve always known that Mason is an attractive guy. I mean, how could you not? Heâs gorgeous.
But recently that attraction has grown deeper. And not only in a physical way.
The last couple of months have been filled with lingering touches and longing gazes, the line between friendship and something more slowly becoming blurred.
Heâs no longer just Mason, your best friend, but heâs Mason, the guy you think, sorry, know that youâre in love with.
Mason is one of the few people who treats you like youâre somebody. He makes you feel like the most special girl in the world without even trying and youâve had to remind yourself one too many times recently that thereâs nothing more going on between you.
You havenât mentioned your feelings to him because youâre scared. Scared of loosing him and ruining what is such an important friendship to you. Scared that you arenât enough for him.
You didnât have the best experience in your last relationship, and you know deep down that Mason would never treat you the way he did and that thereâs nothing âwrongâ with you. Youâre a pretty girl who has good morals and a good head on your shoulders.
But, the fear that youâre not good enough - that you wouldnât be able to give him what he wants and needs - still clouds your mind, and itâs one of the reasons why you wonât admit anything to him.
And what if he doesnât feel the same way? After the last couple of months you know deep down that he could, but the last thing you want is to throw away your friendship over it.
You just canât ignore the growing tension between the two of you.
ButâŠneither can he.
Mason has felt for a long time that thereâs no one else for him but you, and his feelings for you just grew stronger after moving to Manchester.
You took him in and made him feel at home in a city where mostly everything was new to him, supported him through a tough transition period, and after moving out of your spare bedroom he found himself craving your company more than anyone elseâs.
You feel like home to him.
Tough day at training? He wants to see you. He saw something funny on TikTok? Itâs you he wants to send it to you. He burnt his toast that morning? He wants to tell you. Youâre at the forefront of his mind all the time.
Youâre the most beautiful girl heâs ever set his eyes on, both inside and out. Youâve got a heart of gold and he would do anything in his power to protect you from the harsh realityâs of the world. Youâre the most important person to him, he just wants to make you happy and see you smiling all the time.
This tension thatâs been building between you recently has been killing him, and as much as he worries that you wonât feel the same way, he doesnât think he can hold in his feelings much longer.
Thereâs been too many moments where heâs had to stop himself from leaning in and claiming your lips with his own, and itâs been becoming harder and harder to restrain himself.
Especially tonight.
Heâd invited you to join him and Lewis as a plus one to the black tie gala, wanting to experience the evening with you and share something thatâs always been so special to him.
When you stepped out of the lift earlier in the evening, his heart soared at the sight of you in your floor length gown. You left him speechless, and heâs not been able to take his eyes off of you ever since.
The black material hugs your body in all of the right places, perfectly contrasting against your tanned skin. Youâve matched it with a pair of strappy heals and silver jewellery, going for a simple yet elegant look.
Thereâs a slit down the left side, starting at your upper thigh, and the sight of your leg poking out from underneath the satin fabric has Masonâs mind wandering to places that he knows it shouldnât.
You look absolutely stunning, and heâs been struggling to hold himself back all evening.
Heâs found his attention drifting to you through out the night, more often than not becoming distracted from whatever conversation heâs having to admire you, and heâd quickly become captivated by your presence.
Sitting next to you now is no different, he canât help but let his eyes drift down your body and your cheeks heat when you notice his wandering gaze.
Thereâs a look of longing in his eyes, one youâve become familiar with, but until tonight youâve always thought that youâve been imagining it.
âYou need to stop looking at me like that, Maseâ
The sound of your soft voice has his attention snapping away from your body, and your heart skips a beat when his warm brown eyes find yours.
His cheeks flush from being caught, but his confidence doesnât falter.
âYeah? And what are you going to do if I donât?â He whispers, loud enough for only you to hear and the teasing smirk that finds his lips has your heart racing in your chest.
Youâre overcome by a wave of shyness, any response that you may have had dying in your throat as he shuffles closer to you, his knee nudging into yours under the table.
Heâs not sure whatâs gotten into him, but the urge to touch you suddenly becomes too much to ignore. He finds himself reaching out, his warm palm landing against your exposed thigh as his other arm snakes behind you, resting against the back of your chair. Your skin burns under his touch, breath hitching in your throat when his thumb rubs in tender circles over the inside of your thigh.
Mason has always been a touchy person, youâve seen and experienced it over your years of friendship, but thereâs something about the way heâs touching you now that has your head spinning.
His hand ventures a little higher and you fumble to open your purse, pulling out your lipgloss and phone in a desperate attempt to distract yourself and he doesnât fail to notice the way youâve avoided his question when you open the camera app, using it as a makeshift mirror to reapply the gloss.
He watches as you swipe the applicator over your pink, plump lips, the action captivating him and it takes all of his self restraint to not lean in and kiss you right there and then.
âYou look gorgeous tonight, Bambiâ
You pop the lid back onto the tube and place it back into your purse - your distraction techniques having been unsuccessful - and look up and into his eyes.
The whispered compliment has butterflies erupting in your tummy, your lips tugging up into a smile upon hearing the nickname heâs always used for you.
It started when you were 10, you always loved the movie and had invited him over to watch it with you after school one day. About half way through you stood up to go and find more popcorn but being your clumsy self youâd ended up tripping over your own feet.
Mase took the opportunity to compare your clumsiness to that of the deer, and at first he used the nickname as a joke, but then it stuck, and now, even in your twenties he still liked to use it. And you love to hear it.
âYou donât look too bad yourself, Maseyâ you tell him, letting your gaze drop briefly and you take allow yourself a moment to admire him.
Mason is handsome even on his worst days - youâre convinced that he could wear the ugliest outfit ever and somehow still pull it off - but there something about the way he looks tonight that has you breathless.
The suit heâs wearing is simple - perfect for a black tie event. A white shirt with a black jacket and trousers, a matching tie and some dress shoes to complete the look. The chest strap that he wore earlier in the evening has been abandoned, the jacket now undone allowing for more of a relaxed look as the evening goes on.
His hair is freshly trimmed, styled into a short quiff and his facial hair is neat, more of a long stubble than a full beard. The lighting in the room is dim, but you can still make out all of his features, the freckles that are dotted over his cheeks, his long lashes and the dimple that appears whenever he smiles. Heâs utterly breathtaking.
âRemind me to thank whoever tailored this suit for youâ You smile, gaze locking onto his again as you reach up, smoothing your hands over the lapels of his jacket.
âYou like it?â
âI love it, you look so handsomeâ you let your hands drop back into your lap and he misses your touch immediately.
âYeah?â His voice is barely above a whisper and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you nod gently.
You feel his arm move from behind you as he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment before brushing down your jaw and you become hyper-aware of how close you are when you feel his breath fanning over your cheek.
It feels as though the air around you has suddenly shifted, his gaze swimming with an emotion that you canât quite place. The intense eye contact becomes too much for you, your eyes momentarily dropping to his chest but he brings them back to his with a hand cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so that you have no choice but to look at him.
His gaze drops to your lips, once, twice, and a third time, until the desire to feel them against his own becomes too overwhelming. Heâs leaning in before he has a chance to stop himself, the lack of hesitation in your eyes only urging him on until someone clears their throat behind you.
âHey guysâ Lewisâ voice snaps you and Mason back to reality, the room around you coming back into focus.
His presence causes Mason to jump away from you, an unwelcome chill touching your skin where his hand no longer rests against your thigh. He groans in annoyance and turns towards his brother.
You release the breath you never realised you were holding, clearing your throat and fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress as Mason looks up at Lewis expectantly.
If he saw anything, he doesnât let it show.
âSorry Mase, thereâs a few people asking for youâ
Mason nods politely, standing up before turning to hold a hand out for you.
âYou coming?â He asks, acting as though nothing happened - that he hasnât just nearly kissed you.
It takes you a few more seconds to regain your composure, blinking up at him a few times before eventually nodding and taking his outstretched hand.
He helps you up, waiting until Lewis has turned away to lift your joint hands to his lips. He places a quick kiss to your knuckles, sending you a soft smile before letting them drop between you again and he doesnât let go as you follow him through the crowd, fingers still intertwined as Lewis introduces you to an older man who you recognise as one of the event organisers.
You try your best to focus on the conversations that are happening in front of you. You really do.
But itâs hard to concentrate with Masonâs fingers still tangled with yours and the thought of what couldâve happened had Lewis not interrupted you a few moments ago.
Thatâs the second time youâve almost kissed him. The first being a few weeks ago when heâd invited you and a few of your other friends over for a games night.
Youâd gotten to Masonâs a little earlier than everyone else, wanting to spend a bit of extra time with him before the others arrived and you were in the kitchen, helping him find some snacks and drinks when your favourite song had come on shuffle through the speakers.
One thing led to another and you were dancing around the kitchen, singing your little heart out as Mason stood back and watched you, giggling at your terrible dance moves.
As the song went on you got a little more into it, accidentally crashing into him after tripping over your own feet and heâd reached out to steady you, the two of you laughing together as you found your footing and rested against his chest.
Your laughter had slowly died down, the air around you thickening as you looked up to find him already gazing down at you. The warm look in his eyes could only be described as endearment and what happened next was a bit of blur.
He was leaning in when the door bell went off, the others arriving at the worst time and ruining the moment without even realising.
Youâve thought about it every day since, wondering what couldâve been, and now here you are weeks later, still asking yourself the same questions.
Youâre brought back to the present moment when Mason squeezes your hand, dragging your attention back to the conversation happening in front of you.
âYou okay?â He mumbles close to your ear, hand letting go of yours to instead wrap around your waist and you melt into his warmth as he tugs you closer.
You nod, sending him a smile that says youâre cool, calm and collected, but itâs as much of a facade as it can be when inside youâre feeling the complete opposite.
âHow about one more drink and then we head back to the hotel?â Mason suggests a few hours later, glancing down to his watch and noticing that itâs nearing 11pm.
âYou guys go ahead, Iâm going to go and talk to a few more people and then Iâll come and find you guysâ Lewis tells you before heading to the other side of the room and you follow Mason over to the bar.
âWater?â Mason asks, voice low as you approach counter.
He knows youâre not the biggest drinker, only ever choosing to have one or two drinks when you go out, and youâve already had a cocktail and a glass of wine with your dinner.
âPleaseâ You smile, glancing over to him as he orders and pays for your drinks.
âSorry mate, any chance we can grab a straw please?â Mason asks the bar tender when he places your water down in front of you, and you feel your cheeks warm at the simple gesture. Youâve always preferred drinking with straws, some people may think itâs weird, but to Mason itâs just one of the many things he loves about you.
You thank him as he slides the glass towards you, watching as he takes the paper wrapped straw from the bartender with a cheeky grin. He tears off the end of the wrapper, bringing the exposed end of the straw to his lips and you could predict what he was about to do from a mile off, but it still makes you jump when he blows on the straw, sending the paper flying and he laughs as it hits your cheek before landing on the counter next to you.
âMasonâ You groan playfully, shaking your head at his childish behaviour. Still, you canât help but laugh with him, and his heart soars at the sound.
Itâs not long later that youâre leaving the venue after finishing your drinks and saying your goodbyes, stepping out into the chilly evening air as Lewis steps aside to call a taxi.
âDid you have a good night?â Mason asks, coming to stand beside you.
A gust of wind ruffles his hair, a couple of strands falling onto his forehead and you have to fight the urge to reach up and brush them away for him.
âYeah I did, thank you for inviting me, it was specialâ you smile up at him, rubbing your palms against your bare arms in an attempt to keep warm when the wind picks up. The temperature has dropped significantly since earlier in the evening, and youâre now regretting your choice to not bring a second layer with you.
Mason doesnât hesitate to slip off his suit jacket when he notices you shivering, slipping it over your shoulders before you can protest. You snuggle into itâs warmth, breathing in the scent of his cologne that still lingers on the fabric.
âBetter?â He murmurs, making sure its wrapped around you enough before draping an arm around your shoulders.
âThank youâ You nod, melting into his side when he gently tugs you towards him.
The wait for the taxi isnât too long, and you stay snuggled up to Masonâs side as he chats away to Lewis about your plans for getting back to Manchester tomorrow. You donât pay any attention to their conversation though, too busy focussing on his little touches to listen to what theyâre saying.
He holds you close, absentmindedly tracing patterns into your shoulder through the material of his jacket. Youâre resting against his chest, and it rumbles underneath your cheek whenever he speaks, his soft voice soothing you.
You could stay wrapped up in him forever, but your bubble is popped when the taxi pulls up to the curb in front of you.
Lewis takes the front seat, letting you and Mason sit in the back together and you slide in when he holds the door open for you. He climbs in behind you, pouting as you settle into the far seat rather than the one next to his.
Itâs only a short drive back to the hotel, and you spend it in a comfortable silence, stealing glances at Mason every now and then, unable to take your eyes away from him as the street lights shine through the windows, casting a golden glow over his features.
He turns his head suddenly, feeling the heat of your gaze, but you're quick to look away, cheeks blazing when you realise heâs caught you staring.
You start fiddling with your rings, one of the telltale signs that youâre nervous, but a warm hand intertwines with yours, stopping your fidgeting. Mason is already looking at you when you glance up at him, and your heart soars at the gentle look in his eyes. Thereâs a certain warmth behind them that tells you everything is okay, and you settle back into the seat, sliding your fingers between his and not letting go for the rest of the journey.
Mason is the first out of the car when you pull up in front of your hotel, quickly making his way around to your door before opening it for you and you accept the hand he holds out, letting him help you climb out. He quickly tips and thanks the driver before leading you into the hotel, through the lobby and towards the lifts.
You bid your good nights to Lewis when he steps out on his level, leaving you and Mason alone as the doors close behind him. You settle into another comfortable silence as you continue up to your floor.
The doors slide open and Mason moves aside, letting you step out in front of him before following you down the hall towards your room, wanting to make sure you get back safely.
You stop in front of your door, reaching into your purse to retrieve your room key before turning to thank him for walking you back, but the words get stuck on your tongue, not quite feeling ready to say goodnight to him yet.
âStay with me tonight?â You whisper, not wanting to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that has somehow been set in the hallway, âwe can order room service and watch something, just like we do at homeâ
He doesnât respond straight away, and for a very brief moment you worry that youâve crossed some sort of line, but you watch as his gaze softens, and he keeps his voice low as he says âLet me just go and grab a few things from my room and then Iâll be back, yeah?â
âOkayâ you nod, watching as he heads back down the hallway before letting yourself into your room.
You feel giddy, buzzing with nervous excitement as you slip Masonâs jacket off and lay it over the back of the chair before busying yourself with tidying a few things away, making the room look a bit more presentable as youâd left it a mess in your rush to leave earlier.
Youâre not sure where the sudden jitters have come from, itâs Mason. Youâve always spent nights at each others houses, snuggled on the sofa, talking until late before falling asleep in each others company. But something about tonight feels different.
You donât have long to dwell on it though, hearing two taps on the door as you put the last few bits back into your suitcase.
His smile is bright as you swing the door open, stepping aside for him to come in and your eyes drop to his chest as he brushes past you. He didnât bother changing, but his tie is nowhere to be seen, the top few buttons of his shirt now undone and his silver chain - the one that you brought him for his birthday last year - peaks out from underneath the fabric.
You click the door closed behind him, following him into the room and watching as he puts a few things down on the table beside the bed - his charger and what you think is his toothbrush, along with his wallet and a spare change of clothes for the morning.
âSo, room service?â He asks, flopping down onto the bed and settling against the headboard.
He makes himself comfortable, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows as you grab the food menu from the desk in front of the TV. Your breath catches in your throat when you turn to face him, your mouth going dry as the dark ink on his forearm steals your attention.
A smirk ghosts his lips upon noticing your brief loss of composure, but he chooses not to bring it up, instead patting the spot next him.
You slip off your heels, putting them to the side before climbing onto the mattress to sit beside him. âHow about pizza? Iâm not too hungry so maybe we could share?â
âSounds good, chips as well?â He suggests and you agree, trying to pass him the menu but he doesnât take it from you, âYou choose, Iâm not fussedâ
You decide on a classic margherita, letting Mason call downstairs to place the order whilst you reach over him and grab the remote from the table next to his side of the bed. He sucks in a sharp breath when your hand falls on his upper thigh, not so innocently steadying yourself as you lean over him. You canât say that youâd meant to touch him like that, but you wonât pretend that you didnât love his reaction.
âSorryâ you mumble, cheeks flaming as you sit back and busy yourself with turning on the TV, logging into your Netflix account whilst he takes a deep breath next to you and finishes ordering the food.
You put on an episode of a series that youâve been watching together, catching each other up on some plans that you have for the next couple of weeks whilst you wait for your food to arrive and you eat in a comfortable silence when it does, Mason letting you have the last slice of pizza like always.
After clearing away the tray and placing it in the hallway, you lock the door behind you and settle back onto the bed, tucking yourself into his side when he lifts his arm for you.
âThank you for coming with us tonight. I know itâs a long way from home but it means a lot to have you at these things with meâ He tells you, a warm feeling spreading through you as he pulls you closer and rests his cheek against the top of your head.
His arm settles around you, holding you at the waist as you rest your head against his shoulder. You sling your arm over his torso, goosebumps erupting over your skin when his free hand comes to rest on your forearm, fingertips tracing over your skin.
âThank you again for inviting me, and you know I donât mindâ You tell him, tightening your arms around him slightly, âIâd fly to the other side of the world with you if you asked me toâ
He chuckles into your hair, his smile widening. âYeah? Looks like I should ask them to have the next gala in Australia thenâ
âYes! You know Iâve always wanted to go and meet Kangaroosâ
âItâs a long flight though, youâd have to let me sleep on your shoulder the whole way thereâ
âOh,â you pout at him jokingly, âyou wouldnât buy me a business class ticket?â
His fingertips creep up your waist and you giggle, thrashing against him when they tickle over your skin through the material of your dress.
âIâll take that as a no thenâ You sigh dramatically, slumping back into his arms when his fingers relent.
âIâd buy you as many business class tickets as you want, Bambiâ
Here we go again with the butterflies.
You settle back into a comfortable silence, Mason keeping his arms locked around you as he tries to switch his focus back to the TV, but itâs impossible when youâre cuddled up to him so closely.
Thereâs something about being in your presence that makes him feel so calm. Thereâs no need for him to fake anything, no need for him to worry. He can just be âMaseâ without any added expectations or anyone analysing his every move. You accept him for him, and he thanks his lucky stars everyday that your parents met all of those years ago because heâs really not sure what heâd do without you.
But tonight heâs nervous. Heâs not sure what it is because these feelings for you are by no means new, but after he nearly slipped up and kissed you once earlier, heâs not sure heâll be able to stop himself if it happens again.
He wants you. Physically, emotionally, whatever youâre willing to give him, heâd take it, and tonight might just be the night that he does.
He doesnât realise that heâs been staring at you until you tilt your head to look up at him, having felt the heat of his gaze.
âHave I told you how beautiful you look tonight?â He whispers, a soft smile sitting on his lips.
Thereâs a twinkle in his eyes as they drop down to your lips, only for a millisecond before returning to your own and your heart rate quickens, a giddy feeling spreading through you.
âMaybe a few timesâ you tease, lips curling into a smile, âbut you can tell me againâ
He lets out a breathy chuckle, âYou look gorgeous, always the prettiest girl in the roomâ He tells you, heart thudding in his chest as a shaky hand comes up to cup your jaw.
His nose bumps against yours as he leans closer. His lips are mere inches away, your heart beating so fast in your chest that youâre sure he can probably hear it.
When you show no signs of hesitation he closes the distance, touching his lips to yours in a tender kiss that you feel all the way from your head down to the tips of your toes.
You feel yourself melting into him as he works his lips over yours with ease, one of his hands cupping your cheek as the other gently pushes against your hip, encouraging you to roll onto your back and your arms wind around his shoulders as he moves to hover over you.
Itâs easy to get lost in the feeling of his lips against yours after what feels like an eternity of waiting for this exact moment, your hand weaving into the short strands of hair on the back of his head to hold him to you.
He keeps it soft, your whole body tingling from how gentle heâs being with you as his lips move over yours with a certain tenderness that has you craving more.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve been waiting to do thatâ He breathes, forehead resting against yours when you separate to catch your breaths.
His heart flip-flops in his chest at the smile that paints your lips, unable to prevent his own as you gaze up at him with twinkling eyes.
âThen who am I to stop you from doing it again?â
Youâre holding your breath, waiting for him to close the distance again, but when he leans forward he brushes a kiss over your cheek instead, a whine leaving you as you try and chase his lips but he only pulls back further.
âI need to know that you definitely want this Y/Nâ he whispers, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks at you, âI know I do, but Iâll never forgive myself if later on you realise that you donâtâ
His voice sounds small, the confidence that he exuded earlier slowly fading away, and your heart aches as rest your head back into the pillows to look at him properly.
You slide your hand up from his shoulder, cradling his face in your palm and your heart soars when he leans into your touch.
âMason, my whole life Iâve known itâs been youâ You tell him, gently brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek and a soft smile finds his lips at your words. âI want this, I want youâ
âYouâre sure?â
âIâve never been so sure about anythingâ You whisper, watching as his features relax.
âI might have to change my mind if you donât kiss me again thoughâ
He lets out a breathy chuckle, not waiting another second before leaning back in.
Itâs like someone has flipped a switch, all form of restraint gone as he claims your lips with a searing kiss that has your spine tingling. He coaxes your lips apart, easily slipping his tongue between them and he takes his time to explore your mouth, brushing his tongue over yours with slow, deliberate strokes.
His hand roams down your dress clad body, kneading into your skin through the satin like fabric and you arch your back into his touch, hands gripping onto his shoulders in a desperate attempt to feel him closer. His warm palm slides over your hip, finding the bare skin of your thigh, exposed through the slit of your dress, and he hooks your leg over his waist.
You moan into his mouth as he presses his hips into yours, the sound going straight to his centre and his length twitches in the confines of his boxers.
âYou definitely want to do this?â He asks between kisses, his lips leaving yours to move over your cheek and down to your jaw.
You nod, tilting your head back to allow him better access as he trails his kisses down your throat.
âI need your words, Y/Nâ he urges, pulling back to look at you.
âYes Mason, pleaseâ You plead, just wanting to feel his lips on your skin again.
He doesnât waste anymore time, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck and you shiver when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, his lips peppering kisses wherever he can reach and you whimper when finds your sweet spot, your sounds only encouraging him.
He sucks on the sensitive spot below your ear, teeth grazing over your skin before soothing the sting with his tongue and then heâs continuing his kisses down your body.
âAs much as I love this dress on, Iâd much rather it be off right nowâ he speaks when his kisses meet the neckline of your dress, the material obstructing his path and stopping him from going any further.
You attempt to reach behind you to undo the buttons that hold it together, but you canât quite reach them, your position on the bed just leading to an awkward tangle of limbs. You huff out a breath, slumping back into the duvet as he watches you, clearly trying to hold himself back from laughing.
You send him an unimpressed glare, trying once more to reach behind but you only end up finding yourself in the same predicament as before.
âHelp meâ you pout, and he leans down to kiss it away, loosening his hold on your waist before getting off the bed.
âCâmon, jump upâ He holds his hands out for you and you take them, letting him pull you up until youâre standing in front of him.
He moves you so that youâre stood with your back to his chest, his hands lightly brushing down your arms and you shiver under his touch, instinctively leaning back into his warmth.
âMay I?â He asks softly, his breath tickling over your shoulder as he speaks.
âY-yeahâ you stutter, trying to steady your beating heart as he brushes your hair to one side.
He must notice the way you tense up as he reaches for the buttons, his lips pressing to your shoulder in an attempt to calm you.
âRelax sweetheart, itâs just meâ he whispers, and you force yourself to take a deep breath.
But what if thatâs the issue? Itâs just him, just Mason. The man youâve loved for years. Youâre comfortable in your body, but what if he doesnât like what he sees? What if he changes his mind? What if -
Your thoughts are cut off when he gently takes a hold of your waist, turning you around to face him and youâre met with his soft expression, a hint of concern in his eyes.
âWhatâs going on in that pretty little head of yours?â He whispers, trying to meet your gaze but you look down, eyes focussing on his chest as a wave of shyness washes over you.
âHey, look at meâ He says, keeping his voice gentle as he brings two fingers to lightly nudge your chin so that you look at him again.
âSorry, I justâŠâ you begin, and heâs patient with you when you stop to take a few deep breaths, âSorry. I donât know why Iâm so nervous, itâs just- the last guy I was with like this wasnât the nicest and he had a fair amount of things to say about my body and - god Iâm so sorryâ You quickly cut yourself off when you notice youâre rambling, cheeks flaming when you release what youâve just admitted to him.
Mason feels his heart breaking more and more with every word that leaves your lips. He could never understand how anybody could be so cruel. He feels himself growing angry at the thought of anyone treating you that way and frustrated with himself for not being able to protect you from someone like that.
He knows deep down that thereâs nothing he couldâve done to stop it, but you shouldâve never had to go through that, and it pains him to know that someone hurt you so deeply.
He doesnât let his feelings show though, instead making a promise to himself to never, ever, make you feel anything less than beautiful. You deserve so much more and heâs ready to show you just how perfect you are and treat you the way you deserve.
âListen to me angel, you have nothing to apologise for okay?â his voice is firm, making sure youâre looking right at him before continuing.
âIâm so sorry that you had to go through that. No one shouldâve treated you that way. You deserve so much more baby. You are the most beautiful person I have ever set my eyes on Y/N, and I need you to know that Iâd never treat you like that.â He tells you, cradling your cheeks in his palms as he rests his forehead against yours.
You nod as best as you can, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your smile as his words sink in.
âWe donât have to do anything tonight Y/N, if you donât want to we can just watch another movie or something, I wonât be upset. All I want is for you to feel comfortable.â
Your nodding quickly turns into you shaking your head instead.
âNo Mase, I want to do this. I want you.â You reassure him and he leans back slightly, leaving a lingering kiss to your forehead before lowering his hands to your waist again.
âDo you trust me?â
âOf courseâ you tell him, gulping down the nervous lump in your throat and willing your heart rate to slow down.
âOkay, you still want me to take this off?â
His fingers fiddle with the thin straps of your dress as you nod, trying not to seem to eager. âPleaseâ
âTurn around for me then angelâ
You do just that, turning around so that your back is facing him again and his touch is gentle, barely there as he reaches up to brush your hair to the side once more. His lips find the nape of your neck, scattering kisses over your skin, and this time you donât tense up as he reaches for the fabric.
Heâs slow in releasing the buttons, his fingers skimming over your now exposed skin as he takes his time, undoing them one by one before finally reaching the last after what feels like a life time. His lips never leave your skin as his hands lift to brush the straps off of your shoulders, guiding the material down your body before dropping it to pool around your ankles.
Left in nothing but a pair of black, lacy panties, it takes all of your strength to turn and face him. He takes you in, allowing his gaze to drift down your body and he feels himself twitch in the confines of his boxers. The sight of you bare in front of him makes his head spin, feeling overwhelmed by the need to reach out and touch you.
âSo fucking prettyâ he murmurs, his words setting your body alight as his hand slays out on your waist.
Thereâs a bright look in his eyes as he draws you closer, guiding you to step out of your dress, and you forget why you were ever worried.
âThank you for trusting meâ he whispers against your temple, scattering featherlight kisses there as you lean further into his body.
Wrapping his arms around your waist he trails his kisses down your face, over your cheeks before landing on your lips.
You melt into him, his grip keeping you upright as you kiss him back with everything you have. Your hands creep up his back, one finding its way into his hair as the other clutches onto his shoulder. Nails dig into his skin through the material of his shirt but he doesnât care, losing himself in the feeling of your lips on his.
Your fingers rake through his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle and his lips part on a gasp when your nails scratch over his scalp. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue between his lips, clashing with his own as you fight to take control.
Itâs a little messy, but neither of you care, years of pent up feelings and frustrations being poured into the kiss until the burning desire to please him becomes too strong to ignore.
âYouâve still got way too many clothes onâ you complain between kisses and he chuckles against your lips, reaching to unbutton his shirt.
âNo, sitâ you say, and he falls back onto the edge of the mattress with a gentle push of your hands against his shoulders.
He leans back, gazing up at you through his lashes, watching with dark eyes as you settle into his lap with a new found confidence.
You leave enough space between you to reach up and fiddle with his buttons, undoing them one by one as your lips scatter kisses over his jaw. His pulls you forwards by your hips, fingers digging into your skin as you continue to undress him.
You struggle a little due to how close you are, but you manage to get the last few buttons undone, working the shirt off his shoulders. It gets discarded behind you, joining your dress on the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
His shoulders flex as he leans back on his hands and you take him in, eyes dragging down his chest from the chain that dangles around his neck to the small tattoo that sits high on his ribs, thereâs a light dusting of hair on his chest, his muscles softly toned.
Youâve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but sitting under you now he has you unable to think straight. You have never been so turned on just by looking at someone.
Your need to please him becomes stronger by the second, your mouth having a mind of its own as you trail your kisses down his neck, lighting sucking on his skin until you find his sweet spot. A breathy whine falls from his lips, his fingers digging into your hips a little tighter and thatâs when you know youâve found it, your lips closing over the most sensitive patch of skin.
Your lips graze over the area, licking and nipping as you make your way down to his collarbones, careful not to leave any marks where they may be visible.
He shivers, trembling under your touch as your hands slide down from his shoulders and over his chest, your lips following their path. He sucks in a sharp breath as you tease at the skin right next to his nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a sneaky mark before continuing down to his tummy, making sure to pay special attention to any moles or freckles that you find on your way.
Your legs feel like jelly as you climb off his lap and lower to your knees in front of him, hands pushing his thighs apart to allow you enough space to settle between them. The carpet is rough against your skin, but you canât bring your self to care as you shuffle around to get more comfortable.
He isnât without your touch long, his muscles fluttering under your fingers as you graze your lips over the soft ridges of his abs, placing open mouthed kisses along the waist band of his trousers until he grows impatient, his hands aimlessly reaching for his belt.
âLet meâ you murmur, moving his hands back to rest by his sides before finding the buckle.
Youâre slow in pulling it from the loops, taking your time as you drop it behind you and move to undo the button and zipper, dragging it down at an agonisingly slow pace before sitting back and allowing him to lift his hips. You drag the fabric down his legs along with his boxers, mouth watering as his already hard length springs free from the confines of the fabric.
âMuch better,â you drawl, and he lets out a whimper as your lips kiss a path along the inside of his thigh, ignoring the area he needs you the most before moving to the other.
âY/N, please do somethingâ he pleads, but you donât need to be told twice, his thighs jumping when a dainty hand wraps around the base of his cock.
He feels thick and heavy in your palm when you give him an experimental tug, glancing up through your lashes to see his eyes fluttering closed, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth.
âFeel good, Mase?â You coo, and his eyes pop open again, the sight of you on your knees between his legs making him feel light headed.
âS-so goodâ he stutters, hips raising to meet your hand as you twist it over him again before releasing him all together.
You run your fingertips over the underside of his length and he lets out a breathy moan of your name, the sound going straight to your core as you swirl your fingers over his tip and smear the drop of pre cum thatâs collected there.
âFuck, Y/Nâ he curses, struggling to keep his eyes open as you move your hand back to his base, holding him steady as you lower your head, lips wrapping around his tip.
You flick your tongue over his slit, humming as the salty taste of his pre cum coats your tastebuds and he drops back, resting on his elbows and watching as you take more of him.
You relax your jaw, moving further down his length and taking as much of him as you can whilst your hand works what you canât fit in your mouth. The sinful sounds that leave his lips only spur you on, continuing to bob your head as you gaze up at him through your lashes.
âOh my-, fucking hellâ he pants, his hand reaching for the back of your head to gather your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. âYouâre so good at thatâ
His eyes squeeze closed when you take him even further and you gag, eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat before pulling back to catch your breath.
Your hands keep up their movements, twisting and tugging until you take him into your mouth again and you let him guide you this time, hollowing your cheeks as he lowers your mouth down his length.
You brace your free hand against his thigh, letting him pick up the pace slightly as you work him towards his release.
âGonna make me come, Y/Nâ he sighs, the feeling of your warm mouth around him sending him hurtling towards his orgasm.
âIâve got you, Mase, come for meâ you coo, and he fights to keep his hips still as you pay attention to his head again, tongue swirling over his tip.
One final flick of your tongue over his slit and heâs cuming into your mouth with a grunt, hand tightening in your hair as you work him through his high, swallowing every last drop. You only move away when his hips start bucking from the sensitivity, leaving one final kiss to his tip before sitting back on your feet, taking a moment to catch your breath.
After a few moments of comfortable silence he smiles down at you softly, reaching out for you and you take his hands, standing on shaky legs before lowering yourself back into his lap.
âYou okay?â he asks and you nod, leaning into his touch when he cups his hand over your jaw.
His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, his tongue moving over yours and he hums when he tastes himself on your mouth.
His hands trail up your thighs until he finds your panties, hooking his fingers under the fabric, pulling them back before releasing them to snap against your skin.
âLets get these offâ He mumbles, helping you climb off his lap and you move to stand in front of him, shimmying the scrap of lace down your legs as he watches you with crazed eyes until youâre completely bare in front of him.
âLay down for meâ he requests and you do as he asks, sinking back into the duvet as you rest your head against the pillows.
You watch as he stands, walking around the bed to pick his wallet up from the pile of stuff he brought with him earlier and he pulls out a shiny foil packet before climbing back onto the bed.
âNot so fast, baby girlâ he tuts as you reach for it, trying to take it from between his fingers, but he places it to the side instead.
âLay back and let me love on you a little bitâ
He moves to hover over you and his lips are on yours in an instant, staying there for just a moment before trailing his kisses over your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and nibbling on your delicate skin as he makes his way down your throat.
âMaseâ The moan tumbles from your lips, nails scratching the skin on the back of his neck as you bring your hand up in a desperate attempt to move him lower.
âWhat do you want, Angel?â He coos, voice vibrating against your skin as he kisses over your collar bones.
âY-you, pleaseâ
âPatience, baby. Let me take my time with youâ
And take his time with you he does, his lips dragging over every inch of skin that he can reach as he learns and memorises all of your favourite spots, the ones that have you making those sweet little noises heâs loving so much.
He mouths over your chest, kissing from one side to the other before closing his lips over your nipple and your back arches to meet his mouth as he licks over the sensitive nub, his hand sliding up your body to pay attention to the other. He gropes at your skin, pinching and tugging at your nipple before switching sides to pay them equal attention.
His other hand stays steady on your waist as his lips continue south, keeping you pressed into the mattress when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, causing you to squirm against him.
âGonna let me make you feel good, baby?â He asks, and you glance down at him, mind reeling as he gazes back at you through his lashes.
You nod vigorously, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slides his hands up the insides of your thighs, separating them enough to settle between them and his breath fans over your core as he inches closer.
âFuck, look at youâ he coos, teasing two fingers through your folds to collect your wetness and your brain short circuits when he takes them between his lips, humming as you coat his tastebuds.
âTaste incredibleâ
He uses the same two fingers to circle over your clit, waves of pleasure shooting up your spine, and you canât help the pathetic moan that falls from your lips, head dropping back against the pillows as he shuffles closer.
âFeel good, Angel?â He hums, his lips ghosting over the inside of your thigh.
âYes Mase, fuck. Moreâ you plead, and his mouth finally meets your centre, a barely there kiss being pressed to your clit before he licks a long stripe up your entrance.
His hands move to hold your hips down as he eats you out like youâre his last meal, no longer wanting to hold back and your moans only encourage him. He alternates between licking and sucking, sealing his lips around your little bundle of nerves before dropping to dip his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging against your clit which has you moaning uncontrollably, back arching to meet his mouth.
Your hands fly to the back of his head, needing something to hold onto, and he hums against you when you tug on his hair, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure that youâre feeling.
Youâre unable to think straight, the feeling of his mouth against your core making you forget about everything other then him and how good heâs making you feel, and itâs not long until you feel your orgasm creeping up.
âMase, oh fuckâ you sigh, and when he brings a hand between you to slip a finger through your folds, youâre done for.
His other arm hooks under your thigh, holding you open for him as he slips his finger inside of you, pumping it a few times to stretch you out before adding another.
âIâm gonna cum, Mase, oh my godâ you whine, and he doesnât relent, pulsing his fingers inside of you, his tongue working in tandem with them as he swirls it around your bundle of nerves.
âLet go for me, babyâ he encourages, and you cum on his tongue as he suctions his lips around your clit, seeing stars as your orgasm hits you like a wave.
He works you through it, licking you clean until youâre tugging at his hair and he moves away, crawling back up your body.
You lay limp underneath him, eyes closed and lips parted as you catch your breath, feeling well and truly spent from the orgasm he just gave you. Your cheeks are flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, and your make up is slightly smudged, but he still swears that heâs never seen anyone more beautiful, his heart fluttering at the sight of you underneath him.
âSo prettyâ he murmurs, peppering kisses over your cheeks and the butterflies - the ones that have made a permanent home in your stomach - come back out in full force.
You flutter your eyes open and the twinkle that you find in his own has your insides turning to warm, bubbly liquid, his expression swimming with fondness.
âHow are you feeling, baby?â He asks, shuffling slightly so that he can rest his weight against one elbow before trailing his free hand up your thigh, massaging your hips where he was gripping before.
âGoodâ you smile up at him, fingers toying with the chain that still sits around his neck, âMore than good, actually. But there is one thing that would make me feel even betterâ
He raises an eye brow, âOh yeah? And whatâs that?â
You gather as much strength as you can in your post orgasm daze, hooking your legs over his waist to pull his hips down into yours and his eyes widen, realising what you mean.
âNeedy girlâ he tuts, hissing when you grind your hips and his hard length grazes over your core, âWhat am I gonna do with you, huh?â
âPlease Masey. Need to feel youâ
âI know baby girl, Iâve got you. Just relax for meâ
He gives you a quick yet tender kiss before reaching over to pick up the foil packet from earlier and you shiver as he tears it open, squirming in anticipation as he sits back on his feet and pulls out the condom to roll it down his length.
âYou still want to do this?â He asks you for what seems like the tenth time that evening, looking at you with soft eyes.
âMase, what kind of question is that?â You chuckle, hand coming to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch when you brush your thumb over his skin gently, âOf course I doâ
âJust double checking, Angelâ he rests his forehead against yours, nose nudging your cheek and your heart soars at the softness of the moment.
âYou ready?â
âYeah, Mase. Need youâ
You wrap your arms around his shoulder as he settles on top of you, spreading your legs for him to rest between as he finds a position thatâs comfortable.
He runs a gentle, comforting hand over the outside of your thigh, using the other to guide himself towards your entrance and you suck in a breath as he lines himself up, his tip nudging against your slit.
Your quick intake of breath has his eyes snapping up to yours, concern etched onto his features. âWhat wrong, baby?â
âNothings wrongâ you reassure him, one of your hands finding its rightful place tangled in his hair, âItâs just been a while, just go slowly please?â
âWeâll go at your pace, baby. Just tell me if you need me to stop or slow down, okay?â
âOkayâ
You reach down, encouraging him to move with a slow twist of your hand over his length and his lips are back on yours when he lines himself up with your entrance, swallowing your moans as he pushes in until only his tip is buried inside of you.
He gives you a few moments to adjust, not liking how you wince from the slight stretch, but you only nod up at him, encouraging him to keep going and you moan in unison when he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.
âFucking hell, Y/N. So tight babyâ he moans, his raspy voice right next to your ear.
âLet me know when I can moveâ his thumb brushes in tender circles over your hip, his other hand pressing into the mattress next to your head and you reach for it, unwinding one of your arms from around his shoulders to side your fingers through his.
Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him in a way that has pleasure shooting up his spine and he drops his head into the crook of his neck when you give him the go ahead to start moving.
He keeps his pace slow at first, gauging what you enjoy and whatâs comfortable. A slow push and pull of his hips as you learn each others bodies.
âYou feel incredible, Angelâ he grunts, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips press into you with every thrust.
âMason, fuckâ You scratch your nails over his skin, back arching as he gives one particularly hard thrust that has his tip brushing over your sweet spot, âright thereâ
âThere?â Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits it again, a desperate moan leaving your lips as he keeps pushing deeper.
âY-yeah, faster Mase, p-pleaseâ
Your stuttered request is barely audible over the sound of your moans but he hears you just fine, picking up his pace as you wrap your legs around his waist and the new angle allows him to hit deeper, finding that sweet spot with every roll of his hips.
Every single thrust feels incredible, his fingers now digging into your waist to hold you steady. The sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin is all that can be heard as he works you both towards your highs.
âFuck, Mase, Iâm nearly thereâ you pant, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm and the feeling of him everywhere sending you hurtling towards your realise sooner than youâd expected.
âIâm right behind you, babyâ he groans, pulling his head out of your neck when you tug on his hair, wanting to see him when you cum.
He looks ethereal on top of you, the bridge of his nose flushed as well as his cheeks, his hair a mess and falling over his forehead as that chain dangles between you. You reach for it, using it to tug him down and his lips collide with yours in a heated kiss.
âMasonâŠâ you sob, unable to take your eyes off of his when he rests his forehead against yours.
âI know baby, Iâve got you. Let go for meâ he encourages, his thumb finding your clit and thatâs all you need to go falling over the edge, walls contracting around him as your orgasm hits you.
A wave of white hot pleasure rolls through you, your entire body trembling against him as he works you through it.
He isnât far behind, pressing his hips to yours as the feeling of your walls fluttering around his length sends him toppling over the edge with a moan of your name.
His thrusts grow sloppy, hips faltering as he thrusts through it, thumb continuing to brush over your clit until youâre pushing his hand away when you get too sensitive.
With one final thrust he goes limp on top of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, spent from his orgasm. Your hand finds the back of his head, lightly scratching over his scalp as you both take a moment to catch your breaths. Neither of you make any effort to move for a while, Mason staying buried inside of you whilst your heart beats return to a steady pace.
You wince from the sensitivity when he eventually moves to pull out of you slowly, the kisses that he litters over your forehead soothing you before he discards the condom and collapses onto the mattress beside you.
He reaches towards the end of the bed, pulling up the blanket and you donât hesitate to shuffle into his arms when he opens them for you, settling against his side with your head resting against his chest as he holds you close.
He knows that he should get you cleaned up, but he canât bring himself to move as you snuggle into him, one arm draped over his waist and a leg hooked over his thighs, so he lets you get comfortable against him, enjoying the warmth of your body pressed into his.
A couple of minuets pass and you stay in a comfortable silence, fiddling with his chain as you rest on his chest, growing more tired by the second as his fingers sooth over your skin. He wishes you could stay like that for the rest of the night, not wanting to disturb you, but when you start to grow heavy against him he knows he needs to get you up before you fall asleep completely.
âCome onâ he hums, lightly tapping your shoulder to encourage you to move. âGot to get you cleaned up, bubbaâ
You donât make any effort to move, quite content with staying in his arms and not leaving for the foreseeable future.
âIâm tiredâ You groan as he resorts to gently pushing you off of him, rolling off the bed completely before holding his hands out for you to take, but you bury your face into the pillows and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, missing his warmth immediately.
The bed dips under his weight as he kneels back onto the mattress, hands massaging into your shoulders before rolling you over to face him.
You pout up at him, shaking your head in protest. You know youâll regret it in the morning if you go straight to sleep without properly getting ready for bed, but nothing sounds better than climbing back under the sheets with him and falling asleep.
âI know, but the quicker we get in that shower the quicker we can get back into bedâ he tells you softly, fingers brushing your hair out of your face as you gaze up at him sleepily. âLet me take care of you, bubsâ
His gentle smile and sweet words are enough to have you crumbling, holding your arms out for him and he doesnât need to ask to understand what you want.
He effortlessly scoops you up, a kiss being pressed to your temple as he cradles you in his arms and carries you through to the en-suite bathroom, careful to avoid the clothes that are still scattered around the floor.
He switches the bathroom lights on, keeping them on the dim setting when he notices you squinting from the brightness and moves to set you down on the counter.
Reaching to the side, he picks up your make up bag, looking through it to find some of your makeup wipes before taking one out of the packet. You try and take it from him but he swats your hand away, tilting your chin up with his fingers before bringing the wipe to your cheek.
Your heart flutters at how gentle heâs being with you as he takes his time, swiping the wipe over your skin as he makes sure to get every last bit of makeup. His little focused face makes you giggle, his tongue popping out from between his lips as he concentrates, being extra careful when he gets to your eyes.
He presses a tender kiss to your lips once heâs finished, throwing the wipe into the bin before turning around to get the shower started and your mouth dries at the sight of his back when he faces away from you.
Red scratches decorate his skin, some travelling as high as his neck and you watch as his back flexes when he reaches for the taps to set the water temperature. You feel yourself heat from head to toe at the sight, struggling to keep your composure when he turns to face you again, instantly noticing your flushed cheeks.
âWhatâs up, bubba?â He asks, hands coming to rest on your hips as he moves to stand between your spread legs.
âI donât think you should let anyone else see you shirtless for a couple of daysâ You tell him, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back a giggle.
âWhy? What did you do?â
He moves away from you to look at his reflection in the mirror, eye brows furrowing when he doesnât find any hickeys or marks like he had expected to.
He looks back to you confused, but you wiggle your finger in a circle, telling him to turn around. He does, looking back at his reflection over his shoulder and you can see the moment he realises, his jaw dropping slightly as he takes in the scratches and marks left by your nails.
âYou really didnât hold back did you?â
âSorryâ
âDonât be. Just means that I made you feel goodâ he says with confidence, winking at you with a cocky smirk playing on his lips.
You swat at his chest, not needing to admit that heâs right because you both already know the answer.
He holds a hand out for you, helping you off the counter and steadying you when you stand on wobbly legs, your body aching in the best way possible as he guides you towards the shower.
He steps in behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and your body slumps into his, face finding a home in the crook of his neck as the water cascades over you.
âYou okay?â He mumbles right next to your ear and you nod in response, letting out a content sigh as you nuzzle into his skin.
You stay like that for a while, the water soothing your aching bodies before he reaches over and takes your travel sized shampoo from the little shelf behind you. He squeezes a generous amount into his palm, lathering it up before bringing his hands to your hair and you hold onto his waist, needing something to steady yourself as the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp sends you into a state of complete bliss.
He rinses it out after a couple of minuets - still way too soon for your liking - and repeats the process with your conditioner, letting you do the same thing for him.
As soon as youâre both washed off he gets out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist before taking another and holding it out for you. Getting out behind him, you step into the towel, letting him wrap it around your shoulders.
You both get dried off, changing into the fluffy hotel robes before he moves to leave the bathroom, wanting to give you some privacy to finish up your nighttime routine, but you take a hold of his hand, not wanting him to leave.
âIâm not going anywhere, bubsâ he reassures, noticing a faint look of panic on your features. He slides his fingers between yours, giving them a tight squeeze, âIâm just going to tidy the clothes up and grab you something to sleep in okay? Iâll be back in a few minuetsâ
âOkay, sorryâ you mumble, loosening your grip on his hand, feeling silly for getting so paranoid all of a sudden. âI just donât want you to leaveâ
His expression softens. âIâm not leaving, Bambi. I promise. Could never leave youâ
He presses a series of kisses to your face, one to your forehead, one to your cheek, one of your nose - that one has you giggling - and finally one to your lips, making sure that youâre smiling again when he disappears into the bedroom.
You busy yourself with drying your hair whilst he picks up your abandoned clothes, placing them into a neater pile next to your suitcase so that they can be dealt with in the morning.
He grabs the spare blanket from the wardrobe and puts it on the bed, switching the main lights off so that only the beside lamp is left on before changing into his clean pair of boxers and finding his toothbrush and the t-shirt that he brought with him earlier.
Youâre just turning the hair dryer off when he comes back into the bathroom, brushing through your hair as he places his toothbrush next to yours on the counter. The sight of them next to each other has your heart flip-flopping in your chest, the action oddly domestic.
The multiple bottles and pots of skin care products that you have laid out catch his attention when he comes to stand beside you and he picks one up, reading over the bottle curiously.
âWhatâs all this?â
âYou donât know?â You meet his eyes through the reflection, surprised when he shakes his head in response. But his skin is always so clear?
âCan you show me?â He asks timidly, watching as you nod before jumping up onto the counter again.
You spread your legs, pulling him to step between them and his hands rest against your thighs as you pick up the first bottle, squeezing some of the serum onto your fingers before massaging it into his face. His eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation of you working the products into his skin, tracing the contours of his face as you tell him what each product is and explain what itâs used for.
He listens to your every word, loving how passionate you seem about it and making a mental note to ask you what they are again in the morning, so that he can buy some of the products for himself and keep some at his house for when you stay over.
You finish up with one of your favourite moisturisers before running through the same routine on yourself, letting Mason help when he insists and enjoying the feeling of being pampered by him.
âThank youâ you mumble, leaning forward to brush your lips over his in a soft kiss and he reciprocates, stepping back to allow you to jump off the counter when you pull away.
âHere, put this onâ he says, handing you the t-shirt that he brought in, and you happily change into it, his scent lingering on the fabric and filling your senses as the material falls to your upper thigh.
The sight of you in his clothes is one he wants to see for the rest of his life.
You stand side by side at the sink and brush your teeth together, pulling faces at each other through the mirror as you do before following him back through to the bedroom.
You climb into bed first, getting comfortable under the duvet as he plugs his phone in to charge, begrudgingly setting an alarm for the morning. You both know itâll be a struggle to wake up, but your flight back up to Manchester leaves at 10am, and you still need to make it to the airport before then.
But thatâs a problem for the morning. All youâre concerned about now is holding him.
He settles under the sheets next to you, cuddling into your open arms and sliding you closer with an arm hooked over your waist. Your legs tangle together, bodies pressed close as he snuggles into you, his head finding itâs home in the crook of your neck.
He sighs contentedly, melting into you as you rest a hand on his arm and trace the outlines of his tattoos with your fingertips, his own sneaking under your (his) t-shirt to draw random patterns onto the soft skin of your tummy.
Itâs the most relaxed heâs felt in weeks. The feeling of being in your arms bringing him a sense of comfort that he never thought possible, but he knows you still have something to talk about, and heâs about to bring it up when you beat him to it.
âWhat does this mean?â You whisper, the question thatâs been on your mind for the past half an hour finally slipping through your lips as you raise your free hand and brush your fingers through his hair.
âIt means Iâm yours Y/Nâ he mumbles into your skin before pulling his head from your neck. He shuffles up your body slightly, moving so that heâs hovering above you. âIf youâll have meâ
Your hand moves from his hair to instead cup his jaw, your fingertips lightly scratching through his beard as you gently pull him down to press your lips to his in a soft kiss.
âI like you, like a lotâ you tell him when you separate, but you keep him close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders
âIâm way beyond like, babyâ He admits, a soft smile tugging at his lips and he knows itâs soon, but his heart feels like itâs bursting, and he canât hold it in any longer.
âIâm in love with you Y/N, I have been for a long timeâ
He watches you carefully, waiting for any kind of reaction, and heâs a little worried when you donât have one, your face staying neutral as his words sink in.
But then comes the smile, your lips tilting up as a look of complete and utter joy paints your features.
Youâre overwhelmed by different emotions, cheeks hurting from how wide youâre smiling and you canât help but lean up and press your lips to his again, stealing his breath away with a searing kiss.
The taste of your minty toothpaste still lingers on his tongue when he pushes it through the seem of your lips, working it against yours in slow, languid strokes as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, his fingers gently tilting your head back and your hand slides around to the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.
Your chest is heaving when you eventually pull back, looking up up at him through your lashes as you catch your breath. His lips are swollen, cheeks flushed and his damp hair messy from you running your fingers through it.
âYou donât have to say it back, I know you might not feel the same but I-â
âMason, are you kidding me?â You cut him off, cupping his face in both of your palms. âIâm so in love with youâ
A breath of relief leaves his parted lips upon hearing your words, his heart rate settling as you look up at him with twinkling eyes.
âI always have been, Mase. You mean absolutely everything to meâ
âYeah?â
You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding up at him with complete certainty.
âMason youâre everything Iâve ever wanted. Iâve never felt this way before and I know that I wonât feel it for anyone other than you. Youâre it for meâ
His eyes shine with emotion, his jaw aching from how hard heâs smiling. He feels like heâs floating, your words putting him on cloud nine.
âI love everything about you, Y/N. Youâre so fucking beautiful, but itâs not just that. Youâre sweet, youâre kind, youâre funny, you make me feel wanted in a way Iâve never experienced before, Iâve waited my whole life for this and now that I have you, Iâm never letting you goâ
âGood, because Iâm not going anywhere. Iâm yours Maseyâ
You lean up, pressing your lips to his in one final kiss and when he rolls off of you, you move with him. He lays back against the mattress, arms opening wide for you to climb into and you settle against his chest as he adjusts the duvet over you.
âWhen we get home Iâm taking you on a dateâ he tells you, and you tilt your head up to look at him. âI know youâre already mine, but I want to do this properly, and that includes you letting me spoil youâ
Mine. You want to hear it over and over.
âCan I choose the restaurant?â You query, already making a mental list of places that you could go.
âOnly if you let me choose the movie when we get back to mine afterâ
âWho said that Iâll be going back to yours?â
âJust because itâs our âfirstâ -â he lifts his hand, making air quotes, â - date that doesnât mean Iâm going to do the gentlemanly thing and drop you home with a kiss to your cheek afterâ
âLooks like youâre picking the movie thenâ You pat his chest, giggling as he mumbles a quiet âgoodâ and you settle back onto his arms with a yawn.
He leans over to turn the lamp off, the room overcome with complete darkness as he pulls the blankets up to your chin.
âGet some sleep, bubba. Early start tomorrowâ He whispers with a kiss to your forehead and you groan into his chest.
âDonât remind me. Canât we just stay here forever?â
That really does sound like the best idea ever. Here. As in the little bubble that youâve built together in this hotel room. Youâre not ready for it to pop.
âI wish we could Bambi, but I want to get home and take you on that dateâ
âI wonder what Lewis will sayâ you murmur.
Your families have been rooting you you both to get together for years, so you know heâll be happy for you, but telling him as well as the rest of your families somehow seems really scary.
âWell, I was thinking-â
âOh noâ you cut him off, and he chuckles, chest rumbling under your cheek.
âHow about we keep this to ourselves for a bit?â He suggests, fingers sliding between yours where they lay against his chest. âNo one needs to know just yet, weâll just take it slow and tell them when weâre readyâ
âI like the sound of that. Just me and you for a little whileâ
âExactlyâ he sighs, already looking forward to getting you home and exploring this new dynamic with you.
He feels whole as he glances down at you through the darkness, a wide smile painting his lips and he doesnât think itâll be leaving any time soon. Heâs spent what feels like a life time waiting for this, waiting for his person, waiting for you. Heâs not sure heâs ever been happier than he feels in this moment, all of his worries forgotten about as you lay in his arms.
He can just about manage to make out your features and his heart is bursting at the seams with love for you as he leans down to press another kiss to the top of your head.
âGoodnight, Bambiâ
âNight, Mase. Love youâ
âââââââ
a/n: If you have made it this far I just want to say a massive THANK YOU! I really do hope you enjoyed đ«¶đ» Feedback is appreciated as always đ€
#mason mount#mason mount imagine#mason mount x reader#mason mount x you#mason mount fic#mason mount smut#mason mount fluff#mason mount concepts#mason concepts
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Every time I see those godawful rings in The Rings of Power I am filled with indignation. You're telling me that the greatest living Elven smith set these chunky bizarrely cut stones into these incredibly basic bands?? Was this the wretched work of Sauron to make Celebrimbor forget everything he ever knew about lapidary???
These rings are completely out of step with the rest of the elven art nouveau aesthetic. Elrond was 100% correct; they should have been cast into the abyss before they infected Middle Earth with the desire for subpar costume jewelry.
The whole point of cutting gemstones is to make them catch the light and sparkle in a way that shows off the unique properties of the stone. Celebrimbor's grandaddy understood this perfectly when he crafted the Silmarils, which captured the light of the Two Trees of Valinor. (Then he apparently died without passing this knowledge on to his descendants and Celebrimbor was forever dragged for his questionable design choices, I guess)
Here are some examples of rings made by people who had a budget of more than $50 and more than a weekend to knock out their Jewelry 101 summer camp project
https://www.langantiques.com/lang-collection-art-nouveau-style-1-81-carat-diamond-ring-gia-j-si2.html
https://pebbleandpolish.com/products/victorian-art-nouveau-buff-cut-garnet-and-diamond-ring-in-yellow-and-white-gold
I'd be willing to entertain arguments about using larger/weirdly faceted stones, but you still have to design the ring to take this shape and style into mind
https://byangeline.com/products/partially-faceted-natural-sapphire-gemstone-raw-rough-diamond-18k-yellow-gold-engagement-multi-stone-1280
Galadriel, gazing in fascination at the first Ring Pop ever crafted by the elves. Look at how delicate the rest of her jewelry and costume are in contrast to the Temu engagement ring. The elves eventually have to take these rings off not because Sauron forged the One Ring but because theirs were turning their fingers green.
There are so many set and costume designs in this show that I love; clearly a lot of talented people worked on this show! I just wish that as much elegant craftsmanship had informed the TITULAR rings.
(I'm sure some there have been some defensive justifications for Why the Rings Look Like That but I tell you I will not be swayed by any of them)
#lord of the rings#the rings of power#costume design#please recast the rings#we will all pretend like they never looked like this#Amazon I know you have the money for better rings#you have better rings for sale on your site#why are you doing this to me#I generally enjoy this show but these rings are killing me#WAIT#RINGS = BAD#It's actually a genius metaphor#galaxy brain#I'm just kidding I still hate them
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [14K] PART ONE OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+
And, baby, for you I would fall from grace
He came into the dining room of the club one Saturday afternoon. Sunkissed, tall, broad, stubble on his jaw and a gold chain glinting from the collar of his white shirt. He had a navy sweater draped over his shoulders, expensive sunglasses in his shirt's front pocket, an unassuming looking leather strapped watch on his wrist - but youâd learned well before then how to tell the difference between new money and old money.  Â
And Steve Harrington was old, old money.Â
The watch cost more than your car and a year's rent on your apartment. Fuck, it cost more than youâd probably ever make working behind the bar of Hawkinsâ country club. It cost more than the short black dress you were made to wear, the one that cinched you in at the waist and flared out over your thighs. It shone more than the gold plated name badge that was pinned on your chest, making your plunging neckline even more obvious. It cost more than the black heels that were part of your uniform, more than the five dollar balm that made your lips glossy and peach coloured.Â
But still, Steve Harrington and his old, old money noticed you.Â
âââââ
The restaurant was full, the bar even busier, the smoking lounge that sat through the double doors stuffed with leather chairs, studded couches, velvet footstools and table lined with cigars in wooden boxes. The full place smelled like bourbon and smoke, expensive cologne, perfume that cost even more.Â
The Lake House country club was Hawkinsâ finest institute, an old Manor House that was built on the shore of Lovers Lake, across the water from where teens liked to lurk in their cars and between tree trunks. The Lake House was where the town's elite came to dine, to drink, to lounge and talk. There were brunches with champagne and whisky, afternoon tea with ladies who wore diamonds and pearls, dinners with wine from 1802 and business meetings on the golfing green. Money poured from the club and filled the cracks in the old bricks, men with their daddyâs money bringing in their daughters, their sons, their wives. And when the family drove home in their Bentley, girlfriendâs arrived in red bottomed shoes, perching on laps in the smoking lounge like it was their jobs.Â
Maybe it was. You werenât supposed to ask.Â
Your job was to stay behind the bar, a huge mahogany thing that took up most of the back wall. Everything was dark wood and lined with green velvet, the bar stools suede and gold studded, the bottles of alcohol on the glass shelves nothing less than a month's paycheck each. Martini glasses glittered, whisky was in the air like car fumes and the lime you were cutting into wheels was making the cut on your finger pulse. Â
He walked in then, into the busy room like he owned it. The Harringtons were certainly wealthy enough to do so, but Michael Harrington and his wife simply liked to dine at the club on Sundays, take up on the tennis courts midweek and finish the day at the spa with a massage each.Â
Six hundred dollars a session to hire out the court, four hundred dollar scotch, three hundred dollar steaks (eighty dollars more for the potato dauphinoise), five hundred dollars for a couples massage. Oh, and a one hundred dollar tip for the fucker unfortunate enough to have to deal with them.Â
In cash, of course.Â
But their son? Steve Harrington moved out of Hawkins long before anyone could work out if heâd grow up to be as cold as his father. Away from small towns, rumour had it he went to New York, an apartment in Manhattan, a job on Wall Street where he started at the bottom and worked his way up on luck, expensive vodka and daddyâs money. But then again, others said he spent his summers in Europe, talks of Italian villas, vineyards in Tuscany, selling yachts to the elite in Cannes, spending his time trading money through casinos, long months in Monaco during the spring.Â
Seeing him back in Hawkins was unusual, uncommon, a goddamn rarity - but there he was, letting himself drop into the barstool in front of you like a Greek god etched from marble so expensive that you could barely afford to look at it. He sat with a friend, another twenty something that looked more man than boy because of their tailored trousers, crisp shirts, linen and cashmere and gold on their wrists, round their necks, family rings on their hands.Â
Steve Harrington didnât click his fingers at you like other members of the club did when they demanded to be served, but he did rap two knuckles against the bar top, a gold band on his middle finger hitting the wood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, careful and cuffed just below his elbows, the top three buttons undone to show off tanned skin and a smattering of chest hair. More gold, a thin chain settling in the dip of his throat, stubble along his jaw that looked like it was there deliberately, not because heâd forgotten to shave.Â
You held your breath when you approached. Youâd never served the youngest Harrington before - fuck, youâd never seen him here - but you knew who he was and the reputation dripped from him.Â
Old money, older estates, acres of land, shares in companies that were so ridiculously rich you didnât know what they were for. Fast cars, scandals in Europe, yachts with his name on it. Â
Stomach in knots, you straightened up, smoothed down then front of your dress and put on the same smile you used for all the club members. âGentlemen,â you greeted, âwhat can I get you both?â
Steve looked at you but his friend didnât, his back to you as he surveyed the room, mumbling comments about the lack of skirt that showed up this early in the afternoon. You recognised him, a regular in the later evenings, Jonathan Byers, a fiend for a good cigar, an even bigger fan of the girls that held the poker events on weekends.Â
âTwo Macallans,â Steve told you, already fishing out a money clip from his trouser pocket. The clip was gold, engraved with his initials: SMH. âTwenty year reserve, no ice.â
He really looked at you then, thumbing through one hundred dollar bills, eyes raking up and down your frame as you stood and listened diligently. Even when you turned to pull the bottle of scotch off the top shelf, you could feel him watching, one eyebrow quirked, full lips parted just a little, the top of his tongue peeking from between. Steve looked interested, intrigued. Maybe just a little less bored than before.Â
You kept your head down, polishing the tumblers before you poured, a three finger amount of the dark amber liquid and the smell of fire and smoke filled your nose. Youâd watched enough men sit around the bar and swirl their drinks under the nostrils, waffling about notes of chocolate and spice before they sipped. It all smelled the same, no matter what price was on the label, like car fuel and burning. Steve downed the drink in one when you handed it to him, like he wasnât swallowing liquid fire that cost him more than youâd make in a week.Â
You watched as his throat bobbed, his lips coming away from the rim of the glass a little glossy, how he licked over his bottom one to catch any alcohol that lingered. Then he grinned, all perfect teeth and charm before he passed you six hundred dollars in notes.Â
You nodded your thanks and went to the cash register, smiling what you hoped was politely as you tried to hand him back his change. Ninety dollars, pressed neatly in a pile of twenties and tens. The boy waved you off, still paying a lot of attention to the bare skin along your neckline, gaze running up the column of your throat. His eyes found yours when he finally spoke and god, they were the same colour as the scotch he just shotted. Â
âKeep the change, honey.â Steve smiled again, a smug thing that made you aware of how warm your cheeks were. Then he slid on a pair of sunglasses he took from his shirt pocket and pushed his hair back with a hand, nudging his friend to drink up before they both slid off the stools. âJust make sure it goes in your own pocket, okay?â
You gaped at him. The Lake Houseâs policy when it came to tips - no matter how generous - was for them to be placed in a jar in the back office, ready to be split between staff, however hard individuals had worked, or not worked, that shift.Â
The money burnt your fingers. âUm, thatâs very generous but I canâtââ
Steve lifted a navy sweater heâd draped on the back of his chair, crushing the soft fabric with one hand. He used the other to reach out, plucking the bills from your fingers so he could fold them all together. His gaze met yours when he leaned back over the bar, unblinking, knuckles grazing the bare skin above your chest when he tucked the money into the neckline of your dress. It stayed there, hidden and you had to snap your jaw shut when Steve grinned at you before he pulled away.Â
He raised a finger to his lips, like you were sharing a secret and not a sackable offence and his friend snorted, like heâd seen it all before. Maybe he had.Â
âSee you next time, honey,â Steve drawled, fishing keys out of his pocket. The silver logo of BMW glinted in the low lighting. âThanks for the drinks.â
That was the first time you met Steve Harrington.Â
Just to touch your face
The next time, he was with a group of people in the smoking lounge, all of them loud, most of them dirty rich and he had a girl on his lap. A waifish thing, pretty and delicate with a ruby pendant that settled in the dip of her chest. She held a martini glass aloft, one that you had to refill and you cursed The Lake House and its rules as your heels taptaptapped across the marble tiles. The hem of your dress swished across your thighs, your hand held a gold tray and the fresh martini swirled in its glass atop it, a well practised movement that made sure none of it spilled. The olive inside tumbled around gin and vermouth.Â
Inside of the lounge, smoke billowed. Cigars and cigarettes poised between fingertips, hanging from lips that couldnât help but spill secrets about their dirty businesses, the people they slept with before, the people theyâd bed tonight. Nobody moved out of your way as you squeezed past tables and between the low sofas, leather and velvet brushing the backs of your thighs until you were able to present Steve Harringtonâs lap warmer with her new drink.Â
She took it from your tray, replaced it with her empty glass and said nothing. It was her hand on Steveâs chest that caused him to look away from the men he was talking with, a hushed sounding discussion about money in Monaco, about the company and its takings for that summer. He frowned at the girl and her pawing until he caught sight of you, his lips lifting in a smile that seemed more dangerous than welcoming.Â
You smiled back, polite to a fault, throat going dry when you watched Steveâs gaze drop to that bare expanse of skin above your neckline. It wasnât obscene, it wasnât even suggestive. In fact, there was barely any amount of cleavage on show at all per the clubs rules but Steve was fixated on a freckle below your collarbone and the feel of his eyes on you made you fidget.Â
You tucked the tray under one arm and tried not to shuffle on the spot. âCan I get you anything, sir?â
There was something in Steveâs reaction to your question. Maybe it was the âsir,â the way you tipped your head towards him when you said it, soft and gentle and pretty. He knew you had to call all the members of the club such niceties but Steveâs eyes flashed and his lips parted, the hand he had on the arm of the sofa curling around the leather a little tighter.Â
âA Macallan,â he asked, just like the first time. âNoââ
âNo ice,â you finished for him, nodding. âIâll bring that right over.â
You blew out a breath when you turned, heels clicking on the marble as you made your way back to the bar. The lights were dimmed throughout the club in the evening, wall sconces letting out a warm glow, the huge fireplace in the main lounge roaring, popping and cracking with wooden logs. The whole place smelled like pine, like cedar and smoke and expensive leather. Women laughed softly, hanging off their husbands arms, dripping in pearls, in jewels, in false pretences. You smiled nicely at passing club members as you poured Steveâs drink, hands a little shaky from you out down to missing your lunch break, not excitement.
Definitely not nerves.Â
You placed the chilled glass back on the tray, amber liquid shining inside the crystal, and made your way to the smoking lounge. Steve was alone when you returned, his lap empty, the girl gone. Not just from his lap, but from the room entirely. You scanned the lounge, expecting to see her on her way back, maybe with a complaint about the drink you made her, just to make you feel small but no - sheâd been removed. Your heart skipped, an awful stuttering feeling that you didnât want to feel. Lowering the tray, you offered Steve his drink, gaze cast down as you felt his on you the entire time. Steve leaned up, too close, taking his drink and smiling at you.Â
You were just about to leave when:
âWhy donât you join me?â
The rest of the room was as loud as it was before, music under voices, laughter mixed with a saxophone record, conversations in the smoke. But Steveâs voice rang out almost too clearly from amongst it all. Still, you blinked at him, lips parting in surprise. âSorry?â
Steve nodded at the seat next to him as he sank back into the couch, an arm thrown over the back of it as he took a sip of his scotch. The watch on his wrist caught the low light as he ripped the glass against his lips, cheeks flushed from the log burner.Â
He was dressed in what you assumed heâd deem a little more casual than the last time you saw him. A black silk shirt, short sleeved and with the top few buttons undone again. No visible label, no ostentatious brand name on the chest but you knew well enough by then to know that just meant it was even more expensive. Black trousers, tailored for him and a pair of black boots with a sharp toe. His hair was less styled, maybe from the way his lost friend had been running her fingers through it earlier. Strands of it fell into his eyes and you swallowed hard when you realised you were staring.Â
âTake a seat,â Steve asked again, lips curling up in amusement at your flustered expression.Â
You blinked at him before you remembered to stand back up straight, tucking the tray back under your arm and hoping that none of the club's managerial staff were lingering nearby. Youâd already spent too long away from the bar. âI, um, I canât. Iâm sorry,â you pressed your lips together and tried not to look too regretful. âI'm working.â
Steve snorted, a sound that shouldâve been more unattractive than it was but it only made you want to hear what he had to say. He took another pull of his drink, barely wincing when the burn of it trickled down his throat. You did the maths in your head, wondering how it felt to be swallowing seventy dollar sips. He raised his brows and shrugged, looking around theatrically.
âAnd?â The boy smiled, equal parts pretty and smug.Â
You were a little flustered, both at how nice he looked when he smiled and how bold he was being. You opened and closed your lips before parting them again, another polite smile there. âI need to get back to the bar,â you explained. âIâll get into trââ
âTrouble?â Steve finished. He shook his head and grinned, a megawatt thing that made you understand that, yes, all the rumours were true. That the famed Harrington Charm was very much a thing. But fuck, his father didnât smile at you like that. In fact, he didnât smile at all. âOh, honey. No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Worried Frederick is gonna fire you?â
Steve dropped the name of your manager like they were friends. They probably were. He looked at you expectantly over the rim of his glass as he took another sip, licking the liquid from his lips. You wondered if he tasted as expensive as his liquor choices.Â
You nodded, shrugging, grasping for a reason to say no to this boy - this man. The line at the bar was growing, annoyed looking men clicking their fingers at a flustered looking new girl who was trying to pour champagne into a wine glass. Guilt gnawed at your stomach.Â
âHe wonât fire you,â Steve assured. He patted the leather next to him, gold ring glinting in the warm light. âCâmon. Sit. I want to talk to you.â
You couldnât help yourself.Â
âDo you always get what you want?â You said it quietly, watching Steveâs lips curl into a grin when he heard.Â
Another smile, mega watt, just for you. He tipped his head back and laughed, a pretty sounding thing that made the muscles down his neck stand out, chin tilted up to the gold leafed ceiling.Â
âYeah,â he told you, eyes dancing, cheeks flushed from the fire, the lights, the scotch. âI do.âÂ
You shouldnât have done it. You werenât allowed. There were strict rules about staff mingling with club members - fuck, it was written in red ink on your contract. You were too used to some of the clientele pushing the limits, trying to soften your boundaries with wads of cash, talks of a private plane to some European city where their wife didnât like to visit. Older men, rich men, business men, family men. All looking for someone young and easily led and agreeable to have fun with between meetings and luncheons, someone to light their cigar and top up their drink for them. They liked to look at you like something to eat up, to chew up, to spit out when they were done and Frederick inevitably hired someone new and younger and prettier.Â
Youâd seen it happen before. Girls sucked into the lifestyle they could never have, coming into work with new shoes, red bottomed heels with their uniform dress, a Chanel lipstick in their purse, a Porsche waiting outside for them after their shift finished and in the end, a scorned wife in the dining room ready to throw a drink over them.Â
Youâd seen it all. Â
But Steve Harrington was looking at you with so much intrigue. A pretty smile behind his tiny glass of three hundred dollar scotch, messy hair, bright eyes, that black silk shirt that looked easy to slip your fingers into. He was younger, more subtle with it all but the easy confidence in which he spoke to you had you squeezing your thighs together and wondering if your chest would stop feeling as tight.Â
It didnât.Â
You sat down.Â
Steve grinned, victorious and he moved against the leather sofa so he was sitting back against the arm, turned to face you fully. He brought one foot up to rest on his other knee, hand curling around his leg, and from there you could see the tiny brand on his loafers, a little gold insignia. Yves Saint Laurent. You wanted to laugh. His shoes cost more than you made in three months.Â
âWhatâs your name?â Steve asked.Â
You wore the same gold plated pin that every other staff member wore. The Lake House engraved on it along with the logo, a stupidly elaborate key. Underneath, your name was printed in bold letters, but Steve wasnât looking at it. He was watching your face, brows raised expectantly. He wanted to hear you speak.Â
Pressing the tray to your lap, you lingered on the edge of the couch, eyes darting around for your boss, or worse, the girl this man was last seen with. Was it his girlfriend? Did he have a wife? You werenât sure how old Steve was, but you didnât see a ring on his wedding finger, not that that meant much in a place like The Lake House. Wedding bands frequented coat pockets more than fingers here.Â
You swallowed and told him your name, your voice cracking with nerves that you tried to laugh at but that came out wobbly too. Your shyness made Steve grin a little wider, his wide hands curling around his ankle as he lounged back against the cushions and appraised you with a look that shouldnât have been proper for public.Â
He repeated your name back to you and it sounded so much sweeter on his lips. He said it slowly, a low murmur that made your tummy clench, like he was tasting it out, tasting it on his tongue. âThatâs a pretty name,â he said. âIâm Steve Harrââ
You laughed, sharp and surprised. âI know who you are, Mr Harrington.â
If Steve was shocked by his news, he didnât show it. It was your job to know the members, after all. Their names, their families, the work they were in. Their favourite table, their favourite drink, the time they liked to dine, their preferred slot for playing a round of golf. So instead he smiled and nodded before holding out a hand.Â
You took it and he squeezed gently, shaking it politely as he said, âwell then, please call me Steve.â
You nodded, wondering if that was allowed. None of this was allowed. Fuck, you glanced around again, eyes a little wide, wondering if Frederick was in his office, god forbid, watching you through the cameras. Steve mustâve noticed this, because he swallowed down the last of his scotch and set the empty glass on the table. Youâd have to move it soon.Â
âRelax.â His arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, tanned and corded with lithe muscles. His fingers tapped a beat on the leather, close to your shoulder. âNothing bad is going to happen.â
You laughed, a shaky, ironic sounding thing. You forgot who you were talking to, just for a second, your heart pumping. âThatâs easy for you to say.â You swore then, a pained noise, because Frederick was marching out of his office, three piece suit right across his shoulders and his pocket watch swinging.
He was coming over.Â
You made a noise similar to a squeak, drinks tray clutched to your chest and you made to jump up but Steveâs hand stopped you. Warm and wide, it took up most of your knee and you blinked at it in surprise. He didnât move it when you stared at him and he still didnât move it when Frederick approached, red faced and nostrils flaring.Â
âMr Harrington, sir, itâs so good to see you back at The Lake House,â your manager began, his voice a well practised purr. There was a slight British tinge to his voice, one you knew was fake. âPlease take my sincerest apologies for you being bothered. Iâll be asking my staff to join me in the office for a much required conversation about professional boundaries. Please excuââ
âFred,â Steve greeted warmly, his smile much more forced than the one heâd been giving you. Frederick twitched. âNice to see you.â Steveâs hand still covered your lower thigh and squeezed slightly, in what you thought was supposed to be reassuring but his thumb on the inside of your knee made you too warm. âNo need for anything like that, actually.â Steve said your name, wrapped it around his tongue and licked over his lip like he was savouring it before he continued. ââwas invited to sit with me.â
The clubhouse manager hardened, a flash of annoyance going over his features and his neck grew more red in anger. He smiled through it, a tight lipped thing that Steve grinned at and you had to duck your head, panic ripping through your body. You couldnât lose this job.Â
âHow nice,â Frederick finally ground out. He clasped his hands in front of him and glared at you from the sides of his eyes before he smiled at Steve again. âI hope my staff is doing her utmost to keep you pleased, Mr Harrington. Do not hesitate to ask for anything.â
You hated the way he said it, like any club member could get anything they wanted from you, just because they had enough money to be here. It made you square off your shoulders and lift your head, emboldened. Steve was watching you, that look of intrigue on his face once more. He nodded at Frederick and then gestured to his empty glass.Â
âActually, Freddie, could you be a pal and fetch me another?â His tone was too polite, bordering on patronising. Frederickâs tight smile grew tighter, a thin line that stretched across his ruddy face until you feared it might split. âA Macallan, no ice. Anything for the lady?â Steve turned to you and winked, a subtle thing that let you know everything was under control.Â
But you knew better than to rock the boat, better than that, you knew not to drink on the job. Especially from the clubâs bar. The only thing you could afford from behind the mahogany counter was the one thing Steve always refused. Ice.Â
âNo, thank you,â you murmured.Â
Your manager had no choice but to walk away, his back rigid, proverbial steam coming out from his ears. You watched him snap Steveâs order at a poor, unsuspecting barman who then brought it back over on another shiny tray. He raised his brows at you when Steve thanked him for it and you shrugged, not knowing what was going on either.Â
When he left, Steve turned back to you, leaning back into the sofa. He looked more tanned that the last time youâd seen him. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the warm glow from the sconces along the walls, the amber coloured shade on the lamp beside him. Maybe heâd just been back to Italy.Â
Monaco. France. Spain.Â
He took a sip, eyes dancing over you and when he brought the drink back down to rest on his knee, he spoke. âHave you worked here long?â
It took you a second to realise he was speaking to you again, his voice lower and softer than it had been with your boss. You noticed Steve has a habit of direct eye contact, always looking right into your own eyes as he spoke. It was a little jarring, the confidence, that bold type of charm that must come with always getting what you want.Â
âUh, yeah,â you scrunched your nose, trying to remember months and years. âThree years now, or close enough.â
âI shouldâve come back sooner,â Steve quipped back, his smile easy, his eyes roaming over you. His ring tapped against his glass of scotch and you didnât know what to do. Was he flirting with you? âDo you live in town?â
âCouple miles out, smaller place near Sugar Creek.â You werenât sure why you were telling him this.Â
âYeah, I know it,â Steve replied. âMakes sense, why I hadnât seen you around before. Did you go to school âround here?â
You felt like you were being interviewed. A handsome, rich man asking the questions, sitting easy in his throne and you had an awful, awful urge to please him with your answers. To do good. To be praised.Â
âI went to St. Maryâs High in Green Bay,â you swallowed, your tongue feeling too big for you mouth. Nerves bubbled in your stomach. âThen I was supposed to move to Californiaâ Berkeley.â You winced, remembering.Â
Steve looked surprised, eyebrows raised, nodding. âWhat was your major?â
âSocial law.â
Steve hummed. âSmart girl.â There it was. That praise. You tingled with it. âWhat happened?â
You heard the words he didnât say, the unasked question. âWhy arenât you there? Why are you here? Wearing that silly little dress and heels that hurt your feet and that fake, fake smile that makes your cheeks hurt so much you want to scream into your pillow when you get home every night?â
You pondered over what to say. How truthful to be. How blunt, how ugly and honest. Shit, you couldâve said. Family, parents, money, bad luck, worse circumstances. Housing, a broken down car, an apartment that fell through at the last minute, a scholarship that didnât happen, an aunt that got sick, a mom who didnât like to let go.Â
Instead you smiled politely and said: âlife.âÂ
Steve gave you a wry smile in return, one that told you he could see through it all and he knew exactly what you wanted to say. Like he knew you werenât allowed to and you were playing by the rules. Frederick was at the bar, staring at your back until you felt your bones crunch with the weight of it.Â
Steve finished his drink, slid his glass onto the table and ran a hand through his hair. âIt was nice to talk to you,â he said simply. He took your hand, not to shake it like last time, no. Instead he held it for a beat or two, and when he took his away, neatly folded bills were left between your fingers. They burned.Â
âFor the table service,â he said as a way of explaining. You didnât know if he meant the drink or you. âIâll see you next time, honey.â
And then he left. You watched him saunter through the bar, nodding and smiling at people who greeted him, taking his jacket from someone at the door and then he was gone.Â
That was the second time you met Steve Harrington.Â
If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay
A week later you were clocking into work with the intention of heading to the staff locker rooms, ready to wrestle yourself into that black dress the club called a uniform. It was early afternoon on a Wednesday and The Lake House was quiet, a few greying women you knew to be part of the book club were sat having tea by a window, a group of men leaving the gym, sweat barely there, but the towels over their shoulders had designer logos stitched in the corners.Â
Frederick found you with your heels in your hand, a look of disgust on your face as you kicked off your sneakers. He wasnât even supposed to be in the girls locker room, but he shook his head at you and took the stilettos from your hand.Â
âNo,â he looked irritated, as if you shouldâve known better. âYouâre on the green today.â
You screwed up your nose at him. You were never on the green and you told him as such. âThe schedule has me in the bar all day.â
Frederick huffed as if such questions were an inconvenience to him. He ducked, rooting around in your locker as his shoulder bumped your knee and he came back with the uniform you hardly had to wear. A white tennis skirt, bordering on too short with pleats that made the men tip well, even as their wives glared. A forest green sweater to match, the same colour as the club logo, white sneakers that were brand new from never being used.Â
âSpecial request,â your boss told you in lieu of a real explanation. âGet dressed, theyâre waiting. Hurry.â
You gaped at him as he bundled the clothes into your arms. âWhoâs waiting?â You called after him. âWhat hole?â
âAny of them,â Frederick yelled back as he walked out of the locker room and down the hall. His voice echoed back to you, a daunting thing. âHe booked out the whole course.â
Driving the beer cart over the green was always a nerve wracking experience. The drinks rattled noisily and the breeze kept catching at your skirt, threatening to flip it up over your thighs as you tried to manoeuvre the buggy around the man made dunes and valleys. You werenât sure where you were driving to, or who you were going to meet, but you kept an eye out at each hole for someone, anyone.Â
It could only really be one of two people, you guessed. Mr Donaldson was harmless enough, but he had a decade or three on your own age. Divorced and the owner of a film company in Atlanta, the man liked to frequent the clubhouse during the summers he spent back in Hawkins, pretending he was visiting his young daughter when he really preferred to lounge at the bar during your shift, trying to convince you that you just needed to see his condo in Georgia.Â
The only other person you could think of that would request you and you alone, was someone you haven't seen since the week before. Youâd looked for him, watched the cars coming into the lot to be dropped off for the valetâs to park but you hadnât seen any BMWâs. Steve didnât visit the bar, didnât spend any afternoons in the smoking lounge - you didnât even see him with Jonathan Byers at the poker night on Tuesday.Â
You thought he mightâve left town again. Back to whatever European city heâd decided on for the week, for the month. Maybe heâd gone back to New York, maybe he had meetings. Maybe he had a girlfriend, one for each country.Â
Mr Donaldson was the harmless option. Annoying, sure. But bearable. Safe. Mr Harrington⊠he wasnât harmless at all. You knew which one you wanted to see.Â
Sure enough, you turned the corner to hole eight to see a group of young men talking and laughing around their own golf cart. You saw some familiar faces, all known for being young, handsome and rich.Â
Billy Hargrove of Hargroveâs Vintage Motors. Crude, sharp witted, too flirtatious, he was the next in line to take over his fatherâs company and fortune, selling refurbished vehicles for prices that made your eyes water.Â
Jonathan Byers was there too, a young mogul who was up and coming in the art world. Once a critic, his photography had shot to fame after some black and white nudes of his then girlfriend were âleakedâ to the paper he once worked for. His family paid it all off as some sort of art nouveau exhibition, a look into scandal and sex in 30mm film. He lost his girlfriend but landed a gallery in the downtown neighbourhood of San Francisco.Â
Eddie Munson, someone you actually knew from high school. A decent guy, there because he worked for it, illegally, sure - but didnât they all? One way or another? Selling weed and who knows what else to the majority of the population of Hawkins made for a popular man, but Eddie brought in bank when he started selling to the elite, the rich kids of Hawkins High who preferred powder at their parties. He got into The Lake House with cold, hard cash instead of his family name and he stayed in the background of it, usually.
A few other men lingered, clutching at clubs and practising their swings, Wall Street leeches that were stuck at the bottom of the totem pole but still decided they had enough money in their daddies bank to be able to click their fingers at you and smack your ass as their Rolexâs jingled. Â
Amongst them all, in black slacks and a white polo, was Steve Harrington. Sunglasses over his eyes, leather golfing gloves on his hands, he was smirking at something Eddie said before his head snapped to you. In fact, everyone was staring at you.Â
You tried to keep your head high and your expression neutral, turning off the engine to the golf cart and doing your best to swing your legs out without flashing anything you werenât supposed to. You kept your hands on your skirt, smoothing it down, hoping that you could get through this shift without any embarâ
A long whistle, salacious and eager, coming from Billy Hargrove. A few of the boyâs laughed and Billy grinned, sharklike, letting his eyes crawl from your toes to your tits. âDamn, Harrington. You paid for one of the good ones, huh? Câmere, Sugar, daddy needs a drinkââ
You were frozen, standing awkwardly by the back of the buggy where the drinks were kept in a cooler, a thousand dollar pick ânâ mix of whisky, scotch and gin for the men to choose from. There wasnât any Bud Light at The Lake House, not even on the green.Â
But Billy didnât get much further into his catcalls, stopped by a hand on his elbow that tugged him away from you and the other men. The snickering stopped, a heavy silence falling over the group as Steve took Billy aside with nothing more than a touch to his arm. You watched as Steve slid his sunglasses off, his hard gaze on the other boy as he whispered something too low for you to hear. But Billy listened, albeit with a glare in his eyes, but he nodded, sharp and just once. His jaw flexed.Â
You didnât know what was happening. You didnât know what to do. You found Eddieâs gaze, saw his soft smile, knowing. He winked at you, twirling a club in his hand as he waited for the game to continue. And it did, once Steve seemingly dismissed Hargrove. The other men started talking again, easy and light like nothing had happened, requesting different drinks from you that you pulled out of the cooler, ice making your hands wet and numb.Â
And all the while Steve lingered at the back of them, sitting in the driver's side of the other golf cart, waiting with his eyes on you. He didnât approach once Jonathan left with his glass of Glenfiddich, in fact, he didnât make out like he wanted a drink at all. So you stood by the cart like you were supposed to and watched the men take turns at swinging a stick at a ball, yelling profanities when they missed, yelling more profanities when they didnât.Â
You couldnât help let your gaze wander to Steve, the picture of luxury as he leaned back in the leather seat, one leg out of the cart and stretched across neatly clipped grass. He was lighting a cigarette, held between his lips as he lowered his gaze to his cupped hands, gold zippo flickering with an amber flame. He looked up as he blew out the smoke, eyes finding yours, grinning when you startled.Â
Steve took another drag and asked, âyou not cominâ to say hi?â
Three years of ingrained obedience made your feet move forward, doing as you were told at the words of another rich man. You felt unsure, walking across the green empty handed, but Steve hadnât asked for a drink, so you stopped just shy of where his leg was stretched out of the cart. If you moved any closer, you wouldâve been between his spread knees. You clasped your hands in front of you, pressed against your little, white skirt. It lifted a little with the breeze, a sharper wind than the day before that told the town fall was coming.Â
Steve watched the hem catch and fall back against your thighs, brown eyes tracking the movement to see what little new skin he could watch but apart from that, he didnât make any of the lewd comments his friend had.Â
âMr Harrington,â you said as a greeting. âGood afternoon, can I get you anything to drink?â You were polite to a fault, well trained, good mannered, an expert in making yourself small and only seen when spoken to.Â
Steve ignored your question. He inhaled his cigarette again, cheeks hollowing out, lips pursing, jaw sharpening. He smiled at you as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth, the wind taking it away from your face. âI told you to call me Steve,â he said and his voice was quiet, a low thing that made your face heat up. You tried to apologise, but he kept talking. âHow are you?â
You blinked, surprised at his question. You didnât think youâd ever been asked that while at work. âUh, Iâm fine, thank you. Howâre you?â
Steve nodded and flicked ash onto the grass, letting it sink into the course. âIâm great, thank you. Better now youâre here.â He grinned when you fidgeted, lips parting, hands unsure what to do. You twisted your fingers together a little tighter. âYou okay being out here?â Steve let the cigarette balance between his lips and you watched it move as he spoke around it. âI can let you go back inside, if youâd like.â
Normally such words would be used as a trick, a trap, a warning. A subtle threat from an unhappy customer that would ensure you did as they wanted, even if it meant staying later than you were being paid for, adding extra time to their spa passes, even if it risked your own employment. But Steve looked and sounded genuine, his eyes watching you as you worked up the courage to tell him the truth. Â
âItâs okay,â you finally said, voice betraying how shy you felt. You sounded confident, in control. You felt nothing of the sort, especially when the boy grinned again, wider this time and god, he looked like he owned the world and everything in it.Â
âExcellent.â Steve flicked the stub of his cigarette away and pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He tilted his head at the empty seat beside him and said: âjump in.â
You stuttered over an excuse, an explanation, eyes a little wide as you looked back over to the rest of the group, the drinks cart you were supposed to man all day. âIâ I canât? Iâve to stay with the cart all day, if I leave it Iâll get intoââ
Steve cut you off with a tsk and a shake of his head. His voice turned to liquid gold as he spoke, rich and sweet and awfully condescending. It made you drip. âWhat did I tell you last time, huh, honey? No oneâs gonna tell you off unless itâs me. Now câmon, you donât wanna spend some time with me?â
You couldâve stayed. You were sure Steve wouldnât have been mad. You shouldâve stayed. You were breaking rules. All of them. But Steve was grinning at you from the front seat of the golf cart, tanned arms flexed as his leather gloves gripped the wheel and all of his friends played pretend, like they couldnât hear what was going on behind them as they took another swing.Â
You shouldâve stayed. Maybe went back into the clubhouse, took off your sweater and skirt and played nice behind the bar in your usual attire, serving clients old enough to be your grandfather as they slipped fifty dollar bills into your hand just so youâd lean over for them again.Â
You got in the cart.Â
Steve positively beamed, a hot smirk that stretched across his pretty face and you barely heard the whistles and yowls of his friends as he sped away as fast as the buggy would allow. He went off course, cruising alongside the green and heading towards the path between the woods that took you to lovers lake.Â
âFeeling bad today, Berkeley?â The nickname caused your heart to jump, confirmation that heâd been listening the last time you both spoke, that heâd remembered.Â
But still guilt and worry gnawed at your chest and you looked around at the empty course, half expecting to see Frederick chasing after you both in the drinks cart youâd abandoned so carelessly. What did it matter, really? The price of everything in the cart was included in whatever it had cost for Steve to book out the entire fucking course for the day. A stolen scotch or two didnât matter. Not really.Â
You didnât know how to reply, so you didnât say anything at all, just sitting by Steveâs side like a baby deer caught in headlights, like a good little girl that wanted to know if it really was true, if Steve really could keep you out of the trouble he was leading you into. The boy mustâve seen your bleak expression âcause he laughed, pushing back the hair that the wind blew across his forehead.Â
âHoney, itâs fine,â Steve glanced over at you as he turned down the dirt path to the lake. You could see his eyes shining at you through his shades, amusement making them glitter. âI promise.â
So you nodded and tried to smile, doing your best to relax into the seat and when the cart bumped over a fallen branch that Steve didnât bother to avoid, the jostle of it made your thigh bump into his. He grasped at your knee as an apology of sort, murmuring something you couldnât hear over the wind, but his palm engulfed your bare knee once more and fuck, fuck, you couldnât think of anything else. His gold ring looked pretty against your skin, his tanned hand complimenting the dough of your thigh nicely and you tried to remember how to talk.Â
âIs there something you needed my help with at the lake, Mr Harrington?â You didnât think Steve needed any help on how to work speed boats or jet skis, but still, you werenât sure what else to say.Â
Steve laughed again, a pretty sound that made your toes curl and he slowed the cart to a stop at a shaded area along the shore, far enough away from the sandy embankment that the men on the lake in their fishing boats wouldnât be able to see you. âCâmon now, I thought you were a smart thing,â Steve pouted at you as he turned off the cart's engine. His hand left your leg and you mourned the loss of it, heart jumping again when his hand curled around the back of your seat instead. âWhat did I tell you to call me?â
Your chest warmed like you were back in middle school, getting scolded by a teacher who you didnât want to disappoint. It bloomed across your neck and face, only getting hotter as the entire sensation of it made you squeeze your clasped hands between your thighs. Steveâs gaze dropped to your lap, a quick glance down that made the corners of his lips curve up.Â
âSteve,â you said quietly, sounding shy, reserved. Your body was giving away too much, you couldnât let your voice join in.Â
Steve nodded and the hand that was resting against your seat moved a little, brushing against your sweater until he could rub a thumb against your shoulder blade. âSee, sheâs a smart girl after all, isnât she?â
You could only nod. What the fuck was going on? Hidden by the trees, on the edge of the water that was across from where you usually spent weekday afternoons. You could see The Lake House from here, could practically feel Frederickâs gaze out of the bay windows, boring a hole into the middle of your forehead as you sat with one of the most affluent clients on the rolodex. Steve Harrington had his arm around your back, his eyes on your bare thighs, his other hand ghosting along the hem of your skirt. He pulled at it, bringing it down the mere centimetre it had ridden up, knuckles skimming your too hot skin.Â
He didnât look away from it when he asked you: âAnd if you are a clever, little thing, dâyou know why I brought you here?â
If it had been dark, if it had been closer to night, if the grounds had been empty and the lake was still, maybe you wouldâve felt more scared than you were. If it had been anyone else, maybe you would have been sitting there in the shadow of the trees and cursing yourself out for being so stupid. Going with this boy - this man - letting him take you off alone and away from prying eyes, letting him touch your leg and get too close. It was stupid, wasnât it? Despite what Steve said, this wasnât smart, was it?
But you found that you didnât care. You really didnât fucking care. Not one bit.Â
You shrugged, cheeks warm, too wary to say anything out of turn, too cautious to say anything too bold for fear of losing your job. Or worse, being rejected.Â
Steve pouted. âNo?â He tutted and sighed, a dramatic sounding thing and he let his hand fell back onto your leg, higher this time. You held your breath as he skimmed his palm upupup until his fingertips disappeared under the hem of your skirt that heâd just pulled down for you. âWell, I wanted to personally invite you the poker game with me tomorrow night. You know the one, donât you? Itâs in the lounge, nine oâclock.â
You tried to steady your breathing, exhaling sharply from your nose as Steveâs fingers wandered, never going higher, going slow and soft enough that you could slap his hand away if you wanted to. You didnât. âIâm working that shift,â you whispered.Â
His eyes met yours, his grin blinding. âGood, youâll be there then.â
âWorking,â you reminded him, the last syllable of the word hitching in your mouth as his fingers passed over your leg once more. You felt the cool metal of his gold band on the inside of your thigh. âIâll be there to work.â
Steve nodded, like he understood, like he wasnât planning to monopolise every minute of your shift, wondering how long he could keep you by his side at the poker table before you got too worried and scrambled back to the bar. âOf course.â He pulled back a little, his nose too close to brushing yours as you couldnât help but lean in too, head tilted up to his like you did it all the time. âAnd then after that,â he took his hand from your thigh and you tried not to cry about it, âcause he used the back of his hand to push your hair away from your face instead. âYou could come back to mine?â
 Oh, fuck. You couldnât help the smile that fluttered across your face, the giddy, shy laugh that followed. You were flustered and it showed, and as much as it made Steve smile back, it made him hard as a fucking rock.Â
âShit, uh, god, sorry,â you shook your head, as if to clear it. You felt fuzzy, hazy, under Steveâs spell as he kept smiling at you, clearly entertained by your flushed face, your dazed expression. âIâm really not supposed to do that.â
You didnât say no, Steve noted. You didnât say that you didnât want to. In fact, from the way your eyes dropped to his lips over and over again, Steve was pretty sure he could seal this deal with you faster than his last visit meeting with that winery in Sorrento.Â
That wasnât to say you were easy, no. Just real fucking cute. He had a forty percent share in that vineyard and soon enough, heâd have you too.Â
âWhat?â He played dumb, all syrupy sweet smiles and his voice all soft. He traced a circle around your knee. âYou canât see me out of work? Surely Fredrick isnât that much of a tyrant, honey.â
You squirmed under his gaze, the one that made you feel like he was undressing you. You were too warm and his innocent fingertips on your knee were making you wanna drag his hand back up your thigh and underneath the hem of your skirt. âWeâre not supposed to involve ourselves with club members.â Your words felt dull in your mouth, heavy and cotton like.Â
Pointless.Â
Steve pouted, lips pursing like he was trying to get you to kiss him. He tutted; his warm, wide palm curling around your thigh again. He squeezed gently and your mouth fell open, panting, an invitation. âWhat if I want to be involved with you, hm? What then, honey?â
You let your head fall back a little, lips wet and parted, eyes closing briefly, because Steve let his fingers slide up a little further, the tips of his middle and pointer finger brushing, just fucking barely, across the cotton of your underwear. You knew you were wet and you knew that he did too. How could he not? The damp fabric dragged across his digits and you saw the realisation in his eyes, that flash of heat, that curl of his lips that made his smile a smirk.Â
âRemember what I told you?â He let his lips fall into âoâ at your small noise, an almost whine that sounded blissed out. God, he could have fun with you. âDo you? Câmon smart girl, what do I always get?â
You blinked at him, sucking in a breath as you fought the urge to grind down on his hand. Steve took his fingers away, the damp tips of them trailing back down the inside of your thigh as he waited for an answer.Â
âYou told me,â you took another breath, looking around quickly, burning at the sight of the boats on the lake, the blurry people across the water by the clubhouse, sitting outside for afternoon tea. âYou told me you always get what you want.âÂ
That was the third time you met Steve Harrington.Â
Don't blame me, love made me crazy
The night after, youâd spent too long getting ready for your shift. Too long in the shower, letting the steam fill the tiny room, honey and peach scented body wash running in rivers down your bare skin, your razor chasing after it as you did your best to make every crevice of your body silky smooth.Â
You told yourself you werenât going home with Steve Harrington. You told yourself you couldnât, that you werenât allowed to.Â
But you took the time to layer mascara on your lashes, fixing any smudges before finishing your makeup with a layer of gloss on your lips, tinted a rosy pink and drawing more attention to them than youâd usually want. Black dress, clubhouse mandated stockings and heels, freshly polished. You left for work with your heart in the back of your throat.Â
The Lake House was quieter than usual on poker nights, mostly because each guest had to buy their way in. All players had to place a ten thousand dollar deal in with the croupier, pockets emptied and jackets checked at the door. It made the smoking lounge feel bigger, men seated around a large poker table, the dealer in the middle, chips stacked high and cigar smoke lingering in the air. It smelled like tobacco, leather, expensive cologne and money, and god, the tips were good.Â
There were familiar faces around the table, Billy, Jonathan, Mr Donaldson, a few other men from the club that liked to order expensive drinks and call you things like âsweet cheeksâ and âsugar.â The room was dimly lit, a soft amber glow that was kept in the room with closed drapes, velvet lined chairs, and bar staff that were trained not to speak unless spoken to. Everything was hushed and whispered, men talking money over glasses of liquor, cigars in one hand, their dealt hand in the other.Â
Then there was Steve, coming into the room a little late with another suit on, sharp and with a matching black shirt underneath, looking like he didnât give a shit. He didnât look at you as he took his seat, smirking at something Jonathan said and sliding a wad of stacked bills towards the dealer. He got his chips, he got his cards and the game began.Â
It took a whole twenty minutes before he raised his hand, a two finger salute that let you know he wanted a drink. You beat the other waitress to it, slipping in front of the new start - Vickie something - and your heels clicked as you made your way over to Steve. You already had a drink on your tray, poured the minute you saw his hand go up, his eyes still on his hand.Â
A Macallan, no ice.Â
You placed the tumbler on the table in front of him, knees bending slightly to make sure it didnât spill. Without warning, Steveâs hand snuck along the back of your thigh as you placed your tray under your arm, ready to walk away. Fingertips traced over the crease of your knee, ghosting over your stocking. You watched his gaze flicker to the drink he didnât have to ask for, a slight curve to the corners of his lips as he smiled his approval. He leaned back, head tipped up to you so you had to bend down slightly to meet him. His hand was slipping up the back of your thigh the whole time, hidden from the rest of the room, from the other players, your boss in the corner.Â
You bent at the waist, feeling your skirt rise up, feeling Steveâs hand do the same. His thumb ran along the crease below your ass, over the sliver of bare skin between your underwear and stockings.Â
âSmart girl,â he whispered in the shell of your ear, making you burn. His voice was low and a little rough from hardly talking, only communicating with nods to the croupier, dead face glances at his opponents. His chips were stacked high for his efforts. âYou look pretty. How âbout you just stay beside me, yeah?â
You werenât supposed to. But you did. You watched as your boss frowned, as Vickie looked surprised. Beside Steve, Jonathan snickered quietly and across the table, Billy narrowed his eyes.Â
âBreakinâ some rules?â He mouthed to Steve.Â
Steve ignored him.
The night came to an end close to one oâclock, once the bar was almost dry and Steve had most of the money. He accepted the passive remarks about his poker face, his ability to lie through his damn teeth, how he didnât need all that money anyways. Then there were the handshakes and slaps on the back, good natured talks and invites to lunches, chats about business opportunities and stocks. And all the while you tidied, putting away empty bottles of thousand dollar whisky, pouring hundred dollar glasses of Malbec down the drain. Cigar ash on the table, white powder tipped dollar notes that everyone pretended to not notice. Heavy tips on the table top, damp from spilled drinks, pushed into your apron pocket while the men around you tried to get a peek up your skirt.Â
And then Steve was leaning over the bar top and still ignoring Billy. He was watching you clean, eyes tracking the way your hands slid the cloth over the mahogany, and while your cheeks warmed at his attention, you let him. You were off the clock, your shift over. Bar closed.Â
Home time. Maybe.Â
ââyou even listeninâ to me, Harrington?â Billy sounded annoyed, words twisting on his tongue, whisky making them come out a little slower than he wanted them to.Â
âNo.â Steveâs reply was short and bored sounding.Â
âI said, you fucker, that I need a ride. Sâposed to be on a goddamn flight at five oâclock and this fuckinâ tequila is makinâ me piss like a fuckinâ racehorââ
Steve didnât take his eyes off of you as he took his wallet from inside of his suit jacket pocket. Using two fingers, he offered Billy a fifty, holding the bill in front of the other manâs face. âTake a cab.â
Billy looked offended at the suggestion. Disgusted, actually. âA cab? What do I look like to you, huh? Huh? A fuckinâ peasant?â
Steve just shrugged and slapped the bill on the counter anyway. âIâm having company,â he told him. Then he drained the rest of the one drink heâd ordered from you all night and met your gaze straight on. âYou ready?â
Not, âwould you like to join me?â Not, âwould you like to come back to mine?â No. Just a simple question. âAre you ready to go?â
You nodded. Yes, you were ready.Â
Billy laughed, a sharp and mean thing as he looked between you and Steve. Then his gaze turned salacious, drunk and lazy as he took in your short dress, your shiny lips. He nudged Steve and nodded towards you. âYou not sharing this time, Harrington?â He tutted. âWhat a shame.â
You didnât know what to say. If youâd been at a bar in town, standing on either side of it, youâd have listened to the twitch in your hand and lifted it, letting your palm meet Billy Hargroveâs right cheek, regardless of how much money was in his wallet. But Frederick was by the door talking to Mr Donaldson about summers in the Bahamas and you couldnât do shit.Â
So you turned your back, polished another wine glass and slid it back onto its shelf.Â
âYou know,â you heard Steve murmur. His voice was low, controlled. Dangerous sounding. âYou keep letting your mouth run like that, and Iâll make sure you donât have a reason to get that five am flight. One call and there wonât be no fucking meeting in L.A, do you understand?â
You didnât hear Billyâs reply. In fact, you werenât sure there was one. Instead, Steve walked to the side of the bar and brushed some invisible lint off of his jacket as he waited for you to untie your apron. You hesitated, watching as Fredrick disappeared into his office and then, and only then, did you step out from behind the bar to join Steve, letting him place his hand on the small of your back and guide you out of the clubhouse.Â
He made it too easy to break the biggest rule in the book.Â
âââââ
Steve drove you to a townhouse on the edge of town, the opposite direction from your own home. He took you there in his BMW, a shiny maroon car that looked brand new, with leather seats and shiny detailing on the dash. He didnât touch you in the car, he just opened the door for you to get in and get out, only offering a hand that you took as you stood on his driveway.Â
His house was lit up by lights on either side of the huge garage, another by the double doors. Three floors, a water feature in the front yard, a security system at the entrance. Steve pressed some buttons before something buzzed and clicked, and he opened the door with no grand flourish, extending an arm for you to enter first.Â
Everything was sleek and polished, not quite the bachelor pad you expected, but luxurious all the same. Wooden floors and a large fireplace in the living room, the leather and suede of the clubhouse swapped out for a huge sectional, covered in cushions and throws. There was art on the walls, scenes of Greek tragedies, half naked women with dreamy looks on their faces, full curves and thick thighs. A shiny kitchen that looked barely used, bottles of scotch and whisky and gin on a golden bar cart in the corner, a full wall of books surrounding the biggest television youâd seen. The house smelled like Steve, like his cologne, like new leather and oak.Â
His footsteps echoed across the room as he strolled into the kitchen, an open plan thing that let you watch him from where you stood by the front door. Steve held up a bottle of wine. Red, a label you recognised from work, something that Frederick charged far too much money for. In your opinion.Â
âDrink?â Steve asked.Â
You nodded, stepping into the room a little more. There were a few lamps on, a warm flow from each that cast shadows over the floor, up the walls. The curtains were closed, heavy drapes that kept out the night, kept in the secrets. Like you.Â
Steve appeared at your side, passing you a glass filled with a little ruby coloured wine. He grinned at your quiet thanks and offered his own for a toast. The glasses clinked and you took a sip, dark cherries and bitter chocolate swirling your senses, or at least, you were sure they wouldâve if you hadnât decided to gulp it down. Steve laughed softly and took your empty glass, setting it on the coffee table with his own. There was a stack of big books in the middle of it, something about American architecture and cars of the sixties, a candle that had never been lit and a cigar box with his initials engraved on the lid.Â
âHere, sit,â Steve suggested and you sank into the sofa with him. The boy immediately lounged back into the cushions, arms stretched out over the back of it as he appraised you, head tilted to his side. âYou donât do this often, huh?â
You turned to him, puzzled, your hands sliding nervously up and down your bare legs. Your dress suddenly felt shorter than ever and with the way Steve was looking at you - hungry, predatory, bold - you werenât sure if you wanted to tug the hem down to your knees or take the full thing off and drop it at his feet.Â
âDo what?â
Steve gestured to himself, to the huge living room you felt a little bit lost in. He smirked, âgo home with guys you barely know.â
You swallowed thickly, wondering if it would seem rude if you reached out and stole the rest of his wine. If youâd feel braver and bolder if you were to gulp down more Malbec, if the price tag on the bottle would feel better on your tongue. âNot usually,â you said. You left out the part about how youâd be fired on the spot if your boss found out who you were going home with.Â
Steve smiled, eyes shining at you like he thought you were cute. He patted the space on the couch beside him. It felt like a million miles away from you. âCome over here,â he said softly. You noticed how he didnât ask, or suggest. It was an order, as gentle as it was. âI wonât bite.â
You scoffed a little, enjoying the irony of his words despite how heâd looked at you all night, like he wanted to sink his teeth into you, like he wanted to just eat you up. âYou wonât?â You asked him, doubtful, even as you slid closer, your thigh brushing his.Â
Steve dropped his hand to your knee, fingertips barely brushing your skin as she skimmed up and down, up and down. Each pass got him closer to the hem of your dress and you thought back to yesterday, in that stupid golf cart by the edge of the lake. How easy you made it for him, head thrown back, chest heaving, legs spread. You wanted that again, the feeling of his teasing fingers brushing up against the front of your underwear, lace this time, and already damp.Â
Steve flashed a grin, all teeth, more bite than a smile and you resisted the urge to clamp your thighs together, trapping his hand between. Youâd never been this hot for a guy, never been this easy to fold. You felt delicate with Steve, ready to crumple, ready to fold.Â
âNot on the first date, no,â he assured you.Â
Your brows rose into your hairline. âThis is a date?â
Steve flattened his palm against your thigh and squeezed, leaning into you, nose brushing your cheek until you ripped your head for him and it skimmed the line of your jaw. Your breathing changed too quickly, stuttering to a hitch until it picked up, your eyes closing as you felt Steveâs lips brush against you in the briefest of touches. It wasnât even a kiss.Â
âWhat did you think it was?â Steve whispered, his words hot against your neck. You could smell his cologne, rich and peppery, could feel the slight stubble on his jaw scrape against your throat and you were desperate now, you needed him to kiss you. âWhat did you think I invited you here for, honey?â
His hand was higher now, fingers under the hem of your dress and you wanted to fall into him, you wanted to crawl into his lap and spread your legs, get properly dirty for him and pull your dress up around your hips and show him how you liked to be touched. Although, you had a feeling he wouldnât need much help. âI, I donât knowââ you interrupted yourself with a gasp, Steveâs fingertips running along the lace edge of your underwear, teasing the crease of your thigh. âA one night stand, maybe.â
The boy laughed, a soft noise that was buried in the crook of your neck and he finally, finally, put his mouth on you. He kissed sweetly at the spot under your ear, grinned against it when you squirmed at the feel of him and then dragged his parted lips down the column of your neck. You felt the tip of his tongue, a tiny touch, teasing, warm and wet.Â
âJust one night?â Steve tutted, letting his fingers slip underneath the edge of your underwear. You were an elastic band now, pulled too right, fraught with unspent energy, ready to snap at the tension. âWhat if I wanted to keep you, hm?â His fingers ghosted over your folds, already slick and wet for him. If he was affected by it, he didnât show it. He pulled at you gently, spreading you for him, a single digit touching your needy clit as he kept you open. It was filthy. âYouâre too pretty for one night, arenât you?â
You didnât know what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway. You were sure you already looked wrecked, head slack and leaning against Steveâs shoulder, his lips now dotting over your hairline. Legs open, underwear pushed up and to the side by Steveâs hand, his one finger sliding up and down the seam of your cunt. The rubber band was getting tighter.Â
Steve hummed, a deep, warm noise that rumbled in his chest. âLook at me, honey,â he ordered and you did as were told, eyes heavy and haze unfocused as you turned your head to face him. He was so close, the only evidence he was as turned on as you were, were his blown out pupils, his heavy eyelids. âThere she is, oh sweetheart, youâre gone, huh?â he cooed.Â
You thought he might kiss you then, you thought he might kiss you, finally. But he nuzzled his nose against yours - a surprisingly sweet thing - before he murmured, âtake your clothes off for me.â
It was embarrassing, the way your lips parted and your cheeks went hot. You wondered if Steve felt it, the warmth that exploded from your skin at his words, the way your empty cunt clenched around nothing at his words. He gave you clit one more passing nudge before he moved his hands from you completely and sank back into the couch. One arm over the back of it, legs crossed, the other hand brought to his mouth so he could rub the finger heâd dipped along your pussy against his bottom lip.Â
It was obscene.Â
He nodded to the space between the sofa and the coffee table and licked his lips. âCâmon, honey, strip.â
You shouldâve pulled down your dress and thrown what was left of his wine in his face before you slammed the door on your way out. This man, this rich boy with his big house and shiny car, was ordering you around like you were still at the clubhouse. Like he could flash his members only card and get what he wanted. He hadnât even kissed you. He didnât know your last name, and shit, the only reason you knew his, was because him and his family were at the top of the client list at the place you worked.Â
You could lose your job over this. Worse, you could get your heart broken.Â
Steve mustâve sensed your hesitation because he reached back over to brush your hair from your eyes, where it had fallen in a mess when you hid your face in the dip of his shoulder as he tapped at your clit again and again and again. He pouted, tsked in a way that sounded sympathetic. âOh honey, are you shy?â Condescension dripped from him, words liquid gold, sticky sweet and trapping you. He ran the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. It was as close to a kiss as you would get. âItâs okay, hm? Am I not playing nice? Am I being rude?â
You didnât know what to say. You were being sucked in by this manâs charm, his caramel coated words, the way his brown eyes turned soft as he took your hand and led you to stand up in the middle of his living room. âIâm sorry, honey,â Steve whispered. âHow awful of me. Lemme try again, huh?â He kissed your cheek, a soft, lingering thing before he left you standing, sitting back in front of you once more.Â
Steve pushed back his hair and let his eyes appraise you before he rolled his shirt sleeves up and leant back into the cushions. A king on his throne. And the entertainment for tonight?Â
You.Â
âTake your clothes off for me, honey,â he tried again, his voice softer this time, lower, dirtier. And then he smiled at you and added: âplease.â
With shaking hands and a held breath that made your chest burn, you pulled the material down your shoulders, reaching around your back to tug at the zip. And when it fell open, exposing your skin to the warm air, it was too easy to let the entire dress fall down over your hips. It pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, heels still on, legs covered in the sheer black stockings that the clubhouse made mandatory for poker nights.Â
Steveâs lips made a little âoâ shape, an appreciative thing that made you pulse with need. You saw then how his dress trousers were tented at the front, an impressive bulge that twitched when you smoothed your hands over your upper thighs, a nervous reaction to being so exposed.Â
âOh,â Steve exhaled as he let his eyes rake over you. Soft skin between black lace, thigh highs pulled taught against your curves, tits pressed up in a bra youâd chosen as you thought him. You hoped he wouldnât embarrass you, you hoped he wouldnât ask you to do something like spin for him, show off for him. Because you wouldâve. âArenât you a pretty fucking picture.â
He didnât need to talk after that. He just lifted his chin towards your chest and you were pulling off your bra for him. You hated how the control of it all made you wetter, the space between your legs fucking throbbing as you waited for your next instruction. âUnless you want those ripped,â Steve was gazing at your underwear, eyes seeking out every dip and line he could make our in the wet lace. âIâd take them off too.â He didnât let them hit the floor with the rest of your clothes, instead, extending one hand and crooking his fingers.Â
A silent, âgive them to me.âÂ
And you did, watching as he slipped them into his trouser pockets, keeping his eyes on you, trailing them over your thighs that were slick with how wet heâd got you. Heâd hardly touched you, you scolded yourself, not even a kiss. It was embarrassing, mortifying. It was the hottest thing that had happened to you.Â
âKeep those on,â Steve murmured, talking about your heels and stockings. âAnd come sit back down for me, honey, yeah?âÂ
The fabric of the couch felt soft under your bare skin and you hesitated before you let yourself relax into it. There surely would be a wet spot underneath you, evidence of how turned on you were, but Steve didnât seem to mind.Â
âThatâs it,â he encouraged softly. âGet comfy, hm? Such an agreeable, little thing arenât you?â Steve was sliding off the couch as he spoke, one palm pressed to his crotch as if to stave off some of his own need. He knelt in front of you, mouth parting in a sigh as he dropped to eye level with your cunt. âThink you can spread those legs for me? Let me see you, honey, thereâs a girlââ
He cut himself off with a low groan as you brought your feet up, heels on the edge of the couch as you spread your knees, sticky thighs parting. He could see all of you, fuck, he could probably smell you. The low light made every part of you glisten, the heavy rise and fall of your chest cast in an amber glow. Â
âOh sheâs real fuckinâ pretty, isnât she?â Steve asked you, eyes tearing away from your pussy to look up at you. âSpread âem wider for me, baby, can you do that?â Another moan from the boy as you let your knees fall apart, almost touching the couch. Steve smoothed his hands up your tights, bracketing your cunt before he did the same as before and pulled your folds even further apart. âLook at that,â he whispered.Â
You couldnât. You let your head fall back onto the cushion, eyes squeezed shut as you let your own hands fall onto your knees. You dug in your nails, crescent moon marks on your skin as your tried to keep a grip on reality. You were almost certain youâd come with just one touch.Â
âWant my mouth?â Steve asked you and his voice was back to that sugar sweet drip, it was thick with an affection, like he was being so nice for taking care of you. You already wanted to thank him. âWant my tongue?â
His thumbs rubbed up and down your folds, keeping them spread apart, a dirty massage that made your clit pulse with each tiny movement. You nodded, letting out a uneven breath and Steve tutted.Â
âYou gotta look at me then, câmon, Berkeley.â He nipped at your thigh, teeth biting at the skin and it made you cry out. âLook at me and tell me you want me to eat you out.â
Dirty, filthy, obscene, sinful.Â
You were under no illusion that giving Steve an order made you the one in charge. He played you like a puppet, a boneless girl that wanted nothing more than to come all over this rich strangers sofa. You had a one track mind, no shame left, not when Steve was pressing his mouth over you folds, not licking into you, not yet. Just kissing. You wanted to cry.Â
âEat me out,â you begged, eyes glassy as you tried to lift your hips but Steve pulled away. He grinned at you, waiting. âEat me out, please, Steve. Fuck, want your mouth yeah, please?â
âWhere?â He asked, dragging it out. His voice was unholy. âWhere do you want my mouth?â His thumbs were still moving, up and down and up and down. âTell me.â
âMy pussy, Jesus Christ,â you whined. You couldnât ever remember being this pent up. âPlease.â
âOh,â Steve cooed, âsheâs so polite.â And then he gave you no other warning, dipping his head so he could lick a stripe through your folds, the hot, wet contact of his tongue making you cry out.Â
You were unraveling too fast. His thumbs had you taught for him, every part of you feeling his tongue, his lips. Steve groaned into you, a happy, pleased hum that told you whatever game this was, heâd won. He kept his tongue flat, slow, broad strokes of it going from your entrance to your clit until you were curling over him and clutching his hair, doing your best to not suffocate him. But Steve moaned louder and moved his hands to your hips, sliding down until they cupped under your ass and he encouraged you to grind against his face. Tongue still out, kept flat for you to rock yourself on. It was pornographic. Â
Then Steve was mumbling into you, voice a rasp. âGood girl, honey, thatâs it. Keep going, make yourself come on my tongue, yeah?â
So you did, obedient as ever, letting out a gasping cry as your legs shook, cunt still clenching around nothing âcause Steve had broken you with just his mouth. It was dirty hot, the way he dragged himself from your sensitive slit, tongue running over your folds even as you whined, licking over the crease of your thighs to get everything youâd spilled for him. You watched as he appeared between your knees, hair tousled, lips and chin shining in the low light, his cheeks flushed. It was ironic, how he looked more boyish after he made you come, expensive black shirt creased from where your legs had pressed against him, his own gaze a little fucked out.Â
Logic would suggest that perhaps youâd get a kiss then, something soft and sweet to soothe you down before he fucked you senseless, before you got to wrap your own fingers or lips around him. Steve looked big, if the solid press of him against his trousers was anything to go by. Thick and still rock hard, an easy eight inches trapped taught against his thigh, just as impressive as his wealth and status. Your mouth watered.Â
He kissed the inside of your knee instead, his heavy lidded gaze on yours before he offered you his hands to help you sit up and then said, âI better get you home.â
You blinked. âWhat?â
âHome,â Steve repeated. He passed you back your bra, your dress. Not your underwear though, no. They were still in his pocket. âI gotta be at the airport inââ he checked his watch, the picture of blasĂ©. ââan hour.â
You pulled on your dress, a little speechless. This boy had just made you come harder than youâd ever managed yourself and now he was busying himself with lighting a cigarette he pulled from the packet in his pocket. Your eyes wandered, he was still hard.Â
âWhat about,â you licked your lips, suddenly shy. You nodded towards his crotch, the absolute monster he packed in his slacks. âWhat about you?â
Steve grinned, bending down to peck your cheek as you wriggled into your uniform, trying to pull yourself back together. âIâll live,â he told you, blowing out smoke as he spoke. âWeâll call it an IOU, huh? But my plane leaves soon, honey. Iâll cash that favour when Iâm back.â
âWhen?â You blurted out. It sounded like something a girlfriend would demand to know and you cringed, but Steve kept smirking. He helped you slip on your heels, cigarette hanging from his lips that definitely tasted like you.Â
âUnsure,â he told you casually, âthereâs things I need to wrap up in Monaco before I can go to Tuscany for a few weeks. Thereâs problems at the vineyard and thereâs a new plot I want to look at in Alassio too.â
All you heard was money money money. So you nodded and gave him a small smile, legs still a little wobbly from his touch, his mouth, his tongue. And when Steve dropped you off at the door of your too small apartment, he took your chin between his finger and thumb and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your jaw, just below your ear.Â
The kiss goodnight to your lips didnât come. You felt confused, a little stilted. But you got out the BMW and waved goodbye, wondering what you were supposed to do at three in the morning after Steve Harrington had tumbled your world upside down.Â
PART TWO
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington oneshot
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15.8k, yandere, manipulation, gangs, drugs, guns, needles, sedatives, car accident, alcohol, kidnapping, knives, pills, smut, non-con, dub-con, knife play, aphrodisiac, BDSM, sex toys, fingering, dry humping, gang bang, double penetration, restraints, supernatural power (@starillusion13)
âWelcome to Wingz Express, how may I help you?â
You pulled down your hood as you walked into the shop. The gentleman behind the counter was quite handsome, and more focused on the white cat in its arms. When he looked up at you he offered a smile, standing up.
âWhat can I do for you?â
âUh⊠hi⊠I was wondering⊠how much could you give me for this necklace?â
You pulled your fist out of your pocket, holding it out and opening your hand to reveal a small gold necklace. The gentleman asked for your permission to take it and then proceeded to do so. He examined it for a moment up against the light and then handed it back to you, checking under the counter display case for something.
âSo, tell me, whyâs a pretty thing like you selling something so pretty.â
âI just need the moneyâŠâ
âWhat for?â
âNothing bad!â You quickly remarked. âJust for school⊠I need new books for the semester and⊠I donât really have any other options.â
âI see.â
The gentleman got out a scale, turning it on and testing it out with a few other jewelry pieces. As he did that the door opened, a bell ringing to signify there was someone new entering the shop. You looked over to see another guy with a cap walk in, and before the shop worker could say their greeting he spoke.
âIâm back.â
âWelcome back, Hyunjae.â
âOh, what do we have here?â
This Hyunjae gave you a smile before going behind the counter with the other, looking around for the item in question. Although you still had it.
âMay I?â
The other held his hand out to you, and you handed over the necklace. He put it on the scale and noted down its weight. From there Hyunjae grabbed it and began examining it.
âSo, how much are you looking to get?â The worker asked.
âJuyeon-â
âIâm not talking to you right now, Hyunjae.â Juyeon cleared his throat and smiled at you. âHow much do you need?â
âUh⊠if I could get a few hundred⊠that would be fine⊠although I donât think the necklace is worth that muchâŠâ
âWell youâre in luck.â Juyeon grabbed the necklace, holding it up. âThe craftsman ship on this is quite unique, the weight is decent, and it seems to be 14k, so I can give you about six hundred dollars.â
âSix⊠six hundred?â
âToo little?â
âI⊠no⊠if thatâs what itâs worth⊠I had no ideaâŠâ
âWhoever gave this to you must have really cared for you.â
âI guess⊠itâs the only thing I have from my birth parents⊠before they passed awayâŠâ
âOh, something with this much sentimental value⊠are you sure you want to-â
âI need the money for school⊠itâs okayâŠâ
âIf you say so.â
Juyeon grabbed a sheet of paper and pen, sliding it over to you. He asked for you to fill out your personal information, as they needed physical records of all transactions. He stepped away for a moment to get the money, counting it in front of you so youâd have no doubts. As he handed it over to you he kept his grip on it, confusing you. He reached into his jacket pocket and held out a business card for you, which you hesitantly took.
âWhatâs this?â
âIf you need money, it might be better to get a job. We also run a delivery service and are always looking for new people.â Juyeon let go of the money. âJust a thought.â
âThank youâŠâ
You politely bowed your head and made your way out of the shop. Juyeon watched you every step of the way until you were out of sight. When he looked back he was met with Hyunjaeâs death glare.
âWhat?â
âSix hundred dollars? Seriously? How much is that necklace actually worth?â
âAbout a hundred.â
âJuyeon!â
âWhat!â
âSangyeon is going to kill you.â
âHe can try.â Juyeon looked down at the paperwork. âLet me know when she calls.â
âYou mean if she calls.â
âWhen.â Juyeon corrected. âSheâll call.â
âAnd how can you be so sure?â
âCause Iâm gonna make her mine.â
â€Â
You went to the shop early in the morning the day before classes started. You made it back to your dorm, ignoring the boxes you needed to unpack and just collapsing onto the bed. You were grateful you had gotten some money, hoping itâd be enough for books. Your stomach growled and you could only whine. You had two meal passes per day, and youâd rather save those for lunch and dinner. For a moment you thought to spend some of the money you had on breakfast, but you quickly shot the idea down reminding yourself you had to save every penny. After some more lounging around you heard your roommate come in, reminding you that you needed to unpack and get ready for the semester.
After the first week you had all necessary materials, and a few bucks left over. You kinda wanted to treat yourself, but you knew you shouldnât be spending so recklessly. Youâd spend your time in the library, working on assignments, or in your dorm. Even though you wanted to go out, even when classmates invited you, the only option you had was to stay in your dorm. It sucked, but you were used to it by now. Especially the morning hunger pains. Which were way worse after pulling an all nighter.Â
You laid in bed the next morning, telling yourself you had to get up. You went about your morning routine, getting your things and when you put your phone in your pocket found a business card. For a moment you questioned it, but seeing the name on it reminded you where you had gotten in. The shop worker told you it would be best to get a job, and that they were hiring. You werenât sure if youâd be able to do it though, considering youâve seen a lot of delivery workers dropping off big heavy boxes. Not to mention the fact your schedule was all over the place.Â
Then again you could do late evenings but youâd sacrifice sleep in the process. You groaned as you debated this, unsure what to do. In your current situation you were just getting by, staying at a constant with no real movement upwards. You were okay, but you could be better. Some money in your pocket would probably make you feel less anxious. Since you still had time before your morning class you decided to call on your way over, hoping to get some information and go from there.Â
âHello, Wingz Express, how may I help you?â
âHi⊠I was calling to ask about your open positions.â
âOpen positions?â
âYes. One of your employees from the shop gave me a card, I believe his name was Juyeon. He told me you were hiring.â
âAh, yes. So, what do you want to know?â
âWell, I was curious about the pay? Does it depend on the department or-â
âThirty.â
ââŠâ You stopped in your tracks. âThirty⊠what?â
âAll the work is basically the same, so Iâd be paying you thirty an hour.â
âThirty⊠an hour?â
âIs that not enough?â
âNo! I mean, thatâs great. Although, Iâm a uni student so I could only really work late in the evening.â
âThatâs fine. A delivery service is available 24/7 so thatâs no problem. When can you start?â
â⊠just like that? No interview or background check.â
âItâs a delivery job, donât need much, just you.â
âOh⊠okay thenâŠâ
âYou think you could come by later today? I know where I could put you.â
âYeah, yeah I can do that. Does seven sound good?â
âWorks for me. Can I get your name?â
âY/n.â
âIâm Sangyeon, the owner. Iâll text you the address for the warehouse and when you come over ask for me.â
âGot it. Thank you.â
âIâll see you later.â
When the call ended you found yourself staring at your phone. You easily got a job, and it paid very well. For a moment your heart fluttered with joy but then you thought about it. If it paid this much, and they were hiring, there had to be something wrong with the job. That killed your mood a bit but you told yourself it wouldnât hurt to check it out. Besides, they were expecting you now so it would be rude not to show up. You put it all to the side for now focusing on your classes. You had an early lunch before catching a bus and heading to the warehouse. It seemed pretty empty, so you began to worry you were in the wrong place, but you saw some trucks with the Wingz Express stamp on it in the loading dock, giving you some reassurance.
You then saw a few people walking inside the building. You called out to them, but they didnât seem to hear you so you followed them inside. It looked how youâd imagine a delivery service would have their warehouse stocked, rows and rows of items going up to the ceiling. Still, you didnât see many workers around. You were starting to think this place was fairly new, it would explain why the pay was so high, they needed people. You cautiously walked around, looking for another employee, but it wouldnât be long before you were called out.
âYa! Stop right there!â
You turned around to see these two gentlemen walking over to you, concern on their faces. You merely offered a smile, trying not to be nervous.
âHello.â
âWhat are you doing here?â
âIâm the new hire.â
âNew hire? Seriously?â
âUh, yes. I spoke with the owner on the phone and he-â
âSure you did. Look, you seem nice, so why donât we escort you out.â
âWhat?â
âWe have no problem dragging you out if necessary.â
âBut-â
âGuys!â A third voice boomed. âWhat is going on?â
âThis girl says she works here. That she spoke with you on the phone.â
âI did speak with someone.â
You looked back to see who you believed to be Sangyeon approach. He came up to you with a smile and held his hand out to you.
âYou must be y/n, itâs a pleasure to meet you in person, Iâm Sangyeon.â
âHi, itâs nice to meet you too.â
âIâm glad you found the place, now letâs go to the office and get all the paperwork sorted.â
âWait, why didnât you tell us that-â
âItâs fine. Just get back to work you two.â
You followed Sangyeon to the office at the back of the warehouse. He brought out some papers for you to fill out, getting you a hat and vest as well. Afterwards he showed you around the warehouse, telling you about the company. They had been around for a while and as you suspected, only recently set up a location in this area. They pretty much delivered everything to anyone, so their services were sought after.
âI donât expect heavy manual labor from you, so Iâll be partnering you up with Younghoon.â
You went over to the docks, Sangyeon introducing you to your new partner. He was happy to meet you, giving you a big smile as he shook your hand.
âWelcome to the team.â
âThanks.â
âI expect you to take good care of her.â Sangyeon commented. âAnd show her the ropes.â
âOf course.â
âAlright, be safe, and let me know if anything happens. See you both later.â
Younghoon closed up the truck and playfully offered you the keys, but said you didnât know where to go yet. You also mentioned you didnât know how to drive which he assured you wasnât an issue as no one really did deliveries alone.
âSo, whatâs up with you?â
âHuh?â
âSorry, I worded that weirdly. Tell me about yourself. What do you do with your time, why the job?â
âOh⊠well Iâm a university student, and I need the money for my expenses⊠and to pay back my loans someday.â
âYour parents wonât help out?â
âI donât have anyâŠâ
âOh, my bad.â
âItâs alright. I was in foster care and did grow up in a nice home, itâs just⊠differentâŠâ
âYou still live with your foster parents?â
âNo, no, I live on campus in the dormitories. It feels more like my home that way.â
âLook at you, miss independent.â
You giggled. âI try.â
âWell, getting a job is a good step.â
âThanks.â
You arrived at an apartment complex, going with Younghoon to get the delivery items. You had multiple deliveries in the building, and it would go faster with two people. Younghoon pulled out a small cart, handing you these paper bags with numbers on them. He got another cart and did the same, the two of you taking one and making your way inside the building. He gave you a list, and certain floors to attend to, as well as a walkie to keep in touch with, telling you the numbers on the bags corresponded with apartment numbers. You just had to place the bag in front of the right door and take a picture of it, followed by ringing the doorbell and moving onto the next. Pretty simple.
You did this with a few other apartment complexes, returning to the warehouse in the early hours of the morning. To your surprise you could hear music and cheering coming from inside. Younghoon seemed to know exactly what was going on and had you follow him. You saw a bunch of boys gathered around two others in forklifts, they were gonna race. Sangyeon noticed the two of you and came over. Younghoon told him everything had gone well and all deliveries were made. He was happy to hear, asking you how you felt with the work. It was good, and you were glad to help.
âYou should stick around for the race.â
âI donât think I should.â
âItâll be fun. You can place your bet too.â
âI donât really have money to betâŠâ
âThen how about this.â Younghoon suggested. âYou bet an hours pay, and if you win, your paycheck gets doubled. You should have some fun with us too.â
âUhâŠâ
âItâs not much to lose.â
âSure. Iâll play.â
If you were gonna keep this job, you should make an effort to get along with your coworkers. You joined in the crowd, going over to the front, and being told who the racers were. One was a gentleman by the name of Sunwoo, and the other Chanhee. You didnât have much to go by so this was truly a gamble for you. In the end you put your money on Chanhee, and then the race began. The gentleman from the shop, Hyunjae, went up to start the race, doing a count down and dropping the flag. It was easy to get caught up in the energy as you watch the two go around the warehouse, and you were overjoyed when Chanhee crossed the finish line first. You screamed in joy and jumped into Younghoonâs arms. He spun you around until you came back to your senses and apologized.
âCongrats to you.â
âSorry, I didnâtâŠâ
âItâs okay, you were excited.â
âY/n.â Sangyeon called. âLetâs get you your money, follow me.â
You went with Sangyeon to the office. He gave you a check for your first shift, and your earnings from the bet in cash. You kept yourself together as best you could, but it was hard to hide your joy.
âIâll see you tomorrow.â
âSee you then.â
You returned to your dorm, tired but satisfied. A bit of a burden had been lifted off your shoulders. You cleaned up and went to bed. Even though you wouldnât get much sleep you had the peace of mind that everything would be alright. In the morning you even treated yourself to a yummy breakfast before class. You went about your day with a slight skip in your step, and happily returned to the warehouse in the evening. While you made your way to the office you heard a honk and one of the forklifts came over to your side. You recognized the driver.
âHello, I donât think we got to properly meet last night.â
âHi, Iâm y/n, a new hire.â
âIâm Chanhee, your lucky charm.â He chuckled. âYou made the right choice last night.â
âThanks for winning.â
âItâs all skill. We should hang out sometime outside of work.â
âIf I have the time.â
âThen keep me in your thoughts.â
âY/n!â You heard Younghoon call. âYou ready?â
âComing! Iâll see you around, Chanhee.â
âDonât be a stranger.â
Chanhee went off and you went over to Younghoon, going off to work. For the next few days it was the same routine. You went to the same places, and did the same job. Since it was late in the evening going into the morning, you rarely ran into people, although it did happen on occasion. These people usually just said hello, and moved on, but on one occasion things were different. Someone approached you, asking about their order. You were happy to help, and asked for their apartment number. You didnât have anything on your list, so you used your walkie to call Younghoon and ask him about the situation. He had no record of such an order either.
âSorry, we donât seem to have your order. Perhaps you could-â
âJust give me one of the ones you have.â
âIâm afraid I canât do that. These are for other people. And-â
âWhatever.â
The person just grabbed a random bag off your cart, and you quickly reached out to grab it as well. You were trying to explain this wasnât for them, but the other party was not letting go. Eventually the struggle caused the bag to rip, multiple items falling to the floor, and a white powder exploding onto you. The other person immediately dropped the bag and ran, causing you to collapse to the floor. You were upset and as you got up Younghoon came to your side, helping you to your feet.
âAre you okay?â
âI guess. Sorry, one of the orders-â
âItâs fine.â Younghoon tried to dust you off. âThereâs a small vacuum in the back of the van, why donât you go get it and Iâll do some cleaning here.â
âOf course.â
You went down to the van and retrieved the vacuum returning to Younghoon as he got off the phone. He thanked you and got to work cleaning up, telling you they liked to operate like ghosts, not leaving a trace behind. He also told you not to worry about the order that was damaged, Sangyeon was already taking care of it. You continued with the deliveries together, although after a while you began to feel dizzy. You thought you were fine but your legs suddenly gave out. Younghoon was quick to catch you, holding you in his arms.
âY/n? Y/n, can you hear me?â
You felt strange, as if you were floating on water. Younghoonâs voice sounded so distant, but you were trying to listen. All you could give him was a smile before your body gave out and everything faded to black.
â€Â
Your head was throbbing as you regained consciousness. It took a moment to register where you were, but as you sat up you could see that you were in the office back at the warehouse. You were relieved to be somewhere familiar, although you were alone. Besides the headache you felt fine, and when you checked the time you saw that your shift had ended half an hour ago. You felt terrible for what had happened, but at least it wasnât bad enough that you needed to be taken to the hospital. It was getting late and you needed to return to your dorm, but you also wanted to check in with Sangyeon to apologize.
You grabbed your things and stepped out of the office, looking around the warehouse. The place was eerily quiet, yet you called out to see if anyone was there. As far as you knew the warehouse never really closed, so someone had to be around. While wandering around you noticed just how many boxes were stacked in the warehouse. You had never really looked into the type of things Wingz Express delivered, and after todayâs incident you were quite curious. The boxes were labeled according to what they had, but you noticed the boxes higher up didnât have a label at all.Â
âYou should be careful.â
You jumped when you heard a voice, looking over to see Chanhee up on some boxes looking down at you. If he had been there this whole time then he surely had heard you calling for someone, but just ignored you until now. He chuckled and apologized for startling you, hoping down.
âHow are you feeling?â
âBetter, sorry for what happened.â
âIt wasnât your fault, you were just doing your job.â
âYeah⊠so what is it that you guys deliver? What have I been delivering?â
âNo idea, big boss Sangyeon takes care of all that. We deliver anything and everything, so who knows, not really our business.â
âI see. I should get going.â
âRight, you have class in the morning. Iâll show you out.â
âI was actually looking for Sangyeon.â
âHeâs busy with something, but Iâll let him know youâre alright.â
âOkay, thanks.â
You made it back to your dorm in one piece, feeling a mix of exhaustion and annoyance. People just had to be so dumb and you were sure youâd get a pay cut for passing out on the job. For now though you just needed to sleep and worry about your classes. In the morning you still felt tired, but you had to get on with your day. Although as you were on your way to class you got a call from Sangyeon.
âHey, how are you feeling?â
âIâm alright. I do need to apologize for last night.â
âThereâs no need. All that matters is that youâre alright. If you need anything, you let me know.â
âI will, thank you.â
âSince I have you on the line, could I ask something of you?â
âWhat is it?â
âI know you donât usually work weekends, but if you ever have the time youâre always welcome to come by. I could use the help in the mornings and Iâd pay you extra too. Which reminds me, I am paying you for your full hours for yesterday.â
âOh you donât-â
âI insist. You got hurt on the job and I need to take care of you. I know itâs early so Iâll let you go, but if you can come in this weekend please let me know.â
âYeah, yeah I will, thanks Sangyeon.â
âHave a good day.â
âYou too.â
â€Â
The weekends were normally your days off. Youâd use them to catch up on assignments, or sleep, and maybe treat yourself since you had money to spend. Although you didnât really have friends to hang out with. At least if you went into work you wouldnât be alone, and youâd get some more money. So you decided to make your way over to the warehouse, greeted by happy faces.
âIâm glad you could spare the time.â Sangyeon commented.
âNo problem. So, whereâs Younghoon?â
âYou wonât be with him today. Iâm gonna have you help Kevin out. Nothing too crazy.â
âSure. That sounds like fun.â
âIâll take you to him.â
You followed Sangyeon through the warehouse, going back over to the loading docks. He brought you over to Kevin and introduced you.
âPleasure to be working with you.â
âSame here.â
âTake care of her.â Sangyeon mentioned.
âI got it, boss.â
âThen Iâll leave you to it. Let me know if anything happens.â
âWill do.â Kevin playfully saluted. âSo, I know youâre used to working the evening shift, but I promise the day shift isnât too bad.â
âI guess weâll see.â
âTruckâs already loaded so letâs go.â
You made small talk with Kevin on the drive, and the job was fairly similar. You were dropping off boxes to apartment buildings or stores. If there was no one to receive it then you set it down, take a picture, and send a message, just like before. The only real difference was politely greeting people around you. The uniform was simple too, which meant it was easy for people to recognize you.
âY/n?â
âHm?â
While heading back to the truck you were stopped by a group of girls, recognizing them from one of your classes. You werenât exactly friends, but you knew each other to be more than strangers.
âWhat are you doing?â
âJust⊠working⊠I need some extra money so I thought Iâd pick up a few shifts.â
âThat explains a lot.â
âHuh?â
âY/n.â
You looked back just as Kevin approached you, seeming out of breath. He placed an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close.
âThis was our last stop, so we can go.â Kevin smiled and looked over at the girls. âLadies, if youâll excuse us.â
âWhatâs your name?â
âSorry, Iâm not that easy.â
Kevin pulled you along back to the truck. The other girls followed you for a bit, but Kevin didnât pay them any attention. As you were on the road heading back to the warehouse your phone started pinning. The girls had your number from previous projects and were asking you about Kevin. Before you could even attempt to answer them Kevin snatched your phone.
âYa.â
âI thought you were keeping me company.â
âRight, sorry.â
âYou donât need to apologize.â Kevin said. âThanks for today, you were a big help.â
âNo problem.â
âYou got any plans for later?â
âNo, not really. Why?â
âWeâre having a party tonight down at our favorite spot. You should come.â
âYou mean a club?â
âYeah.â
âI donât really have an outfit for that.â
âJust wear something nice. You should come. Have a few drinks and relax, Iâm sure uni must be stressful.â
âIâll think about it.â
âWould love to see you, consider it a work get together. Youâd be able to meet everyone.â
âUh⊠sure⊠thereâs no harm.â
âAwesome. Iâll text you the details.â
Like you said, you didnât have an outfit for the club scene, but found something nice. You were a bit nervous, but to your surprise the bouncer let you in without issue. As you stepped inside you could feel the music shaking everything. The lights were low and people were dancing and drinking in every direction. You glanced down at your phone, sending Kevin a message that you were here. While walking around you wound up running into your classmates from before.
âY/n? Surprised to see you here, itâs not really your scene.â
âI⊠I know⊠itâs a work thingâŠâ
âOh, then maybe we can join you.â
âIâm not sure if you could.â
Despite the crowd you managed to see a familiar face, Chanhee, excusing yourself and trying to follow after them. You called their name, but you canât hear much besides the music. Although you stopped when you came across two bouncers, realizing Chanhee had gone into a VIP section.
âHello, Iâm here with my friends and I saw one of them just went through here.â
âYeah, I didnât know we were doing VIP tonight.â
Your classmates had followed you and come up from behind, trying to sweet talk the bouncers. You werenât exactly with them, but if they could help you get in then maybe it wasnât a bad thing. Although you noticed another familiar face and called out to them.
âKevin!â
âY/n, glad you could make it.â
Kevin came over and told the bouncers to let you in, although your classmates werenât allowed. They started pleading with you, but you werenât sure what to say.
âAre these your friends y/n?â Kevin asked. âAnd be honest.â
âUh⊠well⊠not really⊠weâre just classmates.â
âI see, well, ladies, Iâm afraid VIP is invite only, have a nice night.â
Kevin wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you deeper into the VIP section. You were brought over to a private area, seeing many more familiar faces. You got a simple drink from the bar there, mingling with your coworkers and meeting new people. Although some were definitely old faces.
âY/n! Oh my gosh, itâs so good to see you.â
âJuyeon?â
âYeah, howâve you been? Howâs the job?â
âItâs good, and the money has been a great help.â
âSee, told ya it would work out.â
âThanks again for the introduction.â
âMy pleasure.â
You danced the night away, having a few drinks too. Not enough to be drunk, but you were a bit tipsy. Come morning things were winding down, and you definitely needed rest. Some of the boys offered you a ride back to the dorm, which you gladly accepted. They didnât all drink as some were the designated drivers of the night. You cozied up in the back of a car, squished between Sunwoo and Eric, while Hyunjae took the passenger seat and Jacob sat behind the wheel. The drive was smooth, Eric having his face pressed against the glass while you leaned against his shoulder. You were half asleep and couldnât really make out the voices around you.
âSheâs so cuteâŠâ Hyunjae mumbled, looking at you through the rearview mirror. âCan we keep her? I know tonight-â
âYou already know the answer to that.â Jacob interrupted. âWe canât just keep an innocent person around.â
âYeah, yeahâŠâ
The peaceful ride was suddenly interrupted as you were sent spinning, another vehicle crashing into yours. The car came to a stop when it crashed against the side of the building. All the windows were smashed and you had cuts from broken glass. You groaned as you looked around, seeing that the others were conscious too. Sunwoo was in your field of vision, talking to you, but you couldnât really hear anything. Next thing you knew the door behind him was yanked open and he was dragged out. Then someone reached in and pulled you out of the wreck. You were laid on the ground, vaguely making out Haknyeon before passing out.
â€Â
You expected to wake up in the hospital, or maybe even in an ambulance. Instead you found yourself in the office back at the warehouse. You felt a few aches around your body, and your cuts stung, but you were fine overall. You slowly sat up, Juyeon and Sangyeon both there to tell you to take it easy.
âWhat⊠what happened?â
âMinor car accident.â Juyeon explained. âNo one was seriously injured.â
âShouldnât we go to the hospital?â
âWeâre fine.â Sangyeon assured. âBut if you feel like-â
âNo, no, Iâm fine.â
âGlad to hear. Apologies though, we were supposed to take you back to the dorm, but we needed to make sure you were alright first.â
âI understand, thanks.â
âWhy donât you rest for a bit and then weâll take you home.â
âYeah, that sounds good.â
Juyeon got up and got you a glass of water. You thanked him and laid down, feeling like a good nap would do you well as you still felt kinda dizzy and tipsy. Juyeon gave you a blanket and tucked you in on the couch, saying heâd come by later to get you and take you back to your dorm. You thanked him and closed your eyes, getting some sleep. You were out for a while before you opened your eyes again, feeling more clear headed. You found yourself alone in the office, figuring you might as well go look for Juyeon or one of the others. You found your things and headed into the warehouse.
You called out to the guys, but got no answer. Before you could try again you heard some noises and followed them. You saw the boys gathered around, laughing and smiling. You were about to make your presence known when you saw Chanhee hold up a gun and cock it. Your eyes went wide, seeing he wasnât the only one with a weapon. You took a closer look at what the boys were doing. Besides weapons you saw needles, jewelry, and other types of contraband. It was clear you needed to leave on your own, and quietly. You took a step back and wound up knocking something over and making noise. You cursed under your breath, intending to run off only to bump into Kevin. He had an amused smile on his face, placing a hand on your shoulder.
âLook whoâs awake.â
âHa⊠hiâŠâ
âWe were just gonna go get you.â
âRight⊠I would like to go back to-â
âWhatâs this?â
The others had come to see what the noise was, finding you with Kevin. You offered the boys a smile, but it was hard to act normal when you saw some of them holding guns.
âHey⊠I⊠I was looking for someone⊠I need to get back to the dormâŠâ
âJuyeon.â Sangyeon sighed. âYou were supposed to give her a laced glass of water.â
âI swear I thought I did.â
âWell clearly you didnât.â
âWa⊠what do you meanâŠâ You nervously laughed. âIâm fine, and Iâd really like to go-â
âI guess we get to keep her after all, Hyunjae.â Jacob commented. âLucky us.â
âYes!â
âHuh?â
âGrab her.â
Since Kevin was the closest to you he immediately grabbed your arm which caused you to act. You tried to run and free yourself from his grasp but his grip was tight. Then Younghoon came over and grabbed your other arm, the two of them keeping you from escaping.
âWhat are you doing! Let go!â
âWe canât do that.â Younghoon said. âSorry.â
âWhat about the mission tonight?â Sunwoo asked. âAre we going to postpone?â
âNo, it will proceed as intended.â Sangyeon stated. âThose bastards arenât gonna get away with a stunt like that. And we also need to send a message.â
âThen what do we do about y/n?â
âWeâll keep her here until we get back. Put her in the cage for now.â
âWhat is that!?â You screamed. âPlease, just⊠just let me go! I wonât tell anyone anything! I swear!â
âWe should have made her drink more.â Chanhee said. âThings wouldnât have gotten so complicated.â
âProbably. Now letâs move.â
You tried to argue some more but the boys just dragged you along effortlessly. You were taken further into the warehouse, coming over to the sortation area. You werenât sure what this cage was, but you were a bit relieved when you saw it. In order to transport packages around there was this cage on wheels to make sure they were safe. Usually it was stacked high with packages but this time you would be put inside. It was hard to fight back as they locked you in. You expected them to use some sort of lock but instead you watched in disbelief as Kevin bent the metal together. He gave you a smirk and a wink.
âWeâll be back later. So stay put.â
You couldnât resist the urge to try and break yourself free but the door wouldnât budge at all. Your mind was still processing what had happened, but the proof was right in front of you. There was no way someone was physically strong enough to bend metal the way Kevin just did, but you were living in that reality. You screamed at them to let you out, but none listened and just walked away, leaving you trapped and completely alone. You kept trying to free yourself for a while, but eventually you exhausted yourself. You collapsed and sat in the cage, contemplating your next move.
These guys were something else, and you didnât know them at all. Now you were their prisoner, and you were certain they wouldnât easily let you go. Since it was quiet and you were settling down from everything that had happened, exhaustion was catching up to you. Without really meaning to you wound up falling asleep. You didnât know for how long you were out, but you woke to the rattling of the cage. You jumped awake and quickly scrambled against a corner, seeing Chanhee grabbing onto the cage and giggling.
âYou look good in there.â
âLet me out!â
âSure, but no running away, okay?â
âWhatever.â
Chanhee bent the metal back, allowing for the doors to be opened. You didnât bother thinking about his insane feat of strength, but you were certainly surprised to see him holding his hand out to you. Reluctantly you took it, finally being able to stretch properly. You didnât see anyone else around, so this was your chance. You offered Chanhee a smile before shoving him away from you and running in the opposite direction. Unfortunately you didnât make it far as you crashed into Haknyeon, who you swear wasnât there a second ago, and fell to the floor. You glanced back to see that Chanhee was still standing by the cage. Your shove really hadnât thrown him off balance at all.
âWhat did I say?â Chanhee teased. âNo running away. Itâs pointless either way.â
âPlease just let me goâŠâÂ
âWeâre going home now, so donât worry.â
âReally?â
âOf course.â
Haknyeon helped you to your feet, distracting you as Chanhee came up from behind and jammed a needle into your neck, emptying out its contents into you. Your eyes went wide, and Haknyeon held you still. Once the needle was removed you began to feel a bit dizzy, your legs losing strength. You could vaguely make out the smile on Haknyeonâs face as he lifted you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style. You tried to speak, to stay awake, but it wasnât long before the darkness swallowed you.
âLetâs go home.â
â€Â
When you regained consciousness you felt a bit sore, but as soon as you had your head on straight your focus was on figuring out what happened and where you were. Unfortunately you couldnât see much as your surroundings were pitch black. Not to mention your hands and legs were tied together, leaving you with a limited ability to move. So you carefully began to wiggle around, bumping into some boxes. Despite being close to the object, you couldnât actually see it unless you got really close. Although this didnât help you much as you had no means of freeing yourself.
A moment later you shake as the ground beneath you begins to move, and you hear the loud roar of a trailer. You were in the back of a truck and being moved to some unknown location. You tried to move around, screaming for help, but you eventually exhausted yourself, deciding to just wait and see what happened next. Since you had no concept of time in that darkness you had no idea for how long you were in there. There wasnât even a point in trying to remember what turns were made. Eventually you came to a stop and heard the engine turn off. You were left to wonder if you had reached your final destination or if this was just a quick stop.
You heard the sounds of something unlatching, and then you were blinded by a bright light. You lifted up your arms to shield your eyes, taking a moment to adjust. As you suspected you were in the back of a trailer, and there were a bunch of boxes and other pieces of furniture around you. Being able to see it all now, this seemed like a moving truck. You heard voices and saw some of the boys climbing into the truck and grabbing boxes. Although before you could say something Jacob came up to you and tied a gag around your mouth. You began to squirm, but you were powerless in your restraints.
He got you up, getting help from Kevin as they moved you towards the end of the trailer, intending to unload you like the rest of the cargo onboard. You remained restrained as you got out of the trailer, being left with Younghoon for a moment. When you tried to get the gag off he grabbed the rope that bound your hands together, using that as a means to keep you leashed. You looked around, noticing the huge house. They had brought you to their place. All around you could see trees and a long driveway leading out to what you assumed was the main road. As far as you knew this place was in the middle of nowhere.
Younghoon suddenly pulled on your ropes, and the next thing you knew he had you over his shoulder. You squirmed and hit his back, but he seemed completely unphased. You werenât super light, but even then he was carrying you so effortlessly. You were taken into the house, the others giving you smiles but not saying anything to you. Given the truck and all the items, you thought they were moving in, but upon entering the house you could see it was clearly lived in. This was their home. You were set down on the couch, Younghoon pulling out a knife and setting you free. He reached up and took your gag off as well.
âWelcome home.â
âWhat the hell is wrong with you guysâŠâ
Younghoon chuckled. âNothing, why?â
âYou-â
âHere.â Juyeon came over with a case. âBefore you do anything else.â
Younghoon took the case from the other, opening it up and revealing what looked to be a small dog collar. You immediately thought that was going around your neck, but Younghoon grabbed your leg, taking your shoe off and slipping the collar onto your leg. When you tried to pull away he just held on tighter, really unbothered by your actions. He tightened it around your ankle, and then you heard something click. You noticed a green light emitting from the device, realizing it was some sort of ankle brace, and he just placed you under house arrest.
âWhat the hell!â
âDonât want you running off now.â Juyeon smiled. âDonât worry, it wonât hurt you or anything.â
âIâm a prisoner in this house!?â
âYou donât have to think of it that way. This place is yours, and thatâs just a precaution.â
âI want to go home!â
âWe are home.â
âThis place isnât home.â
âI suppose you just have to give it a chance.â
âFuck you!â
You got up and stormed off, just walking in any direction just to get away from them. No one tried to stop you, probably since you werenât actually walking towards the door but further into the house. That wasnât your intention, but at least none of them followed you. After walking a bit you went into the first open door you found. You closed the door behind you, leaning against it and taking a breath. This whole situation was insane, but they were acting so normal, or as normal as kidnapping someone could be. Now you were who knows where in a foreign house with no escape in sight.
You slid down to the floor, feeling defeated. You didnât even understand how you wound up in this situation. You were just working for their stupid company and saw something you werenât supposed to. Then again you were probably lucky to be alive. Most people who learn someone elseâs secrets wind up dead, but this wasnât exactly better either. You didnât have your phone or any means to communicate with the world beyond this house. So in a sense you were dead to the world. You got up and found a window, staring out at the sky and then looking down at your foot with the ankle brace.Â
You took a moment to further examine it, but you didnât see any way to get it off. You really were trapped in this house. You sat back down on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. You just wanted to go back to campus, go back to classes and be a normal person again. Your situation seemed hopeless, making you tear up, but you had to remind yourself this wasnât the end. Surely there was a way out, and you were certain you could find it. If you gave up now, then you definitely wouldnât get out. You took a moment to pull yourself together. This place was huge, but maybe you could find something to use to your advantage.
This would be a process, but you also didnât intend to be friendly. For the following days you kept to yourself, not speaking to any of the boys, and avoiding them outside of meals. They tried to make conversation and engage with you, but when they saw you were unresponsive they left you alone. You didnât expect them to just let you be, but you were still glad they did. You were allowed to explore the house as you pleased, discovering all kinds of things. They seemed to have huge collections of expensive and luxurious items. It made sense to have all these things as they did run a pawn shop and delivery service. They had access to so many things.
In that same vein, remembering the weapons, a handful of these items were probably stolen or acquired by illegal means. Seeing all these priceless items made you realize you were practically a living trophy in this house. Another prize they had won, or more accurately taken. It made you feel a bit sick, but you had yet to find something of use. Most doors around the house were open, so you could go where you pleased. Even the boysâ rooms were all open to you, but you already searched them. The room you had given was plain and empty. They told you that you could decorate it however you wanted, but you werenât planning on setting roots here.
Only a handful of doors were locked and off limits, so you were extra curious about those. By now you had a good idea which rooms you couldnât get into, so youâd always try to open them throughout the day, hoping to maybe catch one open. It took a bit, but you eventually got lucky. You quickly looked around to make sure you were alone, then slowly opened the door. You quietly listened, trying to figure out if anyone was inside, but it seemed to be your lucky day. You stepped in and didnât even think to close the door as you realized what was in here. All types of weapons surrounded you. So many guns and blades hanging on the wall, a few things locked behind a cage, but this was what you had been looking for.
Surely something here could help you escape. Although before you could take another step you felt something cold against your neck. You were no longer alone. While you were distracted by your own thoughts someone noticed the open door and found you standing in one of their secret rooms. Of course it was only logical to assume you were an intruder and treat you as such. You swallowed nervously as you realized the object against your throat was a knife. You carefully looked over, seeing Eric gazing at you with a bright glint in his eyes and a cocky smirk. He only pressed the blade further against your flesh.
âLook what I have here. How did you get in here?â
â⊠the door was openâŠâ
âYou expect me to believe that?â
â⊠you⊠you think I picked the lock?â
âHm, I suppose thatâs true. So, what do you think?â
â⊠ah⊠about what?â
âThis room. You must be terrified seeing all this, or perhaps excited. Although Iâll let you know right now, youâre out of luck.â
âI-â
âYou better watch it.â Eric growled. âYou wouldnât want to get hurt.â
Eric chuckled and moved the knife away from your throat, although he merely had it ghost over your chest before moving it up to your face, dragging the dull end along your cheek.
âDonât worry, I wonât hurt you.â
ââŠâ
âIn fact, I really want to do the opposite.â
â⊠huhâŠ?â
Before you could really process what Eric was talking about he leaned in close and pressed his lips to yours. You tried to move away, but he followed, and ultimately pinned you against a wall. The knife clattered to the floor and he pinned your arms to the wall as well. He only pulled away from you when he needed to catch his breath. A big smile adorned Ericâs face as he pressed his head against yours.
âIâve been waiting to do that.â
â⊠whyâŠâ
âThatâs your question?â Eric chuckled. âYou are interesting, but donât you think the answer is obvious.â
â⊠is it?â
âWhy do you think we went through all the trouble to bring you here, hm?â
âCause I saw too muchâŠâ
âYou mean all of this? No, no, if we cared for that youâd be dead.â
âThenâŠâ
âIs it really that hard? I guess I should show you.â
âWat-â
Eric shoved you to the floor, and soon enough he was on top of you, kissing you once more. His hands were at your hips, one slipping under your shirt, making you shiver from the skin to skin contact. Soon enough his lips were against your throat, sucking and nibbling on the skin, starting to mark you up. You squirmed beneath his touch, your hands above your head, moving about when you felt something against your fingers. It was the blade Eric had dropped. You cautiously reached for it, getting a grip on the handle. Just as you were about to make a move Ericâs hand quickly pinned down your wrist, a low chuckle escaping his lips.
âDid you really think that would work?â
Eric placed a chaste kiss against your cheek, keeping your wrist pinned and reaching over with his other hand to take the blade from you. He remained on top of you, using his body weight to keep you pinned. He twirled the knife in his hands, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
âYou know, we want to give you everything, and yet how have you acted? Youâve been avoiding us and giving us the silent treatment, and now you break into our little armory. I think itâs about time youâre punished for your actions.â
Before you could process Eric got off you and proceeded to flip you over, cuffing your hands behind your back. He got you to your feet, dragging you along, out of the room and down the hall. Soon enough you were in the living room, avoiding the gazes of the others who were around. Eric shoved you onto the couch and then the tip of the knife was under your chin.
âHow do you think we should punish you?â
âWhatâs all this?â Sunwoo asked. âWhat punishment?â
âYou know, for ignoring us, and breaking into the armory.â
âOh, yeah, thatâs cause for punishment. Not sure about the knife though.â
âWell, I need her to behave.â
âBut thereâs still no need for such things.â
Sangyeon entered the room, having gotten a message about the show going on in the house. Soon enough the others joined too and he could see how you tried to make yourself small. He didnât want you to be afraid, or feel threatened by them, so seeing Eric playing around with a knife was very much not allowed. He went over to the younger boy and took the item from him, throwing it and embedding it in the wall.
âI wasnât going to hurt her with it.â
âI donât doubt that, but why donât you play with something else.â
âOh, what does the big boss have in mind?â Hyunjae asked. âIâd love to participate.â
âFor starters, we have to set the mood. Jacob, you know what I mean.â
âI do indeed. Iâll be right back.â
âShe also needs a party favor.â
âWhy that?â Juyeon questioned. âDonât you think thatâs risky?â
âItâll be more fun, for everyone.â
You had no idea what any of that meant, but you knew it couldnât be good. There was no point even attempting to run off as everyone was in the room with you. A while later Jacob returned with a small case in hand, giving it to Sangyeon. The eldest opened it up, revealing a needle. You instinctively tried to move, unaware of what the contents the needle contained.
âWeâre not gonna hurt you.â Sangyeon assured. âHold her.â
Kevin and Changmin reached over to hold you still as Sangyeon emptied out the needle into your neck. You did your best to squirm, but there was nothing you could do.
âWhat is that! What did you give me!?â
âYouâll see soon enough.â Kevin teased. âNow the party favor, right?â
âGive her a moment.â Sangyeon said. âThen she can have it.â
âHave what? What are you guys talking about!â
âJust be patient.â
You cut yourself off before saying more as you began to feel different. Your face was beginning to burn, and you felt this heat overtaking you. Now it was obvious what they had given you, and it wasnât hard to guess what came next. You couldnât help but squirm in your restraints, starting to get annoyed by your own clothes, but unable to remove them. You felt rather pathetic too, giving in so easily to the drug, but it was really clouding your head and making everything fuzzy.
âNow for the next part.â
âI call dibs!â Chanhee volunteered. âCome here, baby.â
You were vaguely aware of Chanhee as he approached you, but you didnât know what he was doing. That is until he leaned in to kiss you. At first you thought it was a normal kiss, his tongue forcing your lips to part, but then you felt something in your mouth, and before you knew it you had swallowed it. That got enough sense in you that you pulled away from Chanhee, immediately coughing and bending over, hoping to throw it back up, but that wasnât an option. Chanhee placed a hand over your mouth, forcing you to sit back up.
âDonât be wasteful.â
You were worried about what else they had added to the mix. Chanhee didnât move his hand away until he was certain you wouldnât be able to throw up the substance you had taken. You still coughed when you had a chance, but you knew it was far too late for that.
âWhat did you give me!â
âYouâll feel it in a moment.â Haknyeon giggled. âAnd youâll like it.â
â⊠wa⊠what does that-â
You inhaled sharply as you felt this wave of energy surge through your body. There was the heat of arousal, but this was something else, something more. You were merely taking in the feeling when you snapped your arms free, having broken the chain of your restraints. You fell from the couch onto your hands and knees, shocked over what you had just done. You vaguely made out the sounds of laughter around you, looking up to see the boys with smiles on their faces. Your head was spinning, and you felt a hand on your shoulder which caused you to act. In the blink of an eye you had Changmin pinned beneath you.
âFeels good, doesnât it?â
âWhat⊠what is this⊠what did you give me?â
âPower.â Changmin chuckled. âAt least now we wonât break you.â
The boy freed himself from your grasp and flipped your positions. He gave you a devilish grin before ripping your shirt open. Your hands immediately covered your chest and then you moved to shove Changmin off you. To your surprise you had the strength to do so, knocking him to the ground. He just laughed, not at all fazed by your actions. You stared at your hands again, seeing the remains of the handcuffs on your wrists. If you were really strong like them now, then this was your chance. Just as you were about to run, Younghoon came up from behind, wrapping his arms around you and holding you in a hug. You tried to break free, but he held you tightly, making you question your own strength and his.
âYou may be strong,â Younghoon whispered. âBut you donât match us.â
Hyunjae stepped in front of you, his hands gliding over your bare chest. He stopped over your crotch area, his fingers undoing your shorts and a hand slipping into your pants. You squirmed back against Younghoon, but he held you still.
âYouâre supposed to be drunk off love.â Hyunjae commented. âShall I help?â
âLet go.â
âThe surge of power probably overtook the aphrodisiac. Iâll fix that.â
You kept your squirming so Hyunjae opted to slide your shorts down, leaving you in your panties for a moment before having them torn off. You shivered from the sudden cold feeling, trying to close your legs but Hyunjae forced them open.
âBe a good girl now, or else you wonât get a treat.â
You couldnât say anything as Hyunjaeâs fingers ran up and down along your folds, making you hold back a moan. You werenât knowledgeable in this area, and had little to no experience. There wasnât much time, or interest in the matter, both from you and other parties. This was certainly going to be a first for many things. You still tried to move away, but the more Hyunjae played around with you the harder it was to think.
â⊠pleaseâŠâ
âPlease what? I think you can still use words.â
â⊠pleaseâŠâ
âAre you a virgin baby? Donât know what to ask for?â
ââŠâ
âYou are, arenât you? Oh, donât worry baby, weâre gonna take very good care of you.â
âI wanna do it! I wanna go first!â Chanhee volunteered. âPlease, please, I wanna feel her so bad.â
âYou guys can fight for it.â Sangyeon mentioned. âWinner takes all. Iâll keep the doll entertained.â
The boys agreed to Sangyeonâs proposal. The eldest took you into his arms, loving your dizzy little state. Your legs were trembling and you were whimpering over the lack of touch. Sangyeon pressed a kiss to your head.
âYou good baby?â
âHmâŠâ
âWeâll play soon, just let the boys have their fun first.â
âWe all still get a turn right?â Juyeon questioned. âEven if we donât win.â
âIâm pretty sure she can keep up with all of us tonight.â
âGood.â
Sangyeon picked you up bridal style, following behind the others. You were subconsciously rubbing your legs together, trying to get back some friction. The moment of power you had was long gone from your mind, the heat engulfing every inch of your skin. It was getting a bit uncomfortable, but the little kisses Sangyeon pressed against your skin felt nice. In your haze all you could think about was them. Even if you had been brought here against your will they hadnât been cruel to you in any way. They had given you space and let you roam around the house freely, but that was all about to change. You couldnât fathom the consequences that would come tomorrow, nor did you care. You just wanted to be taken care of in every way possible tonight.
â€
You inhaled sharply as you regained consciousness, feeling a minor throb in your head. You groaned and pushed your head further into the pillow it was resting on, feeling a dull ache all over your body. Once you got yourself together you took in your surroundings. This wasnât the room you had been given, but going by the decorations and mess, it certainly belonged to one of the boys. Your questions were answered as a hand draped over you and you saw Kevin laying next to you, still asleep or so you thought. He must have felt your gaze on him, or heard you whimpering.
âMorningâŠâ
You didnât answer, instead moving Kevinâs arm off you and getting out of bed. Although as soon as you stood up you felt dizzy and collapsed to the floor. You managed to catch yourself, getting your hands beneath you, but you winced from a sudden pain in your left hand. You looked down to see a butterfly tattoo on your wrist, one wing blue and the other orange, wrapped up as it was still fresh.
âWhat⊠what is thisâŠâ
âYou might feel sick after your first timeâŠâ Kevin mumbled. âBathroomâs on the leftâŠâ
âHuh?â
You werenât exactly listening, more focused on the new ink you had, but as soon as Kevin mentioned it you felt an ache in your stomach and then you threw up. Kevin groaned when he heard the noise, mustering up the strength to get up. He came over to the other side of the bed, seeing you on your hands and knees.
âMy poor baby, come on, letâs get you cleaned up.â
Kevin grabbed your arm and gently got you up to your feet, keeping you close as he helped you towards the bathroom. He sat you down on the toilet, getting a washcloth and holding it under warm water before using it to clean your mouth. You were out of it after throwing up, feeling unsteady and the headache had gotten worse. You probably figured this is what it felt like to be hungover since you never had alcohol before. Then again you hadnât been drinking last night, something else entirely had happened.
âI know what will make you feel better.â
After cleaning you up and brushing your teeth Kevin helped you onto your feet again, leading you out of the room and towards the kitchen. The others were already up and gathering around for breakfast. A few didnât hesitate to place a kiss on your cheek after greeting you. Kevin had you sit at the table, letting you put your head down.
âRough morning?â Changmin questioned. âShe doesnât look so good.â
âSheâs fine, but Iâm gonna need to clean my room.â Kevin mentioned.Â
âYikes. Well, you choose to take her.â
âItâs whatever.â
You were vaguely aware of all the boys around you, feeling more tired than anything else. You had your arms on the table, and you looked over at the tattoo on your wrist. A part of you still thought you were just imagining things, but the throbbing ache from it told you it was very real.
âHere.â Jacob placed a glass on the table in front of you. âYouâll feel better once you drink this.â
âWhat is itâŠâ
âJust drink it.â
Jacob helped you sit up, and he held the glass up to your lips. It looked a bit like a watered down blue sports drink, but you parted your lips when you felt the liquid against them, getting a sweet taste and having a few gulps.
âGood girl.â
Your headache certainly wasnât as bad anymore, so you had no trouble sitting up. Two of the others were finishing setting the table, and the smell of eggs and rice filled the air. You were certainly hungry, but now that you could think straight there were other things on your mind.
âWhat happened last nightâŠâ
âYou donât remember, baby?â Sunwoo chuckled. âDid we fuck you that good.â
â⊠you⊠we⊠we didâŠâ
âYou were asking for it by the time we actually got started.â Eric commented. âYou were so needy like a bitch in heat.â
âShut up.â You felt your face burning. âI⊠IâŠâ
âNo need to be shy, baby, we had a good time.â
âI donât rememberâŠâ
âItâll come to you.â Hyunjae stated. âJust give it a minute. If not, well, I donât mind jogging your memory.â
âDonâtâŠâ
âWhy? You certainly werenât denying any of us last night.â
âIâŠâ
As the conversation kept going you felt yourself getting nervous. The night must have been insane if you didnât remember it, especially considering the fact you got a tattoo. You wanted to remember, you had to, because besides the obvious there was something else. You shut your eyes to focus, and when you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder you jumped, falling out of your seat. Thatâs when you had a rush of images flash through your mind. Your whole body suddenly felt hot and you remembered what had caused all the aches and pains from last night.
Sangyeon held you close as the others fought for the chance to be your first. He had you on his lap straddling his thigh. He couldnât help but bounce you up and down, hands on your hips guiding you as he had you gently grind on him as well. It wasnât long before he had a tent in his pants, but he had enough self control to not act on his own urges. He wanted to make sure his boys still had their reward. You on the other hand were full of sugar, drooling a bit and feeling like cotton candy. You had your eyes shut and head thrown back as you let Sangyeon take control, keeping you so well balanced on the edge. You werenât aware of the fight going on, more focused on yourself until you felt a kiss on your head.
When you opened your eyes you saw Haknyeon smiling down at you. For a moment you swore he had a busted lip and cut on his cheek but those seemed to fade away right before your eyes. He was out of breath but very happy to see you. He took you from Sangyeon, throwing you over his shoulder and smacking your ass before walking off with you. He took you to his room, tossing you onto the bed. Before you knew it he was on top of you, kissing you roughly and exploring your naked body. You didnât really feel cold, the heat of arousal kept you warm and now you had Haknyeon to provide you with more warmth.Â
He had his way with you for a good while, the feeling of his cock sending you spiraling into your first orgasm. You didnât need much prep as Sangyeon had already got you feeling loose. Another orgasm or two later there were knocks at the door. The winner had gotten his prize so now it was time for the others to have their fun. Juyeon was the one to drag you out of bed, surprised you could still walk on your own. Despite already having a few orgasms you still had the strength and stamina to keep up, although you were more concerned with getting your next high.
You happily went with Juyeon, getting messy with him in his own room. He was excited to show you new things, wanting more than just vanilla sex. Although he wasnât alone, having Changmin and Chanhee in his room waiting for you. There were hands all over your body, massaging your breasts and thighs as wet kisses were placed all over you. With all that attention you were getting lost in the feeling of pleasure. The only thing that took you out of it was when you felt someone penetrate your core. One after the other stretching you out and making you feel a joy you couldnât describe. You donât know how you managed to take on all three of them, but you made it through their endeavors.
The night was still young, and you werenât done with them. While you lay among the boys, splayed out on the bed, finally getting a moment to rest you felt a hand caress your cheeks. You opened your eyes to Kevin coaxing you awake. He took your hand and pulled you out of the giant cuddle pile, asking if you were having fun. By then words were difficult, but the smile on your face spoke for itself. You two danced around the hall since you were starting to get uneasy on your feet. You were probably heading over to Kevinâs room, but your arm was suddenly grabbed and you were yanked into Hyunjaeâs arms. He had started you off early that night, and it was about time he finished that up.
His fingers trailed along your sloppy center, feeling just what kind of mess you had between your legs and eager to add to it. Of course Kevin wasnât just going to let him have you all to yourself, shoving the two into the nearest bedroom, getting out of his clothes in the process. Everyoneâs kiss was unique, some gentle, some rough, some desperate and hungry for you. Hyunjae was the first one to add to the festivities, tying you up against the bed and limiting your movements. You were already feeling sore, but he wasnât going to let that stop him. While Hyunjae continued to play with your sloppy cunt Kevin was preparing something else.
You felt him trail his fingers along your lips, teasing you before pushing two digits into your mouth. Instinctively you knew to suck on them, letting your tongue swirl around. Kevin was quite proud to see you acting appropriately, and for that you deserved a reward. He pulled his fingers out with a loud pop, letting you whine for a bit before putting something much bigger against your lips. You opened your mouth without question, taking in his whole length inch by inch. Then you felt Hyunjae filling you up, getting stimulated from both ends. You let them take control, just floating on cloud nine as they got another handful of orgasms out of you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head multiple times.
Once you were finally wrapped up in Hyunjaeâs arms you were really feeling sore in your legs and jaw. You did want to rest, but as you were dozing off a hand came down and pulled your head off the pillow. You were met with Ericâs piercing gaze, seeing a rather psychotic glint in his eyes. Of course you werenât gonna get off easy, he still had to punish you for you breaking and entering. You probably should have explained to him at some point you found the door unlocked, but that wasnât going to happen anytime soon, nor would it matter to him. Despite Hyunjaeâs protest Eric took you to his own room.
Although it wasnât long before you were joined by another. Sunwoo had crawled into bed, pulling you into his arms and snuggling against you. He wanted to be soft and sweet but Eric had other plans. Took a bit of talking but he got Sunwoo on board. Next thing you knew you were on top of Sunwoo, barely able to make out his words of praise. His hands ran up and down along your chest, taking your breasts into his hands and massaging them ever so gently. You mewled at his touch, gently rocking your hips. You were exhausted, but your body still craved more friction. Eric placed his hands on your hips, guiding you down onto Sunwooâs cock, making sure you took in everything.
He gave you a moment to revel in the feeling before bending you over. You didnât know what he was planning until he pushed himself into you right alongside Sunwoo. The stretch was like nothing before, and you swear you saw white for a moment. You leaned back against Eric, giggling as he whispered dirty things in your ear. They gave you a moment to adjust and really feel them before they started moving. They tried to be gentle and slow at first but their own burgers got the better of them. You felt like they were tearing you apart, but in a good way. Your orgasms all blended together, and all you remembered was ending up sandwiched between them, still full with their cocks and cum while you all wound down from your high.
One moment you were in bed, the next you were in someone elseâs arms. You could barely make out Sangyeon as he carried you bridal style, but the smile was obvious. You snuggled against him, not wanting to let go when he set you down. You felt hands on your body once more, and not just too. A hand grabbed your chin and you locked eyes with Jacob. He had such a content smile on his face, placing soft kisses all over you. The eldest of the bunch had been patiently waiting to finish you off. You were already at your limits but they pushed you past that, taking you in whatever way you saw fit.Â
Younghoon had you bouncing up and down on him, making deeper bruises on your hips. Jacob was gentler and such a tease as he took you from behind while you stayed on top of Younghoon, letting the other watch the show. Sangyeon though, he dragged you out of bed and took you against the wall, surprising you with his strength and resolve. He didnât let up, making sure you were still enjoying yourself even if you were so far gone. It wasnât easy to close your legs, and you felt so full you swear your stomach was a bit bigger. You thought youâd finally get to sleep, but you werenât going to be left alone just yet.
You could vaguely recall Sangyeon getting you into a bath with him, cleaning you up and making sure you were well cared for after such a night. Kevin had found the two of you and helped with getting you dressed. Everyone else was mostly out for the night. Kevinâs room was one that wasnât used to so he offered to share his bed, happily taking you with so the two of you could sleep together. You didnât hesitate to snuggle against him, still feeling sore but glad to finally wind down and rest. It was quite impressive you made it through such a night. You knew youâd probably be all kinds of bruised tomorrow, but that was a problem for later.
You couldnât help the dopey smile on your face as you remembered all of this, all the things you had done the night prior. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before, and you didnât even know if youâd get close to it ever again. Although you quickly had to tell yourself to get your act together. Even if you now remembered what you had done, you could look back and see what was bothering you. The boys had given you an aphrodisiac, but there was something else too. You sat up, lifting up your shirt and seeing that you had no bruise or marks of any kind. Your skin was untouched, but you knew that shouldnât be the case. While you were lost in your own head Juyeon and Eric helped you get back in your seat.
âAre you okay, baby?â Eric asked. âDid you remember something?â
âLast nightâŠâ
âOh, thatâs good. Wouldnât want to be the only one to remember how capable you are.â
âWhat did you give me?â
âAh that, it was good, right?â
âWhat was it!?â
âPower.â Jacob stated. âTrue power.â
âIt was a drug.â
âSo is ibuprofen, your point?â
âWhat exactly did you give me?â
âI already told you. Power. Donât you remember? You broke the handcuffs with ease, you kept up with all of us. Despite how rough some of them might have been, you donât have a single bruise on your body.â
ââŠâ
âItâs temporary.â Younghoon assured. âYouâre back to normal now. Although, if you ever want more, you just have to ask. Only the first one is free.â
You needed a moment, you needed to be alone. Without saying anything you left the table, finding the nearest open room and locking yourself inside. You felt a bit sick, coming to terms with the fact they had given you some sort of unknown drug. Now you only had the lingering taste of that power high. You didnât want to believe what they had told you, but you had felt, and moreover you had seen it too. That night at the warehouse, the incredible strength they displayed, it was all real and now you knew how. Whatever drug this was, they used it a lot. You had your suspicions about their business, especially once you saw all the weapons. If they were some kind of gang in the area, they certainly had their advantage to stay in power.
All this speculation just gave you more reason to want to leave. Even if they were good to you, the kind of life they lived wasnât something you wanted to be a part of. After that night you continued to avoid them, not wanting to form any kind of lasting attachment. They certainly gave you space, but were a bit more willing to try for your attention, especially since they had no problem getting handsy with you now. From what you did get, they seemed to be so fun, but you couldnât just drop the idea of escape. Your biggest problem was that ankle bracelet you had, but it seemed the solution was around the corner.
One day you overheard a few of the boys talking about a potential party at the house. Of course you came up as a subject since they werenât sure they could trust you to behave. A party would be a great opportunity, so you had to make sure you were allowed to attend. In order for that to happen you had to engage with them and socialize, show them that you could behave. You really had to let your guard down and be friendly with them. You rejected any advances they made and they respected that, probably very happy that you were done giving them the cold shoulder. Eventually the party came up in conversation around you, so you offered to help with planning and set up. They happily agreed.
You made sure a lot of alcohol was purchased, and intended to get them drunk. This was going to be your night, but in order to do this you needed one key ingredient. You needed the ankle bracelet off, and fast, and the only real solution you saw was that drug. You had broken handcuffs with ease, so with that kind of power youâd break the ankle bracelet quickly and then get out before they even knew you were gone. The only problem was that you had to ask for it, and not get denied. You didnât see why they would say no, but you also needed to make sure you didnât arouse suspicion.
The day of the party you helped with setting up, popping open a bottle of vodka and taking a small sip before pouring shots for the others. They happily took the drink you offered, cheering to a night of fun. You needed to pick one of them and you figured your best bet would be Eric. You kept your eye on him and waited for your chance. People were starting to come to the house, so you figured things would be getting started soon. You found Eric and got him alone, coming up from behind and wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He was a bit startled at first, but happy to see you, placing a kiss on your head.
âEric.â
âHm?â
âI want tonight to be fun.â
âIt will be.â
âBut you know what would guarantee it?â
âWhat?â
âIf I got to be strong like the rest of youâŠâ
âAh, you want a special party favor, huh?â
âIt should last me all night right? How else am I gonna keep up with all of you?â
âGood point, but promise youâll behave.â
âPinky promise.â
âGood girl.â
Eric took your hand and led you to another room. It was another armory they had, and he told you to stay put as he got something out of a safe. He presented a pill to you, telling you to open your mouth. Your plan had been to take it later when you were ready to act, but Eric wasnât going to let you leave without consuming it. As far as you knew, it lasted a few hours, so you should be okay either way, but you were gonna have to act the first chance you got. You gave Eric a smile and took the pill. After a moment you felt this spark of power run through your whole body. It made you dizzy for a second but Eric assured you the uneasiness would pass and youâd be your normal self, just better.
Soon enough the party began and things got wild fast. You made it a point not to drink, but you still hung around the boys, wanting to engage with them for a bit before disappearing. As the night was getting on, you started to iron out the finer details of your escape. When you had a chance you glanced outside, seeing all the cars parked around. You considered taking one, but you didnât know how to drive. What you needed was to get your hands on a phone, figure out your location and call a cab. With everyone around drinking and having a good time, it shouldnât be hard to sneak a phone, and money, off someone.
You kept in mind the time, keeping an eye out for someone vulnerable, and occasionally testing your strength to make sure you were still able to break free. You stuck around those that were drinking, getting friendly with someone and managing to snatch their phone. You cautiously snuck away to get some privacy, finding a bathroom. You managed to unlock the phone and checked the address. Thankfully you werenât so far from civilization and called for a cab. You had about fifteen minutes to get out of this house, and the first thing you needed to do was get that ankle bracelet off.
You sat down on the floor and figured out a good grip, taking in a deep breath before pulling and breaking the bracelet in half. You thought maybe some noise would be made or something, but it was silent. Lucky was on your side. You tossed the broken thing in the trash and made your way out of the bathroom, needing to get outside. Part of the party was in the backyard, but it wasnât a good idea to go around, so you had to exit through the front. The door itself might not be the best, but you could give it a shot. If not, you had no problem jumping out a window. Thankfully you got away from the house undetected, checking the phone and then leaving it by a car before heading to the main road.
When you saw the lights of the cab you were finally able to let out a breath. It brought such relief to be moving away from the house, free from your captivity. The cab took you back to the only place you could go, to your uni campus. You had been gone for a little over two weeks, but hopefully nothing had gotten messed up in your absence. You knocked on the door for your roommate to let you in, not bothering to answer them about your recent whereabouts. You were so happy to collapse into your bed, even if it wasnât as comfortable, feeling like you could finally get some real sleep.Â
Thankfully a good amount of your things had been in your dorm room, but you would need a new phone, and new cards. Come morning you got to emailing your professors with some basic excuse of being ill and asking for assignments to make up. Out of curiosity you tested your strength, but you were back to being a normal person. At least you had money, so you could afford a new ID card, and even though you could afford a new phone, that involved leaving campus. You knew the guys couldnât just waltz onto school property, and they didnât know where your dorm was, so this was the safest place for you. By now they sure knew you were gone and probably pissed, which meant you were in danger.
Your best bet for now was to wait, just let this all die down and maybe they would forget about you and move on. The bright side to not having a phone was that they had no means of reaching you. As for your classes, you still had your laptop and could email classmates and do assignments. It was kinda hard going back to your lectures as if nothing had happened. Of course you had a decent amount of work to catch up on, and your grades were gonna take a hit, but at least you were free. Even if that was true, you did have this uneasy feeling. You felt paranoid, like you were always being watched. You couldnât sleep that easy anymore, and you felt quite irritable. Still you did your best to just focus on being a normal university student.
âNice tattoo.â
You were taking notes in a class when someone had made the comment. At first you were confused, but then you remembered the butterfly tattoo on your wrist. You never asked about it, not remembering how you got it anyway. After that night of passion you were out cold, and they had probably done it then. It was the least of your worries and even now you had completely forgotten about it until someone brought it up. The tattoo wasnât a bother, but it wasnât your thing, nor did you want any sort of connection to them. You did a bit of research and made a call to set up an appointment with a tattoo artist to have your tattoo removed. It was risky to go out, but you wanted that thing gone.
You made sure to cover up and hide your face, constantly checking your surroundings to make sure you werenât being followed. This little outing of yours was dangerous, but if it wall went down in one piece you could probably start to relax. Since you were out, you figured you could get a new phone too. After the tattoo removal of course. Thankfully you made it to the shop without issue, introducing yourself and being moved to the back. You were glad there werenât any windows where you were seated, so you felt less worried about removing your jacket, hat and mask. The chair you were in was like a dentist chair, but it was quite cozy.
âAlright, Iâm Hongjoong, Iâll be your artist today, although I believe youâre here for a tattoo removal.â
âYeah, just a crazy night, and I made a mistake.â
âNo worries. Can you show me where the tattoo is?â
âSure.â You rolled up your sleeve. âItâs this.â
âOhâŠâ
âIs there a problem?â
âNo, no, not at all. Itâs pretty.â
âI want it gone.â
âYeah, of course. I will need to strap down your arm though.â
âWhat!?â
âRemoving a tattoo isnât painless and considering it is on your wrist, I donât want you moving too much during the process.â
âAh, that makes sense. Alright then.â
âGood. Just give me a second.â
Hongjoong got up and disappeared for a moment, coming back and using a belt to strap down your arm. He made sure it wasnât uncomfortable, and that it should allow him to work without issue. He got up once again, giving you a chance to collect yourself. Although when he returned he grabbed your other arm and strapped it down as well.
âWhat are you doing!?â
You tried to fight him, but your other arm was already restrained. Hongjoong didnât answer you, he just made sure you couldnât escape and then left you alone. You screamed at him, then started crying for help, hoping someone else would come, but there was no one. You continued your attempt of escape, but it got you nowhere. When you heard the door you started screaming again. You heard footsteps approaching, thinking you were finally gonna get some help but you immediately went silent when you saw who approached.
âWell, well, well, look what we have here.â
âI didnât harm her.â Hongjoong commented.
âGood. Iâm glad weâre still on the same page.â Sangyeon chuckled. âCare to explain yourself, baby?â
You didnât want to meet Sangyeonâs gaze, but you could feel his eyes digging into you. He didnât need a response from you. Instead he had the other boys gag you and then untie you, dragging you out of the shop. You wound up in the back of a car, sandwiched between Changmin and Younghoon, knowing very well their strength outmatched you, so there was no escaping them. Of course you wound up back at that house. You were dragged inside and taken down below, thrown into an empty room. You got the gag off yourself and tried to run for the door, only to get tossed back.
âWhat the hell were you thinking!â Sangyeon yelled. âDid you really think a stunt like that would work!?â
âI got out of this house, didnât I?â
âOh, arenât you quite cocky for a dead girl walking.â
âWhat?â
âYouâre doing much better than we thought.â Hyunjae mentioned. âWe thought youâd be hospitalized by now.â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âDid you forget again?â Eric questioned. âThe night of the party you asked for power. I should have known better.â
âYou were the easiest target.â
âYou bitch!â
Eric wanted to get a hit, but he was held back by Juyeon and Sunwoo. You were putting on quite a brave act, but the truth was you were terrified. You had done well to avoid their grasp, but in the end they still caught you.
âWhat the fuck do you guys want with me! And whatâs with this talk about death? Are you gonna kill me this time?â
âOh no, none of that.â Jacob said. âBut the truth is you are dying. Havenât you felt it?â
âFelt what?â
âThe withdrawal.â
âHuh?â
âWhat? You think taking drugs doesnât have its consequences?â
âIâŠÂ what?â
Chanhee chuckled. âAfter using the drug youâre supposed to take something else to negate the side effects. Remember the little hangover cure we gave you the first time?â
â⊠why didnât you tell me this!â
âWhy would we? Itâs a means of keeping you in line.â
âYou-â
âIt seems it hasnât hit you that hard yet, but itâs only gonna get worse. Surely youâve had trouble sleeping by now, maybe feeling irritable and jumpy? Itâs the withdrawal.â
ââŠâ
âYouâre gonna start feeling really sick soon.â Juyeon mentioned. âAnd itâs possible to get to a point of no return. We wouldnât want you dying, now would we?â
âWhere is it! Whereâs this cure of yours!â
âDo you seriously think weâre just gonna give it to you? After the stunt you pulled?â
âYouâre the ones who knowingly put my life in danger!â
âYou asked for it. You asked for all of it. A night of passion like never before, and a night of power. Donât blame us.â
âFine. What do you want?â
âSeriously?â Haknyeon questioned. âIs it not obvious?â
âAmuse me.â
âYou, silly. We want you, and weâll do anything to get you back.â
âSo if you want your cure.â Kevin added. âNo more running away.â
âAnd if I refuse?â
âOh, you really wanna play with your life? We can always come back to this conversation when sunlight starts to hurt you.â
âWait.â
âHm?â
âI⊠Iâll stay⊠butâŠâ
âThis isnât a negotiation.â Sunwoo stated.
âI want to go back to school.â
âWhat?â
âI still want to be able to study and get my degree. You can drop me off and pick me. I wonât-â
âI said-â
âSure.â Sangyeon interrupted. âWhy not.â
âSangyeon-â
âHand it over.â
The others stared at Sangyeon with questioning looks, not really agreeing with his decision, but he wasnât gonna hear anything else. Jacob came over and handed him a waterÂ
bottle with a similar blue sports drink color. Sangyeon opened it up and handed it to you.
âDrink it. Every last drop.â
This was what they had given you last time, so you did trust it. You emptied out the water bottle, immediately feeling this tension leaving you body. Perhaps all your worries werenât just in your head, but part of the side effects to this drug of theirs.
âBetter?â
âYes.â
âNow we can talk.â
âWat-â
You were suddenly shoved up against the wall, hand around your throat. Sangyeon had you pinned, glaring daggers at you. It was hard to breathe, and you tried clawing at his arm but he didnât budge at all.
âYou know, the second you broke that ankle bracelet we knew, but our guests kept us distracted so you got very lucky. That wonât be happening again.â
âI⊠Iâll⊠Iâll come⊠backâŠâ
Sangyeon chuckled. âItâs funny you think Iâm actually letting you set foot outside this house again.â
âYou⊠you-â
âI make the rules here. The thing is, you just donât get it.â
Sangyeon grabbed your arm, holding up your wrist to show you the tattoo you had. He leaned forward to place a soft kiss on it.
âThis right here, itâs how we found you. Itâs our mark, it lets everyone know who you belong to. Our people are everywhere, so even if you did end up in the hospital, youâd wind up right back here where you belong with us. It doesnât matter where you go, we will find you.â
Sangyeon dropped you to your hands and knees and you gasped for air. You coughed as you tried to steady your breathing, realizing everything else that had been said previously was a lie. There was no getting out of this place, not again. After a moment Sangyeon kneeled down and grabbed your chin.
âBaby, I want you, even if I have to hurt you.â
â⊠whyâŠâ
âCause you came into our lives, and youâre too good to pass up.â
â⊠pleaseâŠâ
âDonât lie to yourself. As if you truly want to leave and return to that boring life of yours. Stay. Let us take care of you and treat you the way you deserve.â
ââŠâ
âYouâll come around. In the meantime.â Sangyeon pulled out a pill. âTake this.â
âI⊠you justâŠâ
âAn ankle bracelet wonât work with you, so might as well use different means. Go on now.â
There wasnât much of a choice here. If you didnât do it willingly you knew Sangyeon would force it down your throat. So you took the pill, feeling that spark once more.
âGood girl. You can keep up with us better this way, and now you know you wonât last long out there if you were to leave again. Which is not gonna happen, right?â
âNoâŠâ
âI need you to say it.â
âI wonât run away againâŠâ
âGood. You wonât regret meeting us, I promise.â
âI do.â
âWatch it. You donât want us to test your limits again, do you? Or maybe you do. I donât mind having a brat in this house.â
â⊠sorry⊠I⊠I didnâtâŠâ
âMuch better, although we do need to carry out your punishment for running away. Last time was nothing compared to this, so I hope youâre ready. You wonât be sleeping tonight.â
#the boyz#sangyeon#jacob#younghoon#hyunjae#juyeon#kevin#new#q#haknyeon#sunwoo#eric#tbz#tbz au#the boyz au#the boyz smut#the boyz scenarios#the boyz yandere#lee sangyeon#bae jacob#kim younghoon#lee jaehyun#lee juyeon#moon kevin#choi chanhee#ji changmin#ju haknyeon#kim sunwoo#son youngjae
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28th october fic rec!
i found comfort in fics this month.
Heart Beat (35K) by allwaswell16 | @allwaswell16
Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crushâand his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.
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We Should Be Shooting For Them Stars Of Gold (77K) by babyhoneyhslt | @babyhoneyheslt
To make his dream of becoming a tour photographer come true, Harry reluctantly agrees to marry his annoying ex.
Louis Tomlinson might be a big name in the music industry, but his reputation needs some polish.
Neither of them expects this to end well, but maybe a two week honeymoon in the Maldives can change everything.
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Lose myself between your legs (2K) by lunarheslwt | @lunarheslwt
Louis has a thing for Harryâs thighs, especially Harryâs thighs in tights. Written for day 7 of kinktober, prompt: intercrural sex, slick kink.
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Feryt: Tangled by Sensations (1K) by littleohs | @littleohs
âBreathe.â
Even after listening to Louis, Harry couldn't do it. His breaths were erratic and he took the hand the alpha offered him with trepidation, as if he was going to disappear at any moment. He clenched his body and the sensation made his eyes fill with tears, his jaw clenched tightly and the burning spread even further in his gut, endless.
or, day two of kinktober: figging
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Twists of Fate (112K) by freakingmeout | @freakingmeout28
Some marriages don't start with loveâŠ
When his parents tell Harry that they expect him to marry Louis Tomlinson he's more than just against it, he hates them for thinking it would magically solve all his problems and make him their dream son.
Louis on the other side isn't keen to marry someone like Harry either, but since it's his only way to save his family's name, he goes for it.
Against their own will they get married and are sent on a honeymoon together where they don't have a chance to avoid each other.
Their marriage doesn't start with love, but while Louis helps Harry fighting his alcohol addiction they find something in the other that they both needed. Through trials and tribulations, their bond strengthens, transcending the confines of tradition to blossom into a profound love story of resilience and redemption.
A story for the 1D I Do fest, a very free interpretation of the following prompt:
Arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, preferably larry, forced proximity. Sent on a honeymoon but itâs at the room in the Maldives thats in the middle of the ocean only accessed by boat. Featuring sharing of beds, secret pining, awkward morning wood, arguments but you cannot escape the other.
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i'm going out tonight (3K) by disgruntledkittenface | @disgruntledkittenface
Louis hasnât been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.
Inspired by Bejeweled by Taylor Swift.
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I Can Be Your Fantasy (14K) by ShatteredGlassHouse | @larryislove
Harry was struggling, but the last thing he wanted to do was be a burden on his friends. Being the only omega in a group of alphas and a beta, he felt he had to prove that he was an independent omega who didn't need help. When his job at a coffeehouse wasn't helping his bills, he turned to a strip club. Luckily it was only for the bar, but when a dancer calls in sick, Nick is in a panic and asks Harry to fill in. He wasn't the best in heels, but what was the worse that could happen?
Or the one where Harry works at a strip club to pay his bills, which he hides from his friends. The secret gets exposed when Louis Tomlinson, his crush and best friend, is in the audience, watching him.
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Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy (5K) by not_fitzwilliam | @not-fitzwilliam-darcy
Harry's savior complex has often led him to rather questionable situations, but this might take the cake. When a miscalculated decision leads to an accidental courtship with the sweetest, most gentle alpha, Harry is torn between breaking the alpha's heart and telling the truth. Yes, Louis does seem to give unorthodox courting gifts, but he is rather endearing and Harry is just an omega, after all.
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I Can't Change (But I Wanna Be Yours) (19K) by Cy_v
He was being ridiculous, he was well aware. Heâs started to feel like heâs back in secondary school, for fucks sake. Itâs just a tiny tattoo, being done by some random, completely normal, not at all excessively hot, or hopelessly irresistible-
âYou still ok, Haz?â
And ok, maybe Harry was lying to himself. Because that? Using his nickname on him? Well that should be illegal. But Louis was still looking up at him, the poster child for innocence, and he was waiting for a response. So Harry tried his best not to choke on his tongue.
...
Or the one where Harry has anxiety and let's Zayn talk him into getting a tattoo, and that's fine except for the fact that Louis is his tattoo artist, and well...
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in the pub that we met heâs got his arms around you (13K) by fearsparks | @onlythebravest
Harry all but jumped into Louisâ arms when he came close enough to touch him, Louisâ arms opening automatically. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly, tugging each other as close as possible. He had missed his best friend so much.
âHey,â Harry said with a breathless laugh when their grip on each other had loosened enough for him to draw a deep breath.
âHazzy,â mumbled Louis in return, burrowing his face into Harryâs neck. âIâm so happy to see you. Iâve missed you so much, Haz.â
âI missed you, too, Lou,â replied Harry, âI missed you, too.âÂ
(Harry's best friend Louis comes to visit him where he attends uni, meets Harry's friends, who point out that they don't know what platonic means.)
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Them Butterflies (97K) by momentofclarity | @gaycousinlarry
To sum it all up - Louis is beautiful. Breathtakingly so. And Harry canât find it in himself to even question the fact that he thinks so. Louis is mesmerising, nearly magnetic with all the energy bouncing off of him. Harry doesnât know what to make of it, but he knows he doesnât want this night to end.
This is the extraordinarily ordinary AU where Harry falls in love for the first time and Louis learns how to fall in love all over again.
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I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours) (3K) by Dreaminrainbows | @dreaminrainbows
Harry studies his sixteen year old selfâs face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed.
He's had enormous success throughout the years, has a couple of Grammys to prove it, yet he'd still be Louis Tomlinsonâs vacuum cleaner in a blink of an eye. Louis does like his coffee hot and Harry would gladly be his coffee pot.
He groans again, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He's been trying to get a grip on himself for the past fourteen years, the only grip he's gotten is on his man.
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Alone and Back Again (4K) by LadyLondonderry | @londonfoginacup
Harry Styles has very few enemies, and even fewer friends.
On the outskirts of the village, past the stream but before the river, sits a small one-room cottage, cool in the summers but draughty in the winters.
In that one room cottage sits a cooking pot over a fire, a smaller selection of woodworking tools, and a nest of furs that is the pride and joy of one lonely omega.
Or, what does one do when a feral alpha shows up in town ready to be executed?
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Let the Feeling Last (5K) by allwaswell16 | @allwaswell16
Omega Harry thinks the alpha at the grocery store buying a cart full of vegetables must be an amazing chef. He doesn't know that Alpha Louis is feeding all those vegetables to his pet pig.
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Baby, You're Perfect (112K) by loveheartslouis | @loveheartslouis
Harry Styles has been waiting his entire life to meet his soulmate, the owner of a dagger soulmark to match his rose. Louis Tomlinson has never wanted his soulmate and always covers his dagger soulmark.
Louis learns that theyâre soulmates and he doesnât tell Harry, breaking Harry's trust and his heart
Louis has all the time in the world to convince Harry to forgive him. Right?
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i'm a couple glasses in (3K) by justanothershadeofblue (zjofierose) | @justanothershadeofblue
Harry winds a finger into one of the curls that grazes his shoulder as he stares at the jars of colored ribbons on the table in front of him. Pink, black, orange, green, and white. Red, blue, teal, and yellow. Each ribbon a different color, each ribbon a differentâŠpermission. Encouragement?
Harry pulls at his lip, considering.
Pink, he thinks, at least for the evening. A pale blue. The braided blue, white, and green. And⊠he lets his hand hesitate over the jar, then takes a deep breath and shoves it in.
Yellow.
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If You Leave Me (60K) by Wellington28
Niall has found himself alone after his long time partner left him. To cheer himself up, he adopts a puppy who quickly becomes his best friend...until she runs away, too. Now, Niall is alone again and has to navigate life without a partner - human or canine - and figure out how to move forward without the one thing he wants most - stability. Will he find that with Canada's prettiest good boy?
Despite the sad summary I promise itâs mostly fluff! Please give it a chance đđ
-or-
the ace Shiall puppy fic
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and a beautiful heartbreaking reread of one of my favourite fics everâŠ.
all we can do is keep breathing (310K) by thealmightyavocado | @avocadolouie
âHarry, I-Iâm so sorryâŠâ Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louisâ soul, itâs so hard, nearly impossible.
That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself.
But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty âIâm so sorryâ that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isnât at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.
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a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.
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a teddy bear for you if you made it this far đ§ž
stat time!
878,604 words read (34% more than last month)
23 fics read (43% more than last month)
22 authors (45% more than last month)
i hope youre all healing & doing okay, it has been an incredibly difficult few weeks. i kept reading fics because i needed to feel normal & liam will forever live on in them <3
i'm here if you need anything. see you next month. (which is november how crazy is that!!??)
#28th appreciation#fic rec#larry fics#hljournal#trackinghappily#monthly fic rec#tracksintheam#trackinghome#october fic rec#larry fic rec#hlficlibrary#larry fic#ao3 feed larry#larry stylinson#1dficlibrary
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An antique c1900 Arts & Crafts Movement pendant with an umbrella-shaped amethyst-set top and arrow-shaped pendants that terminate in pearls. Built in 14K gold. Hangs on a new 16" gold filled chain.
eriebasin.com
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sacrosanct | leon kennedy x reader | 3
< PREVIOUS | NEXT >
pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader
summary: Leon, a paladin of the temple who became a disillusioned oathbreaker, returns from years of war with a noble title and shattered faith. Once devoted to the Saintess who healed him, Leon's admiration has twisted into repressed desireâfeelings he could never express, tainted by guilt and shame. Now a celebrated hero, heâs drawn back not to the kingdomâs praises, but to the chance of one last glimpse of you to move on with his life.
The god he abandoned has other plans for him.
word count: 14K
warnings: period-typical conservative values... bechdel test failure đ
author's note: i am a liar. this isn't the end. the finale will be the next one... im sorry đ
đ READ ON AO3 !
The small candle flickers in the corner of the room, casting faint, dancing shadows across the stone walls. The soft snores of the other maids fill the space around you, their breathing steady, their bodies resting in untroubled sleep. But you are awake. Kneeling at the edge of your thin, rough bed, the worn fabric of your nightdress brushing against your knees, you clasp your hands tightly together in silent prayer.
The small idol of Ethelion rests before youâa crude wooden carving of your making, stained with the blood you shed clumsily cutting into your flesh over and over in the process, no taller than your hand. Itâs a far cry from the towering statues of Him that once surrounded you, carved from marble and adorned in gold. Those statues commanded awe, reverence. This one, however, looks small and sad, like the devotion of the people who crafted it was just enough to create something that could barely hold the likeness of a god.
Your hands are trembling, the beads of your prayer bracelet rattling softly with the movement. You take a shaky breath, glancing around the room as if to make sure no one has stirred. The air is stifling, the thick warmth of the shared space pressing down on you like a weight. The scent of sweat and old straw clings to the air, mixed with the faint sweetness of the single candle burning beside you.
How different this is from the temples you once knelt in. The hallowed halls of Ethelion, with their lofty ceilings and polished floors, where incense filled the air and your prayers echoed off the sacred stones. There, the light streamed through stained glass in brilliant colors, casting a holy glow over everything it touched. Here, the room is dim, cramped, and suffocating. The candleâs flicker feels more like a reminder of how small the world has become around you.
You bow your head, trying to steady your breath, the whisper of your prayer barely audible over the steady rise and fall of the other girls' breathing. âEthelion, guide me,â you murmur, though the words feel strained, thin. âForgive my wandering heart.â
The idol doesnât respond, of course. Itâs nothing more than carved wood, far removed from the grand images of your god that once surrounded you. Still, you pray. Itâs all you know. All you should do. Must do.
The sound of a creaking bedframe startles you, and your heart lurches. You glance over your shoulder to see one of the maids, Sarah, shifting in her sleep. Her face is calm, untroubled by the worries that gnaw at your mind. You envy her.
Biting your lip, you turn back to the idol, lowering your head once more. But the words are harder to find now. Your thoughts are too loud, too tangled, too restless.
How long has it been since you truly felt His presence? Pouring into your veins like sunlight every single time you reached out to Him?
You were supposed to be His chosen one. The vessel through which His light would shine. But that light has dimmed, and you donât know if itâs because He has abandoned you, or if you have failed Him. Maybe itâs both. Maybe you were never worthy to begin with.
Your fingers curl around the prayer beads, the cool touch of them grounding you, but they feel foreign now. When you were the Saintess, they were a symbol of your connection to Ethelion, a reminder of your place in the world. Now, theyâre just relics of a past lifeâone that feels more distant with each passing day.
âWhy did you leave me?â The question slips out before you can stop it, a breathless whisper that hangs in the air, fragile and desperate.
You grit your teeth, trying to suppress the bitterness that rises in your chest. Youâre not supposed to question Him. Youâre supposed to trust, to believe without doubt, without hesitation. That was your purpose, the sole reason for your existence.
Your hands drop into your lap, the weight of your own thoughts too heavy to hold up anymore.
Is this what your life has become? Praying to a god who's turned away from you, living in the shadows of who you once were? You glance at the idol again, the dim candlelight making it seem even more pathetic, more distant.
Thereâs no divine presence here. Just you, alone, in the dark.
The flicker of the candle casts long shadows across the small room, its light barely reaching the corners. You can hear the rustle of straw from the other beds as the girls shift in their sleep, unaware of your turmoil. This space is so different from the serene, almost divine solitude of the temple. Here, youâre surrounded by peopleâby warmth, by the soft murmur of life. But youâve never felt more isolated.
Being the Saintess had its burdens, but at least you knew where you belonged. You knew your purpose. Now, youâre adrift, clinging to a god who might not even remember you. Who might have never cared to begin with.
But oh, how you love Him. How you ache for Him. Even in this moment, when grief threatens to choke you, the longing in your heart burns brighter. It stings your eyes, your throat. How desperately you want to belong again, to feel His light filling you.
It's you. You're the problem. Not Him.
You close your eyes, pressing your palms together so tightly they ache. If you just pray hard enoughâif you just focusâyouâll feel Him again. Youâll find that connection, that sense of peace that once filled your every breath.
Leon's wrong.
You've grown accustomed to hard work, to physical exertion. It's far better than the hollow nothingness that's left in the aftermath of losing the divinity you'd been given. Yes, the job is strenuous. Exhausting. But it keeps you from falling back into the endless spiral of self-doubt. You're not miserable here. You're... content. As content as a person in your situation can be. And that's not nothing.
Besides, it's the best thing that could have happened to you. Compared to the streets, compared to the empty abbey in which you dwelled alone, this is a blessing. You cannot deny that. To be able to bathe and dress and eat is such an immense gift. Ethelion hasn't left your side, not for one second.
...went back to what you know best once more. Serve. This time, under a different name. A Saintess. A servant. It's not all that different, you know.
You press your forehead to the cool stone wall beside your bed, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. You thought you could find solace in prayer, in the familiar rhythms of devotion. But no matter how many words you whisper, no matter how tightly you press your hands together, his words keep tearing at the fragile seams of your heart.
The memories rise unbidden. Days spent fasting until your vision blurred, your body trembling under the weight of divine obligation. Nights spent kneeling on cold marble floors, your prayers stretching into the early hours, the ache in your legs a reminder that your suffering was part of the duty. Every blessing you gave, every drop of blood shed from the blade into the mouths of those in need, every prayer you offered, was a part of the divine plan. You had accepted it. You had embraced it. You believed in it.
Leon's whisper sneaks up into your mind, like a snake coiling around your thoughts, And it still wasn't enough.
You shake your head, willing the thoughts away, but they cling to you like thorns. There had been a time when you thought you were content, when you believed your life had purpose. Even after losing your title, even when you were stripped of the robes, the veil, and everything that once defined you, you told yourself you were free.
I can still be of use, you had thought. I can find a way to live the way I used to. Perhaps Ethelion had granted you mercy. Gifted you with a path to follow that didn't lead to complete disgrace, to ruin.
Your eyes sting, but no tears come. You've cried too much already. Instead, you pull the thin blanket around your shoulders, huddling closer to the wall and shutting your eyes tight, clutching the idol tight. It's as close as you'll get to feeling the divine now, a piece of wood cut to look like your God, reduced to a mere object to be held.
You miss the simplicity of being used. The serenity. The fulfillment. You miss knowing that your suffering meant something, that your blood, your body, your soul, served a higher purpose, and that's all you had ever desired. And now, all that seems to be left of you is this empty husk, chasing fragments of memories like fireflies on an endless summer evening.
You glance at the other maids, their forms barely visible under their threadbare blankets, their breaths even and untroubled. They sleep so soundly, unaware of the turmoil that grips you.
You envy them. You envy the clarity of their lives, the ease with which they move through their days. For them, there is no loss of grand purpose, no heavy weight of fallen grace. They scrub floors, they mend clothes, they serve mealsâand they rest. They donât carry the burden of a godâs silence.
You thought you were free when you came here. You thought you had left the life you had in the temple behind. But Leon saw through you, saw the truth you didnât want to admit to yourself. You havenât left. Not truly. Youâve simply traded one form of servitude for another. For the sake of feeling whole again.
You wonder if he can see through you. If he can pick apart all the pieces you are trying to hold together. If he can see the cracks in the image you try so hard to project, the invisible scars that have been healed by Ethelion's hand ritual after ritual. But then, he doesnât even know who you are, not really. Not like he thinks he does.
You don't know who you are, either. You've only been the Saintess, always guided by someone else, fulfilling duties for Ethelion. When the grace flowed through your veins, you were confident, firm. Calm. Resolute in the knowledge that you were the only one who could do what you did. Your mind clear as crystal. Then you lost everything. Or at least, everyone who recognized you. Your place in the world.
That's who Leon knows. He doesn't know anything of you, or the mortal who lived within you. No. He just sees you as the Saintess. Nothing more.
That's why marriage is the only way he can continue his duty as an Oathbreaker. He sees you as holy and elevated above others. And he needs to reconcile himself with what he thinks he failed to do, what he thinks he must fulfill for you, to atone for his sins. You understand. You were made to understand.
When you look at him, you can't help but see an echo of your former self, a kindred spirit bound by duty to your cause. He yearns to honor his promises, to fulfill his responsibilities, just as you once did.
Leon's a good man, with a noble heart. And his devotion is true. But it isn't because he loves you. It's because he pities you.
And you hate it. You hate it because you know you don't deserve this. This kindness. This sympathy. You're nothing but a shadow of what you used to be. A remnant of a time gone by. Your wings have been clipped. Your fate sealed. Yet here he stands, offering to take your broken, battered self in, to care for you, to cherish you, when that loyalty should belong to the new saintess. To the woman who will be able to keep his oaths intact and secure his salvation, who can guarantee his place in Ethelion's heaven.
His presence lingers like smoke from a burning log, impossible to dispel, choking the very breath from your lungs. You don't turn your head, but you know he's there, hovering at the door to the kitchen. A hush falls over the room as the servants freeze, caught between their tasks and this new development.
It isn't appropriate for a noble to be here, wandering the manor's halls uninvited, and yet... Leon seems unperturbed by the breach of social conduct, gazing about as though he were surveying his own grounds.
Finally, the silence is broken by a shuffle of footsteps, and the head maid comes forward, hands clasped together in respectful greeting. She keeps her eyes lowered, avoiding direct contact, but she inclines her head deferentially.
"Sir, how may we be of assistance?"
Leon glances over the room again, as though considering each of you in turn, and heaves a sigh. "I want to speak with her." He gestures toward you without looking at you specifically, focused on the head maid.
Your hands tighten around the cloth you're holding, wrinkling the fabric. He's talking about you, you know it. But your mind still drifts back to the previous night, to the tender expression in his eyes as he offered you everything on a platter, a feast spread out before a starving beggar. Your chest constricts painfully, and you suck in a deep breath, doing your best to calm your racing thoughts.
"Ah..." The head maid hesitates, clearly caught off-guard. "Of course, sir. If I may inquire about the reason?"
"Please don't concern yourself with it."
"Surely there must be some misunderstanding here?" The head maid counters gently, frowning slightly. "If she has done something wrong..."
"...no, that is not the case." Leon interrupts before she finishes speaking, his tone clipped.
He stares directly at you now, a piercing gaze that makes you feel like you're a mouse beneath the paw of a cat, unable to break free. The entire kitchen seems to tense, everyone aware of how out of place and inappropriate this encounter is, waiting for your response.
A shudder runs down your spine, and you fight to suppress the impulse to curl in on yourself protectively, to make yourself as small and invisible as possible. Heat floods into your face, creeping up along the line of your neck to settle under the collar of your simple cotton dress. The fabric feels too tight, too restrictive, pinching your skin uncomfortably, making sweat prickle along your hairline. Your palms are damp, but you don't dare wipe them on your skirt. It's improper to fidget. To let weakness show.
To be seen.
"I apologize," Leon continues after a moment's pause, seeming to recover his composure somewhat, "but there's something private that I'd like to discuss with her. And, uh...alone, please."
Another shiver wracks your frame. Goosebumps erupt over the back of your exposed arms, trailing up the length of your bare forearms. Your stomach roils nervously as all eyes swivel toward you, boring into the back of your skull, drilling holes straight through you. The room feels stifling. Overly hot and overwhelming, as though you're drowning in the heavy air. The taste of ash coats your tongue, and you struggle to swallow around the lump lodged in your throat. You wish you could disappear right now. Melting away and leaving nothing but a faint outline of yourself would be better than enduring the scrutiny of this moment.
The head maid takes a step back, and then another, backing up until she's standing near her colleagues, all of whom stare expectantly at you, waiting, and you can't jog quickly enough towards the door to escape the sudden oppressive atmosphere.
You hear him, quick steps matching yours as you push forward, and he places himself next to you, keeping the pace with effortless strides. The contrast between your hurried walk and his composed saunter is striking; the way his height and his strength tower over your frame, swallowing you whole with an instinctive reflex. But, unlike most men, he doesn't impose it upon youâat least, not intentionally.
"Saintessâ"
The old name snaps you out of your momentary daze, and you halt in your steps, stopping to glare at him. "It's Saintess no longer."
For once, he falters, blinking. You imagine he wasn't expecting you to cut him off with such brusqueness, but hearing it used gives you an unpleasant jolt. You'd been called the same title for so long that your name was nothing more than a memory, a fading dream of what you once were. It's difficult to think of yourself as anything other than Saintessâit's hard to believe in what else you could have been in that past, without being granted such sacred gifts.
But now? Now it's something tainted with bitterness. Of what could have been, if your gifts hadn't faded like the last golden rays of sun melting into the ocean.
"Sorry. Forgive me," he murmurs quietly, looking oddly apologetic. And perhaps it's this display of genuine contrition that softens your resolve.
"Why did you seek me? Is this about what happened yesterday?"
It's subtle, but you catch a glimpse of shock in his eyes, the hint of widening in them. He clears his throat and says, "Yes. About that. I had some things I needed to clarify. Some questions."
There's a pause, a beat of silence that drags on, until it's filled with a sort of anticipation, a curious hope. You know the kindâthe one that builds up within, swelling, threatening to burst out of confines. You know it well, because that feeling used to drive your prayers, your words murmured in fervent whispers, rising to a crescendo before crashing down, like a wave cresting into foamy seafoam before its ebb. But this is different. What compels him is entirely different.
"Questions? Such as?" You tilt your head curiously, trying to mask the wavering nerves. You're not used to having conversations like this, and even though his company should bring a sense of peace, it only makes your pulse flutter in nervous agitation. It's so strange to be the sole focus of someone else, and while the attention would have been coveted by your old self, now it feels uncomfortable, itchy, like something is crawling over your skin.
He glances around. The hallways are empty and quiet, but you're both alone in public, and he won't voice his thoughts unless you prompt him to. Your mind wanders to how easily he slipped into the background of the manor, hidden among the rows of people going about their day, so natural in the way he navigated the spaces around you.
So unlike how he acts around you.
Then, as if picking up on your mental whirling, he asks, "Are you happy here? Are you comfortable? I don't mean to pry, I'm just concerned that I..." He seems to fumble for words, like a child who lost his footing, then recovers, adding with haste, "Iâm sorry my offer made you feel like I was degrading your position. That wasnât the case at all."
A sigh escapes your lips. The apology brings no sense of relief or ease to your tension-ladened shoulders; rather, it leaves you feeling guilty. The shame of burdening him eats away at your gut, gnawing like a parasite growing into something vile inside you. His words from the day before replay in your earsâof the indignance at the thought of you serving, of you working as a servant.
Is this what this is? Him pitying your plight? Feeling as though it is his responsibility to 'right' your situation? It's a noble notion, but it isn't his to handle.
"You didn't offend me," you admit slowly. A part of you is afraid to meet his gaze, scared to see the pity in it. You have no doubt he means wellâyou could almost feel the sincerity emanating from his body, the kind that radiates from people who sincerely want the best for others, not out of an ulterior motive. You had encountered this type often, though it was in a more ceremonious setting. "Your intentions were noble."
"I'm glad." He offers a smile. A genuine, relieved one. Something blooms within you at the sight of it.
"...how is it that youâre permitted to stroll the halls as you wish?" You ask, raising your brows. It doesn't pass your notice, the way people would jump to action as soon as Leon walked in.
"Well, the Redfields are all familiar with me. I'm a guest. And not a particularly troublesome one."
"Indeed."
"So..."
His voice trails off, leaving the end of that statement hanging there, unsaid but nonetheless understood. A silence falls between you again. You can't say much about the other occupants, but even you are uneasy around Leon when he has that serious, unreadable expression.
And that's how he usually looks. With a little sadness, a touch of longing in his gaze. Maybe regret. But mostly, he wears this pensive look, as if he's lost in thought, deep in concentration, mulling over the words in his head.
Right now, his face is blank. Completely void of emotion. Just that somber stare, contemplating the situation in front of him. His expression would be unassuming and neutral if not for those troubled eyes, constantly flickering back and forth. It's frustratingly annoying, like he's weighing the options and can't decide which side he wants to go with.
Yet, you're fascinated at the same time. How his lashes flutter delicately, the creases forming between his brows as he ponders. All these little details, all of these signs, he is putting on display. Intentionally or otherwise. He used to be an open book, now it is closed, guarded and locked with no keys. You crave to peer at whatever lies within, but you've already seen glimpses. Fragments, snippets. Moments. Enough to stir your interest, though.
So when you hear him clear his throat, you find yourself glancing back up. Caught staring.
"If I may be so bold..." he begins, his tone betraying nothing. "Why stay here?"
You're taken aback by his frank question. So much for subtly.
"I don't understand..."
"I've learned that retired saintesses choose to become nuns at convents and dedicate their lives to prayer and acts of charity. Which is what I assumed you would have chosen." He crosses his arms, and you note that he has a very strong, muscled physique when the movement makes his arm and chest pop. It's distracting through his clothes, and it's making you very conscious of yourself and the differences between you both, even physically. "But here you are, doing labor that is deemed... less desirable. And I'm confused. Why is that?"
You shrug, averting your gaze. It's a difficult answer to provide, especially when you haven't given yourself the chance to contemplate it yet. But... maybe it's because he asked. It doesn't seem fair to brush him off, not when he's opened himself up so genuinely to you.
"Perhaps I am tired of prayers." That seems to startle Leon, so you continue with renewed bravery. "Is it that bad to want to experience the world, to understand humanity, instead of seclude myself away from it? And I can only do that by walking in their shoes."
The silence stretches out again, but the atmosphere doesn't feel stifling anymore. Instead, you find yourself breathing easier, leaning into the softness of it.
"Come," Leon says suddenly. He holds out his arm and gestures toward the end of the hallway. "Let me walk you to a place better suited for this conversation."
The thought of taking him up on itâof stepping away with himâdoesn't horrify you like it would have yesterday. He's somehow more open now, his defenses slightly lower, his words more fluid, more casual. Relaxed. Like you're two old friends meeting for a pleasant stroll, reminiscing on times past. Or maybe just acquaintances getting to know each other better. Either way, it feels nice, and the thought warms your heart.
Something about this feels right. Natural. Almost as though it was meant to be.
And so, you loop your hand into the crook of his elbow and let him guide you out of the narrow passageway and out into the sunshine. The bright morning light blinds you briefly, and you blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh contrast between indoors and outdoors.
Leon guides you towards a row of large stone benches facing the pond at the center of the garden, shielded from view of anyone walking nearby, providing the illusion of privacy. He motions for you to take a seat, and you do, scooting closer towards him as he settles beside you.
There is an indescribable tranquility about the scene before you: the sun shining down on the glistening water, the breeze rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees, the chirping of birds echoing around you. The warmth seeping through the fabric of your clothing envelops you, and you breathe deeply, relishing the fresh air. You've always been captivated by nature; there's an undeniable beauty in simplicity, in things unhindered by manmade restrictions. There's purity and innocence in it too, and you bask in the peacefulness of it all.
And with Leon beside you now, it... almost feels right. As though everything has clicked into place. As though it's meant to be like this. A shared moment. Between equals. Between people who matter to each other. You savor the feeling of normalcy in your veins, warming your cheeks, your stomach fluttering with nerves but also comfort.
This momentâthis fleeting moment in timeâis perfect.
There is nothing more beautiful than freedom. That much is certain.
"How are you finding life outside of the temple?" The question breaks through your haze of contentment, causing you to jerk up and turn your head in surprise.
Leon sits perfectly still beside you, watching you intently, and that pocket of small silence is striking enough for you to be confronted with how a splash of dark ink he is in the midst of the popping colors of the garden.
A long, midnight-black coat sweeps past his knees in a fluid motion, its tailored cut accentuating the figure with sharp, clean lines, the surface gleaming faintly in the light, as if woven with threads of shadow, and its cuffs and lapels are embroidered with fine golden patterns. Beneath the coat, a double-breasted vest, also black but subtly different in texture, wraps snugly around his strong torso. The vest is fastened with polished brass buttons that gleam with a soft, antique sheen, each button precisely aligned. A chain, slender and golden, drapes elegantly from the vestâs pocket, suggesting the presence of a pocket watch. At his throat, an indigo cravat is tied with meticulous care, its silky fabric mirroring the coatâs inner lining, and at its center is a dark jewel gleaming with understated brilliance. The trousers, pressed to perfection, follow the form of his legs with a tailored precision, and gloved hands, encased in supple black leather, complete the ensemble. The suit fits perfectly, and it looks impressive enough for your first guess to be that it is tailor-made. The overall effect is that of a man who commands power, presence, and authority, and the sharpness of his gaze emphasizes this impression even further.
A man dressed to impress, no doubt. For what occasion, you dare not ask. A court function, perhaps? You cannot help but wonder just how many layers there are in the clothing he wears beneath that coatâand how many hands were required to help him into such an elaborate outfit.
It's such a far cry from the white robes he wore as a paladin, with their simpler forms and design, yet it's equally elegant, in its own way.
"...is there something wrong?" Leon asks, catching you staring. He tilts his head to the side, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. "Was that the wrong questionâ"
"No. It'sâfine. There's nothing wrong," you interject hastily, averting your eyes from his intense stare. Ogling him like that, out in the open, what is wrong with you! It's so unbecoming, so improper! "Life's... Life has been different. An adjustment, to say the least. I didn't know how to put it for a moment there, but... yes. It's been rather, uh..."
You trail off, your mind drawing a blank, unsure what word you're searching for. The sensation is awkward and unfamiliar, and you worry he might think poorly of your lack of eloquence, but he waits patiently, letting you stumble through it on your own.
Finally, you find your voice again, saying, "I enjoy it. Here, I mean. I came here hoping to gain some experience, learn the ways of humility. It's satisfying to be useful."
His expression grows contemplative, his eyes dark and unfathomable, but he doesn't speak. This close, you can smell the faint scent of perfume on his collar, the sweet aroma mingling with the crisp freshness of soap and dewy linen, mixed with something that's distinctly him, something you can't quite identify but makes your insides twist all the same.
"And before you say anything," you add, feeling a sudden rush of courage, "I know now, yes. That it's just a different path of servitude. But the difference is that I chose this. I could have become a nun as you said. I don't know, I... I guess I just needed some semblance of control. In the absence of Him, I could choose for myself for once."
"I suppose I can understand the feeling." He nods thoughtfully. His voice is gentle, understanding. And you find yourself wishing that he wouldn't act like this towards youâa woman who's just a mere maid. A nobody. "I've had to make that choice in His absence as well. Not exactly similar circumstances, but there are parallels to be drawn."
The admission stuns you momentarily, your lips parting in surprise, but your shock soon morphs into curiosity, and you lean closer, eager to hear more of him. "You're faring way better than me, I'd say, Sir Leon."
He laughs. It's low, rich, and smooth, like silk against your skin, and you nearly shiver. "You don't need to address me like that. Just 'Leon' is fine. My... former role isn't relevant to where I am now."
There's a touch of self-conscious humor to that remark. You've never heard him sound so playful, almost cockyâand certainly not with youâbut it's refreshing. Almost comforting. "Of course." You shift in your seat, turning toward him so that your knee brushes against his. It's a small gesture, but it makes his whole leg jerk for some reason. "...may I ask, how are you adjusting?"
"Better, lately." A wistful smile plays about his lips, as if he's reflecting on fond memories. "The years haven't been easy... But they were necessary. They were worth it."
"To get where you are now?" you complete for him, your expression matching his, a mirror. "Why did you choose this new path, if I may inquire?"
For an instant, he freezes, seemingly caught off guard by the question, but he recovers quickly, his face remaining placid save for a brief flash of emotion that passes too quickly for you to decipher it. His gaze turns inward, focused on some point in space beyond you, and he lets out a breath. "That's a... heavy topic. One which I'm not sure we should discuss in public."
"Oh... My apologies," you blurt out, instantly regretting having been so direct. Of course it would be an inappropriate subject of conversation. What were you thinking? A former member of the Church blatantly questioning him about his oathbreaking, of all topics. You drop your gaze in shame. "I'm sorry, I overstepped. We can talk about something else if you wish. Something less personal. Anything. You canâif you wantâask me questions in return."
"Oh, no, please don't apologize," he interjects quickly, gently. His eyes meet yours once more, and although they're still guarded, there's also tenderness and reassurance behind them. "I don't mind sharing this story with you. There just needs to be another time and place for it. Is that alright?"
"...yes, yes, absolutely!" You nod vigorously, surprised at yourself for accepting his offer so eagerly, yet strangely excited about it nonetheless. You never would have expected a former paladin to invite you to talk to him, to spend time together... Though in truth, you hardly know anything about this man before you, other than his past deeds. The thought causes butterflies to flutter in your belly.
Leon chuckles softly at your reaction. "Wonderful."
Then his expression becomes serious again as he surveys your surroundings, pausing for several beats before speaking. When he does, his voice is calm, measured, and careful. "Back to you, then... You've mentioned you chose to do this of your own accord... Do you enjoy doing domestic tasks? Having your own space, your own things?"
"Most of those, I mean, uh... I don't have my own space, but I appreciate the accommodations here, so, yes." You give him a little smile. "Sharing a room doesn't allow for much ownership. About the work... I do enjoy it most days. Sometimes I grow tired but I keep at it. And the staff has taught me a lot, so I don't feel too clumsy. You should have seen me try my first laundry sessionâ"
A cough cuts in, and you stiffen.
Turning around, you catch a group of maids hiding behind the hedge, peeking from their shelter with reddened faces. You wonder if they have been listening in on the two of you. Embarrassing. "...We should return to the main building. Before the gossips begin."
He hesitates briefly before nodding. You notice the tip of his ears redden before he pulls away, leaving your side colder than before, and offers you his arm once more. You loop your hand into the crook of his elbow and let him guide you back onto the cobbled path back towards the house.
His pace is leisurely as he leads you toward the manor proper, guiding you along with ease. Every so often, his gaze darts around, seemingly keeping an eye out for someone approaching. Perhaps he wishes to avoid being seen with you, you think wryly, trying to suppress the hurt that thought gives you. It's not his fault. You both must maintain a certain image. It's only natural for him to not want to be associated with the likes of a servant girl. Still, as you make your way through the hallways, you can't stop yourself from noticing the odd looks you garner from the servants who pass by the two of you, and you wonder why, as he's just escorting you.
You're quick to learn, however, that you were too caught up in the appropriateness of a paladin escorting the saintess that you forgot to consider how it would translate to a noble in a maid's company, no matter her status. It takes a pointedly raised eyebrow from a knight you recognize to bring you to your senses, to realize what might be running through the minds of the household members you walk by.
A noble does not take a maid by the elbow. That's apparently reserved for a lady. And even among that select circle of women, it's for a more private audience.
The gossip has already started, in earnest.
It's not Lord Chris that calls on you later that week after the gossip reaches an all time high, but Dame Jill and Lady Claire, sisters in all but blood.
When you answer their summons, they greet you warmly and immediately whisk you away, leading you through the twisting corridors of the castle until you arrive in the courtyard, where an elaborate picnic is spread out before you. It seems as though they had it all planned out: the plump cushions, the fancy drinks and dishes, the lavish decorations. You relax that this isn't about the etiquette fiasco with Leon for a second, and figure they'll ask you to serve them instead. That you can handleâjust don't spill wine on their dresses, and be prepared to pour a refill as they ask.
However, they don't ask you to stand to the side, but join them instead, sitting atop the cushions like equals. It's strange at first, not knowing where to settle down, but after some adjusting and squirming, you find yourself settled comfortably within reach, nibbling on fruit from the extravagant buffet laid out before you while sipping cool chilled juice served in elegant crystal goblets.
It's surreal. Strange and unusual, but not in an uncomfortable way. And yet, you can't shake the feeling that this is some kind of trap, that they must want something from you. You know their intentions are genuine, but your expectations were always that of service. Obedience. Not in the favor of others.
Maybe they sense that, because the topic shifts suddenly and unexpectedly.
"We wanted to have a little girl talk with you," Lady Claire says, picking up a grape from her plate and popping it into her mouth with surprising finesse. She licks the excess juice from her fingertips, her green eyes fixed firmly upon you. "You know, harmless stuff. About the terrifying creature lurking in the horizon and getting closer every day, that you call the what am I doing with my life meltdown. It's a common occurrence around a certain age. I'm sure you're familiar with it."
Although it's phrased like a question, there's an unmistakable ring of amusement in her tone. Amusement at your expense, but it doesn't feel mocking or mean-spirited in nature, only teasing. You're relieved this isn't about Leon, but horrified all the same that all of your anxieties can be summed up with that one sentence.
"I... I've heard of it," you mumble sheepishly.
"Oh Claire," Dame Jill admonishes loudly, throwing a warning glance at her friend, which Lady Claire promptly ignores. "This isn't the time to be making light of it."
"Still, though. The poor girl clearly needs some perspective and advice." The auburn-haired lady shrugs and moves on, not missing a beat, completely nonchalant. "So. Someone from your past appears, and now you find yourself plagued with existential doubts and insecurities. I know this would happen eventually. That's why I told you to aim higher in life before you started out here, but you went and got stubborn anyway. And now look at you."
She smiles as she says this, reaching out to pat your shoulder reassuringly. There's no malice in her voice, not even a hint of mockery; she's genuinely concerned about your welfare and her tone reflects that.
But that doesn't prevent you from flinching away instinctively, cringing internally at the mention of your inflexibility, and at the reminder that you do need guidance in life, especially right now.
And even if they don't know all the details, the Redfield family members are excellent at reading you like a bookâalready, they've hit pretty much every point with pinpoint accuracy, cutting to the core of your problems with frightening precision, and leaving you feeling raw and exposed underneath their keen scrutiny. It's unnerving how easily these two women managed to discern so much information just by observing your behavior and gauging your reactions, and it leaves you feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.
Your eyes flick nervously towards Dame Jill. She hasn't spoken much throughout the entire exchange, simply watching you quietly with a thoughtful expression on her face, but she must notice your unease, because she speaks up at last, breaking her silence.
"You can relax. We're not here to pry into your affairs. And while you should listen to Claire's wordsâshe does have her moments where she actually makes senseâ"
"Why would you say it like thatâ"
"We can also offer you practical advice and assistance. The world can be tough. Especially if you're a woman."
The fact that there was such care despite your comparatively low social standing warms your heart. Like they're really relatives of yours who werenât frequent donors to your temple and got special visits to you for blessing and healing purposes. If you hadn't gotten to know them better after becoming a maid, you could have mistaken them as real sisters.
The words themselves give you pause, though. You're grateful, yet puzzled too by this unexpected kindness from these two high-born ladies, so foreign to you.
"I do love the little life I've built for myself. Even if it's mundane." You reply slowly, unsure how else to express this unfamiliar emotion bubbling within you. "It may be menial work, but it gives purpose. A sense of accomplishment."
"And what about when you want something more for yourself?" Dame Jill presses, leaning in closer. Her gaze is piercing, almost accusatory, but her tone remains calm, steady, never wavering in its intensity. She wants answersâfrom you.
But you don't have any.
"I don't know what I want in the first place," you finally confess, turning to look out over the gardens, feeling overwhelmed and uncertain. "I'm just trying to survive in this world. Everything's new to meâhaving autonomy, being able to decide for myself... I never dared imagine much beyond fulfilling His will, or whatever duties were assigned to me as Saintess. All of this... Sometimes I find myself entertaining the possibilities of certain things now, things I didn't know I could until very recently. And I don't know if I should."
The out of guilt part, you leave out of it. Thatâs a box of worms you arenât willing to dump on these poor women.
Lady Claire pipes up immediately, excitement written across her face: "Then go chase them! Go and enjoy life and love and all that fun stuff!"
A sudden wave of anxiety washes over you at the mention of 'love', and you can't help but feel mortified, suddenly realizing that what you meant probably sounded quite different from her interpretation of it.
Thankfully, the young noblewoman doesn't seem aware of your slip-up, continuing enthusiastically with a dreamy expression: "Trust me, you definitely want to start living for yourself before it becomes too late, otherwise you'll end up like some of the old prune lords you see around court."
You try to contain your laughter at the sight of such pure enthusiasm, but fail miserably, letting it burst out. They both join you shortly thereafter, filling the air with melodious peals of laughter as the sun shines brightly overhead. After all that time spent being trapped inside walls all your life, to laugh so freely feels like nothing short of heavenly bliss. And it feels good. Laughterâjoyful, unrestrained laughterâis something that's far rarer these days than you would ever admit aloud.
"I wasn't going to talk about this just yet but..." Dame Jill clears her throat, regaining control of herself. She straightens her dress carefully before looking back up at you with a serious expression on her beautiful features. "Leon's offer could very well be the answer you're looking for."
"I..." you start defensively, but Dame Jill raises her hand and silences you before you can finish forming the rest of your protest.
"Hear me out. I'm going to lay it out for you from a strategic and realistic angle. The simple truth of the matter is that you have limited options, given your background and current position in society. You don't have access to power, resources, or wealth. This is the reason why former saintesses stay in the conventâit's safer and easier, compared to facing the real world head on with no experience."
It makes perfect logical sense. Dame Jill is laying out the facts plainly, and even though you may not fully understand all of the nuances involved with regards to the issue of marriage in noble society, you're smart enough to comprehend what she's telling you. Your heart leaps into your throat at the thought of marriage, of Leon... and then promptly drops into your stomach once more.
"In our world, it's unlikely anyone else will ever ask for your hand unless you actively seek a match for yourself, which is why people generally arrange marriages instead. It's a miserable affair for women, because they don't really have a say in who gets picked, or what kind of person that suitor ends up being. But you... I say you've been blessed. To have found someone willing and able to provide for you financially and personallyâthat's rare as hen's teeth among the nobility. Leon, for all intents and purposes, is a wealthy man, one that isn't difficult to get along with."
That's true, you acknowledge silently, recalling the countless stories you've heard about the brutality of many men, especially high-born ones. If the rumors are to be believed, some wives barely avoided being locked in their rooms by the husbands they never saw, as they were forced to do as told without complaint.
But so were you made to do the same as the Saintess, in a way. You shudder just thinking of it.
Dame Jill pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing, taking in you shrinking into yourself. "What I'm trying to say is... perhaps this could work? Leon's social standing is strong. He carries great weight within Ethelia due to his achievements and is en route to become one of the wealthiest in the kingdom with all the favors he has. And from the way he ignores us when he comes to our house as a guest to tail after you tells me he wouldn't take your independence away in marriage. You'll be able to do whatever you wantâvisit wherever you please, hire any staff you desire, live wherever you fancy, and be with whomsoever you like. As long as you remain discreet about certain affairs, of course."
The last subtle suggestion about taking a separate lover after marriage is received with a loud snort of displeasure from Lady Claire, but the comment has served to jar you back into awareness.
"Which is to say, you'd be happy with him. From my perspective, that's the best deal any woman can ask for. In fact, it's quite literally out of a fairy tale, to be honest. An agreeable man who cares and will give you whatever you wish for. Wealthy. Great status. Do you not want that?"
Of course you would want that! That much you cannot deny. A happy, comfortable life with stability and freedom is exactly what you dreamt of during your worst hours in the convent. And Leon would be a decent husband. Kind, dutiful... handsome, honorable... you know those aspects already.
"But... At least I have my own freedoms as a commoner who has a job, no matter how small. I'd feel too bad to be financially dependent on him..."
"I went through the exact same thing, so let me tell you," Dame Jill states in a firm voice, raising her chin proudly as she does so, "Even with a dowry, I still depended entirely on my husband's good graces at first. But I managed to gain privileges and my own investments through him, and paid him back with my own income later. The system isn't perfect but it works. You have the luxury of starting on a higher foot than I did, and will undoubtedly earn better terms in marriage because of it. You should take advantage of that. If you use your cards right, you'll become independent from Leon soon enough."
You can see that argument. And you trust Dame Jill knows what she's talking aboutâshe and her betrothed have lived together happily, and she doesn't hold his title and still retains her own surname. That must have taken incredible maneuvering on her part to achieve. She's the living monument of her argument, evidence of it working out if a woman decides to pursue her interests under the rules set forth by noblemen by using those against them. And you suppose that if it worked for her, then perhaps...
And yet, you're still hesitant, unconvinced. "How would you suggest I do that?"
"You can become a patron for artisans and tradesmen, or fund shops with your inheritance." She shrugs lightly. "Invest in enterprises and industries related to Leon's territoriesâthere's so much potential, considering all he controls. Or join a guild to start up a company of your own. I've helped build my family's fortune through my own contributions and activities."
Oh⊠That would beâŠ
Your mind is spinning at all the possibilities opened up to you by the prospect of marriageâa whirlwind of ideas and options.
Suddenly, your future is filled with exciting prospects and opportunities, whereas before, it had only seemed bleak and dull. A chance to improve upon your life, rather than settle for what you had before. It sounds tempting. So tempting that you're almost inclined to leap at the opportunity and accept it right away because of the sole hope of somehow working your way up to something that belongs to you and yours alone, free of outside influence. Something personal.
You'd be a fool not to consider itâbut the idea is just too overwhelming to contemplate fully in a single day. You need time to process everything, to come to terms with how drastically different life would be if you agreed to the proposal. You need to take things slow. Start with the basics firstâthe practicalities of getting used to spending time around Leon and making sure he truly is what Dame Jill says.
"It's... I donât know," you murmur softly, looking down at your hands resting atop your lap. They're clasped tightly, holding onto something invisible. Your heart. Perhaps... your hopes and dreams as well... "I wouldn't even know where to begin with any of this. All of these opportunities... What if I ruin everything? Iâm not qualified like you ladies."
"All valid concerns. That's why we're here with you today and all the tomorrows to come."
A gentle squeeze to your shoulder from Lady Claire brings your attention back to them, and when you meet their gaze, you find no judgment there. No mocking. Just kindness. Understanding. Love, even.
It makes your chest ache painfully to be on the receiving end of a helping hand when you were the one extending it to others before, and you force yourself to push back the tears that threaten to form at the corner of your eyes.
You can't afford to cry now, not in front of the two people who've given you their support and guidance, who've listened without question as you poured out your fears and frustrations without judging you for expressing your emotions, who've treated you with respect and dignity despite your humble roots.
They've made sure to explain things to you in a way that makes senseâsomething that you appreciate immensely, since you've had no experience with financial matters outside the scope of charitable donations in service of the templeâand haven't belittled you or looked down on you for your lack of knowledge regarding these topics. You wouldn't have considered this marriage without them in the first place, wouldn't have even known what you could do with said marriage to help build up your own capital. How lucky you are to have met such wonderful women, who are guiding you towards discovering your own agency! You owe them far more than mere thanks.
And Leon... Leon certainly isn't a bad choice of husband at all.
After the dayâs work has slowed to its natural ebb, the warmth of the hearth fills the maidsâ quarters with a cozy, amber glow, it smells of fresh-baked bread, slightly burnt at the edges, and the faint, lingering scent of rosewater from one of the girls' perfumes. You sit cross-legged on your shared bed, your hands busy with a piece of mending, though your attention is far from the needle and thread.
The other maids bustle around, tidying up their own small spaces, chattering softly about the dayâs events. One by one, they settle into the room, their eyes flicking in your direction, and you can feel the weight of their curiosity mounting like the slow build of a storm.
Finally, Maria, one of the bolder girls with sharp green eyes and a wit to match, plops down beside you with a mischievous grin.
âAlright, out with it then!â she teases, nudging your arm. âWeâve all been wonderingâwhat's going on between you and him that both ladies called you out to talk today?â
Your heart skips a beat, though you try to keep your face neutral. âHim?â
Maria rolls her eyes dramatically. âDonât play coy with us, girl! Weâve seen the way Lord Leon looks at you whenever he visits. Always trailing after you like a lovesick puppy, isnât he?â
The room erupts in giggles, and the other girls gather closer, abandoning their pretense of work to join the conversation.
âHeâs always hanging around,â adds Lila, her voice low and conspiratorial. âAnd didnât you two have some private chat the other day?â
âThatâs right!â Maria jumps in, eyes twinkling with excitement. âI heard he came looking for you in the kitchen. Just you. Alone. If that doesnât mean something, I donât know what does!â
You try to wave them off, but the girls lean in even closer, their faces alight with the thrill of gossip.
âCome on,â Lila presses, basically dripping with eager curiosity. âSpill it! Whatâs it like, having a nobleman so interested in you?â
Your pulse quickens, and for a moment, youâre at a loss for words. The thought of sharing anything about Leonâs marriage proposal feels too intimate, too unreal. How could they possibly understand?
Still, the girlsâ eyes are bright with expectation, so you decide to tread carefully. âItâs... nothing like that,â you say softly, hoping to dissuade their excitement. âHeâs just being kind.â
Maria snorts, clearly not convinced. âKind? Please. Nobles donât come slinking around after maids out of kindness.â She pauses, then leans in even closer, words dropping to a whisper. âIf you bat your eyelashes at him the way he likes it, you could end up with a lot more than just kindness.â
You blink furiously, taken aback. âWhat do you mean?â
Lila grins wickedly. âYou know what she means. A mistress! Why else would he be following you around like that? Itâs the perfect setup! Youâd have all the perks of being with a noble without any of the chains. Gold, dresses, fancy giftsâheâd be wrapped around your finger!â
Your stomach twists at the suggestion, a rush of discomfort bubbling beneath the surface. âA... mistress?â
The word feels foreign on your tongue, sour and wrong.
âStop playing coy,â Maria says, grinning like a fox. âHeâs clearly interested in you. And youâd be a fool not to take advantage of it. Do you know how rare it is for a man of his standing to even look at someone like us?â
The other girls murmur their agreement, nodding enthusiastically.
âAnd think about it,â Lila adds, her tone soft but coaxing, âyou wouldnât have to lift a finger again. No more scrubbing floors, no more serving the ladies of the house. Youâd be living the high life, tucked away in some lovely estate with all the luxury you could ever want. All youâd have to do is keep him happy.â Her gaze flickers up and down your form, appraising, before she smirks. "And I bet he won't be too disappointed with that either."
A sudden surge of anger rises in your chest, hot and fierce. Itâs as though theyâve reduced Leonâs sincerity to a mere transaction, something cheap and temporary.
You glance around at the eager faces, each girl picturing the life theyâve described, a life of ease and opulence. But all you can think of is Leonâhis genuine concern, his careful words, his sincerity when heâd offered you a life beyond this one.
A life as his equal.
You lower your head, focusing on the piece of fabric in your lap, but your voice comes out firmer than expected. âIâm not interested in becoming anyoneâs mistress.â
Maria frowns, tilting her head. âWhy not? Itâs not like heâd marry you, you know.â
Lila nods, shrugging carelessly. Her eyes drift lazily around the cramped room as she speaks. "Let's be real here, honeyâwe all want to find a good man and live happily ever after, but that's not how the world works. If we're clever enough, we can get the right one to take us to the side and let us play the lady, maybe give us an allowance, but we'll never get to wear their name or inherit any property. Might as well enjoy the benefits of being the other woman. Life's easier that way."
A quiet realization settles over you like a comforting blanket in the midst of the winter of these girls' harsh reality and what they have to live withâLeonâs offer, regardless of whether you want to take him up on it, was a lot more honoring than you'd initially thought, more than it should be, when everyone else sees it as an empty promise, a tease of something better they could never achieve.
Because Leon hadnât offered you a life in the shadows. He hadnât looked at you as though you were something to be possessed, something to be kept hidden. Heâd offered you a futureâa real future, as his equal. And itâs only now, in the face of the maidsâ casual suggestion, that you realize just how sincere his proposal had been.
He wasnât offering you luxury in exchange for secrecy. He wasnât trying to keep you as some hidden treasure. He was offering you something far more precious than wealth or statusâhe was offering you respect.
Heâd offered you something real.
A soft breath escapes your lips, and the tension in your chest eases ever so slightly. The girls continue to chatter, oblivious to the shift in your thoughts, still wrapped up in their fantasy of you as a noblemanâs mistress.
But you know better now. You know what Leonâs intentions truly are.
And maybe, just maybe, youâre starting to understand what you want too.
The late afternoon sun bathes the garden in a golden light, casting long shadows across the cobblestone paths that wove through the hedges and flower beds. The air carries the crisp, earthy scent of autumn, mingled with the faint fragrance of fading blooms. A gentle rustling of leaves fills the space, stirred by a cool breeze, while distant bird calls echoed from the trees, the atmosphere holding a kind of serene stillness, as if the garden itself was waiting.
In spite of the nerves coiled tightly in your chest, it reminds you of the temple's private prayer gardenâyour one refuge from the weight of expectations. Here, just like there, you feel a semblance of peace. This space, however, has become something different: a sanctuary from more personal burdens, from the eyes that constantly watched, speculated, and judged your every interaction with Leon.
As you walk, your fingers skimmed the soft petals of the flowers lining the path, a tactile comfort that grounds you as your thoughts swirled. The garden is quiet, save for the faint gurgling of the fountain ahead, where a lone figure sat. Leon.
He's hunched forward, elbows resting on his thighs as he watches the water trickle steadily into the basin below, completely unaware of your presence. His fair hair hangs loose around his face, partially obscuring his features, and he wears simple, unadorned clothing, a far cry from the formal attire you'd grown accustomed to seeing him in during his visits to the manor. His coat is tossed haphazardly over one armrest, vest half-undone, sleeves rolled up messily at the elbow. Even the collar of his shirt hangs open loosely, giving a glimpse of pale skin beneath. The relaxed position belies a sense of agitation and frustration, a sort of restless energy that your offer of wanting to meet him today has caused, no doubt.
This informal state of undress is a refreshing change from his usual perfectionist approach to fashion and is unexpectedly... intimate. That, combined with the way he's dressed himself down, almost in defiance, to meet you in private gives you pause.
You have no idea if he's trying to look as approachable and nonthreatening as possible or is truly so caught up in turmoil about your answer that he's forgotten how appearances make him come across, but you're struck by how attractive he looks at the moment. It's... refreshing to see him like this. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
As if feeling your eyes on him, Leon shifts his attention to where you've paused behind him, spotting you standing in the distance. His posture abruptly straightens before he rises to his feet, greeting you formally, clear and resonant, "Saintess."
"It's notâ" you begin, instinctively recoiling at the title and reminder of all the demands that came with it, but stop yourself short. No sense in correcting him anymore. Not when you're so close to figuring out where to go next with him. Not when he looks like he's prepared for the worst. "Please. Make yourself comfortable."
He doesn't move.
There's an awkward silence. Then, slowly, reluctantly, you step forward. Your steps get swallowed by the silent garden, into the chatter of the surrounding foliage and ornamental ponds.
Now that you've closed the distance and you're standing only an arm's length apart, Leon stands impossibly tall and imposing in front of you. A shadow draped over you both by the canopy of the willow tree you've met underneath, sheltering you from the rest of the world. His blue eyes are dark like the sky in the moment before dusk, expression severe as you look up to face him properly, trying not to lose courage.
You lead with, "Have you noticed there's not one single lily blooming in the entire estate gardens?"
In the context of your talk, it comes off as an obvious subject change, and Leon picks up on it immediately, quirking up a brow quizzically, then casts a sweeping glance over the greenery instead, as if searching for any hint of the flowers you named. "Now that you mention it..."
"It stood out to me immediately," you confide. "I'm rather fond of lilies, you see. They're my favorite flower."
It sounds a little silly once you've spoken aloud, but a fond, "Ah," escapes his throat. Leon's features soften as he looks upon you again, listening carefully, intent to keep talking if you wish to speak more. There's a ghost of a smile on his mouth, tugging at his lips, like he wants to say something, but holds it in check.
"You'd think I would be able to convince Piers to plant some for me, but he said, first of all it's not your garden to change. Second of all, if you want lilies that much, how about you make your own garden and grow them yourself. Apparently, I was 'obsessed' with them enough to warrant such advice. I didn't have the first idea about caring for flowers, though. It was a bit more challenging than I anticipated, learning how to take care of plantsânot too much, not too little sunlight, not too little water, not too many pests... I realized how fortunate I was to have florists or the servants take care of things while I was the saintess. So much to learn!"
Leon makes a noncommittal hum at the back of his throat, looking off to the side pensively, brows coming together as he runs the tip of his tongue against the edge of his lower teeth, deep in thought. You look away when you catch yourself following the motion, staring openly at the soft angle of his jawline. Instead, your gaze flicks to the rows of vibrant roses nearby.
"My gardening efforts... were mediocre at best," you laugh sheepishly.
You recall the sad, shriveling collection of greens you had managed to get from the earth. Dried out and blackened with spots when you should have known better after reading so many books on the topic of cultivating the land and keeping the flora alive and thriving, how the soil felt on your fingertips and hands as you tended to the various kinds of crops. But then you had finally grown some tender stalks and baby blooms, the barest beginnings of buds bursting forth, growing lush and strongâonly to promptly die under your care. It wasn't intentionalâin fact, you had done everything right, followed all the instructions to the letterâbut it was still disappointing nonetheless, to watch as all your hard work withered and faded away before your very eyes.
"Years have passed, and I'm still not particularly great at it. For all the miracles I performed in Ethelion's name, I never did figure out what I did wrong to make my own garden turn out that way." You trail your fingertips lightly over the delicate petals of a rosebush, remembering how the dewdrops had clung to them like gems, sparkling in the sunlight. "Even today, I still haven't quite gotten the hang of it and just help Piers around. Growing my own lilies is out of the question like this. I still want it, that's the whole point of why I started this journey in the first place. But I guess fear of being confronted with the fact that these hands that once brought back many from death's doorstep can't even grow a weed correctly stops me from ever attempting. It's like a lesson in humility."
The wind ruffles Leon's golden hair as he stares off into the distance, thinking intently. He rests his weight on one leg, cocking it out to the side as he props an elbow on his thigh, settling his chin against an upturned palm. Those sharp eyes sweep across the manicured lawns of the estate, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he mulls over your words.
"You're not just talking about lilies, are you?" Leon says quietly, his tone cautious, but thoughtful. You shake your head, chewing on your lip to prevent any further emotional outbursts from betraying your composure.
You let your eyes slide shut and allow yourself a small moment of respite, inhaling deeply through your nose, tasting the fresh fall air as it fills your lungs. "I thought... A new pair of hands helping me out with the lilies would add insult to injury. Humiliating." Your fingers clench involuntarily around a rose stem, and you jerk your hand away sharply before it can snap the fragile thing in half. "After years of relying on Ethelion to supply me with lilies whenever I wanted, I thought this was the only way for me to pride myself on something for a change. Failure upon failure eventually made me realize that perhaps I'm too proud to admit that I don't have things figured out just yetâand am also ashamed to ask for assistance from others, even those that are willing to help me out when I need it. Perhaps that was another reason why I didn't even want to entertain your offer, Leon. Because it felt like giving up."
Opening your eyes again, you see him watching you intently, blue irises focused entirely on yours, attentive to every word that leaves your lips. The sight of it causes warmth to spread throughout your body, causing you to falter for a second, unsure of where to proceed next. You bite down hard on your lip, then, "And... And if... If I couldn't accomplish even something small like this, then what kind of saintess was I? What good would a failed servant of God be as a wife?"
"Goodness knows, you can be a fool, you know that?" Leon snaps without hesitation, brusque and direct. Startled by his reaction, you whip around to face him in surpriseâto see his features drawn tight in displeasure. He's frowning down at you, brow creasing, nostrils flared slightly, a muscle twitching in his jawline. "Of course you wouldn't succeed immediately. You were practically a bumbling toddler released into the wild! Trying to expect such growth in a handful of years is plain lunacy. Especially with the insistence to do it without any assistance."
"Iâ"
"And the worst part? You don't even acknowledge how you've made strides with your limitations!"
You quiet down with the shock of blatantly being scolded by someone as kind and softspoken as Leonâor for the first time in your life, for the matter.
"Let me put it like this," he says, having simmered down. "If you want to grow lilies, you need to let go of this obsession to be some almighty perfect being that must know everything there is to know in the world about lilies before setting out to grow your garden."
You wring your hands together in front of you anxiously, still taken aback by his sudden tirade, and unsure of how else to respond to it. Part of you is annoyed that he took to calling you a fool, albeit accurately so, but the greater portion of yourself is beginning to feel guilty about dismissing Leon's assistance due to your pride. You stay silent and let him finish.
"Marrying me wouldn't make you a failure. As a matter of fact, accepting my aid for the sake of getting to try your hand at creating your own garden doesn't have anything to do with that either." His gaze grows gentler as he fixes you with a firm, meaningful stare. "Even if no lilies grow today or in the next month, all the seeds you're scattering around shall come to fruition soon enough if you keep at it. If there are an extra couple of hands helping out with the watering and weeding, then surely your efforts will be twice as efficient. The goal is ultimately what mattersâmaking your dream become a reality and not be stifled by arbitrary rules that have never existed until now."
Leon's words hit home for you in ways that you didn't expect them to; how did he manage to come to terms with the issues you struggled with so easily?
"Did I do good?" he asks all of a sudden, shattering the moment, a shy grin appearing on his face that transforms his appearance almost instantly. He suddenly seems younger, less experienced, more like the paladin you knew him as years ago. A sweet, sincere boy, struggling between uncertainty and eagerness to do right by you. "Allegories are not my strong suit... Or is it called a metaphor?"
You chuckle weakly, "Yes, you certainly succeeded. More than you know, actually."
Those blue eyes light up in response, his mouth breaking into a broad grin that brightens his entire face and takes your breath away. Your heart does an odd skip in your chest, but before you have a chance to analyze the strange sensation, Leon leans forward eagerly. "Does this mean you'll accept?"
Taking in his expressionâeyes wide and hopeful, a slight flush coloring his cheeksâyou can't help but smile back with a brief nod.
"Yes?" he insists excitedly, his voice rising in pitch slightly. It's clear he isn't convinced of your answer just yet and wants some sort of verbal affirmation.
"I'd be happy to," you reply before the nervous stutter can give rise to doubts again in his mind about you. At that very instant, a flock of doves rises from the trees above and soars off into the sky, disappearing into the clouds, leaving behind only a trail of white feathers. "If you'll still have--"
"Yes!" He steps towards you quickly and envelops you in a tight embrace without warning. His arms encircle you completely, his warmth radiating through the fabric of your dress. You yelp, startled, but he only pulls you tighter against him and spins you around in the air. You cling to him helplessly, your body pressed firmly against his, and try not to think about how solid he feels underneath your fingertips.
The sudden intimacy sends a thrill through your veins, heat pooling low in your belly and spreading throughout your limbs. Then you hear him exhale loudly in your ear in relief. His hot breath tickles the sensitive skin beneath your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine, goosebumps raising along the bare nape of your neck and along your arms underneath the sleeves. All the pent-up anxiety leaves his body at once and you find yourself relaxing in response. For a split-second you forget where you are or who you're withâonly that you want to feel more of him against you...
The lightness in Leon's eyes is a rare sight, one you haven't seen since you first crossed paths again. His entire face is illuminated by his beaming grin, so bright it almost makes you forget the chill in the air. Youâd said yes, and in that moment, it was as though the world outside the garden ceased to exist. Itâs just the two of you, suspended in timeâLeonâs arms still wrapped around you, his breath warm on your cheek.
âYou won't regret this,â Leon says as he pulls away slightly, his smile never fading.
You nod, too overwhelmed to say anything more. Thereâs something about the way he says those words, with such sincerity and confidence, that makes your heart swell. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you allow yourself to feel hopefulâhopeful that perhaps this arrangement could bring you both the happiness youâve been missing.
He holds out his arm to you, a gesture youâve come to associate with his chivalrous nature, and you take it without hesitation. The warmth of his touch still lingers as he leads you out of the garden, your heart racing, thoughts pleasantly buzzing.
A few days later, you find yourself in a carriage, trundling down the road towards Leonâs estate. The entire journey has been spent in comfortable silence, save for the occasional exchange of smiles or soft remarks about the passing scenery. You lean your head against the window, gazing out at the world beyond as it goes by in a blur of color and motion. In the distance, you spy the familiar sight of the grand cathedral, towering high above all else, its spires reaching upwards into the azure sky. Memories flash before your eyelids: of visiting the structure during the early hours of dawn, as the first rays of light filtered through its stained glass windowsâof wandering within its labyrinthine passages and praying quietly in secluded cornersâof the comforting scent of incense as it drifted through your robes like smoke through the rafters.
But the pull isn't as strong, or tempting as it once was, a whisper of something ancient that lives inside your ribcage.
You havenât spoken much about the wedding yetâit hasn't even been half a week since you accepted Leon's offerâbut you've already settled on doing a smaller ceremony, consisting only of the Redfields and close associates. Your side of the guest list is virtually non-existent, so you suppose the wedding preparations are going to move pretty fast considering there are not a lot of moving pieces to juggle.
When the manor finally comes into view, youâre momentarily breathless. Itâs grander than you imagined, despite being in the borders of the capital and within the vicinity of other lavish estatesâa grand sandstone building topped with elaborate gables, a slate tile roof, and ornate wooden trellises encasing balconies decorated with intricately carved fretwork. The lush grounds surrounding the manor appear immaculately groomed, topiary hedges and carefully pruned boxwoods lining the entrance drive, leading up to an imposing iron gate with ornate scrollwork patterns.
You have no idea how his estate in the margravate will compare to this summer home for the social season...
The carriage turns into an ornate stone drive, traveling the length of the courtyard, halting at last beside the entrance. Everything is eerily quiet for a moment, save for the crunching sound of gravel beneath wheels and hooves echoing through the open space. A young footman immediately opens the door and steps aside, and Leon descends gracefully before turning to help you climb down yourself.
You smooth out your skirts once you're on terra firma again, grateful for the moment to compose yourself after such an imposing sight. He offers his arm to you once more, and you wrap your fingers delicately around the crook of his elbow. With his free hand, he gently guides you forward, each step seeming to take longer than the last, until you're crossing through an arched entryway and stepping into an airy atrium.
Your gaze sweeps across the room, drinking in every detail, your nerves returning. The entrance hall is beautifully furnished, but distinctly masculine, with heavy mahogany furniture and a plush Aubusson rug sprawled out across the marble floor. An impressive chandelier hangs overhead, glittering with dozens of flickering candles. Everywhere you look, you're greeted by rich materials and exquisite craftsmanshipâcarved woodwork framing elegant oil paintings depicting scenes from history, damask wallpaper adorning the walls, polished silver sconces mounted on pillars flanking the staircase bannister...
All the finery makes your heart beat a little faster, and you're struck by the realization of just how different your current situation is compared to yesterday.
You let out a shaky breath, your grip on Leon's arm tightening as he leads you past a row of elaborately dressed footmen, their hands folded neatly behind their backs and heads bowed politely in greeting. Each of them regards you curiously, observing you with expressions devoid of emotion, as though studying some sort of exotic animal in a zoo. Up ahead, an elderly butler awaits you by the bottommost step, his stoic features arranged into a thin mask of courtesy. When Leon comes closer, however, the man's impassive facade melts into one of genuine respect, his graying eyebrows lifting slightly in recognition.
"Welcome, Your Excellency," he greets with a slight bow. "We've been expecting your return. We've also prepared lodgings for the honored bride-to-be."
Your cheeks grow warm at the use of the title, and you shift nervously from side to side as Leon thanks the old man.
"Can you send Dame Hunnigan for us, please?"
"I believe she is waiting for your arrival," the butler says, dry and monotone. "Will you require any refreshments in the parlor, sir?"
"No, leave us," Leon nods, dismissing the retainer. He then glances down at you and chuckles lightly, leaning over to mutter, "You look like a frightened mouse about to hop out of her clothes."
You press your lips tightly together, avoiding meeting his amused gaze and fixating on the floor instead, mentally berating yourself for acting so ridiculous, but then Leon continues speaking as you ascend the stairs. "Forgive me if I seem smug. That was simply endearing."
His words draw a surprised laugh out of you, the unexpected tease easing some of the tension in your shoulders. "I appreciate you taking the opportunity to poke fun at my expense."
"Always happy to serve," he teases right back without missing a beat, his grin flashing wickedly at you. There's no bite to his teasing, however, merely playfulness.
As you reach the top landing, a young woman approaches you from down the hallway with a calm and composed demeanor, lacking the urgency of the servants below. Her dark hair is pulled back into a neat bun, and sheâs dressed in a simple but elegant gown, showing her higher position. She stops before you with a nod of greeting, her gaze respectful but sharp as it flickers between you and Leon.
âWelcome back, my lord,â she says smoothly, steady and professional. âAnd welcome to you, my lady.â
Leonâs smile remains as he gestures toward her. âThis is Dame Ingrid Hunnigan, my house steward. If you require anything at all, do let her know and she will assist you as best she can. Isnât that so, Hunnigan?"
Her posture is as perfect as a soldier's, and her demeanor is polite and collected, and yet you detect the subtle traces of power beneath. "If it is in my power, then most definitely," she answers dutifully, bowing to you with a flourish. "Please don't hesitate to contact me if you need anything at all, milady. The servants have been instructed to tend to all your needs accordingly."
Something about the way she holds herselfâthe confident set of her shoulders, the steely determination in her brown gazeâreminds you of Piers. You get the sense that she is fiercely intelligent, but also skilled in diplomacy and management, the kind of person that knows just what to do in every situation.
You return the greeting with a polite nod, feeling a little self-conscious under her watchful gaze. Thereâs something about the way she carries herself that suggests she knows everything happening within these walls, down to the smallest detail. Sheâs not just an aideâsheâs someone who ensures the manor runs like clockwork.
âItâs a pleasure to meet you,â you say, feeling an odd sense of relief knowing that there will be someone to help you navigate this unfamiliar place.
âThe pleasure is mine,â Hunnigan replies, her lips curving into a small smile. âI must say, weâve all been looking forward to your arrival. Itâs clear how much Lord Leon cares for you."
Her words, though spoken with the utmost professionalism, catch you off guard. You glance at Leon, who shifts slightly, his smile fading into something more reserved, almost embarrassed. Thereâs a tension in his posture that wasnât there before.
âOh, uh... yes,â he stammers, holding his right shoulder and rolling it around like it's sore and he's trying to stretch it. âIâwell, of course, Iââ
Hunnigan doesnât miss a beat. âThe staff is already preparing for the wedding, and Iâve made arrangements for you to meet with the dressmaker later this week. If thereâs anything else you need, my lady, donât hesitate to ask.â
For a split second you remember all your previous hesitations, but you push the thought aside almost as quickly.
Leon clears his throat, straightening himself and gesturing down the corridor. "Come, it would be rude not to show you to your rooms."
You allow him to lead the way, following a short distance behind him and Hunnigan as they weave through the corridors. It occurs to you that you've never seen the inside of another nobleman's home, aside from a tour of the palace in the royal capitalâeven though it shouldn't come as a surprise, given that it's been a while since you stepped foot in the temple. But even in those moments, you were sheltered from much of the actual activity that occurred daily, having private quarters away from the others, except for when you traveled with the Bishop. And even then... it wasn't like you ever came across homes or mansions this beautiful. This was something truly grandâso much space and fine furniture to fill it, the kind that probably had names for. The kind that held history within its walls and decor. The kind of residence that spoke of generations of wealth, privilege, and status.
Though, you can't seem to focus on much, Dame Hunnigan's words about how much Leon cares for you and his weird reaction to it replaying in your head over and over again, like the echo of a bell ringing somewhere in the distance. Did he really talk about you like that to his staff? And why would he...? You mean, of course he should care for you; he asked you to marry him! Still, it stirs up some conflicted feelings within you.
This marriage isn't about love, but there is love in it. Even though that might never go anywhere romantic or sexual. A connection between two people... is still love, regardless of the specifics. You know that's what you've been taught throughout your entire lifeâthat such an agreement is built upon respect, admiration, compassion.
Maybe...
Just maybe...
"Right here," Leon says, coming to a stop in front of a set of double doors as he pushes them open, revealing a vast room decorated in shades of blue and cream. The sun pours in from large windows framed by thick velvet curtains, flooding the space with light and illuminating the plush carpets covering the hardwood floors, creating a soothing ambience.
The centerpiece is undoubtedly the four-poster bed against the wall, complete with drapery falling around the sides and pillows piled atop a silk duvet. Against the adjacent wall stands a small table next to an armchair by a fireplace, a vase filled with freshly picked lilies placed atop the mantel. Off in the corner is another door which presumably leads into the baths. There are several tall bookshelves stuffed with tomes in various languages, spanning from historical texts to philosophy to poetry, and a large oak desk sits adjacent to them. A vanity full of cosmetics is situated nearby, along with a large wardrobe standing in front of a screen decorated with intricate embroidery.
You almost blurt out something about this room being made for half a dozen people rather than one before catching yourself.
"It's connected to my room through that door, so feel free to knock," Leon adds casually, seemingly unaware of how such a statement causes your brain to short circuit for a brief moment.
"Oh," you manage to say as you peer at the imposing piece of furniture near the vanity and swallow thickly. Married couples are often required to share a sleeping chamber, and this arrangement was done for your comfort, no doubt. But it's still intimate to think about how he'll be right next door, accessible to you at all times.
"Is that acceptable?" Leon asks, dipping his chin and raising an eyebrow.
You flush, realizing you hadn't responded, and hastily nod your head, causing him to chuckle lightly as he heads back towards the exit, but doesn't leave, talking to Dame Hunnigan about something in a low tone before he shuts the doors and leaves both of you alone in this new space together.
He lingers there for a moment. You can't see his face as he says, "I wanted to... I wanted to apologize for what Hunnigan said back there. About how much I apparently talk about you whenever I'm back home. I assure you, she's prone to exaggerations sometimes, and there's always gossip running around between the maids in these sorts of places."
"Oh, that." You didn't think Leon would make such a big deal out of itâthere are certainly far worse things in the world to worry aboutâbut he seems quite bothered by it. Maybe it's a breach of his privacy? He's clearly not very comfortable with Hunnigan telling you about such matters. "I guess everyone can be chatty," you try to soothe his embarrassment. "She was probably just trying to be hospitable, in her own way."
"Yes... Well... I do care about you, of course. Just, er, well..." Leon trails off awkwardly, suddenly fumbling over his words as he tries to get them out, a light dusting of pink coloring the tips of his ears. "Not that way. Obviously. Which she's insinuating. That would be inappropriate. For us. To... To act in such ways outside of our marital responsibilities. Or inside. Which we don't have to. So, I... I want to make sure that... You know. I have invited you here under honorable intentions only. I hope that this does not put you in any uncomfortable situation. Because I wouldnât dare feel about you in such a manner."
Despite your better judgment, his sudden rambling and odd choice of phrasing tugs at your heart strings a bit, somewhat in disappointment. Not that you would ever expect such thingsâyou aren't expecting romance or love in this union, and that's not the purpose of this arrangement in the slightestâbut there is some sense of rejection upon hearing that the man before you has no desire to pursue anything romantic. In all fairness, you may never have thought about it either if you had remained within the temple, as you dedicated your entire existence to worshiping Ethelion. Until now, at least.
"I know," you reassure him gently with a tentative smile, an inexplicable pit deep in your stomach. "There's no need to be flustered. I'm well aware of what this is, and I appreciate your honesty."
"Good," he sighs in relief, visibly relaxing as the tension leaves his frame. Finally turning around, he flashes a charming smile in response, bright blue irises glinting beneath his lashes in the warm sunlight streaming through the windows. "Would you like to sit with me for tea?"
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon s kennedy x reader#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy fanfiction
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Custom Wire Wrapped Necklaces
These are the stones I have available for wire wraps, for those of you who are interested!
If you would like to claim one, please be sure to read this entire post!
So hereâs the rundown. Below is a picture with each stone numbered, and below that is the name of each stone, along with the price.
The price includes the following:Â the stone wrapped in the metal of your choice (sterling silver, 14k gold fill, 14k rose gold fill), an 18âł chain finished with a handmade clasp, and it includes free shipping worldwide!Â
You will choose the style theyâd like it wrapped in. There are three example pics below.Â
Payment is due when the stone is claimed and all the options are chosen (metal, style, etc). PLEASE NOTE - these will be completed by the end of MARCH 2024. Thereâs always a possibility that something comes up that causes a delay, but I do try to get them early. They take a long time to make, please make sure youâre okay with the wait before ordering. I put the utmost care into this and have extreme attention to detail, and when that combines with my busy schedule, it means that it can take a while. If you are buying one for a certain event or deadline please be sure to let me know when ordering, so I can let you know if itâs possible for it to be completed before then!
To claim: send me a message over the instant messenger with your email address, the country youâre in, the stone youâd like to claim, the metal youâd like it wrapped in, and the style youâd like it wrapped in. Iâll then send your invoice and get started on your pendant! :)Â
*Note* These are some of my best, highest quality stones! Iâve been collecting (and hoarding, if Iâm honest) hundreds of top-quality stones for 10 years to build this collection I can share with you. All the stones from Italy were sourced from a lapidarist who mined and hand-cut every single piece in the Italian Alps.
Here are all the stones:
Lapis Lazuli - $150
Silver Moonstone - $165
High-Grade Rainbow Moonstone - $160
High-Grade Rainbow Moonstone - $155
Silvery Green Labradorite - $150
Genuine Spectrolite from Finland - $165
Serpentine from Italy - $185
Eudialyte from Canada - $160
Pyrope Garnet with Ellenbergerite from Italy - $170
Violan from Italy - $150
Blue Lace Agate - $140
Azurite from Siberia - $165
Moss Agate - $140
Hematite Included Quartz - $150
Faceted Smoky Quartz - $150
Faceted High Grade Ametrine - $240
Faceted Rutilated Quartz - $155
Faceted Tourmalinated Quartz - $150
Faceted "Super 7" Included Amethyst - $165
Faceted Lavender Quartz - $160
Rare Star Rutile Quartz - $165
Ethiopian Welo Opal - $165
California Green Tourmaline - $170
Imperial Topaz - $145
Faceted Green Tourmaline - $150
Etched Heliodor from Ukraine - $215
Koroit Boulder Opal - $175
Koroit Boulder Opal - $140
Koroit Boulder Opal - $160
These are the styles you can choose from (I do very minimalist wrapping so the stone really shines through! And the wrapping is super sturdy!)Â
Style #1 (prongs):Â
Style #2 (symmetrical):Â
Style #3 (asymmetrical):Â Â
I will cross out each stone as they are claimed!Â
Extra little note: I have some square wire if you prefer that to the round, just let me know!
Thanks, everyone :)Â
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The Athlete (bonus)
đđđąđ«đąđ§đ : footballer!Soonyoungx journalist!reader
đđđ§đ«đ:  fluff, smut, footballer au, established relationship au
đđđđąđ§đ : R (18+)
đđđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ: lots of kissing, unprotected sex, missionary, swallowing, throat grabbing, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting (I'm so embarrassed)
đđšđ«đđŹ: 1k
đđźđŠđŠđđ«đČ: You are assigned to do an interview with Kwon Soonyoung, the trailblazing athlete everyone calls Hoshi. But as you spend more time with him, you start to see there are more layers to him than football.
đđ: Surprise! I did not plan on making a bonus chapter to this fic but I I suddenly got this idea to write this drabble. Itâs kind of an epilogue to the the original fic (you can read it here if you havenât) . Thank you @hobeeminâ for looking over this at the very last minute lol.Â
Happy birthday baby Hoshi!
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âHey, baby.â
You are pampered with kisses from your forehead down to your lips. You were in a deep sleep, the festivities from a late night knocking you out cold with sore thighs as a result. Hoshi lifts the blanket off you, revealing your naked body to the cool air from the ac. His attempt to wake you is working and your body reacts as his lips trail down your back, leaving you with giggles. âHi,â you mumble. âIâm awake.â He turns you over, climbing over you and properly kissing you good morning. His body is warm and inviting, his muscular arms wrapping around you, making you feel safe and secure.Â
Itâs been two years since youâve been together, and itâs the happiest youâve ever been. You finally found someone that filled the void you felt since your dad died, besides your job as a journalist, who understood you and didnât make you second guess yourself. He was your equal in every word. You love him with every beat of your heart. âI love you,â he expresses, his hands intertwining with yours. âYou mean the world to me.â You nod, nothing else needing to be said because he knows; he knows your heart. Your head nuzzles on his neck, happiness not even coming close to how you feel. You then lift his face, wanting to make eye contact. âDo you love me more than tigers?â you kid. âHmmm, maybe,â he quips, tickling your stomach. You erupt in belly laughs as he smothers you with more soft kisses. You could do nothing all day but lay in bed with him and laugh. And fuck. âYou look beautiful,â he whispers, leaving you with one last kiss before getting up. âI think that ring on your finger may have something to do with it.â You glance at your left hand, a 14k white gold diamond engagement ring he surprised you with last night. You had a feeling he would propose, as he started randomly talking about taking a week-long vacation to the Maldives, and you caught him looking at random venues that could only be for weddings. He asked you to take this week off, and you obliged, happy to get out of town. You have always been confident that he would be the one you would spend the rest of your life with, and you are glad he proved you right. He leaves the room and returns, handing you bottled water from the mini-fridge from your suite to drink. âNo,â you pout. âCome back to bed. Iâm cold.â You reach out for him, pulling him back to bed and wrapping your legs around his waist. You feel satisfied when he pulls you tighter, feeling his chest rise and lower on yours. âNow I have you forever,â you delight, kissing his cheek. âIâm never letting you go.â You did have every intention of holding him close, but you are also naked and horny; his earlier kisses put you in the mood. He grinds against your crotch, his fingers finding your center and rubbing it softly. He lifts slowly, lowering his sweats and revealing his hardened cock at your entrance. You bite your lip, your insides dripping with excitement as he enters you slowly. Your nails dig into his skin, his slow, deep strokes taking you out of this world. âThis is what you wanted, right?â He grunts. âYouâve been craving me since you woke up, huh?â You chuckle, not even trying to deny the allegations. Hoshi already has you stuck under his thumb, youâre afraid. âYou know me so well.â His thrusts become faster and more intense, the headboard banging against the wall as he fucks you into your fourth orgasm in 24 hours. His hand slips against your neck, grasping it with a slight squeeze the way you like it. Your release comes shortly after, squirting all over him before you beg him to do it again. âDo it again,â you plead. âWe have all morning.â He grins, lifting your sore legs over his shoulders and pounding you until you feel stars. The windows are open, and you are sure everyone will have your names on a first-name basis by the time this vacation is up. But you are in love and marrying the love of your life. You could give a damn. âOh baby,â he exhales. âIâm almost there.â You nod fervently, desperate to get his load down his throat. He pulls out shortly after, unloading on your tongue with a labored gasp. He leaves your tongue saturated, ensuring you swallow before kissing you. Hoshi helps you off the bed, slapping your ass as you walk to the bathroom. Legs wobbly, you feel thoroughly fucked out; the need for a good shower calling your name right now. Knock, knock, knock! Your head cocks to the door, not expecting anyone to visit, and you lock eyes with Hoshi, who throws on his sweats quickly before opening the front door. âHi,â a stern voice calls from the other side. âI know you are young and in love, and I am very happy for you. But can you be mindful of the noise? I am receiving noise complaints from other guests.â Your face heats up in embarrassment as you hear him apologize, the lack of care you felt earlier replaced with being mortified. The last thing you need is to be on the latest bloggerâs Instagram, with âexclusiveâ details about your sexcapades. He shuts the door quietly as you turn on the shower. âDid you hear that tiger?â he teases you. âYou gotta keep it down.â âOh shut up,â you roll your eyes, giggling. âAre you joining me?â You reach out to him, his lips curving into a big grin. âAnd yes, I will keep my hands to myself,â you promise. He quickly gets undressed, stepping into the spacious shower behind you and grabbing a cloth. âLet me take care of my girl.â You oblige, letting him wash your hair and body before you return the favor, sneaking kisses whenever possible. âAnd baby?â you beam at him. âHappy birthday.â
#caratswritersclub#kvanity#kwritersworldnet#svt fanfic#svt oneshot#svt scenarios#svt imagines#seventeen fanfic#seventeen oneshot#seventeen drabble#soonyoung fanfic#soonyoung fluff#soonyoung smut#hoshi fanfic#hoshi fluff#hoshi smut#svt fluff#svt smut#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios
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