#Have your tastes deteriorated that badly?

[ask-steve-cobs]

Thats it, I'm switching to pamsong now. Meeple sucks anyway

*throws away all my meeple related stuff*

Aw.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 22: I just need a chance to breathe

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader

🗡️ word count: 15.9k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️warnings: explicit smut (mention of sex & using a dildo; oral sex; ass eating; threesome; talk of anal & double-penetration but not actually doing it; multiple orgasms, cum eating) messy emotions (because, of course); fireworks used to scare characters (to simulate firearms and/or explosions); anxiety; mention of nightmares; the return of some familiar faces & introduction of new ones.

🗡️ a friendly reminder: if there is anything in the tags that may cause you emotional distress to read, please take care of your mental health and don't push yourself. as with any of my updates/warnings, if you would like to skip over a particular warning, please private message me and i can tell you where to begin and end skipping, as well as give you a rundown of what happens in that section.

🗡️note: wow. hello, friends. it's been a long time since i have come to you with a full chapter. are you ready??? did you know that i decided to turn mc's ex into an actually character??? hehehe. enjoyyy!!!

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on may, 2024 | read on ao3

My Namjoon,

I often dream of you lying in a field of wildflowers. Your body is sunken into green stems and purple petals, which blow gently in the breeze, creating a perfect you-shaped indent. You wear all white with your hands behind your head—relaxed and serene, without a care in the world. 

In my dream, time passes quickly, and the sun always falls, shrouding you in darkness while blotches cover your perfect white clothing and begin to turn deep, blood-red.

I wake up feeling suffocated. I wake up afraid.

My Yoongi,

Your blood is on my hands in my dreams and in the waking world. I know you do not blame me, but the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. I hope one day I will be able to look you in the eye and not feel so ashamed. 

In your arms, I feel like a queen. I feel like I am on top of the entire world. Nobody has ever given that to me before, and nobody could ever come close. 

It is not the height that I fear so badly but the fall back to earth.

My men, 

The last few months have felt like a whirlwind…they have felt like a hundred years. I hardly remember the person I was before I stepped foot in the mansion. Worst of all, I hardly know the person I have become. 

Please don't blame yourselves for my need to break free. The two of you promised to give me the world, and I know with my whole heart that you meant it. You showed me more than once a taste of what that could feel like. 

But I fear I am not meant for this world. I fear that all of the joy and the money and the trips and the jewelry and the champagne and the drugs will only mask the fear and the anguish and the nightmares and the dread. My physical health and my mental health are deteriorating before all of our eyes, and I don't know what to do.

You told me that the only way out of this lifestyle is death, and I can't stick around and watch that happen. I know it makes me a coward. I know that leaving with my tail between my legs in order to protect myself will only cause the three of us pain, but I trust that the two of you will get through anything. 

I am not yet ready to say goodbye because I don't want this to be the last thing I say to you two. Maybe I just need a chance to breathe. 

Some day, if all the stars align just right, will you meet me under the aurora borealis?

♡ Your Sweetheart, Your Darling, Your Love

* * *

9 hours earlier.

You lay in a heap of black satin, sweat, and cum, struggling to catch your breath. From the other room, water runs and then stops, and footsteps approach, making you smile. 

"Thirsty?" Jeongguk asks.

All you can say in response is a broken hum. You are parched, but the idea of moving your body after what he just put it through feels impossible. 

Jeongguk chuckles, and the bed dips as he asks, "Like your gift that much, huh?"

The birthday present that Jeongguk was so unwilling to allow you to unwrap at your party is a purple, glittery silicone mold of his dick. And although nothing could beat the original, you tore out of your clothes the moment you saw it, eager to try it. 

"One day we'll anal train you so you can take both of my cocks at once," Jeongguk growled in your ear, holding you by the throat while your back bowed and he fucked you cross-eyed with the toy. 

This is not how you expected your day to go after waking up to a fainting spell and visiting Taehyung's basement hospital. After the way you spiraled in Jimin's coma bed, you have not been able to return home and face Yoongi and Namjoon. 

Nor have you been checking your phone. Everything just feels like too much, and if you are not able to drink or do drugs, then you need the next best thing. 

Luckily for you, Jeongguk is more than eager to supply you with all the orgasms you could ever ask for. 

Unfortunately, he is also eager to talk about shit and destroy this perfect distraction. 

"When are you going to head back home?" he asks, flopping down beside you and draping limbs over your body. Your sweat has begun to turn cold, and you roll toward him, seeking warmth.

"I don't know," you respond flatly. 

A tinge of sadness works its way into your lungs, causing you to choke. It is not as if you are doing anything behind anyone's back, but you still feel somewhat guilty. 

Earlier, while at Taehyung's house, Jeongguk asked his hyungs if they wouldn't mind you swinging by his place to open your gift, and based on their grins and winks, they not only knew what it was, but they expected you to want to play. 

Yoongi saying, "Have fun, you two," with a playful little smirk sealed the deal. 

You do not feel guilty for lying in Jeongguk's bed all fucked out and exhausted. Rather, you feel a preemptive guilt for all the things left unsaid, and all there is yet to do. 

Jeongguk sighs and repositions so that his arms are around you, laying on his side and pulling you into him. You close your eyes and let out a deep exhale, and in the silence between breaths, you make a choice. 

"I guess I should go," you mutter. 

Jeongguk grumbles and hugs tighter, and you allow yourself to be held a few moments longer. You really are going to miss this. 

The urge to cry sneaks up, and you take a deep breath and hold it, then begin to wiggle from Jeongguk's arms. There is absolutely no way you are going to allow him to see you cry again. 

Only you cannot help it. You think about Jimin lying in a coma and how you whispered your goodbyes with a kiss to his cheek. 

You think about leaving Jeongguk here in his bed without granting him a proper goodbye. Would it be rude to take the toy cock with you as a souvenir? There is no way you are not going to.

As you detangle your limbs and sit up, tears fall. You tremble and attempt to breathe through it, but Jeongguk is sitting up in a flash, tilting his head to get a look at your face.

"Stop," you warn, holding your hand up as if to block whatever he might say.

"Stop what?" he asks with a concerned tone.

"Don't call attention to it. I don't want to talk about it."

"Doll—"

You sigh and shake your head. "Please. Please don't make me explain myself."

Silence hangs, then he asks, "Are you alright?"

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

"No."

"What do you need?"

You shrug. "Taehyung says I need a vacation, so I think I am going to take one."

"And that's why you're crying?"

Although Jeongguk's tone is sympathetic, you fight the urge to smack him. 

"I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings, okay? Is that okay?" 

You do not mean to snap, and you even attempt to chuckle through your words. But your tears must make your conviction seem as weak as it feels because Jeongguk simply watches you with a frown.

"It sucks to admit that I can't handle this," you mutter, worried you may have said too much but finding it impossible to keep everything bottled up.

"So, then…what if a vacation isn't enough?" Jeongguk asks.

You wish he wouldn't ask that. Why is Jeongguk, of all fucking people, so in tune with what you are thinking?

You shrug once more. "Then I guess I have to think of a new plan."

Jeongguk hums and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Where will you go?"

Where will you go? Over and over, you have asked yourself this question. But you really have no idea. Wherever Seokjin can send you, you suppose.

"Not sure."

"Alright, well," Jeongguk sighs, "I'll be sure to find you. Wherever you end up…I'll show up."

This makes you chuckle. It is a nice gesture, but it also feels foolish. Jeongguk is not in the position to make such lofty promises, nor would you ever dream of him asking to.

"Jeongguk, what are you talking about?"

"I mean it," he responds, matter-of-factly. "I will find you. You can't just get rid of me, even if you leave the rest of the family behind. I need to be sure that you are okay."

What he says is sweet, but it is too much. You groan and begin to shrug-wiggle out of Jeongguk's hold, then scoot along the bed until you reach the edge and slide off. Your feet hit a soft rug, and you wander around finding your clothing articles, which have been tossed onto the chairs and floor. 

"It's nice of you to say that," you respond, glancing over your shoulder.

Jeongguk sits naked with his legs pretzeled and his back slumped forward, eyes on you with a slight frown tugging his pretty lips. You feel the urge to tip-toe over and kiss the expression from his face, but you hold back, getting dressed instead. 

"Yoongi-hyung won't take it very well if you leave for good," Jeongguk mutters. 

This is not a conversation you want to have, and you take a steady breath before standing straight, doing your best to lie as you say, "I'll try not to leave for good."

* * *

As you walk past Seokjin's mansion, you feel the urge to take a detour and knock on his door. If he weren't such a busy man who likely will not be home at this hour, you would. But instead, you continue toward the mansion.

It is the early evening, but already the sun is setting and you do not want to make your way back in the dark, safe as these paths may be. And you do not want to explain why you are being escorted home by Seokjin, should you find him at his doorstep and talk until it is dark enough that you feel the urge to ask for company. 

The tall trees and shrub walls create deep shadows that appear somewhat menacing in the glow of the property security lights, and it is fucking creepy. Even with the sun still providing hints of light, you grip tightly to the satin ribbon straps of your gift bag and shiver your shoulders up to your ears.

With each step, the leaves and gravel are louder and crunchier than usual. It feels like a mockery the way each sound causes your hair to stand on edge. Especially as you approach your home and realize you have never been granted access to enter on your own. Hard to sneak in when you need to ask permission.

You sigh and pull out your phone, relieved to see that there are no missed calls or texts, and you thumb around to find Yoongi's contact. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hello, darling."

Yoongi's voice is bright and chipper, which is a relief.

"Hey. I'm heading back, and I need to be let inside."

Yoongi chuckles and inhales sharply, then he says, in a voice that is strained in the way a voice gets when someone is talking while holding in their breath, "We're actually outside smoking." He exhales, then adds, "See you in a bit?"

"Oh," you mutter. Now that he mentions it, you do smell the distinct stench of weed, and as you come out of the clearing, you can vaguely make out the shapes of Yoongi and Namjoon standing on the stoop. You smile and say, "Right now, actually."

Yoongi hums, then looks from where he and Namjoon stand in front of the door, to you. Without ending the call, you slide your phone into the pocket of your hoodie—the oversized black one that Jeongguk let you borrow several days ago that you have decided never to return. You smile, feeling a bit of a pep in your step, which falters once you remember what you must do. 

"Darling!" Yoongi calls, holding his arms wide. "Perfect timing. Namjoon and I were craving sushi. Come along?"

Both men wear their standard black uniform, and Yoongi has a black jacket on, as well. Namjoon takes a hit from a joint that is so small, he has to hold it with the very tips of his finger and thumb. As he tilts his head upward and exhales a plume of smoke, Yoongi begins to walk toward you in slow, measured steps. 

"Do I need to change clothes?" you ask because as much as you are hungry, you really do not want to put on a dress. 

Yoongi shrugs, eyes up your stolen hoodie and tight black leggings and shrugs. "If you are comfortable this way, that is fine with me."

You actually expected to have to plead your case, and you are surprised by how amiable Yoongi is. Perhaps he is too hungry to wait for you to change. Or he is starting to calm down about how the public perceives you. 

"Alright," you say, gripping onto the handle of your gift bag. 

Namjoon takes one more hit from the joint and mutters something difficult to hear—you think he asks Yoongi if he wants more of the weed. Yoongi turns to Namjoon and shakes his head, and Namjoon flicks it into the driveway without asking if you want any. You would have said no, anyway.

"Shall we, then?" Yoongi asks, and you nod. 

Namjoon takes a few steps toward Yoongi and kisses him on the side of the head, causing Yoongi to chuckle and turn to Namjoon to press their lips together. Then they speak about something you cannot hear, and Namjoon turns to go into the mansion. 

"He wants to drive your car," Yoongi informs you with a smile. 

The drive into the city is smooth. Namjoon is quiet most of the time, but Yoongi seems to speak at him about this and that—you aren’t really sure. His voice is just hushed enough that it is hard to make out over the soft radio, and you do not strain to listen, enjoying the backseat all to yourself. 

Namjoon drives to a restaurant the three of you have been to before and hands the keys over to the valet attendant. Inside, the hostess bows, then frowns. 

“Oh, mister Min,” she says, glancing around worried. “The private room is occupied at the moment.”

When you turn to Yoongi, there is a hint of a frown on his face, and he squints slightly at the woman. “Occupied?”

The woman nods and drops her gaze down to the wooden hostess podium. 

“My private room is occupied? Interesting.”

The woman looks afraid, eyes scanning around uselessly. She opens her mouth and fumbles around, “I could—we could remove them—I could ask them—“

“A corner booth is fine,” Yoongi says sternly, glancing around the lively, open space. “No windows, please. With a view of the front door.”

“Yes, sir,” The hostess responds, grabbing three menu books with shaking hands. “Right this way, sir.”

“Who has my room?” Yoongi asks before the woman steps away from her podium. 

It is clear that she would ordinarily not give out this kind of information, and she stammers once more, saying, “Y-Yu, sir.”

“Yu?” Yoongi asks, cocking his head. He looks from Namjoon to you, and Namjoon shrugs. 

You only know one person with the name Yu, and it is hard to imagine him dining at a place like this, much less in a room Yoongi keeps on reserve. The last time you saw him, Yoongi had him on his knees at the Han River with a switchblade to his throat. What business would he have here?

The hostess leads the three of you through the restaurant, to a booth in the far corner. Several people look up, and you can hear murmuring as you walk past. You wish you had changed into something a little nicer than a hoodie and leggings, but hold your chin up and follow along. 

The restaurant is just dimly lit enough to feel cozy, but the gold sconces and expensive crystal décor give its opulence away. You can tell this is one of Yoongi's restaurants because the design style is a bit mismatched from what you would expect anywhere else—an amalgamation of comfort and wealth. 

The booth you approach is a horseshoe with a red fabric seat that wraps around a dark wood circular table. Yoongi motions for you to sit first, and you do so, sliding in toward the middle. 

Then he joins you, scooting close and draping his arm over the seat back behind you. Namjoon sits on the other side but keeps some distance, much to your chagrin. 

You understand why Namjoon is distant in public, but you wish it did not have to be this way. It is so nice when the three of you can openly be affectionate. And especially considering this may be the last time the three of you dine…at least, for a while…

Under the table, Yoongi grabs onto your left hand and pulls it onto his lap, pushing his hand into your sweater paw. You glance over the menu, not really paying attention until you feel cold metal on your ring finger and your sleeve getting shoved up to your wrist. 

"You brought it with you?" you tease, glancing at your hand in Yoongi's lap and the giant engagement ring that it sports.

"Just in case," he says, looking at his own menu and rubbing your palm with his thumb. 

It occurs to you that once you do leave, news will undoubtedly spread. Although it may be reasonable to say you are on vacation, how long will that excuse be believable? What will the public whisper about once you are gone for a long time? Especially after Yoongi threw such an extravagant, public birthday party for you, it is hard to imagine the voices won't whisper far and wide. 

Guilt and worry cannot stop you from going through with your plan, and you tell yourself this over and over. No matter how fondly you may feel for these men, you need to stay strong for yourself.

When a server comes by to take everyone's order, you keep your head down. Yoongi and Namjoon confer over items they seem to always get, and you nod along in agreement. 

"Darling?" Yoongi asks when the server leaves, lightly gripping your right thigh and giving it a squeeze. "Something the matter?"

With a shrug, you shake your head and attempt to smile. "I'm just tired, I guess. And stressed about the whole fainting thing."

"Ah, yes," Yoongi responds, thumb rubbing firm circles just above your knee. "Perhaps I should have only ordered one bottle of sake."

"I would like to have a little," you pout. 

Yoongi leans close and presses a kiss against your temple. Instinctively, you close your eyes. 

"As long as you drink more water than alcohol, I will not try to stop you."

Namjoon cuts through the moment, asking, "Did the hostess say someone named Yu was in our room?"

Yoongi sits up tall, looking over you to hum in agreement.

You turn to find Namjoon seated with his arms slung over the back of the booth, somewhat relaxed despite the worried look on his face. He locks eyes with you and asks, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

You are, but there is no plausible way it could be him. Still, you nod. 

"What would he be doing in our room?" he asks. 

Yoongi chuckles. "Yu is not that uncommon of a name."

"He would have had to have convinced the hostess that he knows you," Namjoon says, staring ahead at the table. "Is there anyone on any of our teams who would know to do that?"

"I am certain that there are plenty of people with that name who run drugs or work security," Yoongi responds, sounding bored. "Or who works at one of the hotels, a casino, one of my restaurants. Hell, they might even work at this restaurant. It is not uncommon for people to use my name. Rarely have I managed to catch someone in the act, but I am certain that it must happen all the time."

"I'm surprised you didn't march back there to see who it is," Namjoon somewhat mutters, sending you a wink when you smile at him. 

Yoongi sighs. "I suppose I lack the energy."

Namjoon hums, and you wish Yoongi would elaborate, but you surmise that it may be for the best that he does not. You do worry that perhaps he can sense something is off with your behavior—beyond tiredness and general worry—which, in turn, is worrying him. But the Yoongi you know would come right out and discuss any pressing matters with you, so you brush the thought away.

A server brings two bottles of sake and three tall glasses of water. You reach for a glass of water while Yoongi gets to pouring sake. 

You are shocked that appetizers and entrees are already brought out. Small plates of dumplings, sashimi, and sushi slowly fill the table. And although you have barely eaten all day, you only nibble on a savory pan-fried dumpling while the men eat around you. 

You cannot help but dwell on what Namjoon was saying moments ago, and you are surprised Yoongi is so dismissive of the notion. Your ex has the last name Yu. And if there is anyone on this peninsula who may have a bone to pick with Yoongi, he is likely high on that list. 

That is, if he actually felt some type of way about losing you, which you are not entirely sure could be the case. Things between the two of you had not been great for months—even years—leading up to Yoongi collecting you from him as collateral. 

But there was often talk of reconnecting and building a future together. And although you more or less ignored his ideas, disinterested in the thought of building anything with him, he seemed pretty serious. Could he have continued to love you when the two of you parted?

Although your appetite is subdued by anxiety, you do your best to eat, slowly chewing on a piece of sushi and sipping on sake. Yoongi and Namjoon discuss an upcoming meeting with Seokjin, and you stare at the off-white tablecloth and attempt to gather your thoughts. 

You are reminded of your need to meet with Seokjin. But when would be a good time? How soon would you be able to get out of the mansion?

Each time you reach with your left hand and the diamond glitters in the overhead light, you feel a tinge of sadness. It nearly makes you want to reconsider, but you remind yourself that even if, by some miracle, you and Yoongi and Namjoon are meant to make any of this work out, it needs to be on your terms, after you have had a chance to breathe. 

You consider all the places Seokjin might send you. After all, Busan seems like too much of a gamble. Yoongi and the girls managed to reach an agreement of sorts—but what if sending you there starts an all-out war?

And if your ex truly is suddenly back in the picture—

"Well, well," a man's voice cuts through the conversation between Yoongi and Namjoon and interrupts your thoughts. "What have we here?"

The familiarity of this voice causes an icy chill to cover you. Somehow simultaneously bright and deep, with an accented lilt—it is a voice you heard for years. Still, your mind struggles to reconcile the situation, despite already conspiring over the thought that he might be here tonight. 

Your eyes trail up, confirming that the man standing before the table is, indeed, your ex. Christian looks…different. To put it lightly.

The last time you saw him, his style was kind of basic and not very exciting. He liked light-colored button-ups and ripped jeans, sneakers, and simple, casual clothing, sticking mainly to earth tones. And his dark hair was always trimmed and styled neatly.

But now Christian stands before you with his hair grown, falling over his eyes. He has black eyeshadow covering the entire lid and under each eye, with hints of red glowing from the edges, all smudged together like messy bruises. Little black crosses are drawn on his cheeks, and his lips are blotted with dark, messy red. 

A red button-up shirt and black tie accentuate a black suit with silver pinstripes. The knot of his tie is encased in a gold cover with stars on the front and spikes coming from the sides, and his hands are in black mesh gloves. 

Most curious of all, he is not cowering and afraid. He stands tall and assured, like a completely different person. 

Behind him are four men, all around his height, wearing crisp black suits with white button-up shirts underneath. Covering their heads are black balaclavas that show only their eyes and lips, and their hands are clad in black leather.

"Ah, I see the circus is in town," Yoongi chides with a snarl, sitting up tall. 

Nervous, you look between Yoongi and Namjoon, then back at Christian, who glares down at you with a smirk. 

"Fellas," Christian says, looking at Namjoon before rolling his eyes to glance at Yoongi. "I could not have planned this better if I tried. What are the odds?"

"And was that you in my private room?" Yoongi asks.

Christian's smirk widens into a grin.  

Yoongi sighs, then scoots forward, pushing the plates of food that rest just in front of him to the side. He sits up even higher and plants his elbows on the table, waving his hands slowly as he speaks. "You can see that we are busy, so please just tell me what you want."

Christian's eyes drop to the table as he turns to one of the men behind him and grabs onto a black briefcase. Fear spikes as you imagine a number of terrible things that could happen while he sets it on the edge of the table and opens it. You even notice from the corner of your eye as Namjoon's hand begins to reach behind his back to where you assume he has a handgun stashed. 

But when Christian spins the case, it contains stacks of notes, neatly organized in rows and columns with colorful rubber bands. His eyes lift to you, and he smiles for a split moment. 

Then he says, "I've come to pay off my debt," and his face turns stone-cold serious. 

At this, you scoff. To your right, Yoongi begins to laugh, and to your left, Namjoon scoots forward, sitting up straight. Christian hardly blinks. 

"It's all there," Christian drawls slowly, staring daggers into Yoongi. "I even added some interest."

You turn to Yoongi in time to see him roll his eyes. His hair is tucked behind his ears, and his glare is just as piercing as that of his adversary. 

"You did not really think she would just go back to you, did you?" he asks. 

"You don't really think I'm asking, do you?" Christian responds.

At this, you click your tongue against your teeth. "Excuse me?"

Christian leans with his fists against the table, somewhat leveling his eyes with yours despite looming much taller. "I know these thugs likely gaslit you into thinking that their exorbitant amounts of money were a replacement for love. I bet they stockholm-syndrome'd you real good after kidnapping you last spring. But with therapy and different lifestyle choices, you can return to the woman you were before all of that happened to you."

This infuriates you. For one thing, how dare this man show up out of nowhere and so grossly define a relationship that has grown over months and become something that has made you actually believe in love. 

For another thing, how fucking dare he not be entirely wrong. 

It occurs to you that this could be your way out. But going back into Christian's arms does not feel like the correct choice. You were unhappy in that relationship and coasting along before Yoongi and his men swept you away, so to speak. 

Sure, you allowed him to take you out to nice restaurants and buy every little designer thing the two of you desired. But that just makes that relationship as loveless and empty as he is trying to accuse your current relationship of being. 

Not to mention, this man who stands before you is not your ex-boyfriend, as you knew him. He looks and carries himself in a way that is almost unrecognizable.

"Don't you fucking dare," you say almost under your breath. 

Christian does not break eye contact, and you hate the way sadness yanks at his expression in a soft, familiar way. 

"Come on, baby," he pleads. "You don't have to pretend to be happy anymore. I saw how uncomfortable you looked at your birthday party. And when you disappeared for a long time and came back all pale and zoned out…something was clearly wrong. We can get you the help you need."

Anxiety and frustration spikes. You almost feel ashamed when you ask, "You were there?"

It is eerie the way Christian regards you so calmly. Gone is the nervous man who dragged you along hotel hallways trying to escape. However, the way he looks at you has only changed into something sweeter. It is as if he truly has continued to love you in your absence. 

"Look, whatever you've been through," Christian continues, eyebrows knit and pleading, "you don't have to tell me. I won't ask questions. Let me just…get you out of here. Please."

Yoongi sighs and drops his chin onto his hands. When you turn to him, you watch him shrug, lift a brow to you, and say, "You know that you are free to go if that is the life you want. Nobody is shackling you here."

And although you understand what Yoongi is doing—although you want more than anything to run far away—the way in which Yoongi appears so bored and unconcerned only causes your anger to grow.

Your jaw twitches to the side, and you run the tip of your tongue between your teeth, feeling every groove of bone. This should be an easy choice, but you feel paralyzed by indecision.

With a sigh, you blink Christian into focus. He looks so hopeful, it nearly tugs at your heartstrings. Nearly.

"You can see that we are eating, Christian," you insist. "Please don't force us to call security."

Christian scoffs and stands up straight. The men behind him are stiff as boards. 

"You're causing a scene," you continue, voice flat and insincere. "I don't like to think that the other guests are uncomfortable with this display. We can discuss this in a more private setting."

Something like hope flashes in Christian's eyes, and you hate the way it makes your tummy swoop. His mesh-gloved hands fidget before he shoves them into the pockets of his pinstripe slacks. 

"Can I have your number?" he asks, voice lilted with excitement.

Your voice remains flat. "No. I can find you."

With a confused twitch of his features, Christian mutters, "B-but…how?"

"Make it easy for me," you respond with a shrug.

After all, you know Christian's name, what usernames he has used online, and so many other intimate details. If you really did want to find him, you easily could.

"Alright," Christian says, nodding. He takes a step back, causing the small group of men to do the same.

"Take the money," you say, watching him intently, unwilling to break eye contact in a show of dominance. "We'll settle this matter privately."

Christian nods, reaches for the briefcase, and snaps the clasps closed. "I hope to hear from you soon," he says, gaze lingering before he turns to walk off.

As you watch the small group of men clad in all black disappear through the front entrance of the restaurant, your mind struggles to comprehend anything that has just occurred. 

What are the odds that Christian just so happened to be at this restaurant? There is no way it could be a coincidence. 

A warm hand rubs over the small of your back, and you flinch, muttering, "Fuck," under your breath. Namjoon sits forward and continues to eat, and with one hand caressing you, Yoongi does the same. 

"My appetite is ruined," you state plainly, eyes on the front door. You half expect your ex to come walking back in to continue to plead for you to leave with him. 

Yoongi hums and Namjoon is silent, save for chewing. You feel like you are going insane.

How is it that Christian has managed to keep tabs on you? What was he doing at your birthday party? You rack your mind trying to place him there—could you have run into him? Would you have known? What if he was one of the gold-clad workers hiding in plain sight, watching your every move? 

What if he has been lurking even longer, watching you at Paradise? At House of Cards? How much has he seen?

"I'm shocked he managed to come up with the cash," Namjoon finally mutters as he fills everyone's glass with sake.

Without waiting for the others, you pick up your small glass and shoot the liquid back. Then you set the glass down, reach for your water, and take a nice big gulp. The water is cold and you feel it work its way down into your body, causing a chill to run along your spine. 

"Should have castrated him like I promised," Yoongi jokes dryly. 

Your stomach churns, made worse by how nobody seems all that concerned about how you must be feeling. Neither of them brings up the fact that you promised to look him up, even as a means to pick on you.

"How did he get into my party?" you ask, voice as flat as it had been before. 

"Maybe he's managed to weasel his way back onto one of the teams," Namjoon responds with a full mouth.

"Would have had to have been after Jeongguk stepped down," Yoongi adds. "Unless he has one of the hospitality positions."

"Maybe he works at the hotel," Namjoon says.

You sigh, fed up with this conversation. 

"Did you not keep tabs on him?" you ask, turning to Yoongi with an accusatory glare. If this is anyone's fault, it has to be his. 

Yoongi blinks, then shrugs. "People go off the map all the time. He could have changed his name, for all we know. Maybe he uses a Korean name to get work."

You hum and sit back, slouched uncomfortably against the booth. Yoongi removes his hand from your back and continues to eat, using his newly free hand to lift his small glass of sake to his lips.

There is a chance Christian goes by the name Barom. It is a name only his mother calls him on occasion, but you would not put it past him to use it on identification cards, especially as a means to slip under the radar. 

That could explain his disappearing act, if there ever was one. But Yoongi's team should have noticed. Or, perhaps, Seokjin already has. In fact, you become convinced that Seokjin must know something. It is the only circumstance that makes sense. 

Seokjin must have overheard Yoongi and Namjoon discussing coming here tonight and he tipped Christian off. Maybe he thinks this is a good way for you to make a break for it. Maybe it is all a setup and Christian no longer wants anything to do with you but he is playing some part you do not fully understand.

But if that is the case, why wouldn't Seokjin tell you? 

You sit in silence for the rest of the meal, refusing more food and drink with a wave of your hand and a shake of your head. Namjoon goes ahead to retrieve your car from the valet attendant, and Yoongi pulls the hostess aside to inquire more about Christian's appearance while you stand near the front door, scowling out into the evening. 

The moment Namjoon slips behind the wheel of your car, you shove the restaurant door open and stomp up to the back door with a huff, opting not to respond when Namjoon looks back at you in the rearview mirror and asks, "Do you want to talk about anything?"

Yoongi gets into the passenger seat, mutters, "She was just as stumped as we were," and with that, the three of you are off. 

You pull your phone from your pocket and open instagram, type the username ChristianYu, and turn up with nothing. After a pause, you consider he may be using his Korean name, so you search for BaromYu and find him. Although he has not posted a lot since the last time you visited his account months and months ago, all of his posts show a transition from the man you knew to the man you met today. 

In his photos, he is shirtless more often than not, showing off his many new tattoos and accessories. And in the comments, people fawn over him, writing embarrassingly lewd confessions and using a lot of tongue and water drop emoji. 

Nothing hints at what he could be doing for work, but his follower count has exploded—he is quite the popular man. He never posts his location, nor does he make vague references to any kind of job in any of his posts or responses, and nobody seems to care about much but his face and body.

The only thing that may pass as a hint of any sort is the fact that some commenters call him Mister Insanity. But what that could possibly mean, you have no idea. He did seem to have a small group of goons, but it is hard to imagine him as the leader of anything. 

Namjoon pulls into the driveway, and you turn off your phone screen. You are not going to rest until you speak to Seokjin, and you hope that he is home at this hour. 

You grab the gift bag that has Jeongguk's dick dildo in it from where it had been left behind the passenger seat, and then get out of the car, shoving the bag into Yoongi's hands. 

"Take this inside," you say, turning toward the dark path that connects the properties. "I need to talk to Seokjin."

"Seokjin?" Yoongi asks. "He might not be free at this hour."

"I'll go find out," you insist, turning away before Yoongi or Namjoon can stop you. To your surprise, neither of them tries to follow behind. 

Once you are on the path that leads between driveways, you unlock your phone and search for a name you have never called before, and then you call him. It rings and rings, taunting you with its robotic tone before going to voicemail. This is Seokjin. Leave a message. You hang up.

Each footfall stomps harder than the last as you march on, feeling small amongst the tall shadows. The cooling night air sends a chill through you—all the more reason to walk even faster. 

There is a light on in one of the second-floor windows, and you storm up to the front door and press frantically on the doorbell. Of course, the door is reinforced enough that even if someone were to be running to the door on the other side, you would have no way of hearing it. 

However, you do not take Seokjin for being the type to run. 

Still, you feel impatient, and you take to pounding your fist against the door, feeling the impact of armored wood against the side of your hand, hard and visceral—stinging. When the door finally flies open, you pay no mind to the gun pointed at your forehead, fist still in the air. 

Seokjin stands shirtless in a pair of black silk pants, and the moment he recognizes you, he sighs and drops the gun to his side, muttering, "Good fucking god."

"We need to talk," you insist, stepping through the threshold despite not being invited to do so.

"I was in the middle of something," Seokjin says, stepping aside. 

You kick out of your shoes as he closes the door calmly behind you, and you allow yourself a brief moment to take in his appearance—hair disheveled, body covered in sweat. Seokjin turns and lifts a hand, silently encouraging you to enter further into the home, and you notice scratch marks along his arms and a sliver of his back—deep pink and raised. 

"So you were," you respond. 

Seokjin sighs and walks toward his staircase, showing off even more long, deep scratch marks. "Give me a moment; I need to tend to something. Help yourself to a drink if you would like."

You walk through the living room and turn the corner to the conjoined dining area and kitchen. Seokjin and Hoseok keep a tidy home, and you marvel at the rich woods and antique furnishings. Their refrigerator is a massive black appliance, and you pull the rightmost door open and notice a healthy store of plastic food containers, fresh fruits and vegetables, and bottles of soju.

Helping yourself to a bottle of clear, unflavored soju, you close the fridge door and crack the lid open, forgoing a glass. One sip is cold enough to send a shiver through you, and you gulp more, eager to calm your nerves before remembering once more that Taehyung has advised you against drinking. 

Footsteps retreat down the stairs, and you find Seokjin pulling a black t-shirt over his head. Seeing him dressed down is somewhat surprising, and although you were too on edge to take note of his broad, muscular build moments ago, you notice him now. 

The suits and dress shirts Seokjin wears cover a lot. Although he is leaner than Namjoon, his arms are defined, flexing as he adjusts his garment and reaches into his silk pants pocket to pull out his phone. 

"Is this about Barom?" Seokjin asks, fixing you with a gaze that gives away absolutely nothing. 

You take another gulp of soju, then let both arms hang at your sides, limp and defeated. "So you did put him up to it?"

"Oh?" Seokjin asks, raising an eyebrow. "You mean to say you detected my involvement?"

"I had a hunch," you mutter, frustrated.

"I knew you were smart enough to catch on," Seokjin says as he crosses his arms over his chest, shoulders and biceps flexing. He watches you with just as blank of an expression, not giving you a chance to respond before saying, "He works for me now."

You wish you were surprised. "Doing what?"

Seokjin cracks a smirk. "Whatever I need him to."

You sigh and take another drink of the soju, letting it settle on your tongue. When Seokjin gives you no further information, you raise your own fucking eyebrows—two can play at this game. 

"Seokjin, why did my ex show up to dinner with a briefcase of cash offering to buy my freedom?"

"Did he?" Seokjin asks, voice elated and surprised. 

You roll your eyes. "I know you put him up to it. Drop the act."

"You are far more clever than any of these men give you credit for," Seokjin says. "But not me. I never doubted you."

You sigh, feeling impatient. "Seokjin—"

"Did seeing your ex make you want to run away?" Seokjin asks. 

You hate to admit that the answer is yes, and you hum and nod just once. 

"So?" he asks. "Will you?"

"Taehyung says I need a vacation," you respond stubbornly. 

"Well, have you begun to pack a bag? I hear Busan is very chilly this time of year, so you will want to be sure to include some heavy clothes."

"No," you mutter. "I have been busy tending to other matters." Seokjin's mouth opens and he gives you a curious gaze, but you cut him off, adding, "And Yoongi is so on edge, I'm not sure leaving right now would be wise."

Seokjin hums. "I think he's especially on edge today because he proposed to you last night and you had a panic attack."

His flat, matter-of-fact tone makes you laugh. It rocks through your chest before you can stop yourself, and you shake your head, allowing the laughter to fall. 

"What does he fucking expect?" you mutter. "He knows how miserable I am in his mansion. How was I supposed to react to a proposal? If he has any concern about the way I feel, he should not have done something like that."

"Yes, I agree," Seokjin responds as he approaches and reaches for the bottle of soju. You lift your arm to hand it to him. 

The cap is still cradled in your opposite hand, and you turn and find an antique side table made from some dark, polished wood to set it down onto. When you return to face Seokjin, he holds the bottle toward you, which you take. 

"Yoongi took the more recent attacks much more personally than usual," he says with a sigh. 

You lift the bottle to your lips, mutter, "Go on," and take a drink. 

"He doesn't care for the way the girls acted, and the harm that their attacks have caused seems to have pushed him over the edge. Ordinarily, Yoongi would have sent a swarm of men to apprehend or even kill them for what they have done, but I have a feeling he held back because you are here, now."

"I'm holding him back?" you ask, feeling a misplaced tinge of guilt. After all, why should you care? 

Finally, Seokjin cracks just a hint of a smile, and you hate the way it makes you feel. You know that he knows far more than he says. 

"Or, perhaps I'm misreading the situation," Seokjin responds, smile growing. "I was simply picking your brain…friendly banter about what I assume you think is going on, and nothing more."

Unbelievable.

"Okay," you respond, voice trembling from frustration. "Then what is going on?"

"Yoongi gifted Serendipity to Ryujin's little hoard of women, as a peace offering to get them to back off. You are aware of this, yes?"

You stare blankly at Seokjin and take in his words, then mutter, "Yes."

"Seems Ryujin needed someone to help her look after the place, so I set her up with some men. Barom being one of them. I had plans to send him to another port city to work at my newest casino, but he really thrives in the club atmosphere. You should see him—under the right conditions, he can be a very loyal, hard worker." Seokjin says.

You heavy-blink, taking everything in.

Seokjin continues. "Listen, I would have warned you about his appearance, but I felt like your response to seeing him should be genuine. Yoongi may be distracted these days, but if your reaction was in any way staged, Namjoon would have caught on in an instant."

Although it makes sense, it does nothing to assuage your frustration. With a sigh, you mutter, "Figures."

"Pack a bag sooner than later," Seokjin says through a sigh of his own. "Text me when you are ready, and I will do my best to come quickly, but if I happen to be in the middle of a task, you will need to exhibit a little more…" Seokjin lifts his eyebrows, cracking a smile, "...patience."

You roll your eyes and nod, accepting his terms. Seokjin reaches for the bottle, and you hand it over, muttering, "You can finish it."

"Need me to walk you back?" Seokjin offers.

As much as you would like to have some company, you shake your head. "Thanks, anyway."

You feel somewhat dazed as you make your way back to the door and slip into your sneakers. Seokjin having a hand in Christian's presence leaves a sour taste in your mouth, despite you expecting it to be the case, and you wonder how trustworthy of an employee he is to Yoongi if he is pulling so many strings behind the scenes. 

A thought occurs, tickling at the back of your mind, and you turn, finding Seokjin standing right where you left him, watching you.

"Did Hyunjin and his family really die?" you ask. 

Seokjin stares at you unblinking. Then he lifts the bottle to his lips and mutters, "They're safe in America."

Anger rises, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath in through your nose. The fact that Hyunjin's faked death may have aided in pushing Yoongi into a heroin relapse is absolutely infuriating. What would have happened if Yoongi overdosed in that hotel in Paris?

You squint at Seokjin, thinking of the many ways to verbally rip him to shreds. But you need to keep him on your good side, at least for the time being, so you put away your teeth. 

"Seems we both have something we do not want him to know about," you say, holding your chin up as if challenging him. 

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, mouth tugging into a smile as he says, "Seems we do."

You have no more to say, and you storm toward the door, kicking into your shoes. Seokjin says nothing as you leave, and for that, you are thankful. You yank on the door hard enough to make it rattle shut, then storm off into the night.

Tears stream down your cheeks in fat, hot streaks as you return to the mansion. You are not sad, but you just feel an overflow of emotion that seems to only come out in the form of crying and trembling. Seokjin makes you so fucking angry, yet you need him in order to make your escape—which you do your best not to dwell on, at the present moment. 

Although you are glad to see your men standing on the front stoop smoking a joint and saving you the trouble of asking to be let inside, you are not eager to explain what is the matter. You are not sure you are a convincing actor with a straight face, much less in this state.

You attempt to sneak past them before either of them can see you crying, but Namjoon is quick to reach for your hand and tug you close. You bury your face against his chest and sigh, trying to come up with what to say to excuse your crying.

"Sweetheart?" he asks, causing your emotions to boil over.

"Everything is too much," you mutter, unsure what else to say. "I might go to bed early."

Namjoon wraps his arms around your shoulders and hugs you tight. More tears fall, and you are glad when he does not address them. Instead, he kisses you on the top of the head and asks, "Want to sit down and have some water?"

With a nod, you take a step back and allow yourself to be led into the mansion. You kick out of your shoes as Namjoon does, hobbling from side to side with his arm slung over your shoulder. Then he guides you over to the large blue sofa, which you sit against and curl into a ball.

"I need a vacation," you groan into the soft fabric, squeezing your eyes closed.

"Is that what you went to talk to Seokjin about?" Namjoon asks. 

You groan and nod, curling further in on yourself. More tears pool in your eyes and you feel the urge to sob, but your body does not have the energy to exert. 

This is the final straw. The dizzy spells are too numerous, and seeing your ex has stirred up so many shitty, complicated feelings. You need a chance to breathe.

"Here, darling, drink this."

A warm hand gently tugs at your shoulder, and you comply, rotating and sliding your feet to the floor. Yoongi is perched on the edge of the couch, holding a large cup of water. You stretch your legs and reach for the cup.

The water is tepid, and it feels nice. Yoongi must think you are having another dizzy spell, and he reaches for your forehead, pressing his fingers to the skin. 

"The sake must have been too much," he says.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

"It's not just that," you mutter. "It's everything. I need to get away for a bit."

Yoongi nods in understanding, looking to Namjoon and then to you, asking, "Is it because of Christian?"

"He is certainly a straw that is breaking my back," you admit.

Yoongi frowns, but he appears comfortable with your choice. "Where would you go?"

"Somewhere calm," you say with a shrug. "By the sea, perhaps."

"I could oversee a trip," Namjoon recommends. "Somewhere else, entirely."

You do not have the heart to tell Namjoon that you would rather go alone, so instead, you nod and mutter, "Maybe."

There is knocking on the door, and you look up expectantly. Before either of the men can so much as move, the knob turns, and Taehyung walks in.

"Guess they'll let just anyone in here," you tease weakly as Taehyung kicks off a pair of loafers with the heels bent forward and crosses the room in quick, elongated steps. 

Taehyung kneels in front of you and digs into the pocket of his slacks, producing a little paper box. "I hope you don't mind, I have come to talk to you about medication. The hyungs said you would be home."

You shrug and eye up the white box, muttering, "I don't mind."

"This medication treats high blood pressure, and it may help with what ails you. Are you comfortable with trying something new?"

"Sure." 

Yoongi takes your glass of water as Taehyung hands over the box, and you clench the fragile paper square while he opens the small flap on the top, producing a tiny matte white compostable packet with a lump in the center where the pill is. 

"Take this once every evening, for now. We can track how it works, if at all, and go from there." Taehyung rips open the packet and prises one of your hands off the box, then he drops a round, white pill into your palm. "Try to avoid taking burupen, if possible. And, depending on which birth control you use, we may need to increase the dosage."

This information is overwhelming, but you nod. Once you do run away, the two of you will no longer be able to sort any of this out, so for now, you simply agree in order to appease him. 

Sadness quakes through you as you toss the bitter pill into your mouth and take a large gulp of water, shoving the cup back into Yoongi's waiting hands. You even struggle to swallow, feeling the urge to cry. 

Taehyung has been so kind to you. You wish you could adequately express your gratitude to him before you go. You wonder if you will ever see him again.

"Thank you," you mutter. Blinking back tears. "For everything."

Taehyung grins. "No need to thank me. It is my job to care for you." He finishes his sentence with a wink, causing you to sneer. Through laughter, he adds, "I also do so because I like you."

You close your eyes and sigh, doing your best to smile as you attempt to sort your thoughts. You need to pack a suitcase, but the prospect of making that sort of plan is overwhelming. You wish everyone would leave.

"I think I may go lay down," you say, opening your eyes to find Yoongi and Namjoon regarding you with soft, understanding frowns. You add, "In my room," causing their frowns to deepen. "I think I just need some alone time. But I'll come join you two if I get lonely."

Yoongi scoots beside you and wraps an arm around your waist. His musk is calming and familiar, tugging at your heart. 

"Sounds good, darling," he says as he leans in and places a soft, lingering kiss on your temple. "You know where to find us."

Every ounce of you pulls to Yoongi, yearning to touch him. You want to embrace and kiss and undress him so badly. But you know that if you fall into bed with him and Namjoon once more, you will not have the heart to go. And one simple kiss could ruin everything. 

As you stand, Yoongi slides his arm away. Namjoon steps close and leans in for a kiss. For a split second, you consider turning your lips away, but Namjoon wraps his arms around you, pinning your arms to your side as your hands continue to hold the small paper pill box between your chests. 

"I love you," he mutters as his lips press softly against yours. 

You have to hold back the urge to sob, swallowing hard. "I lo—" You clear your throat. "I love you, too."

As Namjoon backs away, he watches you with a hint of something indiscernible in his eyes. You almost wish he would confront you rather than allow you to slip away. Could he possibly know anything? Or are you just being paranoid?

With a bow of your head, you walk past Namjoon, to the stairwell. You take each step slowly, feeling the cold marble beneath your feet. At the thought of how much you hated this garish mansion the first day you arrived—impressed by its ridiculousness but fettered like a prisoner—you snicker, and you feel a tinge of sadness.

So much has changed, and, yet, so much of who you are feels the same. 

At the top of the stairs, you shuffle quickly into your room and close the door. You hurry to the closet and flick on the light, relieved to see a large black suitcase sitting in the back, to the left of the tall mirror. 

It is hard to remember what you came into the mansion with, but you do your best to pack only your own items and leave the rest behind. You do not deserve the designer clothing and jewelry they have given you. How can you bear to wear any of it, knowing the pain you will inevitably cause these men?

The process happens as you somewhat dissociate your feelings from the task. You do your best not to think about where anything came from—under which circumstances you received a gift as you leave it where it is. 

In fact, you do your best to refrain from thinking at all, moving from room to room, gathering your things. Sun dresses, leggings, and a couple pairs of denim jeans fill the suitcase, along with several pairs of shoes, toiletries, cardboard pill boxes, and your sex toys. 

Some of what you leave behind is designer clothing Christian bought you, but you are not concerned. You do not want to continue being the kind of person who is swept up in luxury. You never needed any of it.

Amongst the many miscellaneous items you find in the bedroom is a notebook and pen pouch nestled on the bookshelf. Without giving it any thought, you begin to pen a letter to Namjoon–because he has always been the best at talking through difficult times—and then to Yoongi, and then to the both of them, filling a single page, which you do your best not to let any wayward tears drip onto when you realize you have begun to cry. 

In this letter, you pour your heart out, you apologize for having to leave, and then you end on a high note, telling yourself that it may be possible that you could one day see them again, despite knowing deep down that this is likely not the truth. 

You fold the letter into a neat rectangle and walk with it to the closet, placing it in the center of the island and shutting off the closet light for the last time, then you stand in the center of the bedroom and look around, making sure you have everything. 

Once the entire task is as complete as you can fathom it being, you return to the bed and sit on the edge. You consider waiting an hour or two before messaging Seokjin, hoping it may give the guys a chance to wind down and sleep, but you find you are too antsy.

You: I have packed a bag. I am not sure what I want to come from telling you this information except to say that I am ready whenever the time is right.

Your thumb hovers and shakes and it takes you several seconds to hit send. You are shocked when three little dots pop up mere seconds later. 

Seokjin: Tonight? Or sometime in the next few days?

Anxiety swells in your tummy, and you sigh.

You: Might be best to just rip off the bandage, so to speak.

Seokjin: I agree. In terms of timing, I can have a plane ready in two hours, but I know damn well the men will not be asleep by then. We have a meeting planned at 8 in the morning, which means they will likely be awake between 6 and 7, so 4 is going to be our sweet spot. Can you stay awake?

Although you feel exhausted, you are certain that this may be your only chance.

You: I can stay awake.

Seokjin: Also, your suitcase…can you get it down the stairs? Are you aware of the basement exit?

You: I should be able to handle it. And yes, I am aware. 

Seokjin: I recommend trying to sneak down as early as 3. If you need some kind of a diversion, I can do my best to come up with something.

You: Sounds good. Thank you.

Seokjin: Thank me when we're on the tarmac.

With just under five hours to spare, you sit and stare at the yellow comforter on the bed. Soon, you will be sleeping under a different comforter on someone else's bed. 

At this thought, you begin to spiral. You think of all the beds you have slept in, attempting to figure out whether any of them have ever been yours. 

No, you think. Not really.

The weight of discovering another unfamiliar room and attempting to make it your home feels crushing. You wish that you could stay in the place you have felt most settled, but you know in your heart that this place has also caused you the most anguish. 

You are not a mafia wife. You do not want to be one. 

A soft knock causes you to gasp and flinch, and you place your cell phone facedown at your side. After a beat, you realize that it is Namjoon on the other side, as he tends to wait to be invited to come in.

"Yes?" you ask softly, rubbing at your eyes with your fists in order to appear tired.

The door cracks open, followed by Namjoon's tuft of dark hair and a sad smile. He hovers in the liminal space between out there and in here, and the mere presence of him makes you relax a little.

"I was wondering if perhaps a nice warm bath would make you feel better," he says, brows downturned as if he is expecting you to say no. 

But how could you say no? 

This room is cold and lonely, and Namjoon is offering you warmth. Perhaps it is selfish to take this one last moment of comfort, but if there is anything you want to remember him by, it is his ability to ease your weary soul.

"A warm bath sounds perfect," you say. His smile widens, and in turn, so does yours.

"Good," he says, standing straight and stepping halfway into the room. Namjoon wears nothing but tight dark blue briefs, and the sight of his muscular, tattooed body makes your mouth begin to water. He adds, "I've already begun drawing the bath," snapping your wandering gaze from his thighs back to his grinning face.

You leave your phone behind and slide from the mattress, bare feet meeting soft rug. Namjoon holds his hand out and you reach for it, giggling as he tugs you somewhat roughly, forcing you to stumble into him. 

"I've missed you today," he groans as he bends and captures your lips, filling you with excitement. 

"I've missed you, too," you mutter as your mouth falls open for his tongue to explore. 

Namjoon teases, dancing his tongue over yours just enough to make you moan, then retracting it to say, "You sure Gguk didn't wear you out?"

You can hardly hold back the grin that overtakes your face, and you raise your eyebrows, leaning your head back enough to look him in the eyes as you ask, "Awe, is my Joonbug jealous?"

Namjoon scoffs and rolls his eyes, then he turns toward the master bedroom, yanking on your hand to make you follow along. You do your best not to dwell on how limited your time is in the mansion now that you and Seokjin have a plan. 

As you shuffle along behind Namjoon, half-running to keep up with his quick pace, you hear the sound of the jacuzzi tub. The bedroom is empty of Yoongi, and you are not surprised when you are yanked into the ensuite and find him reclining in the tub with the bubbling water sloshing over his chest. 

Namjoon lets go of your hand and peels out of his briefs, and you struggle to resist reaching out to give his perky buttcheeks a squeeze. You shed the hoodie and undershirt in one swift motion, and your leggings and underwear in another, then prance over to the tub, where Namjoon is slowly getting in on Yoongi's right. 

Yoongi lifts and turns his head, opening his eyes and cracking a smile as you approach the tub on his left, across from Namjoon. And although you attempt to take in all of his appearance, your gaze goes straight to the slash that runs through Yoongi's eye, still as red and angry as ever—evidence of your carelessness.

"Ah, her highness joins us," he announces before closing his eyes and returning his head to the rested position against the edge of the tub. The sound of the faucet and sloshing water is almost enough to conceal Yoongi's low tones, but somehow you make out each muttered syllable perfectly. 

"Namjoon does tend to be quite persuasive," you respond with a smile, lifting your gaze to Namjoon, whose eyes intently rove your naked body as you step one foot into the tub and then the other, lowering slowly to acclimate to the heat. 

Yoongi cracks a knowing smile—a sharp little thing that verges on a smirk—and he chides with a pouty, "Ah, so it was only the promise of Namjoon that brought you in here, tonight?"

Rather than humor him with words, you walk to Yoongi and straddle his lap, slinging your arms around his neck before he has a chance to open his eyes. Two large hands touch your lower back as Yoongi smiles up at you.

"Don't be ridiculous," you mutter as you lean in for a kiss, swiftly stealing his ability to argue.

Despite knowing you should not straddle Yoongi and invite a world of possibilities that will only make the act of leaving more difficult, you find it impossible to stop yourself. Yoongi pulls you close, groaning past your lips. As you settle onto his lap, breasts buoyant and pressed against his chest, you decide to try and forget about your plan. At least for a few hours.

"So much for a relaxing bath," Yoongi teases, lips grazing against yours. 

You smile coyly, eyes watching his mouth—your faces too close to see anything else. "What do you mean?"

Yoongi's hands, which rub over your lower back and firmly grab your ass, yank and squeeze, causing your tummy to meet with a growing erection. You gasp despite expecting as much, and chuckle. 

"We don't have to—" you begin, ready to assure Yoongi that you are more than happy to stay in the tub for as long as he would like.

"Oh, but we do," he insists as he begins to push you off his lap and stand. 

Namjoon chuckles, and you turn to him, still in a somewhat crouched position, chest-high in the water. You lift an eyebrow in a silent question. 

"The tub never finished filling," Namjoon says, cocking his head to the side, to where the tap continues to flow across from where Yoongi was sitting. 

You begin to laugh, as well. Yoongi, however, has a sense of urgency, toweling himself off with one hand while he reaches into the water to take you by the arm and yank. You are surprised, but comply, standing and walking to the edge of the tub to step out onto a soft mat, water pouring from your limbs. 

Yoongi shoves his damp towel into your arms, and when you stand dumbfounded for a second too long, he sighs, takes it from you, and begins to towel you dry in the most rushed, haphazard way possible before discarding it to the floor. He takes you by the hand and pulls you toward the bed, and you hear the tub get shut off and the sound of water pouring from Namjoon as he stands up and exits, as well. 

Rather than urge you onto the bed, Yoongi simply steps behind you, shoves you forward so that you are draped over the edge of it, and drops to his knees. You open your mouth to pick fun at his impatience, but his palms spread your ass, and his mouth closes over your cunt, lips and tongue making sloppy work as you widen your stance and bend over a little more.

You moan and shudder as pleasure works through you, more and more each time Yoongi's lips and tongue become increasingly precise in their movements over your clit. You instantly relax, and, as you feared, begin to forget all about why you plan to leave. 

Yoongi abruptly stops, smacks your ass, and tells you to get up onto the bed, on your hands and knees. You do as you are told, and Yoongi also gets on the bed, positions the pillows so he can sit against them, and stretches his legs. He pats his thighs and says, "Come here."

As you crawl to Yoongi, eyes intent on his fist stroking his semi-hard cock, the bed dips behind you, and two hands firmly grab your hips before you can get too far. It is clear that your instruction is to suck Yoongi's cock while Namjoon eats you out, and as you lean forward to tease Yoongi with your tongue, Namjoon's mouth begins to devour your ass. 

It is dizzying the way the three of you fall into a tangled rhythm of pleasure. Dizzying the way you make Yoongi reach his first climax at the same time Namjoon makes you reach yours. 

Namjoon fingers you deeply, thumb on your clit while his lips and tongue work over your asshole, and you are shocked by the intensity of your orgasm like this—how the pleasure feels somehow different with the added stimulation. 

"One of these days, I want you to take both of our cocks at once," Namjoon groans against you while his teeth rake over the swell of your ass cheek. 

You have to hold back a laugh, curious what the hell must be in the water to make every man you fuck want to double-penetrate you. And although you think it would be funny to put Jeongguk's earlier suggestion on blast, you decide to keep it to yourself.

Namjoon yanks and tugs you until you are beside Yoongi on your back, with your legs spread wide. He fucks you hard and deep, and you muffle your screams against his shoulder as he leans forward and sucks on Yoongi's cock. 

It takes no time for another orgasm to crash over you, and you are painted in hot streaks of Namjoon's cum before the two men swap places, and Yoongi crawls between your legs. 

He leans close, tickling you with the tips of his dark, long hair as it brushes against your tummy and thighs while he laps up each drop of Namjoon's release like a good little dog. Then he sits high on his knees and wastes no time spearing you nice and deep. 

Namjoon kneels beside you and pulls your hands above your head, holding both of your wrists in one of his hands while the other lightly smacks and pinches the skin on your arms and chest, causing you to squeal and scream and chase two very intense orgasms. 

When Yoongi finishes, it is in Namjoon's mouth, and then the two of them mutter about taking a proper shower while you begin to drift in and out of sleep. 

You nearly doze off completely when the sound of a loud pop, followed by a bright light and a loud bang, startles you awake. Suddenly, you are far too aware of your surroundings, but you have no idea what time it is. 

In a panic, you sit up and yank the cold comforter you had been lying on top of until part of it covers your sweaty, naked body. There are more loud bangs and bright lights, and Namjoon is the first to point out that it is fireworks that are being shot off directly at the window, from the other side of the property's security gate. 

Yoongi storms over to the window, still nude, and pulls back the curtain a sliver. Namjoon leans forward and also peers out. 

"Looks like those goons from the restaurant," Namjoon says, causing your heart to pound. 

Is Christian behind whatever this strange display is? And if so, did Seokjin put him up to this?

"Mister Min, are you in there?" a voice booms over a speaker, and it sounds just like Christian—as expected. In a creepy, sing-song manner, he adds, "Come out and plaaayyy."

"Darling," Yoongi says, turning to you. "Do you know about the basement?"

You nod frantically and begin to move, inching toward the edge of the bed. Yoongi's cell phone rings on the bedside table opposite where you sit, and Yoongi rushes over and answers it simply by saying, "Seokjin."

There is a pause, and then Yoongi says, "Sounds good," and hangs up. Then he turns to Namjoon and says, "Seokjin and Hoseok are on their way." To you, he adds, "Seokjin will meet you in the basement. Get dressed and go quickly."

All at once, you throw the comforter to the side and begin making your way to the bathroom, where your clothing has been discarded, deciding that this is your getaway outfit since everything else is packed into a suitcase, and you are not going to leave in a rush wearing an evening gown. 

As you hop into your underwear and leggings, Namjoon appears, naked and with a frown on his face. He pulls you into a tight hug, kisses your forehead, and says, "This is not the way I wanted to see you off for that much needed trip. I will find you soon, alright?"

You nod, feeling tears well up, and you allow them to fall, suddenly so overwhelmed with the thought that you will likely not see Namjoon again. At least, not for a while. 

Namjoon thumbs tears from below your eyes and smiles sweetly before placing another kiss on your forehead. Behind him, Yoongi appears wearing a black sweater tucked into black joggers, and he pulls you into a hug that has you stumbling and crashing into him. 

"I'm so sorry," he says with his lips to your temple. "I know this must be scary, but we will take care of everything. Pack a bag if you can, but do not spend too long on it. We can send for more of your things once Seokjin helps you settle in somewhere."

Unable to form a coherent thought, you simply hum and nod, then allow Yoongi to break from the hug. "Hurry on," he says, smiling sadly as more fireworks and taunting words come from outside. 

You run through the dark mansion, startling each time another loud boom erupts. Despite knowing that the sounds are fireworks, you fear that whatever is happening right now could become more dangerous. 

Without turning your bedroom light on, you make your way quickly to the closet and grab the suitcase. Then you remember your cell phone, which was left on your bed. You pick it up and turn on the screen, expecting to find something from Seokjin telling you of whatever plan he may have formed before all of this kicked off, and you are surprised to find a text that simply says, "Be there in 3," which was sent exactly three minutes ago. 

You open the suitcase and grab a pair of sneakers, deciding that going to the front door for ones that have been left there is out of the question. As you zip the case back up, you hear footsteps running up the stairs and freeze, feeling fear and anxiety rush. 

"Cub," Seokjin's voice says in a whisper-yell, "are you ready?"

Without waiting for your response, he reaches and takes the suitcase by its handle and turns to run down the large staircase. You shove your feet into the black sneakers, which you will need to straighten out once you are in a vehicle, and then take one last glance at the dark room before following behind, attempting to make out the sounds of shouting coming from outside. 

Seokjin leads you down the hall, into the dining room, and through the open wall panel, which you close tightly behind you. The light has not been turned on, but your eyes are adjusted to the dark, and your heart pounds loudly and heavily as you grip onto the wooden railing and rush behind him, feet quietly pattering against carpet as you descend. 

Once you finally reach the bottom of the steps, where Seokjin waits, your thoughts begin to settle. A dim light is turned on, and as you look around at the abandoned recreation space, you begin to accept the fact that all of this is finally happening. 

A glance at your phone shows that it is just after one in the morning. Feeling frustration rise, you shove the device into a hoodie pocket and follow behind Seokjin, who continues through the space.

"So much for sticking to the plan," you grumble, head still spinning. 

It is shocking to you how the depths of the mansion seem to fully hide the sounds that are coming from outside. You walk hurriedly across the dim, carpeted basement, doing your best to keep up with Seokjin's long legs making quick strides.

"Oh, this is not my doing," he says with an amused laugh, head turning somewhat to the right. "It is lucky that his nonsense is loud enough to be heard across the property."

For some reason, you are inclined not to believe him. You mutter, "Sure," and keep your eyes ahead. 

"I mean it," Seokjin insists. "Although I have to admit, it is the perfect way to catch the loverboys off guard, this also poses somewhat of a threat. Taehyung and Jeongguk live deep enough onto the property that simply taking you to one of their homes for safe-keeping would have been a wise choice under normal circumstances. Hell, having you hole up at my place with all of Hoseok's weapons is the best choice."

Seokjin pauses at the end of the staircase, lifts your luggage, and says, "I am likely going to catch hell for removing you from the compound."

You think back to how Seokjin lied about Hyunjin's death, and about how much Jeongguk seems to mistrust him. How many secrets does Seokjin hold onto? How many lies does he spin to protect others? 

Namjoon and Yoongi seemed resolute in the fact that you would be leaving the mansion property entirely, but they likely expect to be informed of your whereabouts immediately. What will Seokjin tell them?

And then you remember the letter you wrote and realize how this must look. Under a normal disappearance, this could seem like simply running away, but forgetting to remove the letter before this escape could lead the two of them to think you and Christian really are in cahoots. 

Without a doubt, this whole scenario is not going to bode well with the others, even though they seemed to expect as much to happen as you said goodbye. Especially when hot heads like Yoongi and Jeongguk begin to speculate on all the what-ifs.

It is your hope that Namjoon will be able to remain the voice of reason, even if it is just short term. Once he reads your letter, he will realize that you are gone for good, and you worry that he will forget your earlier conversation about needing a vacation in lieu of forming some kind of conspiracy that the letter could point to. 

As you make your way up the stairs, your heart begins to pound. You know that once you get outside, the shrubs will provide some cover, but you are uncertain of how you will manage to get away with Christian and his goonies just out front. 

Exhaustion and adrenaline keep you from asking too many questions, and you focus on putting one foot in front of the other, trusting that Seokjin has a plan. 

Seokjin reaches the top of the stairs and opens the door to the outside world, and in an instant, you hear voices shouting and booming. Your heart pounds so hard you feel disoriented, and you trip over your own feet, struggling to force yourself to get any closer to the sounds. 

"The house is armored," Seokjin utters softly as he keeps your luggage in his hand and makes his way toward the end of the shrub, to where the secret door lies. "Don't worry so much about the others. Come."

You close the door to the mansion, pressing it firmly in place, and then step as lightly as you can toward Seokjin. Rather than open the shrub door that Taehyung previously brought you through all those days ago, which leads straight out into the driveway, Seokjin slowly reaches into the shrub on the left, and you watch as it swings open into the wooded area that connects the homes.

Seokjin turns to you and nods his chin, urging you silently to catch up, and you tiptoe quickly ahead toward the opening. You are surprised to discover a fully covered path, not of gravel, but of concrete, leading away from the mansion in the direction of Seokjin's home. 

"When I left to come here, I didn't see anyone near my gate," Seokjin informs softly, rushing with smaller steps, as if to stay at your pace. For this, you are grateful. "People tend not to notice our homes, which gives us a means to escape. Although it appears that Christian has been planning this little insurrection of his, I doubt he is prepared for us to slip away into the night."

A particularly loud bang causes you to trip over your own feet and for all the blood in your body to turn cold. You shrink in on yourself and duck your head instinctively. 

"Sounds like Hoseok has arrived," Seokjin says with a chipper tone. Then he adds, "It's just a flash grenade, cub. A warning shot, so to speak. Usually that is all it takes to scare lower level guys away."

You accept what Seokjin says, but worry pools in your tummy over the thought of anyone getting hurt. Even Christian, as much as you hate to admit it. You hope that the men are able to solve this matter without anyone becoming injured or worse. 

Although you tell yourself that this must be goodbye—that you must bid farewell to the mansion for good—you feel sick at the thought of never being able to see any of these men again. You hope desperately for everyone to stay alive.

The path opens up to Seokjin's property, and you notice a sleek black sports car on the driveway. Seokjin rushes forward, and as the trunk of the vehicle pops open, presumably from a key fob in his grasp, you begin to run toward the passenger door, relieved to find that it is unlocked, and slide into the seat. 

As soon as Seokjin is in the driver's seat with the door closed, he sighs, presses the engine button, and says, "I'm not sure if I should thank Barom or flay him alive."

Although there are so many thoughts running through your mind—so many questions that you feel desperate to answer—what you ask is, "Why do you call him Barom?"

Seokjin begins to drive without turning on his headlights, along the dark driveway, toward his gate. 

"That is the name he uses under my employ," he responds, looking to the right, to where the large truck sits empty of shouting men, all of whom are either pressed against the gate to the mansion or have wiggled their way inside. "I suppose I have grown accustomed to it."

Good enough, you decide, disinterested in pushing the issue any further. The two of you set off into the night, in the opposite direction of the truck and its bright headlights, and you let out a breath of relief when you realize it is not following you. 

Once the road curves and dips, Seokjin turns on his headlights, illuminating the world ahead. Anxiously, you stare into the side-view mirror, waiting for headlights to appear and advance, but they never do. 

"Breathe," Seokjin says calmly as he reaches to turn on the radio. You are surprised to hear upbeat pop music coming from the speakers, and even more surprised when Seokjin does not change it. "We appear to be out of the woods—literally and figuratively—and the guys are more than capable of handling those idiots on their own."

You sigh, unable to be as optimistic, but unwilling to argue. Aside from the pop music accompanied by your pounding heart, the rest of the drive is quiet. 

Seokjin hums to a tune from time to time, and you stare ahead as the tree line becomes spotted more and more brightly with city lights. You even allow your eyes to close, feeling exhausted from such a long day, and when you open them, the car is driving onto a strip of tarmac, toward a private airplane. 

"Let me see your phone," Seokjin says, and without thinking, you hand it over. 

Rather than explain himself, he simply pockets your device and hands you a different one, then he gets out of the car and closes the door behind him. You sit still, feeling the weight of the new phone in your hands while Seokjin opens the trunk and retrieves your suitcase.

As you exit the car, tired from the unknowable amount of time you dozed off, Seokjin rolls your suitcase over to the jet, toward a small set of stairs that sticks out from its entrance. He stops at the bottom of the steps and hands the suitcase off to a staff member, then motions for you to get moving. 

You make your way somewhat slowly up the stairs, and you are surprised when you turn around to see that Seokjin is still on the ground. He is not joining you. 

"In order to prevent the lover boys from following your scent and making a rescue mission, I am sending you to Taiwan," he shouts. Worry rises, and you open your mouth to protest, but he continues, "A liaison will be there to meet you. She will know you when she sees you. Keep your head down, and do not try to contact any of us."

With a different phone, you wonder whether you can contact any of them without jumping through hoops. Surely, Seokjin did not hand you a device with everyone's numbers stored. You squeeze the phone in your palm, overtaken by the urge to cry. 

"I will reach out soon!" Seokjin shouts, lifting a hand to wave it. He appears far too calm for your comfort, and you suddenly worry you are making a huge mistake. "Trust that the people you meet have been put in charge of looking out for you, and keep an open mind. Things are not always as they seem."

Before you can respond, a staff member places a hand on your shoulder and ushers you to walk further into the airplane. You resist for a few seconds, but give in, too tired and confused to fight. You want to scream and lash out at Seokjin, but he is already spinning on the balls of his shoes and walking away. 

What have you done? What have you agreed to?

Staff members close the door while others make their way into your cabin. They ask softly worded questions, suggesting food and drink to bring once you are in the air. You shake your head, only half hearing what anyone says and finding it difficult to focus. 

As the plane begins to move, you find a seat and strap in, then you close your eyes. You are too anxious to properly take in your surroundings, moving on autopilot. The captain is soft-spoken as he informs you that the flight will be just under three hours. And so, you decide to close your eyes and sleep. 

Nightmares haunt every second of the flight, and you jolt awake more than once disoriented and heavy, unable to keep your eyes open long enough to move into the bedroom in the back or to convince yourself to ask for something to drink. When the jet lands, you gasp, eyes wide and heart pounding. It takes a few moments to realize where you are. 

The plane slows to an eventual stop, and you feel motion sick with the urge to vomit. Luckily, a staff member is close by, and they offer you a cup of water, which you drink quickly. 

Seokjin's recommendation to keep an open mind plays in your head on repeat, and you worry yourself with all the horrible possibilities. Who could be waiting for you once the door to this plane opens? You are not eager to find out.

Staff members open the door, and you almost do not believe your eyes when, a moment later, in runs Ahn Hyejin. She looks like an angel dressed in a white tank top and short white shorts, with a long white sweater falling from her shoulders. Her dark hair falls to one side of her face in large waves, and her pouty lips are bright red. You remain buckled into the seat when she falls to her knees and sits tall, wrapping her arms around your middle. 

"H–Hyejin?" you try, unsure whether your exhaustion has reached new heights and you are hallucinating. 

Her perfume is all too familiar, convincing you that she really is here. The rose hits your senses first, followed by citrus and something sweet, and you relax all at once, letting out a deep breath, only half aware of the tears that pour from your eyes. 

"My dove," she sighs, voice somewhat strained as if she is holding back her own tears. "It is so good to see you again. Come, you must get some sleep."

Hyejin reaches to undo your seatbelt, and reality continues to sink in. You move to help with the buckle, limbs moving on a bit of a delay, and you only have a chance to graze your fingertips over metal before she pulls it apart and frees you. 

She gets to her feet and reaches out, taking both of your hands in hers and yanking you upward. Once you are steady, she begins pulling you to the exit. It is still dark outside, with a hint of sun coming over the horizon. You imagine you must be one or two time zones away from home. 

A blood-red sedan sits on the tarmac, and when the door to the back seat is opened, you notice a woman in the driver's seat and another in the passenger's seat. You are unable to make out their features as you approach, noticing only straight dark hair on the passenger that is pulled tight into a bun with strands sticking out on one side. Both women wear sunglasses despite the lack of sun.

Hyejin says, "No matter what, know that you are safe, and loved, and protected." 

This does not assuage the already growing ball of nausea in your gut, and although your hand begins to sweat in her grasp, she is steadfast, holding on tight. A staff member approaches and puts your suitcase into the back of the vehicle, and Hyejin holds out a hand toward the open door and urges you to get in. 

Only now do you realize there is a third row of seats, one of which is occupied by another unrecognizable woman who does not greet you. As you slide into the back seat, a woman you had not noticed gets in on the other side, sitting to your right and sandwiching you in the center, with Hyejin on your left. 

Once you are settled and surrounded on all sides, an unfamiliar woman begins to drive, and you study her semi-covered face in the rear-view mirror, searching her nose and lips for any hints of recognition. Soft pop music plays, and you wonder if it is the same channel Seokjin had been playing before you remember you are no longer in Korea.

As the car pulls out of the airport, the front passenger turns her body to face you, and you realize in this moment what Seokjin meant when he urged you to keep an open mind—what Hyejin meant when she insisted that you are safe and loved and protected. 

You recognize Ryujin even before she fully removes her sunglasses, smiling wide and only a bit devious. She is beautiful with her dark hair pulled out of her face. 

"Darling," she says, dragging each syllable out long in a voice that is soft as silk. You swallow thickly, fighting another urge to be sick. "How lovely to finally meet you. I'm Shin Ryujin."

"I know who you are," you manage to say, voice strained and weak.

Ryujin giggles. "Oh, good! Seokjin-oppa called in a favor, so we are going to be taking you home with us. We'll stay here for the next two days, though. Are you hungry?"

Although the question is aimed at you, the car erupts into eager chatting. It seems the other four women are quite hungry. You nod despite not being sure whether you can eat. 

"I know you likely have a lot of questions," Ryujin says through the chatter, voice surprisingly clear though much softer. "Let's get you settled in and I will tell you everything you wish to know."

And with that, the six of you drive along dark city streets, far from anywhere you have come to know as home. 

* * *

When you realize By the sign of my eyes Without a doubt You can't stop me 'cause Love is banned

🎵 visit the playlist

absolutely bonkers that large chunks of this chapter have been written for literally a year. it's nice for things to finally culminate to this point.

this would have been the end of Collateral. i would have said a bunch of sappy shit and thanked you for your years of service before taking a hiatus and moving into the sequel. but since i have changed how things are going to be, we are simply going to continue. check out the master post to see the changes that have been made, and if you are curious for more context, see this post.

i am eternally grateful, tho!!! i hope you know that, dear readers! i started this fic two (2!!) years ago (as of this week!!!), and it is a honor to have you still here with me. i definitely did not intend for it to go on this long. ��� thank you, thank you for your patience while i was dealing with writer's block. grief is a hell of a drug, and it knocked me flat on my ass.

this has been edited, but docs acted super weird and made a lot of strange duplications of words and phrases during the writing process, so if you find anything that is just fucking wonky that i may have missed (or even something perfectly normal!) don't be afraid to tell me. i would rather know to fix a mistake than leave it.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT BLAHBLAHBLAH LIKES ARE ALSO AMAZING AND SO ON. 💜 tags will be coming in reblogs.

Yoongi's POV is next. i changed my mind about what i wanted his to contain, and i hope you enjoy it.

if you would like to see the inspo that brought DPR IAN to being mc's ex, check out this post.

have some water and fix your posture. 💜💜💜 i hope to see you soon!!! love you byeee!!!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations of reposts allowed.

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.22 (Ellie Williams x reader)

MASTERLIST (and information about Palestine) Please read!

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

SMUT MDNI OR ILL BE YOUR SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMON TONIGHT XOX

proofread kinda but this shit is like almost 9k words and i am tired so if there’s a mistake my apologies, will fix that tomorrow probs!

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧    

   

“Fuck I am so tired. I’ve been twenty for three weeks and I swear I’m deteriorating already.” 

“Ellie you are such a drama queen, you’re just tired because you actually ran laps with the group today.” Training with the group had been going well for the most part but watching Ellie come back breathless and rosy cheeked, though in better shape than the teenagers that followed after her, was the highlight for you. 

“Can’t believe you made me do that.” 

“You were being naughty and you know I don’t tolerate bad behaviour.” 

“I smacked your ass once and none of them even saw. You are so mean to me.” 

“Stop sulking, besides, would you have preferred to stay behind with Amber?” 

“Okay fair enough, how was that by the way?” Your mind cast back to the memory of your altercation with Amber and left a sour taste in your mouth.

“Amber, can you stay behind please?” 

“Why?” She snipped at you with a scowl. 

“Because I said so.” You grit as Ellie stifles a laugh. Ellie had been on a mission today to annoy you as much as humanely possible, lovingly but still, she had succeeded. She had done so well that she was now jogging away with the other trainees after you banished her. When they had all been doing target practise she snuck up behind you and landed a harsh slap on your ass that was so loud it was almost audible over the repetitive gunfire. You yelped and rubbed at the sore skin while sneering at her as she laughed.  

“Sorry babe, you know I love your ass too much to keep my hands off, you should’ve seen the way it jiggled.” She went to reach for it again but you slapped her hand away and huffed, only making her laugh more, you glanced at the group and when all of their heads remained facing away from you, you breathed a sigh of relief.  

“You are such a little shit, you’re running laps with the others while I talk to Amber.” 

“What?! No way.” 

“Yes way, I’ve had enough of you today.” 

“Oh come on babe don’t be like that.” 

“Too late and if you don’t go, no sex for a month.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“Wanna fuck around and find out?” She huffed and called the rest of the group over to announce the badly received news of their impending laps around the town. You almost regretted your decision when you were left alone with Amber, her attitude making you want to throttle it out of her. 

“I wanted to have a chat because I want to see what we can do to be better supporting you to get you up to standard for patrol.” 

“Excuse me? Why are you only asking me?” 

“This isn’t an attack Amber, this is for your safety but you aren’t progressing at the same rate as the others and I don’t want to see you fall behind.” 

“You’re just picking on me because you have it out for me so don’t give me all of that caring bullshit because I see right through it.” She hissed, you bit your tongue and took a deep breath, desperately trying to keep your cool. 

“Amber, your aim with a gun is nowhere near the standards of the others, you can’t hold your own in a fight even with one of the other girls, you struggle in the drills, you don’t understand tracking and you never know any of the answers to the questions we ask about survival tactics. I’m not picking on you, I’m stating a fact.” It was harsh but she needed to hear it. “I am willing, and so is Ellie, to put in extra hours with you to help but we can only help if you let us and stop being so stubborn.” 

“I’ll do the extra hours with Ellie but I’m not spending anymore time with you than I have to.” You snickered at her comment, a wave of insecurity crashing over her features. You’d happily let Ellie take her for the extra training, you trusted her with your life but then Amber would be getting her way and you just weren’t willing to let that happen. 

“Not gonna happen, nice try though.” You were going to leave it there but that eye roll and pout of her lip just sent you over the edge as you stormed over to her, closing the distance between you both. “Do you think I don’t notice your blatant flirting with my girlfriend? Do you think it’s going to get you anywhere? We live together, we have a child together, and when we go home together after training we laugh at your pathetic attempts on her. Stop being fucking delusional and get over yourself. I’m here to train you, not to be your friend so you either sort yourself out or I’ll tell Maria you’re not fit for patrol and she’ll find you some other boring job in Jackson.” She gulped and her eyes developed a glassy film. You had taken it too far but you were getting sick of her and she had just pushed you one too many times. “Now go home and come back tomorrow with a better fucking attitude because if you think I’m above kicking your ass you’re sorely mistaken. You saw how quick I took Harvey down, do you really think I wouldn’t crush you in a second?” She scowled at you before storming off, not quick enough that you didn’t see the fear in her eyes though. 

“Ugh she’s just- it was as expected. We argued, I scared the shit out of her and she ran away with her tail between her legs, she’ll be the exact same tomorrow. Same shit, different day.” 

“Damn, I don’t understand what her problem is.” 

“I do, she doesn’t like me because of us and because I have a position of authority over her, she’s the weakest of the group and it makes her insecure and I’m the only one that will call her out on it.” You eye Ellie pointedly as she smiles sheepishly. 

“I can take the next lecture, promise babe.” 

“Eh she won’t even listen to you because she’ll be too busy ogling you.” 

“Damn I’m feeling really objectified right now.” 

“Oh shut up, you love it.” 

“I only love the attention when it comes from you but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel good about myself.” She smiles smugly as she wraps an arm around your waist pulling you snug to her hip as she presses a kiss to your temple with a quiet chuckle. 

“Who would’ve thought I’d be the scary one out of us?” You chuckle but it dies in your throat as she quirks an eyebrow at you as if your question was entirely absurd. 

“Err everyone. You’re scary.” 

“I am not!” You pinch her side and she squirms away from you with a hiss. 

“You so are, it’s not a bad thing but you are terrifying. Do i need to remind you about you being a jailbird? My girlfriend is a convict, that’s scary, hot but scary.” You roll your eyes as the school comes into view and the bustle of parents awaiting their children is accompanied by the deafening squeals and yells of children bounding out of the gates like a stampede. You both stop and hold hands as you wait for Clem’s beaming face to come into view. 

You crane your neck looking for the strawberry blonde locks until they catch your eye causing a smile to grace your features. Ellie had already released your hand to kneel down in preparation for Clem’s leap into her arms that had become customary when you would pick her up. You both exchange looks of concern when her face remains angled towards the floor and she trudges over to you both dragging her feet. You immediately move towards her and bend down in front of her as Ellie joins you seconds later, cupping her cheeks you angle her face to meet yours and the sight sends shockwaves through you. Her face was red and blotchy, the remnants of tears evident all over her cheeks but what struck you both more was the slightly raised red mark on her cheek that looked like the precursor of a bruise.  

“Baby who did this to you?” Your voice was frantic as tears welled in your eyes at her sadness, it was the kind of sadness you hadn’t seen in her since the day you found her, the memory of that day cursed you and filled you with a rage you had never experienced before. She had been so excited for school this morning, it was show and tell and she had brought in a painting that her and Ellie had created with the watercolours you had gifted Ellie for her birthday, it was a replica of a polaroid taken on Ellie’s birthday of the three of you, Ellie holding Clem with her free arm around your waist as you all beamed at the camera. She had rushed you both out the door and practically skipped the whole way to school, babbling about how much she loved it and how interesting all her classes were and now she was sniffling and hurt, her entire demeanour oozing the pain she was in. You were so focused on the sorrow on her features you barely remembered asking her who caused her it until she answered you. 

“T-Timmy.” Her voice was meek and quiet, the opposite of how it typically was as she sniffled and wiped at her eyes before wincing as she accidentally pressed on the welt forming underneath.

“What happened kiddo?” Ellie’s voice was calm, unlike yours but the scowl on her face gave her true feelings away. 

“He made fun of me for having two mommies, so I told him he was ugly and smelly, because he is, then he hit me and pushed me in front of everyone. Please can we go home?” Every part of you wanted to chase Timmy and his parents down for what they had taught their child but Clem came first and she wanted to go home so that’s what you’d do. 

Clem perked up quick enough, after dancing to her favourite record with you both and doing some painting with Ellie while you prepared dinner, she seemed almost normal again though it was clear what happened today was playing on her mind as she looked up from the table with glassy eyes. 

“Why are people mean about you? I don’t understand, you’re the best mommies. Do they hate me?” 

“Oh baby, no one hates you, you’re our perfect angel, don’t ever have thoughts like that, ever, okay?” Ellie was the first to speak as she noticed the slight gape of your mouth though you snapped back into action when Clem turned to you expectantly. 

“Some people just don’t like that me and mama love each other. They don’t like that me and mama are young as well and we were so lucky to find you and make you a part of our family. They’re jealous and silly and I promise it’s nothing to do with you. I swear Timmy nor anyone is ever going to lay a finger on you again baby, some people are just silly and mean, do you understand?” She nods with a small smile before going back to eating as Ellie looks at you silently communicating the plan you knew you both had.  

“Clemmy, I’ve gotta go out for a little bit but I promise I’ll be back in time to say goodnight, okay?” Ellie stands and presses a kiss to Clem’s forehead as she strokes the soft hair on her head. 

“Okay Mama, I’ll miss you.” 

“Oh you know I’ll always miss you more.” You stand and follow Ellie to the door kissing her sweetly before she ducks out leaving you and Clem to start her bedtime routine alone. 

After her bath and three different books, Clem’s eyes were drooping and the yawn she tried and failed to hide was evident she’d be asleep soon. The sound of the door opening and closing let you relax and as Ellie walked in taking her place next to you at Clem’s bedside you smiled. She pressed a kiss to the girl's forehead. Clem cupped Ellie’s cheeks as she lazily opened her eyes smiling giddily, the love that was radiating from both of them warmed you, your heart sang, you could watch them forever and be perfectly happy with that. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t notice them both turning to face you. 

“Can you both cuddle me until I fall asleep?” 

“Of course baby.” Ellie climbed over Clem’s body as you laid down on the other side of her. Clem cuddles into your chest as Ellie wraps her arm over the both of you, pulling you both in tighter to her. As Clem’s breathing slowed, you lifted your head slightly to look at Ellie who had been gently playing with Clem’s hair as she hummed a familiar tune to her. It reminded you of a time when your mother would sing the same song to you at bedtime. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

Hush little baby don’t say a word 

Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird 

And if that mockingbird don’t sing 

Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring 

And if that diamond ring turns brass 

Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass 

And if that looking glass gets broke 

 Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat 

And if that billy goat doesn't pull 

 Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull 

And if that cart and bull turn over 

Mama's gonna buy you a dog named Rover 

And if that dog named Rover won't bark 

Mama's gonna buy you a horse and cart 

And if that horse and cart fall down 

well you'll still be the sweetest baby in town. 

“I love you Mommy.” 

“I love you too sweetie, I always will, sweet dreams.” Your father had read to you after they both gave you your nighttime bath, indulging in your childish play letting you splash at them until the water went cold and you began to shiver. You smiled up at your father as he kissed your forehead goodnight leaving your mum to sing you the same tune she always sang to you before bed. Sometimes you'd sing along and sometimes you'd just listen to her melodic voice as you let her tune coax you to sleep.

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

The memory haunted you, it had always been such a fond one but now it burned your skin and stung your eyes. You pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind as you sang along to the tune Ellie was gently humming and you could feel the new memories being attached to the song that took the aching pain in your chest away as if it was never there. 

You and Ellie both sneak out of Clem’s room once she’s firmly asleep and walk downstairs to greet Dina and Jesse who were sat in your living room. 

“Thanks so much for watching her guys. We won’t be long.” You smile at them before going to slip your shoes on. As you return Ellie smiles grimly at you. 

“You ready?” 

“Fuck yeah.” Your eyebrows furrowed as the sudden fire ignited within you once again. 

“Oh I would be shitting myself if I was them right now.” Jesse laughed though it was clear he was serious. 

“Have fun going full mama bears on their asses!” Dina calls out to you as you both make your way out the front door and start the walk to Timmy’s house. You were never going to let his parents get away with teaching their child to be so hateful but you didn’t want Clem to see this side of you. 

Ellie knocked on their door and as it swung open revealing a disgruntled man you both pushed past him into his home without a word. 

“Erm excuse you, what do you think you’re doing?” 

“We want to have a chat Rick, get your wife and sit down.” Your voice was monotone and your face deadpan but his scowl did not fade and he remained unmoving. 

“Are you deaf? Get your wife and sit down.” Ellie repeated as she stepped closer to him, her face stony and her voice low and menacing. You watched as his face morphed into a picture of fear and it only made you smile, he scurried off returning with his wife, both seating themselves on their sofa, fidgeting and clearly unnerved. 

“I’m assuming the school told you what Timmy did today?” They nodded as a response to your question, their eyes flicking between you and Ellie. 

“Mm and I bet you couldn’t have been prouder right?” Their silence was adding fuel to the fire and as you observed Ellie pacing slowly beside you, it was clear she felt the same. 

“Listen, if you have a problem with us, we couldn’t care less. But if your issue with us ends with our child getting hurt again, then we need to do something about it.” Ellie's voice was calm as she came to stand over them. “If Timmy ever comes near Clem again, I promise you, you will be looking for a new place to live because I will hunt you both to the ends of the Earth. You’ll never be able to settle because I’ll always be just on your heels. Do you want that life for Timmy? Never knowing when he’d be left alone in the world because his parents hatred cost them their lives. This is your only warning. Keep your snotty little shit away from our Clem or we will make sure the last thing you see is us smiling over your bodies. Don’t give me an excuse to do it, because I’ll enjoy every last second of it.” Their faces drained of all their colour and the sight was exhilarating to you. Ellie was always so gentle with you and Clem so you rarely saw this side of her but the few reminders you got never failed to stick with you, knowing she was acting this way to protect Clem, it only warmed you more. She walked to the door leaving you scowling in front of them. 

“If you think Maria won’t be hearing of this, you’re wrong, expect a visit from her tomorrow. You’re the reason her niece's daughter was hurt today, she won’t take that lightly. I’d watch your backs if I were you.” You grinned as they visibly gulped before strolling off to meet Ellie at the door, her face matching yours. The walk back to your home was filled with childish giggles as you recounted the looks on their faces. 

Even as you walked through the door of your home to find Dina and Jesse cuddled up on the sofa, you still couldn’t stop giggling. 

“Assuming it went well then?” Jesse questioned with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah you should’ve seen their faces. Ellie went all ‘ah I’m so scary, I’m gonna hunt you down aghhh’ it was amazing!” You mocked Ellie’s deep, raspy voice that she had used while speaking to Timmy’s parents before bursting into laughter once again. 

“I did not fucking sound like that! But it’s true, they shit their pants.” She looked smug as her chin raised to the air only causing you all to laugh more. You had been annoyed about yours and Ellie’s reputations after the few incidents over the past months that had painted you in a darker light but it served you both well today. 

“That’s our girls!” Dina was beaming at you both as they stood. 

“Thank you again for coming over on short notice. Did she wake up or anything?” 

“No no, she’s been out like a light. Don’t keep thanking us anyway, we can use all the practise we can get.” Jesse breathed out as he rocked on his heels. 

They said their goodbyes and left, leaving you and Ellie to collapse in bed, tired of the day. 

“I know I joked but you going all scary to protect Clemmy was super fucking hot.” You cupped Ellie’s cheeks as you softly rubbed your nose against hers before resting your foreheads together with a smile. 

“Hey it wasn’t just me, I heard what you said to them after I left the room. That was a nice touch.” 

“Why thank you.” You giggled softly before your face turned sour again. “I just can’t believe we’re having to deal with shit like this. I mean, Ellie, she got fucking hit today. How many homophobes are there in this stupid fucking town?” 

“I know, it’s ridiculous. This place is about as good as it gets and still, shit like this happens. I know what you mean about being done with it all but where do we even go you know?” 

“Well I was thinking about that, remember that farm we stayed at before we found Clem, how perfect it was, how pretty the stars were from up there, how good the sex we had up there was hmm?” You dropped your voice seductively causing her eyebrows to shoot up. “We never got to go back and lock it up because of our little bundle of joy but I was thinking maybe Joel could watch her for a day and then Dina and Jesse have her for the night so we can go have a look around and see if it’s a viable option for us. I love our family, more than anything and the more I think about it just being us up there, the more I warm up to the idea, but obviously it’s close enough that we can still see everyone regularly and be connected to Jackson, what do you think?” 

“Sounds fucking perfect babe. But I have one condition.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“We have sheep, lots of ‘em, and a cow or two maybe, oh and we get to take Shimmer and Greg with us. We should have chickens too.” 

“Sounds like more than one condition to me but I’m in.” 

“You are going to make the cutest farmer.” She smirks at you as your eyebrows furrow. 

“You’re going to be the farmer. I will sit pretty and watch you get your hands dirty.” 

“Oh will you now?” 

“Mhm you’re the one that wanted all the animals.” 

“Well I suppose that’s fair. Do you think Clem will want to go?” 

“El she’d follow you anyway, that girl has stars in her eyes when she looks at you. I think after today especially, she’ll be happy to go be farmers up in the hills.” 

“Ah! So we will be farmers. I knew you’d see it my way.” 

“You are ridiculous.” 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

“Ellie look! It’s just up ahead, it looks fine oh my god I’m so excited!” You rushed out as you spurred Greg on towards the picturesque farmhouse that you had been dreaming about returning to since you left. 

“Oh fuck yeah and it’s only taken us like an hour and a half to get here with the horses, it feels so far but so close at the same time.” 

“I feel really fucking good about this babe!” 

“Me too.” Ellie hummed and as you approached the gate you sucked a breath in, praying it would open freely. 

“Ah!” You squealed as the gate swung open and you jumped off Greg barely managing to stop yourself from jumping about as you seemed one step closer to building a life there.  

“Okay let’s stay alert just in case, you wanna sweep the house or the barn?” Ellie sounded serious but her voice failed to hide the giddiness in her as she hopped off of Shimmer and pressed a hand to the small of your back. 

“Let’s do the barn together first so we can leave the horses in there and then go through the house, I wanna walk in there with you, this is a milestone!” You beamed causing her to chuckle and start leading you round the house and towards the barn. 

Once the barn had been cleared and the horses were happily grazing on some hay you both walked back round to the porch, you practically leaping up the stairs and dragging Ellie behind you but before you could reach for the doorknob she yanked you back into her and pressed kisses from just below your ear down to your shoulder blade, swaying you both gently. There was a gentle breeze whistling through the air and it smelled so fresh and crisp, the air felt so much more cleansing than in Jackson, every breath you took making you feel light and renewed. A small white butterfly flew around you both before disappearing into the powder blue sky that was dotted with pristine, white clouds. There were patches of daffodils all over the field amongst other splotches of colourful flowers creating the most beautiful landscape. 

“El come on- ah!” You were interrupted as Ellie lifted you bridal style into her arms and started fumbling with the door. “What are you doing?” You said through giggles. 

“Practising for the real thing.” She nudged the door open and as you both walked through hearing nothing but sweet, serene silence you both snapped your heads towards each other and smiled. You grabbed her cheeks and pulled her in for a kiss that felt like you were melting into each other before she gently put you down and walked you towards the dining room table opposite the front door, her lips never once leaving yours, it started tender as she explored your mouth with her tongue, lapping at yours slowly, but it soon grew hungry and desperate, the passion radiating off of both of you, she still tasted slightly minty from when she had brushed her teeth this morning and it cooled the growing heat slightly. Her hands grabbed and squeezed at any expanse of skin she could find as she groaned into your mouth, the sound making your knees weak, relying on her to keep you upright as she reduced you to a puddle of desperation with just her lips on yours. You could barely think straight, your mind being clouded, everything becoming hazy as she devoured you. As your thighs hit the back of the table she grabbed at them and lifted you to sit on the oak, pressing herself between your legs and gently grinding her hips into yours, you whined quietly and wrapped your legs tighter round her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to you while gripping onto her hair like she was anchoring you to this plane of existence. The friction of your cores rubbing together could’ve generated electricity, it felt like it was as the hair on the back of your neck stood and you shivered with need. Shockwaves of energy rippled through you as the temperature seemed to rise impossibly higher between you both until you each pulled away gasping for breath, a string of spit connecting your lips together like the tether wrapped around each of your hearts that had kept you closely bound to her since the day you met, even when you hadn’t spoken all those years, the tether still tugged you in her direction.  

Ellie bit her lip as she quickly unbuttoned your jeans and yanked them down your legs with your assistance licking her lips at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear. “Someone’s pent up huh? All this from a little kissing? Need to take better care of you don’t I babe?” 

“Mhm, quit stalling, I’m so wet it’s uncomfortable El, need you to clean me up.” She groaned at your words and immediately kneeled down on the floor wasting no time slipping your panties to the side and burying her face between your legs. You’d think she hadn’t eaten for days with the way she was sucking you dry, your clit throbbing in her lips as her fingers teased your entrance. She knew your body better than you did, not even having to search for the spongy spot inside of you that made your insides turn to liquid. It was so easy she was chuckling into you as your hips ground themselves into her. Her tongue was her paint brush and your pussy was her artwork as she swirled it around every inch of you, she’d swap from flattening her tongue and almost making out with your cunt to small kitten licks that had you keening and whimpering. Her fingers curled as they pumped in and out of you, each time she’d hit your g-spot you’d jolt and gasp, the feeling was so intense you wanted to squirm away but she had you tightly pulled against her with her free hand gripping onto your hip hard enough there’d be faint oval bruises in her hands absence. “Oh fuck, right there baby, I’m so close, shit-” With a long, harsh suckle on your clit, her tongue working circles around it at the same time, it seemed to be the only occasion where she could multi-task, your body tensed with your release, your hips bucking onto her fingers as you ride out your high. “Ah fuck- OW!” You suddenly exclaim cutting yourself off mid-moan. Ellie quickly jumped up to face you, her lips and chin shiny with your slick that looked comical against her panicked expression. 

“Babe what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Fuck I’m sorry-” 

“No, no you didn’t do anything. You were fucking amazing but I- I think I got a splinter in my ass.” You admit shamefully. 

“No you fucking didn’t, oh my god turn around, let me see.” She couldn’t contain her laughter even as you frowned at her while hopping off the table and turning away from her. She pressed a hand to your back, bending you over the table and gently easing your underwear down your thighs as she inched close enough to your behind that you could feel her breath tickling your cheeks. 

“Ellie stop being a perv, is there a splinter?” 

“Ohh yeah, big one too, could see it from a mile away.” 

“Why is your nose practically touching my ass then?” 

“Because it’s really pretty.” You could practically hear the smirk in her voice before she made a sorrowful attempt at whistling that just sounded like air escaping through a slightly cracked window. You laughed and she smacked at your uninjured ass-cheek lightly. 

“Ellie! Get the fucking splinter out!” 

“Alright, alright. Ruining my fun you are.” 

“I’m gonna ruin you when this splinter is out of my ass.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” 

“Both you heathen now hurry up!” She chuckled before quickly but gently removing the splinter earning a satisfied hum from you as you returned upright and faced her, unamused at her childish glee while inspecting the splinter between her thumb and index finger. 

“So errr we should probably varnish this table or sand it or something before we move in here. Wouldn’t want Clem getting hurt.” Ellie declares. 

“Oh yeah this is sooo about Clem and not just you imagining railing me nine ways to sunday on here.” You raise your eyebrows at her, you knew Ellie was thinking about making sure Clem didn’t get any splinters, but you also knew that wasn’t the reason for her comment. You were the one that worried about things like that, she was the one that would throw Clem over her head high enough that you’d gasp and scold her for how close Clem’s head was to hitting the ceiling. You frowned as she seemed completely unphased by your remark only staring at the splinter still. 

“I’m keeping this, it’s a memento.” 

“Ellie so help me god-” 

“Relax babe, someone’s prickly.” She hunched over with laughter as you simply rolled your eyes and redressed yourself. 

“You’re so unfunny.” 

“Why are you always laughing then?” 

“I really don’t like you right now.” 

“Hey that’s not fair, I just made you cum in under like five minutes, that’s gotta be a record, be nice to me.” 

“I’ll be nice to you when you drop the fucking splinter.” Without hesitation she turned away from you and hurled the splinter towards the front door. 

“See, it’s gone, now kiss me woman.” She shut her eyes and puckered up her lips dramatically while making loud smooching sounds. 

“You’re lucky I love you.” 

“Doesn’t sound like kissing!” She sang before puckering her lips again to which you relented and pressed your lips against hers, smiling into the kiss as her arms wrapped around your waist. “Goddamn I love you.” You giggled as you stepped away from her and spun round the room, taking in everything you had missed in your frenzied state. So much had happened in such a short space of time but the house, the house looked like it was frozen, everything exactly as you remembered it from before. It just felt right, it felt like home. 

“So er now we’ve christened the place, how about we take a look around?” You suggested, the heat in your cheeks barely subsiding. 

“Oh yeah, I wanna christen each room before we go.” 

“You’re an animal.” She laughed as she followed you all throughout the house until you were in the kitchen, both gazing out of the window above the sink at the field that surrounded the property. The long grass was swaying in the wind, two doves landed on the fence in front of the window and their chirps were a melody you could listen to forever. The sun was beaming making everything look even more vibrant than it already did, the mountains creating the most beautiful backdrop. “Imagine teaching Clemmy all about the animals and how to grow fruit and vegetables in the sun, nothing but quiet all around.” As you spoke you could picture everything in your head like it was already reality. 

“And sitting outside at night, looking at all the stars, looking for constellations.” She spoke into your neck where her face was nestled, her arms wrapped around your front, swaying you both gently. 

“We can read together on the porch, bundle up in winter and have hot chocolate out there while we watch the snow fall.” You add. 

“Teach Clem how to ride the horses, the fields big enough.” 

“Yes! She’ll love running around with all the animals, I bet she’ll love the chickens.” You both chuckle at the notion. 

“She’s gonna make one her pet and then we’ll have a house chicken.” Ellie huffed as if she was already being faced with Clem’s puppy eyes as she clutches the clueless chicken to her chest begging for it to be her pet. 

“Bet she’ll call it Eggbert whether it’s a boy or a girl.” 

“That sounds like something I would do.” 

“That’s exactly my point.” You turn to face her over your shoulder and smile as she purses her lips and nods slowly, her eyes narrowing at your smug face before breaking out into the widest grin. 

“Babe I fucking love it here, I can picture our lives here and everything. You still want this?” She spins you to face her, the smile adorning her features would have been enough to convince you to jump off a cliff if that was what she wanted. 

“More than anything.” 

“Then, as long as Clemmy’s okay with it, we’re moving.” You squeal and press your lips against hers as she squeezes you against her, lifting you from the ground slightly and spinning you around until she staggered to a stop. “Oh fuck I’m dizzy.” She rests her hands on her knees and takes a few deep breaths that have her back visibly rising and falling causing you to chuckle at her playfulness. 

“Okay, we need to look at the fence, the water, the gas and the electric, I’ve got used to some comforts in Jackson that I’m not prepared to give up just yet.” 

“Let’s look at the fence because I don’t know who you think I am babe but I will have no clue about any of the other things.” Ellie stands upright once again, her hands finding their place on her hips as she tilts her head slightly at you. 

“Oh right me neither, that can be a job for Joel and Tommy.” 

“They’ve got their uses.” She grabs your hand and drags you back outside where you both just stand for a minute admiring the view. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

“Look this can be Clemmy’s room! Maybe you could paint something on her wall for her El!” 

“Fuck yeah but come on you, it’s been a long day and we need our beauty sleep.” You groaned as Ellie ushered you towards the master bedroom, you just wanted to stay and keep fantasising, but Ellie was right, you were tired and you wanted to wake up bright and early to get back to Clementine tomorrow. 

You each slipped off your clothes, you climbed in bed as Ellie cracked the window slightly to let the cool, summer night air breeze into the room. The only sound that could be heard was the faint chirping of crickets and your breaths as you both settle into the bed, cuddling into one another. You looped your arms around Ellie’s waist and pressed your face into her chest as she softly scratched patterns into your back. Your legs entangled with each other's as your heartbeats synced, it was serene and you felt the calmest you had felt in as long as you could remember. It felt almost perfect, but you knew once Clem was here with you both it would be perfect. You breathed in, letting Ellie’s scent linger and blur your senses more as sleep dragged you further into its embrace, she had always smelt of fresh washing that had dried in the summer breeze, it was comforting, everything about her was comforting. Her soft skin moulding against yours, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way she clutched onto you subconsciously, she was home to you, she was always home to you, even when you weren’t speaking for those years, she still offered the comfort you so desperately craved. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

“Are you okay?” You didn’t have to look up to know who it was, her voice was etched into your brain, all you wanted to do was leap into her arms and clutch onto her, never letting go but you couldn’t. You had already pushed her away until your time together was blurring memories swirling around your head. You had pushed her away to keep your relationship with your parents but it still wasn’t enough, it was never enough for them. You swore they wanted nothing to do with you, banishing you out of the house because you had got into a fight and refused to divulge why. Ellie was why, and that would’ve only angered them more. 

You had been sitting in the park, reading a book when Petra and Suze had enclosed on you, sitting down by your side with smiles. “Hey bookworm, what ya reading?” Petra questions. 

“Persuasion by Jane Austen, it’s so good, romance books will always have a special place in my heart.” 

“Another romance book huh? We gotta get you out in the real world, Jason’s got his eye on you, you know, we could set you two up.” Suze quirked her eyebrow as you grimaced. 

“As much as that offer is so tempting, I’d rather stab myself in the eye repeatedly than go out with Jason.” 

“What? What’s wrong with him?” He’s a guy and he’s not Ellie, you missed her every minute of everyday, Petra and Suze were a nice distraction but they were nothing like Ellie, you just wanted Ellie. 

“I don’t know, I’m just not interested in him like that, he’s so full of himself, there wouldn’t be enough room in the relationship with me and his huge ego.” They both giggled at your harsh tone. 

“Well that’s fair.” Silence settled around you as you watched the scenery, people-watching had always been one of your favourite pass-times but you found yourself doing it more now you were constantly searching for the auburn hair you used to run your fingers through, you had convinced yourself you’d seen her this time, that wasn’t a part of your imagination like it often was but Petra’s words confirmed you had actually been seeing her this time. 

“Ugh there goes the town dyke. God she’s so fucking weird.” 

“I know right, why would they even let her in? Throw her to the wolves I say.” Suze snickered and everything went red, your ears rang and your vision blurred, you only remember being yanked off of Suze as Petra lay just a foot away wheezing and coughing, cursing you under her breath. 

Your parents had screamed, thrown things at you, yanked you by their iron grip around your wrists to barricade you in your room when you refused to explain why you had so viciously attacked the girls that were supposed to be your friends. You sobbed and sobbed until you heard your dad shifting whatever he had used to keep your bedroom door shut tightly. He didn’t speak, didn’t look you in the eye, just dragged you out of your room and straight outside where he shut the door after uttering. “Find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” That was it. You were on your own and the rain that started to pour from the heavens mirrored your mood as you wandered aimlessly until your legs grew weak and you collapsed by a tree, desperately hoping it would shelter you from the torrential downpour. 

“Hey I said are you okay?” Ellie nudged your shoe with hers as you sniffled and spared a glance up at her only to bury your head back into your knees that you were holding to your chest with a small shake of your head. “Why are you outside in this weather? You’re gonna get sick. Go home.” Her tone wasn’t nasty but it wasn’t soft and sweet like it used to be with you, it was a slap on the cheek that you thoroughly deserved. 

“I can’t” You weakly whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear, she kneeled down and stroked a hand down your hair, beckoning you to meet her worried gaze. 

“They kick you out again?” 

“Mhm.” 

“What was the reason this time?” 

“I fucked up Petra and Suze and I wouldn’t tell them why, they love Petra and Suze more than me so they’re really pissed.” 

“Why’d you fight them?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” You wouldn’t meet her eyes, you just stared off into the distance, occasionally hiccupping as a result of your sobbing. 

“Get up.” 

“Just leave me alone please Ellie.” She was too painful of a reminder of how alone you were, you’d rather be actually alone than in her presence. 

“Just get up, c’mon. You’re not sleeping out here tonight. If you get struck by lightning I’ll feel kinda responsible.” Her tone was lighter than it had been and you chuckled slightly as you took her hand and let her pull you from the ground, immediately turning on her heel and letting you trail along behind her back to her home. You considered just disappearing from your place behind her, you doubted that she would notice before you were long gone as she seemed to avoid looking at you like she’d turn to stone if she did. 

Her garage was exactly as you’d remembered it with a couple new additions to the trinkets that littered every surface and wall. You had always loved it here, it was so much more inviting than your home. You used to let yourself in and immediately flop down on her sofa like you owned the place but now you just stood by the door, shivering and fidgeting unsure of what to do from here. Ellie was busy at her makeshift kitchen, milling through cupboards and drawers. 

“Have you eaten?” She turned to face you for the first time since she had found you and frowned at your uncomfortable demeanour. “Just sit down or something, you’re making me feel weird just looking at you.” She snapped, immediately regretting it as you flinched and dragged yourself to the sofa like she’d throw you out if you hadn’t. “Sorry, have you eaten?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“That’s not what I asked though is it? Have you eaten? Yes or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Fucking liar.” She bit her lip as your eyes flashed to hers, guilt painted all over your features. She couldn’t see you like this, it was too hard to not just wrap you in her arms and tell you everything would be okay, that she’s here for you, you wouldn’t let her do that and she couldn’t let herself so she just turned back towards the kitchenette and began making some dinner for you both. “You know where my clothes are, don’t sit in those wet clothes, if you wanna take a shower to warm up you can.” 

“I’m-” 

“For fuck’s sake can you stop being so fucking stubborn and just take care of yourself? Go warm up and put on some dry clothes.” She sniped leading you to rush away from her and into the bathroom without another word. “Shit.” She muttered as the bathroom door slammed shut, she was kicking you while you were down and she felt horrible but she couldn’t control herself around you, if she could she would’ve pretended she hadn’t seen you earlier and kept walking. She heard the shower turn on and faintly through the pattering of the water she heard sniffles and choked sobs that led her to press her ear to the door trying to listen in closer. It was clear as day, the sound of your sobs that you thought the shower muffled, her heart clenched and her skin itched as it felt like it was constricting around her, choking the air out of her. She stayed at the door, just listening, she knew she should’ve given you privacy but she felt glued to the wood separating you both, she only moved when the sound of the soup bubbling beckoned her over to turn the heat on the cooker down. She went to go back to the door but the sound of the shower turning off sent her leaping in the complete opposite direction, sitting at her desk and forcing herself to keep her eyes planted on the comic that had been resting atop as you walked out in a towel, her towel and shuffled over to the drawers where she kept her pyjamas.  

She dished up the soup and handed you a bowl wordlessly before going back to the desk to eat hers, the tension was palpable between the both of you, the only sound filling the room being small metallic clinks of your spoons hitting the bowls over and over again as you scraped the remnants of the soup from the bowl. “Sorry it’s not much.” 

“Thank you Ellie.” You walked over to her and took her bowl going to the sink to wash them up for her, it was the least you could do. 

“You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“No I’m not taking your bed too.” 

“Just-” She went to snap but sucked in a breath and calmed herself down. “Just take the bed, please.” You breathed deeply before nodding your head and skulking over to the bed where you had once stayed almost every other night, climbing in cautiously, subconsciously crawling over to ‘your’ side of the bed. 

“Thanks, night Ellie.” 

“Night.” It didn’t take long for sleep to overtake you, you were exhausted and your head was pounding, sleep providing the much-needed reprieve from the emotions of the day. 

The first thing your eyes focused on as you woke was Ellie’s sleeping form on the sofa, curled up under a blanket, her face was peaceful, washed of the scowl that typically took over her features around you now. Suddenly everything hit you like a brick and it felt like the air was getting sucked out of you as you rushed to change back into your clothes and get out of there as quickly and as quietly as possible. You were out of the door in under five minutes and the guilt only weighed you down with every step you took away from Ellie. She had been kind and helped you in a time of need and you ran off without a word. You didn’t know what you would say, how you could face her, it was too painful, going back to your home and facing the wrath of your parents would be kinder to your heart than staying with Ellie any longer. 

Ellie woke, eyes immediately scanning the room for you but as soon as she noticed you were gone without a warning, without a goodbye, she felt like she was losing you all over again and her eyes welled with tears as she pressed her face into her palms and cried softly. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

“Hi baby! Oh we missed you, did you have fun with Uncle Jesse and Auntie Dina?” You squeezed Clem to your chest until you heard a little squeak leave her lips prompting you to release her and tuck a loose strand of her soft waves behind her ear. 

“Yes! Uncle Jesse showed me how to play catch and Auntie Dina helped me make cookies, I have some to bring home!” Clem beamed before Ellie scooped her up and spun her around, eliciting giggles from the small girl. 

“Aren’t you a lucky girl? Say thank you kiddo.” Ellie pressed a sweet kiss to Clem’s cheek as she propped her on her hip and bounced her slightly. 

“Thank you! You guys are the best.” Clem’s happiness rubbed off on all of you as you all chuckled. You both thanked them profusely before leaving to go to Joel’s, you wanted to thank him in person also and you needed to discuss the move with him. 

As you walked, Clem in the middle of you both, gripping onto your hands, she rambled and rambled about her time away from you both until she hummed quietly, signalling she was done. “Can you swing me? Can we swing? Can we, can we? Pleaseee.” You and Ellie both smiled at her before swinging her into the air from her arms. She’d do a jump into it each time and giggled sweetly as she soared through the air between you both. By the time you reached Joel’s, yours and Ellie’s arms ached and Clem seemed tired and subdued, her tiredness only being confirmed as you entered Joel’s and she immediately took herself to the sofa to lay down instead of running straight outside to her playset. 

“Hi Joel, thanks so much for watching her yesterday. Didn’t give you too much trouble did she?” 

“Oh not at all, she was an angel as always, how was your trip?” You and Ellie glanced at each other before beaming at him. 

“It was perfect, you gotta see this house Joel, it’s a farmhouse with a fence around the property that’s completely intact, it’s got a barn, and the house has a wraparound porch, the view is amazing, it’s perfect.” Ellie rushed out as she sat at his dining table where he had already situated himself. 

“So you wanna move there?” You both nodded hesitantly, anticipating his reaction. “Well me and Tommy will have to get up there, have a look and see if it’s functional, but if ya wanna do this and it’ll make ya happy, I support ya. I heard what happened to Clem the other day.” He didn’t have to finish his sentence, you all understood what he was saying. It seemed you had outgrown Jackson and he wanted you to be happy, he wanted Clem to be happy and carefree. “We’ll all pitch in and get ya up there.” 

“Thank you Joel, we can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.” Your voice croaked slightly as you tried to hold in the tears of joy that welled in your eyes. 

“Well I can see this makes ya happy and that’s all I want.” 

“You’re really something old man.” Ellie chuckled, a smile so wide you expected her cheeks to ache as she looked between you and him, grabbing your hand and squeezing.  

“You told Clemmy yet?” 

“No actually, we wanted to speak to you first before we told her but we’ll talk to her about it today.” Ellie replied. 

“I’m sure she’ll jump at the idea.” 

“That’s what I said.” You looked to the girl dozing on the sofa as you spoke and everything felt like it was falling into place, your life being mapped out in front of you, the sight making your body buzz with excitement. 

tags: @emiliabby@readbydayana@radioheadfan699@lil-elliesgf@isitadinosaur@amberputh@maelovescashew@a-little-bit-of-everybody@moonspowder@bready101

[willalove75]

would you write alci breastfeeding y/n after an exhausting day? something cuter

Absolutely! Thanks so much for the request!💕

Warnings: Breastfeeding (I guess it needs a warning? Idk.)

A/n: This is my first time writing something like this so go easy on me😅😂 ALSO I feel like it's been a HOT minute since I've done a Lady D ask! I've been super slacking lolzzzz sorry💕

Today sucked to say the least. You were helping Alcina with some of her tasks to ease her burden. Normally you don't have a tough time with the things she asks you to do, most of the time you actually enjoy helping her; being able to organize files, help her with paperwork, running errands. But today you were tasked with speaking with the mayor about current events in the village. As one of the four Lords, it was Alcina's responsibility to keep an eye on and maintain a healthy relationship with the village and the village mayor. You had accompanied Alcina to these meetings enough times where Alcina felt you were ready to conduct it on your own. Of course you were nervous, but you felt ready.

The ride there was uncomfortable - uncomfortable being an understatement. Over the winter the roads have deteriorated greatly and haven't been tended to so they were uneven and filled with potholes. You made sure to make note of that and make sure the mayor was aware of the situation and knows he needs to fix it.

It's not that you were dreading this meeting, but the mayor was known for being a bastard. Part of the reason that Alcina always attended these meetings was because of his notorious attitude but he always acted on his best behavior around Alcina - or else he'd run the very real and serious risk of losing a limb, or worse.

When you finally arrived in the village the people walking around slowed and carefully eyed the carriage, expecting Lady Dimitrescu to step out of it. When you stepped out alone most of the villagers went back to whatever they were doing. A few brave - or stupid - villagers decided to voice their opinions of you since the Lady wasn't around. Calling you a traitor or the demon's whore or any other colorful names they could come up with. You ignored them and made your way into the village hall where the mayor's office was.

The meeting sucked, badly. The moment the mayor realized you were alone he was the king of bastards once more. He spoke down to you the entire time, even after reminding him that everything that is said and how it was said at this meeting would be reported back to Lady Dimitrescu. The man was dumber than you thought, since the threat of Lady Dimitrescu wasn't in his immediate vicinity, there might as well be no threat at all.

Everything you brought up to him was mocked. Even things that were seriously wrong with the village he didn't take seriously. The mayor wasn't a big man, but he was definitely taller and bigger than you. Something he used to his advantage when you threatened him with the wrath of your Lady. He practically backed you into a corner while he shouted at you and threatened to put his hands on you. He even made a comment about the kind of lover you must be if you were able to satisfy the Lady and how he would like a taste for himself. It took everything in you to not show fear or cry. No tears fell but you felt them welling up in your eyes and the fear might as well have been radiating off of you as he invaded your space.

After that you gathered your things, thanked him for his time, told him you would be reporting everything back to the Lady and tried your best to keep yourself together until you got into the carriage.

You wanted to stop by one of the shops and pick up Alcina and the girls something and grab something to eat but you were too distraught. The moment the carriage door closed the tears started falling and you knocked on the wall three times to signal the driver to head back to the castle.

The ride home was arguably worse than the ride there. Not only was it just as bumpy as the ride there, but you cried for more than half of the time it took you to get home.

The gates of the castle finally came into view and you've never felt such relief. The carriage barely came to a stop when you jumped out of it - not bothering to wait for the driver to open the door for you.

You were exhausted, angry and still rattled by everything that happened with the mayor. All you wanted was Alcina. You needed her to comfort you, make you feel better, hold you and give you kisses and make all of the bad feelings go away. You needed her to care for you and you desperately hoped she wasn't too busy because it was something you needed now more than ever.

"Good evening." The head maid said as you entered the castle. "How was your trip?"

"It sucked. Do you know where Alcina is?"

"I believe she's in her chambers, she received a phone call."

"Thank you."

You beeline it upstairs to your shared chambers and enter the room, quickly closing the door behind you.

Alcina was sitting at her vanity with the phone receiver to her ear. When she heard the door open she looked in it's direction, when she realized it was you you saw her begin to smile. The moment she realized your distressed state her smile quickly faded and she had a look of concern in her eyes. She turns back towards the mirror and her posture stiffens.

"Yes Mother Miranda, I will keep you informed. I'm sorry Mother Miranda but something came up and I must be going. I understand, I apologize for cutting our incredibly important conversation short but I believe there's a trespasser in the castle I must see to. Thank you Mother Miranda. I will. Goodbye." She hangs up and turns back towards you. "Draga mea, what's wrong? What happened?" Her eyes were wide with worry and you couldn't hold back your tears anymore. You run towards her and she lifts you into her arms and cradles the back of your head. "What happened? Are you hurt? Who did this to you?" You hear the concern in her voice and bury your face into her neck.

"I'm not hurt." You said.

"Who upset you so my love? Did something happen in the village?" You shake your head no. "Please, iubirea mea, tell me what happened."

"The mayor is such a fucking asshole." You cry into her.

"What did he do?" She asks, her voice cold. "Did he hurt you? Did that filthy man thing lay his disgusting hands on you?"

"No." You begin recounting what happened from the moment you left the castle to the moment you left the village hall practically in tears. As you tell her what happened in the mayors office her grip around you tightens. When you tell her that he backed you into a corner and threatened you, that he said that he wanted a taste of you for himself Alcina was shaking with anger.

"That bastard!! How DARE he. How dare he threaten you in such a manner. That man will pay for what he's done." You can feel her heartbeat going berserk inside of her chest and her breath becoming labored. "Don't worry draga, I am going down there right this second and he will regret-"

"No, please don't. Please don't leave." You say as you cry and cling to her dress.

"Draga he has to pay for what he's done-"

"I know but please just stay with me right now. Please. I need you. I don't want to be alone. I just want you right now."

Your confession, your desperate plea for Alcina to stay with you washes over her like a warm summer breeze. The anger that's radiating off of her right now begins to diminish and she takes a deep breath and holds you tight.

"Okay draga. He will be dealt with first thing tomorrow morning. I won't leave you iubirea mea, I promise." She kisses your temple and her lips linger on your skin for a few moments. "What do you need me to do, draga?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want me to care for you? How about a bath and some warm pajamas?" You nod your head into her neck and she smiles and stands with you in her arms.

Alcina prepares a bath and once the water is warm and the tub is full she undresses you and places you in the tub. She washes your hair, massaging your scalp as she rubs the shampoo in and combs through your hair with care after she puts the conditioner in. She washes your body with your favorite soaps from her collection she knows you love. After your bath she wraps you in a giant fluffy towel, dries you off and dresses you in your favorite pajamas.

As she's caring for you, Alcina can feel her breasts starting to fill and then leak a little. The care she's giving you is something that comes so natural to her and her regenerative properties cause her to produce milk every time she acts maternally - towards anyone.

It was something she kept to herself until you found out about it on accident. When she breastfed you for the first time she felt a relief, both physical and emotional. It felt right to her, being able to nurture you in such a way that was so intimate but not sexually. And the physical relief if brought to her breasts could have made her cry. If she went too long without expelling the milk her breasts would ache something terrible.

She did her best to ignore the fullness in her chest as she laid you on her chest and rubbed circles across your back in bed.

Alcina definitely helped you relax, you were way less distraught and upset than you were when you first got back. Now you were just exhausted.

"Is there anything else you need draga mea?" She asks.

You shake your head no and let out a sigh as you melt into her embrace. Just as you feel yourself falling asleep a loud growl rips through your stomach and you suddenly realize how hungry you are.

"Draga did you have dinner?"

"No, I forgot. I was gonna stop and eat something in the village but I was so upset I just wanted to come home."

"Oh draga, let me have a maid bring you something."

"That's okay, I'm not in the mood for eating." You say as your stomach grumbles again.

"Clearly you are hungry, draga mea. You have to eat something." You shrug your shoulders and nuzzle into her neck. The pressure in Alcina's breasts increases at the action and she shifts to make herself more comfortable. She's breastfed you before, but for some reason she's still feels embarrassed each time she suggests it. Even though she knows that it would both feed you and bring you extra comfort. "What if - if you're not up for a proper dinner, do you want me to feed you?"

You can hear the hesitation in her voice, you know how sensitive of a topic this is for her but you love that she suggests it regardless of her hesitation. Nodding your head yes, Alcina kisses you on the head and sits you up in her lap. She reaches behind her back and pulls down the zipper of her dress and slides her arms out of the sleeves. After the fabric pools around her waist she reaches behind her back once more and unclips her bra. She removes her bra and you're face-to-face with her massive, amazing breasts.

"Ready, draga?" She asks and you nod your head.

Alcina cradles you in the crook of her arm and guides her nipple into your mouth. You immediately latch on and begin to suck, warm milk spilling out into your mouth. Alcina sighs from the relief of the pressure and sits back against the headboard. She runs her fingers through your hair and smiles, happy that she is able to care for you in such a way - especially when you needed it so badly.

Warm milk fills your empty belly and you hum in response. You feel Alcina's fingers comb through your hair and you close your eyes, relaxing into her touch as you continue to drink from her breast. The steady flow of milk begins to thin and eventually stops, no matter how much you suck at her hardened nipple.

"Still hungry iubirea mea?" She asks.

"Mhm."

"Okay love, one second."

Alcina turns you and cradles you in her other arm and once again guides her nipple into your eager mouth. Latching on again, you continue to drink the steady flow of milk from her breast.

"Good girl, that's it my love. Eat as much as you need. You and I both know I have no issues with shortages." She says and you giggle into her skin as you drink.

The warmth in your belly spreads throughout your body, to your limbs, to your fingers and toes, to your head and your face. With the warmth comes the exhaustion you were feeling earlier and your eyes begin to slowly close.

Alcina notices your suckling getting lighter and lighter before stopping altogether. Looking down at you, she finds you asleep with her nipple still in your mouth and a steam of milk down your cheek. She lightly chuckles before pulling you back and wiping away the milk with her thumb.

The movement and the sensation of her wiping her thumb across your cheek stirs you awake and you look up at her with tired eyes.

"Are you full draga mea?"

"Mhm." You mumble as you nod your head yes.

"Good." She says caressing your face. "Go to sleep iubirea mea."

Alcina moves to lay you on the bed but you cling to her.

"Stay." You say, your voice barely a whisper.

"I will be right back, I promise. I am going to put my nightgown on and get ready for bed and I will be right back. Okay?"

You sleepily nod your head and Alcina lays you on the pillow next to her. She kisses you on the head before pulling the covers over you and getting up and getting herself ready for bed. For all you know it could have been hours or seconds since Alcina said she would be right back. But before you know it you feel the mattress sink under her weight and you feel her strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into her.

"Thank you, Alci. I love you." You mumble.

"Of course iubirea mea. I'd do anything for you draga. Te iubesc mai mult decât luna și stelele. Goodnight my love." She says as her lips graze the shell of your ear. Alcina kisses the soft skin behind your ear and nuzzles you as you cuddle further back into her. (I love you more than the moon and stars.)

Not long after, Alcina hears light snores coming from you. With a full heart and a smile on her face, Alcina falls asleep thinking of who she is going to replace the current mayor with once she's through with him tomorrow morning.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 5: The Withering of Hearts (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 5: The Withering of Hearts

The Seven Kingdoms is plagued with a succession crisis, and drunken impulse never leads to a good end.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: Extreme slow burn, angst, Daemon being an ass, excessive costume detailing 

Word Count: 3.4k words 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: thank you guys for the comments you left on the last chapter! it was really nice to see you guys theorising about what would happen next haha 👀 most unfortunately, the slowburn must keep slow-burning, and Daemon isn’t done stirring up shit yet lol. happy reading! PS, please see the end of the chapter for an extended A/N to get a rough grasp of how the next two chapters will be like! 

wonderful dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​  !  

Scarce had a week passed since the funeral of Queen Aemma, and the Red Keep was once again abuzz with a new scandal. 

Prince Daemon had been caught at a brothel, raising a drunken toast to the late Queen and her ill-fated babe. 

He had toasted Baelon as the Heir for a Day. 

That fucking bastard. 

Fuming, you lurked in the shadows of the secret passages by the throne room, listening as Viserys denounced his brother in an angry tirade. ‘How dare he?’ your eyes were shining with ferocity as you paced the halls, eyes fixed on the proceedings in the throne room. You had guessed the truth after all: Daemon only wanted to use the power vacuum left by the death of Aemma and Baelon to instil himself as the heir to the Iron Throne. You couldn’t believe you actually thought the advice he offered on the cliffs was an act of goodwill. That maybe, Daemon was not the vicious, annoying little bastard you once knew. 

Alas, you were wrong. And what a fool you felt. 

Your lips were pressed in a thin line as you watched Viserys disinherit Daemon permanently from the line of succession, and watched with your very eyes as the relationship between the two brothers deteriorated into ruin. 

What you didn’t know however, that you had also just witnessed a part of Daemon’s heart wither away into nothing but coldness, as he heard his brother’s proclamation. ‘Was this what grief felt like?’ Daemon bitterly pondered. ‘At long last, I understand how she felt that day.’ 

You moved to navigate out of the secret passageways as soon as Daemon turned his heel to leave the throne room, intent on cornering him for an explanation, or to scream at him. Perhaps both. 

Daemon was lost in a flurry of furious thoughts as he saw a familiar figure step into his way, obstructing his path. Her chin was jutted out defiantly, and the expression of anger on her face was visible. For a moment, Daemon thought she looked like a true Targaryen, with fire and blood running through her veins. He held up a hand to stop whatever reprimand she had for him, eyes dark, “You saw everything that happened in the throne room. I have no need for you to parrot whatever words my dear brother has already bestowed upon me.” 

You have never wanted to slap a man so badly. “Have you no shame?” you demanded, temper flaring. “How could you have been so cruel?” “it was a drunken jape, made of impulse. Why does no one understand that?” Daemon seethed. Your jaw dropped at his audacity, and you stepped forward to jab a finger into his chest, “You, Daemon Targaryen, are truly the scum of the earth. Your nephew has just died. Your sister-in-law has just died! And here you are, making drunken japes with poor taste. Are you so utterly boorish that you would stoop so low to mock the dead?” 

Daemon listened to her, an impatient look upon his face. “Are you quite finished, my lady?” Your eyes widened in outrage, and suddenly, it was like you lost control. You lifted your hand to slap him, but he caught it with a vice grip, eyes narrowed. “Let me go!” you struggled to twist out of his grip, but it was futile. Daemon took the chance to drag you to a more secluded corner of the castle, eyes blazing as he braced himself to confess the truth. 

“If you would just shut up, and listen to me, you daft woman, then I would’ve told you that I didn’t do it!” Daemon snapped. Your jaw sagged, “And now you’re lying to evade your responsibility? Seven Hells, Daemon, you never cease to surprise me.” 

“I didn’t!” Daemon nearly yelled out. His brother would not listen to the truth, but he had a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, Y/N would be the exception. That she would be the only person who didn’t constantly see the worst in him. 

“Aemma was my sister-in-law, and while I did not cross paths oft enough with her that we would consider each other close, she was still dear to me. She was kind to me. Why would I dishonour her memory so? And my nephew. I harbour no grudge against his memory. He was a babe who perished tragically. Do you think I would’ve stooped so low to the point where I would mock my family? Think rationally, byka zaldrizes.” Daemon stared deep into your eyes, an almost pleading look in his eyes. Please, Daemon thought, please believe me. Don’t see as the monster everyone sees me as. Please. 

You bit your lip, looking into Daemon’s violet eyes, glinting orange in the firelight, and pondered on his words. It was true, Daemon had never shown any ill will towards Aemma, and they had always treated each other respectfully. How could you have never considered this possibility? You felt a little ashamed that you had assumed the worst of Daemon, although it had felt like habit by now, but you had grown up with him. You’d like to believe, that under all his brashness and arrogance, that he was still that same boy who snuck out with you nearly every night when you were both children to the kitchens, giggling as you munched on lemon cakes and strawberry tarts. That underneath all his brutality and his lusts, he was still a good person. Your eyes softened as you saw the look in Daemon’s eyes, beseeching you, to believe him. 

Daemon felt his hope dwindle away as he watched you hesitate for a long time, and his eyes began to darken again. So she is the same as everyone else, he thought with much gloom. But your next words took him by surprise. “I...believe you,” you said quietly. 

Daemon stared at Y/N after the words left her lips, lilac eyes filled with disbelief. Then he threw back his head as a hoarse laugh burst from his lips, and he let go of your wrist. You watched uneasily as he continued laughing like a crazed madman, but you said you believed he didn’t do it, and it was always difficult to sway you from your convictions. 

Daemon finally stopped laughing, though a twisted smirk still painted his lips, but it looked more pained than amused. “How is it that you always seem to have faith in me, while even my own brother cannot seem to conjure up the slightest hint of trust for me?” “I know the calibre of your character, Daemon,” you said quietly. “You may be many things, but even you would not be predisposed to such innate cruelness.” 

There was a pause as the both of them eyed each other, Daemon with some disbelief, and you with faith glittering in your eyes. Daemon sometimes had a hard time reconciling how you could both be so naive and wise. “If only,” Daemon muttered bitterly, breaking the silence, “Someone like you was the Hand of the King, instead of that power-hungry leech of a Cunttower.” “The Hand was the one who slandered you?” you blinked in surprise. Daemon let out a snort at your reaction. “You do know that that cunt would never stop until he turns my brother against me, do you not?” 

“But-” you inhaled sharply, “The Hand serves the realm. Otto Hightower might hold a strong dislike for you, but he is not one to let his pettiness blind his judgement-” 

“And what do you know of that cunt’s nature? Do not act as though you know him well,” Daemon spat out, hand running through his hair in frustration. “Would you be so dumb as to believe it is not in his nature to concoct such a scandal to sow discord between me and my brother? He has done so many times, and he will not cease until he has what he wants: which is uncontrolled access to my brother so that he may sway him with the venom he spouts from his lips.” His purple eyes were dark with rage, and his fists were clenched as he gritted his teeth. 

Suddenly, without warning, he swung and struck his fist on the wall. You covered your mouth to stifle your gasp, wide eyes watching as he breathed heavily and withdrew his fist from the wall. A sheen of scarlet covered his knuckles. For a long moment, the air was filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing. 

“House Targaryen cannot stand like this,” his voice was more tempered now, yet more steely. “We were raised with the belief to stay together. That no matter the circumstances, the house of the dragon cannot divide.” His voice grew more agitated as he began pacing around in circles, while you observed him warily and listened, knowing that no good would come out of interrupting him. “What happened to preservation? What happened to ensuring our dynasty lasts for eternity?” he snapped, banging his fists on the walls once again in frustration. “My dearest brother always stressed the importance of family. Yet he continuously allows those scum on the Small Council to rule his kingdom, and worse still, he allows that Hightower cunt to guide him.” 

In a heartbeat, he was in front of you once more, seizing your shoulders in a vice grip. You stiffened at the sudden gesture, but there was no stopping him now. “He should’ve made me Hand. I am his kin, I am of his blood,” he nearly shouted out those last two words. “I would never steer my brother in the wrong direction. If he would have more faith in me instead of those lickspittle lords, House Targaryen could surpass even the noble dragonlords of Old Valyria at the height of their power. Yet he is blind to all that, preferring to stew idly.” You were unsure of what to say, however Daemon paid no heed to your speechlessness, turning away from you and muttering, “He will see that without me, he would not be able to run this city, much less the realm.” 

It was then you finally found your voice once more. “What are you planning to do?” He turned to you, with a baleful gleam in his eyes. In that moment, he looked like Balerion’s fury reborn once more. Your heart filled with dread at his next words. 

“Wait.” 

You watched pensively as he stalked down the halls, his demeanour much like a predator stalking its prey. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he stilled, and said coldly, “You should wisen up, you know.” 

You furrowed your brows. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” 

He didn’t turn around, yet you could picture the menace on his face as he spoke his next words. “Just think, if court gossip was enough to get me, a Targaryen prince, to be disinherited and banished, what exactly do you think it can do to you, a mere lady of no status and influence at court?” 

“I’m not like you-” Daemon didn’t let you finish. He knew his words were cruel, but with the fire pumping through his veins and the roaring in his ears, seven hells be damned if he was still going to be polite. You needed to know, you needed to understand, that survival was a treacherous thing here in the Red Keep, how relying on the power of people above you for protection was foolish. People with power are oft mercurial, and once the tide of their favour turned against you, like it had with Daemon…

He needed you to see just how much danger you were in staying in this court of vipers. 

“Who knows, maybe you would end up ordered home by your lord father and forced to marry by the morrow. Seven Hells,” he chuckled darkly, recalling your conversation at the cliffs, “Maybe you might even be ordered out of court by the King. He can barely stomach the sight of my niece after Aemma’s death. What will he do to you, who was so close to my dear late sister-in-law?” He heard a shocked gasp behind him, but he didn’t pause in his tirade, though a twinge of something like guilt filled his chest. But he wanted you to know, to see, how this court was filled with nothing but vicious schemers who would not care a fig about her. And so, with malice in his voice, he forced out the final crushing blow. “Mayhaps you will end up like my dear sister-in-law even, her belly cut open as if she were nothing but an animal. Even if she had been Queen, that did not save her regardless.” 

You stared at Daemon’s back with wide eyes, a mix of rage and horror seeping through your bones. Somehow his words brought about such a chill in you that even the coldest winter nights were incapable of. “Have a good night, Lady Y/N. Think about what I said. I trust that you are clever enough to come to your senses.” ‘You have to tread carefully now, Y/N,’ was Daemon’s final thought as he stalked away from your still frame. 

You waited until his heavy footsteps faded away, before slowly sinking down onto the floor, mind in a daze. 

You stayed there for a long time, unable to move a muscle. Daemon’s cruel last words had conjured up a sleight of images in your head, each more horrific than the last, and all of Aemma, of being forced to wed, your freedom snatched from your very eyes. Eventually, the sound of footsteps approaching made you aware of your whereabouts once more, and you quickly stood up before a servant wandered across your despairing frame and asked you some awkward questions. Numbly, you made your way through the halls, back to Aemma’s apartments. You paused in front of a familiar door. Aemma’s bedchambers had been left untouched since her death, save for the removal of her blood soaked sheets. You thought you could not bear to even be in the place where your dear friend had breathed her last, painful moments in this world, but you needed the company tonight, even if it was the company of a woman long dead. You inhaled shakily before opening the doors. 

The room was quiet, the stench of blood having not quite dissipated yet, which sent a wave of nausea rolling through your gut. You ventured towards the lounge where Aemma used to sit, where you had fed her grapes and laughed with her no less than a week ago. You took a seat gingerly. Your gaze wandered across the room, before it fixed grimly on Aemma’s deathbed. 

Moonlight streamed through the windows, and you wrapped your shawl tighter around you as a cold gust of wind enveloped the room. You had been winded and horrified, and even angry at Daemon’s words when they were first spoken. You wanted to ignore his words as that of someone who was bitter and raging, but your thoughts kept spiralling into terrifying scenarios of your freedom being snatched right in front of your eyes, and being utterly powerless to do anything to stop it. You had spent so long, relishing in the freedom of being home at the Red Keep, and now, you realised darkly, that you had taken it for granted. 

Tracing your fingers along the soft material of the lounge, you bit your lip as you imagined the wide smile Aemma always reserved for you and her soft voice, like she was still here, sitting right next to you. “Aemma…” you thought mournfully, tears clouding your vision, “You always knew the right thing to say, and the right thing to do. What course of action would you have advised me to do?’ You tilted your head back, resting your head on the lounge backing, letting your tears fall freely. ‘I wish you were here,’ you sniffled, ‘I wish I had saved you.’ Mayhaps the thought was utterly ludicrous, but you felt guilty and pained that you had allowed yourself to get distracted by the tourney. ‘I should have insisted on staying by your side,’ your thoughts tumbled out bitterly, like a violently raging storm. As wishful as it was, but you thought, maybe you could’ve prevented it all. Maybe you could have pleaded with Viserys that the effort was useless or fiercely declared that you would snatch the Maester’s own blade and slaughter whomever dared harm Aemma. However, even you could not change the gods’ plan: the babe had been in breech, and Aemma’s time in this world was fated to be cut short no matter what. But you didn’t even care to think of that fact, too lost in your self-loathing and blame. 

Just then, you felt a soft hand on your shoulder, jolting you out of your reverie. Startled, you looked around the room. There was no one there. But you could’ve sworn that for one moment…there had been a presence here. Could…could it have been Aemma’s ghost? 

Heart thumping, you stood up with shaky legs and began to tidy up the various misplaced items in Aemma’s room, like you had done so many times before. The familiar ritual calmed you down, and allowed for you to gather your thoughts and circumstances coherently again. Perhaps it was coupled with the strange phantom presence you swore you sensed in the room somehow, but you pulled yourself out of your grief long enough to settle on a resolute thought. 

‘Daemon was right. I do need to wake up. It’s time I stop relying on the grace of those more powerful than me and start fighting to protect myself.’

In that moment, even the Seven would be taken aback by the fierce fire that shone in Lady Y/N Tyrell’s eyes. The naive girl of 23 was gone, and someone more hardened had replaced her. 

‘No matter the cost, I must stay at the Red Keep. I will not end up shoved into a fate I do not desire. I refuse.’ 

‘I have a plan.’ 

The bells tolled in celebration as all the lords and ladies of the realm were gathered before the Iron Throne, save for one. The Rogue Prince soothed his mount, the Blood Wyrm, Caraxes, as the figure of Lady Mysaria approached. 

Meanwhile, a lady with a mind of steel and heart of determination stood with her hands clasped, next to the Lady Alicent and Lord Hand, where the King had insisted for her to be. The lords who were acquainted with her whispered to themselves, having known of her hot-tempered past and rivalry with none other than the Rogue Prince himself. “The Rose with Thorns of Fire,” some whispered. “The third head of the dragon,” some chuckled, referring to the affectionate nickname the late Prince Baelon had given to your rather unusual trio: you, Daemon and Viserys. 

The lady heard them all, but she was silent as she watched each of the great lords of the realm swear their fealty to the new heir, the first Princess of Dragonstone. Clad in a dark blue gown of silk and brocade with a square neckline, the dress drew whispers for its visible opulence, even compared to the other ladies who were decked out in their finest. The bodice consisted of intricate diamond patterning with beading, and the gown had puffed sleeves that were banded with a few stripes of rocaille brocade, and the ruffles of her chemise were visible at her neckline and at the end of her puffed sleeves. Underneath the ruffles, however, were long fitted sleeves that were strangely reminiscent of…dragon scales? It was a look that undoubtedly signified the allegiances of Lady Y/N to House Targaryen, as well as her close bond to their reigning monarch. It was a look that exuded power. 

Far away in the Dragonpit, Daemon took one last look at the Red Keep, lips pursed as his mind lingered on that one person. But then he shook his head, and bade Caraxes to soar through the skies. 

As the lords and ladies in the throne room burst into applause and bowed for their new heir: The Realm’s Delight, no one but you could hear the distinct screech of the Blood Wyrm as it lifted into the skies. 

You lifted your head, and smiled encouragingly at Rhaenyra, who, while visibly looked startled, returned a genuine, warm smile. 

The game of thrones had gained a new player, forged by Daemon Targaryen’s hand, and time would only strengthen her mettle.

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes @salembridger @itszzmoon @kmmg98​ @travelingmypassion​ @zae5​

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy​ 

those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist for this fic or for my other hotd characters in the comments or through this form! thank you for your support 💗

translation: byka zaldrizes - little dragon 

also, a sketch i did of y/n’s gown at rhaenyra’s investiture :)) uncolourised because I’m lazy 😭 hopefully it’ll give you a better visualization though (also a/n below! pls scroll to read :))

y/n about to become the fashion icon of westeros 💪🏻

A/N (pls read!) : and that makes chapter 5! chapter 6 will unfortunately, we will not be focusing a lot on daemon for the next 2 chapters as we will be delving more into how Y/N attempts to navigate court politics and keep herself at the red keep. in other words, character development for y/n and more moments with alicent and rhaenyra, as well as viserys (ugh). this fic is titled se zaldrizoti’ prumia for a reason, after all, it’s the dragons’ heart, not the dragon’s heart, so Y/N needs her other relationships with the other characters. i hope you guys will be as excited for the other chapters as i am though, because i love writing about politics and character dynamics outside of romantic relations. thank you for your support! 💗

[audistorium]

A Love Letter to Audio Drama

I feel very vulnerable throwing this in a few different places. But I don't know how to put this in any other way. But hello! I am Lemon, the creator of Audistorium, and I have this nifty condition called Fibromyalgia. I'd say most of you don't know this about me. There's a reason for that. It's because I don't talk about it, and I don't talk about it because I don't want anyone to think I'm damaged goods. I've seen firsthand how differently people treat me after I tell them about it, but I'm gonna tell ALL of you about it now. Not because I want you to feel sorry, but because I want you to understand. Over a year ago now I started having pains in my shoulders. At first I assumed I was just often sore. But it continued. It worsened. It took a long time to get a diagnosis. I was sticked, prodded and tested on for a while. The whole time my shoulders just would not stop hurting. The solution they wanted to give me was pain pills and inflammatory concoctions. Well, if you know me, you know I don't take pain medicine because I hate opiates. My family has a long history of drug abuse, and I hate painkillers because of it. I know they're not necessarily to blame, but I feel how I feel. So I sat there. I let myself exist in that pain. It felt like a constant burn picking at my shoulders. My sleep quality began to deteriorate, and now I'm lucky if a long sleep is 5 hours. This is Fibromyalgia for me. They finally figured it out. The thing about this condition though, is that it Isn't the same for everyone. Not the same pain. There are a lot of things it can do to you. But generally, and in my case, it won't kill you, and you can't pass it on. It's not genetic, either. It just HAPPENS, but I digress. It is scary. It is something I have had a lot of therapy sessions talking about. It only becomes isolating when people find out that the pain is perpetual, and you start getting excluded from things. People stop checking in. They feel sorry for you when you never asked for it. The thing is, I've become so accustomed to the pain that really, I'm just like everyone else. I want to be. So badly. I can still run, jump, hike, skateboard even. But the knowledge that I'm constantly in pain, something I don't even talk about, seems to have driven so many people away. Yet, It's not even something I would bring up or talk about. I dealt with that myself. But the amount of times I've been given the excuse - by even family - of "well, we know you're usually hurting so we didn't want to push you." is staggering. It leaves me angry, a bitter taste that's almost impossible to wash down because I. Am not. Broken.

Audistorium is my escapism. It is my way of getting out the things I need to through storytelling. A joyous meandering. It is a welcome distraction from the gnawing shoulders and faces that don't want to look. In another light, I want to say that I'm saying all of this because I'm comfortable within the Audio Drama and Voiceover space. Time after time after time I have been welcomed with open arms. You are all so lovely, and I am closer to some of you than I am to my family. I've channeled all of the things I'm feeling into something creative and positive. I continue to do this because it's the only thing in so long that has felt right. That has been able to unhook me from what was binding me emotionally for so long. All I want to say now is that If there is anything you can do in this space, make it be loving your friends, supporting their creativity, laughing through the struggle with them and smiling as you watch them flourish. You have no idea what they may have going on that they're afraid to talk about. If you made it this far, thank you. My name is Lemon, and I promise, I'm not broken.

[princeresnikov]

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 9

nine. the scorpion: sit. shake. roll over. beg.

Summary: the people who greet clementine and tangerine on the platform are some who clementine would loosely consider collegues, but clementine's not unfamiliar with betrayal, even from those she was once close to.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 3300 words. HELLO FRIENDS SORRY I TOOK SO LONG!! Home from work (50hrs weekly for 5 weeks doesn't leave a lot of brain space at the end of the day lol). But fear not, I'm still thinking of my favourite killers. Also we get some more of how/why Clem and The Son's relationship deteriorated so badly. New chapters are already being worked on so hopefully the wait for the next one isn't long at all!!

Warnings: Don’t be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them.

Chapter Warnings: implied psychological/emotional manipulation, and tricky grey area discussions of people owning people

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @djjskfkskjf @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @deadtildeath @perksofbeingamultifandomm @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justice-333 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @lovv24 @emilia527 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant @kalli0pes @aaronperryjohnson @nachtcirce @literatureisair

----

Why does her chest feel so hollow when she knows it's not even her fault?

The desire she'd held to keep his conscience clear about New York wouldn't - couldn't - hope to account for the countless jobs he and Lemon had taken on before and after. It was as if she could so conveniently forget that The Twins' reputation could very well rival her own.

We're monsters and we live with it.

The Shinkansen's door opens with barely a hiss, subtle and mechanical as it always was, allowing Tangerine to step out onto the platform. Following a step behind, Clementine watches him pull a lighter from his pocket, and refused to think about how she'd passed the point of no return with someone she'd tried to care about. Again.

After taking a draft of the cigarette, Tangerine offers it back behind himself, as if out of instinct, as if to reminder her to keep up, all at once. Desperate to feel something, fucking anything, that isn't the hollow ache in her chest, Clementine takes it.

The smoke and nicotine hit the back of her throat as they're both pulled into her lungs, tasting like ash and relief, the faint sizzle and red-hot seat of the end of the cigarette grounding her as she peered around Tangerine to take a look at the men sent to confront them.

"You were all told to exit the train," the asshole with the spiked jacket, the presumed leader of the pack, spits at Tangerine. Freelance contractors by the look of the lot of them, all called together at the last minute to put together this intimidating front.

"Yeah? Well, unlike you, I'm a professional," there's not a shred of hesitation or hint of nerves in Tangerine's voice, his demeanour backing up his words with ease, "we wanted to make sure it weren't some Yakuza trap, but clearly not," he sounds annoyed but his wording has drawn the intrigue of the others as he continued, "it's some fuckin' '80s dance-off, innit?"

We.

Of the few Clementine recognises, including their leader, they all seem to zero in on her, finally noticing how she's shadowing Tangerine a few feet back. Even despite the open hostility of the confrontation, the air seems to grow noticeably colder once they began to recognise her, one by one.

"Where's your twin? Tangerine?" Their presumed leader narrows his eyes, looking past Tangerine to Clementine.

"You and I both fuckin' know it's not her," Tangerine sounds like he's growing exasperated, "and I'm Tangerine, Lemon's on the train, keepin' the case safe."

"You weren't asked to bring a bug," the asshole with the bat sneers beside his leader, still looking past Tangerine to Clementine. When Tangerine turns, he sees the way she's chosen to stand, hip cocked, expression blank. With one arm resting, tucked across her chest, the other is propped up on her hand, cigarette in her loose grip as she rests her chin on her gloved hand. For the moment she chooses to meet their accusers gaze. With a slow blink at the man across from them, her expression turned stony, turned challenging without any obvious change, a skill she'd mastered a long time ago, and she tilted her head ever so slightly, scrutinising him.

"Arachnid," she corrects flatly, in Japanese. Then, very suddenly, without any other movement, her gaze flicks to Tangerine, and she nods. Understanding passes between them.

"She's an arachnid," he reiterates firmly, expression mirroring Clementine's as they both turn their attention back to the group of mercenaries.

"That wasn't part of the deal," gets hissed, maliciously at them, "the fuck is The Scorpion doing here with you?"

"Her fucking job."

Clementine let's her gaze roam over the pack as Tangerine matches their leader's energy. The group of would-be assailants looks them over with a new but obvious discomfort as they all properly reassess the situation. revaluating them both with this new information. Now, instead of staring, a good deal of them averted their gazes when Clementine caught them looking her. Rocking back on her heels, she lets herself grin, let's them believe she's revelling in this moment and their discomfort.

"The Scorpion works alone."

"The Scorpion does whatever our boss tells her to do," Tangerine counters coldly, adding in a derisive, mocking tone, "or do you wanna call and question his authority?" Clementine's smile grew wider, grew meaner, and she took another drag of the cigarette. Tangerine's boldness had always been incredibly appealing to her; very few people had the confidence to have such an attitude in what's an objectively dire situation.

"I love it when you take that tone-" she can't help but teases, playing into the situation and adding to their would-be assailants' growing discomfort. As if anticipating her, Tangerine tells her to shut it before she can even finish, firm but not actually unkind. He doesn't even have to look at her, just holds his hand up to reinforce the order. Genuine fondness blooms in Clementine's chest at that, "yes, sir," she chuckles in that same, devilish tone, still making sure she was loud enough that all gathered could hear.

But his isn't the reaction she's analysing; she's watching the expressions of everyone opposing them, watching them change, reading their thoughts. Because the minute they believe they understand the situation, they start seeing a deadman when they look at Tangerine, and ask about The Son.

It's all going according to plan, but it still sits uncomfortably in Clementine's chest.

Does any part of Tangerine agree with them? The discomfort turned into a kind of nausea that she masked easily enough with her bored kind of amusement. There's instincts that she pushed down, people-pleasing, or perhaps to hurt them, to prove herself dangerous or harmless or something other than just a shadow in this moment -

Tangerine's talking. Tangerine's carrying this plan on his shoulders. Tangerine's buying them time. And if she looked back, she knows she'd see Lemon puppeting The Son and putting on a show of him being alive. Clementine needs to refocus, needs to re-join the moment, to get out of her own head- Tangerine's stepping back, talking about getting on the train.

Clementine shifts her weight from one foot to the other, getting ready after she'd been mindlessly searching their adversaries with her eyes, knowing her expression read almost like boredom as she's cataloguing all their weapons, the lines of their garments that indicated where they may be concealing things, even potentially dangerous parts of clothing. It's second nature, it's instinct.

When Tangerine gets to her, Clementine seems to reanimate herself, expression brightening as she trots eagerly back to the train doors. Taking a final drag on what was left of the cigarette, she made sure there was enough for Tangerine too, passing it over as she hopped on the train a few seconds before him. Tangerine gives the operators on the station an irate goodbye, finishing off the cigarette and flicking the butt to the tracks between the train and the platform. The doors hiss closed once more and Clementine makes sure she's by the door's window to give them all a jaunty wave as the train departs.

But while Tangerine's swearing under his breath, Clementine feels herself shut down. She can feel her phone vibrating with texts and knows she's fucked. There's something to be said for luck, both good and bad, but today feels more than just a string of bad luck. It feels constructed, it feels intricate, and she's never not been the architect of these situations, even when she's seemed like a victim in the past. A car crash she could survive if she knew it was coming, but this train ride, this waiting is suffocating.

She's broken enough people to know that this is the moment; the tipping point, the point of no return, when hope feels cruel to have, when they know there is absolutely no way they're getting out alive. Even people who shut down at this point start to cry, but no emotion had made her cry since she was a child, she doesn't even know if she remembers how, even if she may want to. A hazard of the job, having to simply shut down her emotions in a tragedy like this, a line of work where survival is predicated on her being able to pull herself together, as if she'd never seen people die, as if she'd never lost someone close to her.

Because that's what he was. Even moreso than The Wolf, as much as she hated to admit it, they were close. Nostalgic isn't exactly the right word for how she's feels, but it may be the closest word she's got, when she thinks about The Son.

If she were to grieve him, she reasons she should have done it years ago, back when she realised he never saw her as a person. Or maybe years before that, when she saw in his eyes the moment he became afraid of her. He still calls her a monster. He'd spent years calling her a monster, tried to dress it up in silk and sweet words - my monster, you are my monster, my darling Clementine, his voice in the back of her head - but he could never love a monster for anything more than her claws in his enemies and love for him on her lips. He'd called her a monster when she refused to let him buy her from his father after he'd buried the truth in his proposal.

And the part that haunts her is that she'd almost fallen for it.

"There are safer girls to marry," Clementine felt sick to her stomach, and kind of had been since she'd said yes. But it had been Paris, and she'd been on the job, and though they'd been growing apart, she supposed she still considered him to be her best friend. At least that's what she'd thought during the proposal.

"But they aren't you, my Clementine," The Son says easily, lounging around the apartment they used to share when she was his live-in bodyguard several years ago. Clementine's looking at the ring, at the way it sparkles; he says it was his grandmother's, that his mother gave it to him.

"But why me?" She looked at her knees, expression severe despite her soft voice, "why now?" They'd been growing apart the years since they'd lived together, since The White Death had shifted her priorities to more specialised contracts, gave her more responsibilities and expectations. He was still her most frequent client, but the divide could still very much be felt.

"Why not you?" Like it's the easiest answer in the world. Like it's the truth.

"Because you know me," then, after a moment in which The Son couldn't even seem to find his voice, Clementine looks at him, "what happens after?"

"After what?"

"After we get married; what happens then? I know you don't like the work I do, would you let me do my work?"

"I -"

"And if I wanted to stop? If I wanted to live my own life, if I wanted to be a normal person, if I didn't want to do the kind of work I do, I could do that, couldn't I? I'd be family; we get married and we get to do all that we do sincerely," she doesn't quite know where it's all coming from, the words spilling unrehearsed and growing frantic, "we go to clubs and go to parties and jetset across the world and we actually fucking love each other. If I marry you, I don't have to fuck anyone else or kill anyone else if that's how I want to live my life?"

After a long, agonising silence, The Son sighs.

"I don't know, if I had your skill, I could not believe my father would be happy with that going to waste -" he tries, but it confirms something Clementine has suspected.

"You lying, fucking greedy little bastard," she spits coldly. For a moment The Son plays at being confused, being surprised, until Clementine continues, "I spoke to your father."

The Son had tried to call himself her 'manager' like he hadn't offered his father an exorbitant amount of money to make sure Clementine answered to him alone. Apparently while The White Death hadn't thought much of the offer, he at least thought enough of Clementine to allow her to choose; the deal would have gone through, The Son would have been the one giving her contracts and orders, so long as Clementine chose, and The White Death got it in writing, or something to that effect.

And marrying his son was more than enough proof that she'd made her choice, a choice which she was entirely unaware that she was making. Until, of course, she'd gone to his father the minute they were back in Japan, to confirm if she had to go through with the marriage to keep the peace.

"Did you know what he was going to do?"

"So he spoke to you about changing your loyalties -"

"He proposed to me!" Still unsure of how to feel about the whole ordeal, she'd held out her hand with the ring on it.

"Where did he get that?" The White Death grabs her wrist across his desk and practically yanks her a foot closer. Clementine, used to this callousness, doesn't even complain.

"It was his grandmother's; your wife gave it to him," she says through gritted teeth, hand clenched in a white-knuckled fist as he examined the ring closely, making a furious noise of his own in the back of his throat.

"I thought he was foolishly optimistic for believing you'd agree -"

"It was the Eiffel Tower at sunset, and I was on the job - a job, I must remind you, that you continue to assign me, and continue to insist that his happiness comes second only to his safety -" at this revelation, The White Death lets go of her, actually grinning and shaking his head.

"It seems he is still my son," he even huffs a laugh, "I only wish he were this shrewd with any other matter of business." There had been a cold, sinking sensation in the pit of Clementine's stomach.

"Shrewd?"

"Clever, even," sitting back he crosses his arms, regarding Clementine with intrigue, "he almost found a loophole."

For once they'd been in agreement; neither was sure how long The Son expected to survive after the marriage once the truth inevitably came out. The White Death had mused that it may even be a silver lining for the boy that Clementine had found out while he could still properly hold her accountable.

Of course The Son hadn't even thought that far ahead, and was simply outraged that Clementine refused to let him essentially buy her from his father -

"I would have thought that a fragile little boy like you would want me barefoot in your kitchen, like your father keeps your mother -" Clementine had spat amid the heated argument that had quickly devolved between herself and The Son after she got the truth from him. The way The Son had laughed, however, was cruel.

"Like my mother? As if you're not just a loaded fucked gun - I've watched him make a mint from commission from your jobs alone, he just had to point you in the right direction and set you off," his lip curled with a sneer, "I thought you'd figure out sooner if I didn't let you kill someone."

"So you stopped hating that I was more capable than you the minute you realised I could be used to make money?"

"A shit-ton of money," he bristled momentarily before fighting to regain his composure, giving a shrug, "but it is somewhat true; I thought it would feel better to be the one holding your leash."

And there it was, that nausea, that feeling of sickness, of accepting the awful truth when he finally says it out loud. Something about the way his tone turned completely casual and harmless made the words cut deeper.

He had looked at her like all the men upon the train platform had. A dog. A thing. A monster. A creature to be leered at so they could pretend she wasn't just as, if not more capable than them. It was an uncomfortable thing, to be perceived as she was. Worse still was how he'd spitefully changed his tune after her refusal; he'd tell anyone who would listen that he simply wanted to save her from the life she was living, that he wanted to give her a simple, safe future.

She was then the monster for refusing. No-one would ever believe The Cockroach, soon to be labelled The Scorpion for this and the death of his mother, the operative who kills her competition even when they're not a threat to her, would ever have been in favour of a more gentle life, especially not when The White Death's Son was lying so loudly.

So now all she can look at is Tangerine, at his severe expression, his cool fury as he paces for a beat. She wants to know his thoughts, what he makes all of this.

"You're quiet," it's not a question, nor does it demand an explanation. Tangerine has stopped pacing, expression still severe but now evaluative as he looks at her, "the minute they realised who you were, you could feel the difference, couldn't you?"

Of course she knew exactly what he meant.

"It was the gloves," despite her oft changing appearance, those who have worked in relative proximity to The White Death, especially around Japan, knew what to look for in very specific situations, "we needed them to recognise me." Her voice is flat.

"We should get back to Lemon." But he doesn't move. He doesn't look away from her, but she can't get a read on his expression, "every fuckin' thing I've heard about you is true, isn't it?"

It's the last thing she wants to hear, and the straw that breaks her blank expression, pulling her from old tragedies to the one currently unfolding. If anyone was going to see her genuinely crestfallen, she should have guessed it would be Tangerine.

"Probably," she still admits, but has to look away finally as she sees how Tangerine has begun to regard her curiously, looking far less hostile than he had all afternoon. Taking a step to him, trying to shoulder past and insist - "we really should get back -" she has to get out of this moment, out of this cabin, give her mind space to come up with a plan to make sure there's as little collateral damage from all of this as possible, even if she wouldn't make it out -

But Tangerine stops her.

His hand gentle on her shoulder, she waits for a moment but he can't seem to say anything. Perhaps he's waiting for her. These moments of familiar warmth and proximity have been an achingly familiar comfort on what is shaping up to be one of the worst days of her life, and she wants him to know, but can't bring herself to admit that. She can't even look at him.

"Did I make you happy?" She murmurs, but is met with silence, "in New York, did I make you happy?"

Tangerine's hand drops.

"course you did, Clementine," he sounds almost defeated, "you're bloody good at your job," he concedes, but at that, Clementine can't help but feel the faintest bit of relief. She's not quite sure why she says what she says next, perhaps she just needs to make sure he knows;

"It was never part of my job." And she smiles at him when she says it.

[little-forget-me-not]

I pushed through the essay even though I have very little confidence in it. And now I'm free. Free for a while to do as I please. But then, of course, I suddenly feel empty. I don't feel like doing anything. I look around me, all the material I've gathered, all the work I've put in, all the money I've spent to keep me alive, to try and better my mental health, to enrich myself, to make a difference...and I just think it's...all meaningless. And I'm not worth it. And I should still be better off dead. Why is it never enough? It doesn't matter how well or badly I do. The result is still derision. It doesn't matter what I triumph over. It's never enough. It's never true to my eyes. I've made it through the years and it was geuninely hell. It was poison for the mind, for the heart and soul, yet I made it through. Yet all I can focus on is the damage. The brokenness. The parts of me that had no control over my circumstance. "It's broken, just throw it away." Just throw me away. Just stop. Trying. But I don't. I don't. I don't know why I don't. When I struggle and have these crises of self, of faith, of being alive, a detached part of me sees it as: self-obsessed. There's narcissism in self-loathing, you know?

I'm really tired of being so against myself. All I can see are deficiencies, playing out right to the T as it is written in the textbooks. The statistics. The journal articles studies and the numbers. "You were made to fail." But it's untrue. And yet it's what I believe in.

Why is it when I finally have time, a little space to do something leisurely...to watch videos, to write creative prose, to research and create and play music, FREE from work obligations, my head only then fills with dark fog? With whispers of decay, of a deteriorating mind, holes in my brain, comparison upon comparison. Insidious, relentless, cruel. Nothing will change, it says. Nothing will change because you are incapable of change. You've given up deep in your soul. You're just going through the motions. Nothing will change.

They say I have changed, I have grown. I'm better now. I smile more now. I'm accomplishing so much with so little. (But others have even less than you) It's not enough. All I see are the things I can't do. And the conclusion is that I am unfit for society. I'm not able to work. I'm not able to be realistic or grounded enough, humble enough to do the real, dirty work of putting myself out there and taking in the real world. The one that bites, and steals and r*pes and kills.

I never got to truly be a child, nor a teen, nor a young adult freely. I had to be too old when I was too young. And young now that I'm old. As I near my indisputable age of adulthood, I am terrified that I am not able to be an adult. One who is stable and reliable, composed and wise. I finally have a taste of the childhood I lost, but the joy is tinged with bitter fear, that it will all be gone. That it isn't enough. I coast by the kindness of strangers and friends. But as I grow and grow, I feel embittered and unlovable. Surely the love will run out. The kindness will wane. And then I have nothing left. Nothing good left.

They say a broken bone heals stronger. I don't think that's factually true. But i don't think it's metaphorically true either. Perhaps once, or twice. But after a lifetime of fractures upon fractures, it takes such a light touch to shatter me. I used to be so strong. Mentally, emotionally. Prided myself on it. I knew suffering and I wore it proudly because I thought it made me strong. But it just ate at me, over the years. And now I no longer feel strong. After all that I've survived, I just feel like an empty husk. Biologically, we only get weaker as we go. I made it further than I ever thought I'd do.

And now I'm so afraid . I don't want to deal with being an adult. I don't want to go through the faces of intimacy vs isolation, generativity vs stagnation. Of integrity and despair. I don't want to go through all of it just to settle in the shadows of what I feared and knew I'd be all along. I've read the texts. I've seen enough, with what little I have. It doesn't end well for people like me. Ni speaking here...probably not true, probably reinforcing my fears with cherry-picked predictions and feelings.

But I'm still afraid I'll regret living.

I'm so afraid of being alive. The more I try, the more broken I feel each year. Despite the growth. Despite the tangible good. Something in me shrivels up as time goes on. I worry I cannot keep it going.

I promised I wouldn't leave though. Not just yet.

I hope I won't regret trying. I hope I won't regret this life.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 3.9

hmmm. How often is Avery using Guilherme's glamour? I don't think I know enough about how it works to say for sure if this is bad, or if it's more a fake-it-til-you-make-it confidence builder, but I am worried.

... is Avery just mentally editing out Declan's friends' names because she doesn't care, or are both his friends also named Declan (and if so, why does they let him be the unnumbered one)

Relationships with the Kennet Others have deteriorated, which seems inevitable but sad. I wonder if 10+ arcs down the line this will seem like a minor hiccup, or if instead the period before this falling out will be the aberration, and the first two arcs will seem as if they had training wheels.

It wasn’t that they were all named Declans, but dad had joked they were all so similar in their tastes, fashion, and stuff, that they could be Declan one, Declan two, Declan three, and Declan four.  Declan Four had been pushed out of the group after giving some change to a girl they all liked so she could buy something at the school book sale, so that made things a little simpler.  And sadder.  When they were at Declan two’s house, the names changed so they were whatever one, whatever two, whatever three, and so on.  She didn’t actually know Declan two’s name.

Very funny answer to make to my question above! Bizarre though

“He’s weird.  He doesn’t hit her or anything, that I know of.  But like… I can imagine her getting old enough and leaving and not ever talking to him again. It’s not like- there’s not anything I can really explain.  He makes her do a lot of chores and he complains at her and like… I don’t know.  He blames her for their divorce or something?”

yeah. fucked up but not to the point that anyone feels like they can intervene. and nothing super concrete to point at, everything is emotion-based.

“We worry about you so much, Avery.  Your dad and I and your siblings adore you, we do.  And we want good things for you.  We failed you so badly, not noticing how lonely you’d gotten, until your teacher reached out to us, and right now, not to make our concerns your burdens, but… I have this feeling like you’re pulling away and somehow we’re failing you, maybe in a worse way.”

:|

Avery dusted her fingers with the glamour in her back pocket, then pressed it to her heart.  Being treated as more adult.  Communicating.  Navigating tough conversations.

Another case of glamour!

If a year passed and Guilherme told her this was all in her head, and using the glamour like this didn’t actually do anything, she’d feel like it was worth it, if only because it forced her to keep looking for the little successes and good points.

this is a nice way to look at it. I am still worried. Maybe consult with Lucy and Verona?

A bit of glamour.  She drew a bullseye on her hand, as a reward for making the shot.  I get down on myself for having bad aim, but I have my moments.

Another glamour use! That's... a lot.

I am hoping for some good clues from this interview. Or technically, since I already got to read Louise's perspective, I hope the Kennet Trio spot something I didn't. Current things that stand out: Edith's whole thing, she didn't say she was uninvolved, just that she didn't do it, her movements were unusual and unwitnessed; the body was hidden in the Ruins? but Alpeana didn't see it; John and the Hungry Choir, though that might be unconnected; Guilherme met someone, though he won't say who; Maricica had an ongoing feud.

Notes:

Others didn't hear howling, only Louise

Bleeding full moon, out of normal cycle

Wolf-like creature absorbing the blood (presuming this is the Carmine Beast?)

CB was limping in town but not before (an injury getting worse, or picking up a new one after Louise started following?)

Why didn't she fight back, or call for help/who was she calling to? Was she trying to contact someone in specific, or trying not to be heard at all?

If the attack that made her limp happened in the Ruins after Louise started following, why was the CB howling to begin with? Multiple blows?

“You think it was more than one that was involved?” Lucy asked. “Would make sense, wouldn’t it? She seemed resigned to her fate, if she wasn’t fighting. So… she didn’t trust the locals or something. So maybe she reaches out, in hopes that a person will hear and challenge the local Others?”

hmmm. If it was a group, we know that the one thing they all agree on is keeping Kennet isolated. Did the CB want to bring in practitioners? Why?

“I just had a weird thought,” Avery said.  “Maybe an important one.  Something from the Forest Ribbon Trail.  And the day we awakened.”

no idea what this is! went back through the awakening notes and still have no idea

The coin, tin, was old, stamped with HBC 100.  They’d covered some of this in their homework, a week ago.  Hudson’s Bay Compay.  Fur trading.

again with the relevant classwork!

“Good to know,” Avery said.  She turned over the coin, then held it down for Snowdrop to see.  “Recognize it?”

“No.”

Avery nodded.  “I do.”

[boyotheofficial]

Premium Nuts, Seeds & Dry Fruits | Roasted & Raw - BoYo

WE ARE FOR YOUR HEALTH

Healthy lifestyle is a dream in today’s world. A dream that everyone is wondering to achieve and believe in. But what all gets stuck in, is the prior question, “Where to start from??” Maintaining a healthy body is now a necessity, and one of the best ones indeed. The global pandemic has already made us all suffer and realize our mistakes and laziness regarding the health and nutrition, that we were always denying to our bodies. But the high toll is more than enough already to make us all alert and awake.

Alter your lifestyle…

The busy technical world comes with lots of loopholes of it’s own. And one of the biggest ones is our lack of time and hectic lifestyle that eventually affects our health badly. And what’s worst is that we all know what the problem is, but aren’t ready to tackle it. What’s good with the pandemic is that it really made each and everyone scared about the possibility of a deteriorating health condition, of the basic bodily functions get tampered with. Eating healthy, diets, exercises, etc. are a different thing. But to alter your existing lifestyle according to your bodily as well as healthy compulsory needs, is a whole different game.

Think again

And to start with it all, its required to first ponder upon your food choices and think again before you take that next bite of those junks. Look around and find healthy snacking alternatives to munch upon, because cutting out completely on snacking, is something no one’s in the mood off. So it’s better that we search for something worth all the time, and give our health and ourselves a treat.

BoYo, the new age solution!

BoYo bold as you, a brand meant for all the bold ones out there who are looking for something delicious yet equally nutritional and healthy, is here as a problem solver for one and all. Being one of the most appreciated startups till now, this brand is a plethora of diverse exciting ranges of healthy snacking options for you to explore. Be it Best Badaams Online, or Kashmiri Kishmish, Natural Heart Healthy Trail Mix or Roasted seed Mix, the variety is innumerable and the tastes are just too delectable to resist. Choose what you like and repeat on the go, because guilt free snacking is what BoYo promises. Always available for your health, we are here at your service. So feel free to explore and repeat!!

QUALITY IS OUR RESPONSIBILITY

Quality should always be considered first. Be it your favorite snacks or you clothes. Your everyday things and their life depends on the quality of them. And even a slightest bit of neglect on the quality, can cause a heavy toll.

We often compromise..

Let’s not go far, rather see the various cases that comes every day due to eating unhealthy and of cheap quality. Be it your roadside nuts, dried fruits, seeds, open chips, biscuits and what not. Everything is available nearby all of us, and the lack of awareness and consciousness lead us all to make mistakes and compromise the quality of the food that we intake. We all have seen a number of flies, mosquitoes and insects o we the roadside food but still, can’t resist ourselves to go and have a bite. However when the consequences become drastic and almost out of hand, we then rush and feel guilty, since nothing remains other than regret. Regret to not have chosen healthy, regret to have overlooked the quality over other things, regret to not have pondered before eating.

Better late than never!

However it’s better late than never. With increasing cases of illnesses and severe chronic diseases such as obesity, heart strokes, blood pressure, and a lot more, what has interestingly increased is the health consciousness and a desire to live life healthily and happily. People are really looking forward to lead an active lifestyle, and to start with they are now really double checking and thinking deeply twice about their eating habits and choices. The quality is now being seriously considered, and that’s at least for the good.

BoYo: your store of quality

And in this wonderful opportunity where all are striving to search something qualitative and best, the Startup brand BoYo is not at all behind. BoYo has in store the most exciting and loved snacks to offer. Get premium quality berries, salted seeds, roasted nuts and a lot more. Fi d everything and anything to satiate your bellies and get that motivation to start your lifestyle in the healthiest if ways. Delectably mouth watering flavors and relishing experience filled with utmost health and nutrition that is all required, is what you’ll get at BoYo. Explore and start snacking guilt free, because at BoYo quality is something that you need not worry about. Serving the best and the most craved of all, premium quality snacks is what BoYo promises. So go and start munching the real quality snack!!

[ecoscreen]

The Longevity and Durability of Retractable Fly Screens in Auckland’s Unique Climate

Auckland, New Zealand, is known for its temperate temperature and breathtaking natural beauty, but it also creates distinct problems for households and companies. One such problem is the abundance of insects, especially during the warmer months. Retractable fly screens provide a simple and effective way to keep pests at bay while allowing for unimpeded views and natural ventilation. In this article, we will look at the longevity and durability of retractable insect screens in Auckland's particular environment. 

Auckland's Climate: A Balancing Act

Auckland's climate is defined by its coastal influence, which results in mild temperatures and regular rains. While the environment is generally nice, it can provide unique obstacles for outdoor products. The high humidity levels can contribute to corrosion and mold growth, while the occasional storms and strong winds can test the structural integrity of retractable fly screens.

Auckland's Climate and Insect Challenges

Due to its moderate rainfall and generally temperate temperatures, Auckland is a perfect breeding ground for insects. When you're having fun outside or in your home or business, pests like flies and mosquitoes can be a real pain. Strong winds, heavy rain, and UV radiation can harm traditional fly screens, which are typically constructed of wire or mesh. The use of retractable fly screens becomes very advantageous in this regard.

Key Factors Affecting Durability

Several factors influence the longevity and durability of retractable insect screens in Auckland's climate:

Material Quality: Materials must be carefully considered. In most cases, high-quality aluminum frames will last longer without rusting and will provide your screens with a solid base. The mesh fabric needs to be treated to withstand moisture and ultraviolet light, and it should be crafted from long-lasting materials like polyester or fiberglass.

Installation: If you want it to work well and last a long time, you have to install it correctly. Sagging, misalignment, or damage might occur with a badly placed screen. Get a pro installer with experience installing retractable insect screens if you can.

Retractable Mechanism: Additionally, the screen's durability is affected by the quality of the retractable mechanism. The smooth operation and prevention of premature failure are guaranteed by a sturdy mechanism that is well-designed.

Maintenance: Regular maintenance is key to prolonging the lifespan of retractable fly screens. This includes cleaning the screens regularly to remove dirt, debris, and insect residue. Inspecting the frames and mesh for signs of damage or wear is also important. If any issues are identified, they should be addressed promptly to prevent further deterioration.

Exposure to Elements: The location of retractable fly screens can impact their durability. Screens exposed to bright sunshine, severe rainfall, or high winds may show more wear and tear than those in sheltered regions.

The Benefits of Retractable Fly Screens

Retractable fly screens are designed to withstand the rigors of Auckland's climate while providing exceptional durability and longevity. Here are some of the key benefits they offer:

Protection from Insects: You can keep bugs out of your house or place of business with retractable fly screens.

Weather Resistance: Wind, rain, and hail are no match for retractable fly screens, guaranteeing that they will serve their purpose for years to come.

Ease of Use: You can easily change the height of the retractable fly screens to suit your needs and tastes, and they retract when not in use.

Durability: Constructed from high-quality materials, retractable insect screens are built to last. They resist corrosion, rust, and fading, even when exposed to harsh weather conditions.

UV Protection: To keep their color and shape over time, retractable fly screens are usually made of materials that are resistant to ultraviolet light.

Aesthetics: Retractable fly screens improve the curb appeal of your house or company by blending in with the exterior.

Choosing the Right Retractable Fly Screens

To ensure the longevity and durability of your retractable insect screens in Auckland, consider the following factors:

Screen Type: Pleated screens, roller screens, and sliding screens are all available; choose the one that best suits your needs.

Frame Material: Choose a material for the frame that will last, won't rust, and looks good.

Mesh Material: You should go for UV- and tear-resistant mesh materials.

Installation Professional: Engage a reputable installation company with experience in installing retractable fly screens in Auckland's climate.

A long-lasting and dependable way to keep insects out of your Auckland home or company is with retractable fly screens. To make sure your retractable fly screens last a long time and let you enjoy your outside space more, think about things like material quality, installation, maintenance, and weather.

[kulharchai]

Health Benefits of Kulhar Chai

Earthen axes have existed since before we had even heard of any other disposable product. The enjoyment of drinking chai, lassi, curd, buttermilk, etc., is different. Their special smell of incense dissolves a different kind of taste. On the other hand, when hot tea goes into the Kulhar the aroma of tea will freshen up your mood. Have you ever wondered why drinking tea or buttermilk in these feels so delicious? Are these Kulhar made of clay also beneficial for health? So the answer is yes! Many such properties are found in Kulhar, which can benefit health.

Along with this, drinking chai in it increases the quality of tea. We provide the Best Kulhar chai franchise model in India. Let’s explore the advantages of Kulhar  chai being a delightful and conscious choice. 

Here are 4 important benefits of drinking Chai in Kulhar 

It Is a Good Source of Calcium: A sufficient amount of calcium is present in the soil, so by drinking chai in Kulhar, the body gets a limited amount of calcium. Mud axes reduce the acidic nature of the body. Along with this, they are also effective in problems like gas and acidity.

Protects Against Harmful Bacteria: Kulhar chai is a healthier alternative to glass or plastic glasses. Most outdoor tea shops do not wash the glass glasses properly; even if they are washed, harmful bacteria are produced in them. When we drink tea in the same glass tumbler, the chances of contact with bacteria increase, and it can go into our stomach and affect our health badly.

Kulhad chai is beneficial for digestion: Drinking tea in disposable or other plastic glasses can badly affect your health. The chemicals in other plastic glasses mix with the chai when heated, causing health hazards.

Antioxidants present in the soil do not allow bacteria to flourish, so there is no possibility of any infection or allergy by drinking tea in Kulhar . At the same time, it can be very beneficial for health.

Kulhads are eco friendly: Drinking chai in plastic glasses is harmful to health as well as to the environment. In such a situation, Kulhad would be a better option. This is harmful to both the environment and your health. This Kulhar  made of clay turns back into clay after being used. Let us tell you that unnecessarily used plastic is thrown here and there, and animals, especially cows, often eat it. Because of this, the health of animals deteriorates, and the food items obtained from them can also be harmful.

Go for Franchises or Ownership: For someone starting new in the business industry, owning a Kulhar Chai Franchise is the best choice; that will take low investment cost and a relatively high profit margin. Kulhar Chai offers a Franchise for you to start and grow your business. Kulhar Chai Franchise is one of the Kulhar Chai franchise models in India. 

Conclusion, Indulging in the aromatic brew of chai from a Kuchar isn’t just an indulgence for the senses; it’s a choice that can positively impact your overall well-being. From aiding digestion to providing a gentle mineral infusion, regulating temperature, and making a sustainable choice, the benefits of sipping tea from a kulhar are substantial and diverse. 

Moreover, this tradition-laden practice allows you to connect with India’s rich cultural heritage and encourages mindfulness in the present moment. So, the next time you hold a Kuchar filled with steaming chai, remember that you’re not just enjoying a beverage – you’re sipping on a cup of holistic well-being steeped in history and goodness. Your journey to success starts with Kulhar Chai franchising. They are providing the most amazing type of franchise options and amazing models in it. Visit now 

[mistywaves98]

HIHIHI IDK IF YOU REMEMBER ME BUT YOUR ALBEDO THEME IS SO !!!! ME TOO EEE <333 that being said !! can i ask for mean dom!albedo w aphrodisiacs on like an assistant reader maybe,,, TYTY I LOVE UR WRITING

OMG PEARLL IT'S SO NICE TO SEE YOU OFC I REMEMBER YOUU!!! And thanks, when I made the theme I was so proud of it lmao and forgive me for taking soo long with this request😭😭

Mean! Dom! Albedo x Assistant! Fem! Reader

¡Warnings!: Aphrodisiacs, Sub! Reader, Dubcon/Noncon, Dumbification, Chocking, Degradation, Albedo calls you princess, Thigh Riding, Reader cums easily, Implied Virgin! Reader, I feel like I missed something!

It was an honor to be the personal assistant of the best alchemist in Mondstadt. You were proud of your position and always did your best to hold up your image, even if you did slip up every now and then.

You were always with him wherever he went, sometimes it was by choice and other times he demanded your presence. Whenever the latter happened it would leave you confused but proud that he wants you around.

Now just happened to be one of those times and this time you were in Dragonspine once again.

You were supposed to just 'relax' but now you were growing quite impatient since you had nothing to do and whenever you asked Albedo if there was anything you could assist with, he sent you to do something boring, like dusting the shelves or rearranging the books. You wanted to be assigned to something exciting, maybe collecting some slime secretions, or helping him mix up a new chemical, or....oh! Perhaps even something related to the cryo hypostasis!

As much as you didn't want to be a nuisance, you felt your brain cells deteriorating the more you stood around doing nothing, even observing the alchemist paint the wonderful scenery of the mountains outside had lost it's entertainment. So once more you tried to get Albedo to let you do more than sit around,"Sir, are you sure there's nothing else that needs to be done? No experiments needed to be conducted, no hypotheses to test?" You tried dropping some hints that would tell him to let you actually go out of the confinements of his laboratory but Albedo only sighed.

He personally thought it was nice to watch you when you weren't looking. So beautiful.... like a dainty little doll.... !!

Oops, he must've zoned out for a bit. Shaking his head slightly, he pondered your question. You had been bugging him non stop since you got here, but he couldn't really blame you. You were always an energetic one, always looking for something to do, or more specifically, something that'll please him. So just existing in his lab probably wasn't the best thing for you, besides, there is something he did want to try....

"Well, if you want to do something that badly, there is one thing I have in mind...." "Oh? What is it? Can I help you with it? What do you need me to do? Should I go—" "It's rather, dangerous, are you sure about this?" "The more dangerous, the better!" "Wait right here."

He put down his brushes and paint and left the room. When he came back he was holding something in his hand, a little vial containing a curiously pink liquid. Upon closer inspection you saw that it was filled with carbonated bubbles fizzing around. "I want you to drink this." "What is it?" "....I can't tell you." "..."

That was an odd response. Albedo never kept secrets from you before and it made you rather uneasy about what you were going to put in your body. But you trust him, he would never poison you, not on purpose anyway. So you just took his word for it and drank the liquid in one gulp.

It tasted very sweet, like a dozen sweet flowers had been mixed in, the texture was nice too, the way the liquid ran down your oesophagus felt satisfying. "So...I drank it. What now?" "We wait."

Albedo watched your face contort in confusion and held back a smile. Oh you were so soo clueless.

You stood there for a while, feeling kind of awkward as Albedo's eyes bore into the side of your head. You were thinking of something to say that would break the tension, not really paying any mind to the heat building up between your legs.

You may not have noticed the way your thighs were rubbing together, or the way you started tugging at your shirt collar, or the way your breathing became heavy and deep but Albedo saw it all. You couldn't hide anything from him. This was no exception.

Walking up to you he asked,"Are you feeling any different now?" "Uh... n-not really....just a bit h-hot–"

You find it hard to form a proper sentence without stuttering and jumbling up your words. The fact Albedo's standing right in front of you doesn't help either. You can't help but stare, goodness. Has he always been this attractive? The way he's looking at you...you can feel your underwear getting wetter.

"Hmm... are you sure? It seems you have a little issue down here." His hand cups your heat, making you gasp and immediately try to close your legs which he forces apart with his other hand. "I—" You cut yourself off as a surprised moan leaves your mouth when Albedo presses two fingers deeper against your clothes cunt and begins dragging them back and forth.

"S-sir, what are you—haah!— doing?" "Why helping you of course, unless, you don't want it?" You whine as he removes his hand from between your legs. You were so close! Oh, why did he stop?

"That's not what I meant! I— uh..." Your already red face burned even more as you struggled to find a way to tell Albedo that you actually want him to fuck you. Your boss simply sat down on a nearby chair and, patting his lap, he said,"Well, if you want to cum, you have to work for it princess. Ride my thigh and make a good show out of it. If you succeed, I will reward you with release, don't and you will face the consequences." A mean, smile was plastered across his face as he spoke, after all, what other option did you have?

You walk over and as you straddle his thigh, you avoid his burning gaze. However, Albedo doesn't like that and reaching up a hand to grab your face he pulls it close so you are forced to make eye contact with him. "Don't just sit there, if you want me to touch you, start moving." Letting your face go, he leans back in the chair with his hands crossed against his chest, smirking at you.

You're brought out of your dazed state as your pussy needing throbs. Hesitantly putting your hand on his shoulders, you use the leverage to move yourself. Suddenly you flinch and gasp at the feeling of your clothed clit dragging against the rough fabric of his pants.

A few more weak attempts to get yourself off has you in tears, it's humiliating and you hardly have any clue to what you're doing. You look at Albedo, silently begging him for help, but he just returns it with a cruel smile. It takes a moment for you to realize what he (probably) wants and although you don't really want to, you're so desperate right now you don't really care.

"Please...." "Hm?" "Please help me! Please help me cum, sir!" "Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll help you, but you better not complain when I give you what you want." You don't understand what he could possibly mean by that, but you don't have much time to think about it when Albedo grabs your hips, pushes you down and grinds you against his thigh. It's too fast and hard for you but nothing you say makes him slow or soften his pace. It's barely a minute before you feel the knot in your stomach burst. You collapse into his neck, tears streaming down your face, soaking his coat but suddenly you feel him yank you up by your throat. "Did you cum just by rubbing yourself against my thigh? Fully clothed no less, such a sensitive little whore aren't you? But I'm afraid you haven't satisfied me, so I think a punishment is due, don't you?"

Without warning, he suddenly squeezes your throat, stopping any air from making its way to your lungs. Your hands immediately try grasp his arm, but Albedo manages to catch them, leaving you to slowly asphyxiate. Fortunately, he let's go after a while, chuckling at the way you choke and sputter. "You have any idea how adorable it is to see you struggle," he sighs,"I've wanted this for so long and finally, I have you at my mercy. Now, for your punishment."

Cold air brushes your cunt as your cum-soaked pants and panties are ripped off. As soon as they're off, your juices gush out, messing his thigh up even more. You shut your eyes in embarrassment, not daring to meet his gaze, "Look at that. Who would've thought someone like you would cum so much untouched? You must like this more than you'd ever admit, no?" "No, I—" "Don't lie to me." "But—" Your sentence is cut short by a hard slap. "I don't want to hear any excuses. In fact, maybe it's better if you just shut up." You make a gagging noise as two fingers are shoved so far into your mouth, they hit the back of your throat. That was so hot, Albedo thinks, imagine if that was his cock.

Bringing his attention back to your pussy, he rubs his free hand against it, making you squirm as he collects your arousal and cum on his fingers. So wet, surely it would be enough for you to take his cock. Unbuckling his belt, he takes it out. Your eyes widen in slight fear, how were you going to take that inside of you?

Albedo laughs at the anxious look on your face, what are you worried about? Of course it's going to fit and if it doesn't, he'll make it fit.

Taking his hand out of your mouth, he lifts you up by your thighs and positions your entrance over the leaky tip of his cock. He then slams you down, giving you no time to adjust, a twisted, sadistic look is on his face as you scream and begin to cry once more. After giving you a few seconds, he lifts you up and impales you on his cock over and over again. It's fast, hard and painful, each thrust causing you to let out something that sounded like a mixture of a cry and a moan.

You beg him to stop, but in the back of your mind you think, do you really want him to? Yes it hurts, you are a virgin after all, but it also feels really good at the same time, in fact, it nearly feels too good. You didn't really have much time to recover from your first orgasm and now you feel another one coming. You're unsure if to say anything, but the uncertainty is short lived when fresh tears fall from your eyes as you cream around his cock.

"Came again? Ahh... and I've barely felt even close the cumming." "P-please sir, n-no more..." "Sorry princess, but like I said, you've failed to satisfy me, now you must accept your punishment."

You were exhausted and looked like a mess. Hair disheveled and sticking to your sweaty skin and clothes stained with cum while Albedo on the other hand, seemed perfectly normal aside from his dilated pupils, red tint across his face and small beads of perspiration rolling down his forehead.

Suddenly, you feel your stomach make contact with the cold Marble of the table as Albedo effortlessly puts you on it and turns you over. "I think this would be a more efficient position."

Before you know it, his cock is drilling into you once more. His pace is as fast as ever and you find your self grabbing at the tables edge while you moan in ecstasy. It's uncontrollable, the way a third orgasm washes over you at his continuous pounding.

It goes on like that for a while. You've cum about eight times before Albedo cums once. When he does, he cums inside you and you squirm at the foreign feeling. When he pulls out he can't help but feel mesmerized by the way his thick seed trickles out of your abused hole, running down your trembling thighs and falling into the puddle of cum from all your previous orgasms.

"You did so well for me princess, now wait here while I go get something to clean ourselves up." He sounds so unbothered, how much stamina does he have? While you lay there, brain reduced to mush and unable the form a coherent sentence or think of anything but the feeling of his cock in your walls. If there's one good thing about this whole situation, it's the fact that the uncomfortable fire in your stomach and nether regions is gone now :)

[balkanradfem]

I got sick in time for the Halloween; I was pretty grumpy about it. That’s why I couldn’t do my usual shenanigans for the holiday, I had to quit all my pumpkin treats and carving and even getting the pumpkin, because I couldn’t move from the bed and was barely fixing myself some basic meals.

After two and a half days of being sick, I got tired of it. I’m not used to being sick for longer than 24 hours and I hate that covid weakened my immune system. I needed to get better faster, dammit. So, I remembered I still had some elderberry syrup from the last year. It was in the fridge for a long time, and it fermented a lot, to the point where it tasted alcoholic. I wasn’t sure if it still worked like it used to, and I decided to take some to see what happens.

You’re not supposed to take elderberry syrup when you’re already sick; the way it works is that it redirects energy from your body into your immune system, so if you’re very sick, your body is already using most of your energy to fight the virus, and if you direct more, you can deteriorate badly and your fever can get worse. But, I didn’t have a high fever anymore, I was just physically weak and had difficulty breathing, and my sinuses were clogged up. And, I felt if at this point I redirected more energy to my immune system, I would simply feel a bit worse and then get better faster. So, I grabbed that out-of-date, fermented elderberry syrup and just took a decent gulp and went to bed.

And wow did it work!! I deteriorated so fast, next time I tried to get up, I realized i could not stand up at all, it was like being in a high fever, though I didn’t have a way to check if I had one again. Have to give it to the elderberry syrup, fermenting in the fridge did not affect it’s medicinal abilities at all! It does work!

I wasn’t upset about getting worse, it was late evening already, and I simply went to bed. Woke up feeling way better than before, and the day afterwards I was okay to go to work again. 100% worth it. Felt like I was at least doing some kind of witchcraft for Halloween.

[marvellovegalore]

Death in the Afternoon

Chris Evans

Parte trois - Breaking You

Synopsis: You're having what seems to be withdrawal symptoms and you're dying to see the love of your life - and be with him once and for all.

Word Count: 4,416

Warning: Explicit Language, Extremely Sensitive Issues, Gore, Sexual Content

Author's Note: Refer to previous parts before reading this one. Thanks for making writing so enjoyable - I really love + appreciate reading your comments + opinions! I really hope you guys enjoy this and let me know what you think!

Finale

His letter sits crumpled in your desk drawer, your glance stains its words, the page yellowed by its exposure to the sun.

Every single day that has passed since you last saw him, you have cried.

You forced yourself back to work just to finish the film that you were filming for the past five months; now that it is done you have all the time in the world to stay lying down on your cold bathroom floor - until tomorrow. The contents of your stomach lying at the bottom of the toilet bowl. The world is spinning, and your breathing is ragged and deep.

The email you sent him is still open on your laptop screen, the screen now dim from being inactive for twenty minutes. You can barely see the words you typed out to him through the tears in your eyes.

You hesitantly lift yourself from the tiled floor, your shaky legs threaten to collapse beneath you and leave you in a heap on the ground. The walk back to your bed is tremulous and slow. Your heavy eyes are stuck to the bed, willing your brain to lead you there. You lose track of the time it takes you get to your bed.

The notification sound comes from your laptop, you slowly sit up towards your laptop. You summon the strength to open your eyes wider, he’s replied.

‘I’ll be there soon.’

Your body feels lighter, his acknowledgement and acceptance makes your body float softly.

You don’t know how you’ll go on without him, the sensation makes you sick. You’ve never wanted to depend on another person for your happiness. You’ve been okay being alone as long as you can remember.

The day he left you made you spiral. You sought help from a hotel guest that managed to hear your small pleas for help from the other side of the door. You begged her not to call an ambulance, you asked for her to help to get you into a taxi and you were on your way to a private doctor. You needed utmost privacy. Your doctor saw some small health concerns that affected your heart, he requested you majorly decrease your cigarette and alcohol intake and that you visit him once a month so he could come to a certain conclusion.

On your second visit you received your earth-shattering news.

Pregnant, four weeks along.

It had been four weeks exactly since you had seen him. The devastation that afflicted you made you sick all over again. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t go back to your doctor. You chose to let life go on as normal for three weeks, but the agony was breaking your heart further the more you did that. You considered several things before emailing him. You could go on to give birth and never tell him that it is his and it could grow without a father; or you could abort it. The last option makes you feel unsettled, though you don’t know why. It’s what your brain immediately went to when you learnt about it.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

He just read that you really need him, and you miss him in your email. He didn’t have to read it, let alone let you know he’ll be here.

The tightness in your chest is back. Your fingers flit against your tender breasts and you touch the part where your heart is, it beats lightly.

He doesn’t come that night. You spend the whole night watching the dark, rainy streets of New York, alone. You fall asleep to the sounds of sirens and cars, alone.

You wake up on the floor of your room, in front of the floor to ceiling windows.

Your body feels like it’s made out of limestone and that your tears have caused the material on your face to deteriorate. It takes you half an hour to get the strength to stand up from the floor. You try to stretch but every joint feels like it’s screaming. You manage to walk into your bathroom without swaying, the sight of your vomit and its stench greets you as you walk through the glass door. You hold your breath as you pee, and then brush your teeth. You think about the fact that he stood you up once you’ve found the courage to shower. The water feels like its scalding your skin as you let it water you.

You lay on your bed naked, waiting for an hour for a notification from him. He’s forgotten you.

Your brain loops around the image of him laughing at you with the brunette as they sit on the bed you bought for him; their eyes crinkling in mockery, disbelief lacing their laughter. A tear slips from your eye, you barely manage to wipe it away. You can smell the scent of your decaying heart through your skin, its stench burning a hole in your chest, rotting your ribs in the process.

You need to get up, you have stuff to do. Though you feel numbed, you will yourself to get up.

You forgo eating, simply choosing to indulge in an espresso and two cigarettes for breakfast. You allow the tiniest desire you have to simply let it be repulsed by your body and expel itself from inside - come to the forefront of your mind.

You spend the day working like a dog, you push yourself to limits that make your assistant raise her eyebrows high and ask you to calm down. You ignore any concerned glances as you push yourself ten times more than usual at the gym, drawing praise from your companions. You take a moment to yourself in the gym toilet and check your stomach, you glare at the slightest bump on the bottom of your torso. As you fight the temptation to punch your stomach, your phone brightens with a new notification - from him.

‘Meet you at the restaurant round the corner from your place. Booked a table for 9pm.’

You gulp, an uneasy feeling setting into the depths of your stomach. You’d rather be sent an anonymous letter to meet at a hotel restaurant, it had a touch of romance to it. Exchanging emails is what you’ve had to resort to, you are both blocked from contacting each other in any other manner; sometimes you think to yourself that you’re like forbidden lovers - by choice.

You finish working around eight o’clock, you ready yourself by half eight and you hang around the restaurant. Suddenly having picked up the habit of biting at your nail, you watch the patrons of the restaurants and recognise some television big wigs and political journalists. You breathe in deeply, your eyes flitting around the somewhat busy street, you can feel your bladder ready to give way. You rush into the restaurant at nine on the dot and are escorted by the restaurant manager to a toilet. You ease yourself and wash your hands, your morose face plastered with magazine worthy makeup stares back you. Your pupils are shrunken and your eyes that are practically unresponsive to the light stare at you, the sight of yourself makes them well with tears of disappointment.

You leave the toilets; you saunter back to the door and spot him being led to the table by a waiter. Your feet lead you back outside to the street.

You feel like vomiting, your breaths become shallow and limited. Pressing a hand to your chest you feel your heart hammering mercilessly against your ribs. It feels like death. You shakily reach into your bag and pull out a cigarette pack, you stare at it and your mind wanders to the feeling in the pit of your abdomen. You decide you’re not strong enough to fight the temptation, you pull a cigarette to your lips and go to light it. Your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘Where are you?’

It’s been five minutes, you exhale. You put the unlit cigarette with a lipstick mark back in your bag and take two deep breaths. You slowly walk into the restaurant, you raise your head, desperately trying to find the assurance you’re so well known for. You’re an actress, you’re an expert at façades.

You’re led to his table, your strut attracting the attention of most everyone in the room.

His hair is grown out, his stubble creating a flattering shadow on his lower face. You sit wordlessly, the waiter asks for your drink order and you ask for a ‘Death in the Afternoon’. The waiter smiles, you hear him sigh. You turn to him, avoiding his eyes.

You’re pregnant - with his baby. You’re both having a baby.

The sobering thought almost makes your voice shake. “Thanks for meeting with me. Even though you vowed to never see me again.” Your tone is almost mocking, a tinge of pride filling you. The bitter memory of writing that letter stings him - more so because he’s succumbed to seeing you after having written it.

He tries to sense any revealing signs that you miss him, had he not received your email he would have been hurt to believe that you were thriving without him. You’re still so put together, too beautiful for you to be needing him. Your makeup is done flawlessly, you’re dressed perfectly elegantly. He can’t understand why you would send him an email at ten in the night asking for him if you seem to be good. It made him joyful to receive it, and he hates that. Why do you have this hold over him? Why can’t he just leave you and forget you.

“I couldn’t ignore the possibility that you weren’t okay.” He takes a sip of his cold beer; the taste of wheat makes him relax somewhat.

“You said you’d be there soon, what happened last night?” The embarrassment immediately clambers up your system and makes you avert your eyes to one table over. You hate seeking answers from others that make you feel dependent and make you more human - you despise it.

How can he begin to explain that he stood in the lobby of your building for forty-five minutes trying to fight his anxiety? How can he begin to explain that his fingers trembled so badly that he couldn’t get his phone out of his pocket to let you know that you couldn’t be there for you? How can he begin to explain to you that he loves you so much that the thought of going up to your apartment and failing to comfort you filled him with unending fright? What could he possibly say that wouldn’t allow you to ridicule him? He’s failed you twice now.

He can’t really put himself in the mindset he was in when he left you that letter, letting you know how much you let him down. He didn’t leave the hotel until after you did, he instantly regretted leaving you when he saw you doubled over in pain being helped into a taxi.

He’s got so many questions, why is it you need him? What happened to you in Portofino? “Got side-tracked with something.” He gives you a non-committal shrug and takes another swig of his drink, his leg shaking noticeably under the table.

Your heart falls to the bottom of your stomach, your entire torso feels like it made of limestone and your throat tightens. You feel like you’re choking, your drink couldn’t be here any sooner. “You in a rush to be somewhere?” You look at him questioningly, noticing his leg movements, you try to hide the sadness that’s padding your body like sponge.

He shrugs, “Kinda,” the disillusionment is almost impossible to disguise on your face, he feels some satisfaction from it. “But it can wait.” He watches the waiter approach with two glasses, he places your drink in front of you motions the beer towards him. Accepting it gratefully he continues once the waiter has left. “I thought we weren’t to speak to each other anymore, what made you contact me?” He narrows his eyes, the blue of his eyes twinkling with a glimmer of curiosity.

Your body shivers and you glance away from him, you attempt to will your waiter back towards you. “We can talk about that later, no?” You motion towards him and he rushes over, you ask for two dry martinis. You both wait in silence.

The words that could release all the tension from your body spindle over your tongue incessantly, they almost materialise but you choose to rope him into small talk and pull updates about his life from him. He lets slip that he’s considering the possibility of being serious with the brunette; you remember her sweet features that harshly contrast your own. You make a biting remark that he’s always liked a plain Jane over your third glass; it’s met with a biting remark regarding your character.

You refuse his request to eat dinner with him after his comment; but you do ask him to accompany you to your building.

“I’ll walk you to your elevator.” He mumbles as you exit the restaurant. You nod in agreement; he lights a cigarette and offers you a drag. You smother your temptation, “It’s okay, actually.” You shiver as light pelts of rain shower you. The city is vibrant and lively, but the small bubble you find yourself encased in with him is dark and tempestuous; an unspoken tragedy clouding your day.

The contemplation of being in your apartment alone another night stabs you deep in the back.

You reach the lift of your lobby and you turn to each other. “Please come up with me,” your lip trembles with the weight of the unspoken truth. His eyes flash with concern and surprise. You make your way up to your apartment wordlessly, his hand brushing against you every time you move next to him.

Finding yourself with him in your bedroom, you lay on your bed, taking your shoes off with him watching silently at the end of your bed. He’s highlighted by the setting sun, orange hues paint him golden and blush. He invites himself onto your bed, sensing the melancholy in the air. There’s an odour of cigarettes that permeates the air near your bedside table.

Your back is to him, you feel his arms slink themselves around your waist. His chest presses against your back and you melt slightly into his touch. You missed him so much and the smell of him hauls you to the doors of paradise. How could you have possibly messed this up so much? Two tears slip from your eyes and you sniffle, his arms tighten around you and he comes impossibly closer. His face inches on top of yours, “Tell me what’s wrong?” His whisper is as tender as the wind and the soft touch of his voice makes you moan quietly.

You stare of into the horizon, your eyes being overwhelmed by the rays of sun. “I—” you hesitate. Your breath leaving your body, you pay attention to the movements of his hands, they stroke your stomach making you tremble. You stop in your tracks, alarm setting into your bones.

You turn to him; you can see the questioning look in his eyes. He doesn’t know.

You crash your lips into his, he barely has time to register your passion before he’s responding with his own heated response. His hands mould around your body with a newfound purpose. You want deep down to breathe him in and keep him with you forever. You roll on top of him, and your hands memorise every fibre of his face, his skin is smooth underneath your palms. He slips your dress off of your body, his fingers dance with your skin as he caresses your back.

He wants to stay like this forever. You tear his clothes off of him with an eager gentleness, his hands enclose your hips as you begin to ride him, your hips dance over him, your fingers slip in between his lips and he sucks on them. He pulls you closer to him, hugging you as you ride him. He thrusts into you from beneath and you almost crumble in his arms. “I love you so much—” you hear the words slip from in between his ajar lips, you lift your head and kiss him. Your martini saturated tongues waltz with each other in a feverish heat that leaves you both lightheaded.

You two play with each other’s bodies slowly, untangling each layer of each other’s guard. He slips on top of you with the grace of a gymnast. He nestles himself inside and you your noses rub together as he drives into you slowly, and deeply, with his hand clutching at your throat. You feel your insides liquifying with pleasure, your hands clasp onto his arms for help to grip onto reality. He’s here. Just here - with you.

“I love you, so, so much, Christopher.” You cry out as he increases his speed, the intensity of his movements making his hips meld with your clitoris. His spare hand moves from your breast to your face, he grips onto your throat with more firmness and you let out a sigh of content. Your eyes don’t leave his and he refuses to slow down, you feel yourself go into sensory overload. You feel waves of pleasure shower your body, stars ripple in between your fingers and toes and your eyes roll back into your skull. Your body is floating above your bed.

Chris pants as he maintains his speed, chasing his own maddening orgasm. “You’re so beautiful when you cum.” He breathes out as he lets go of himself inside you. His thumb traces over your bottom lip, he lowers himself down and plants a kiss on your lips. He breathes in your air and gives you a tight hug.

“I have to tell you something.” You whisper into the room. He’s laying next you, his arm draped over your waist. His lack of response for ten seconds is explained by the soft snores leaving him. You purse your lips, “I’m pregnant.” You utter into the atmosphere and turn away from him, you pray that maybe he can hear you; you pray in vain.

A newfound determination settles into your aching chest. You’ll let him know, for real - you’ll work something out; you’ll have your baby and be parents. You’ll be better than your own parents, you’re sure of it. Your hands settle over your stomach, you give your baby a silent apology for mistreating your body - your baby’s temple.

You’re lulled to sleep by the silence.

You wake with a start; the world is dark outside. You can’t feel his arm anymore, dread fills you to the brim as you sit up, your back towards the side he was sleeping on. You feel your heart hurting, you feel weak. You swallow your tears as you look out at the skyscrapers outside your room. Taking a deep breath, you turn slowly to the other side.

He’s still there.

You let out a deep sigh of relief, tears welling into your eyes and dropping out without caution. You let out a soft sob, you throw your arms around him and hold him tightly. He stirs as your tears fall onto his pectoral.

“Hey, everything okay?” He grumbles, worry saturating his voice. “Yes,” you breathe out slowly. He pulls you up to him and his eyes caress yours. You refuse to let him know what’s bothering you, there’s a silent understanding that you need him more than anything right now. You cover yourselves in a blanket, your half naked bodies are melded together as you walk across your apartment towards your terrace.

Chris lights the fire pit, you let your eyes roam his body freely. He sits down next you and you cover yourselves with the large blanket, his hand rests on your thigh.

“Why did you just leave me in Portofino?” Your whisper is carried by the wind and the noise of the three am traffic.

Chris sighs, his eyes lowering down to the fire pit in front of you. “I couldn’t bare the fact that after what you did to me, I still reached out to you, I invited you back into my life.” Your eyes well up with tears again, you want to be swallowed into the ground and dragged to the pits of hell. He looks back at you, his eyes searching for what’s in your own. “I know you’re sorry. But I just couldn’t understand why you did what you did; until I came across this quote that reminded me that hurt people, hurt people. I figured some digging into your past couldn’t hurt at that point. I’m sorry about what you had to go through.” His fingers leave whispered touches on your thigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You interject tearfully, he pulls you in, your head resting on his chest. The sound of his fast-beating heart grounds you into this moment.

“I know, I know.” He coos softly. His fingers stroke your cheek, simultaneously wiping away your tears. “I just wish you trusted me enough to let me into your little world. I wanted to know all of you, even the tiniest parts you didn’t even know, I guess you sensed it and you left me. So, I’m sorry for that, too.” You sniffle and let your head fall onto his lap. You look up at him with tears flowing out of your eyes slowly.

“You’re my everything. You’re— you’re my moon and my stars, I—, I—, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live without you.” He chokes over his own unshed tears.

“I love you.” Your words make a tear slip out of his eye.

“I love you too.” He thumb traces your lips softly, his touch gentle as if he were afraid you would turn into mist if he were not tender enough.

You slip into a dreamless sleep, the noise of the world encasing you into carnival of relaxation.

You open your eyes to the ceiling of your bedroom, illuminated by the afternoon sun. A cramp numbs the bottom half of your body. You clench your teeth and sit up, the sharp agony whirling around your system. Something’s not right. You clasp weakly at your stomach; you fail to ignore the pool you feel forming underneath your legs. You lower your fingers slowly, dread thickening in your heart, red darkens your fingertips. You choke back on a sob as another cramp solidifies itself in your stomach, you crumple over, tears streaming out of your eyes. “Chris…” you choke out. Fear paralyses you in your bed.

Chris is nowhere in sight. You gather the little strength you have left in your arms and will yourself towards your bathroom. You drag your bleeding body towards your toilet, blood smears trailing behind you. Small whimpers leave your body as you finally reach the toilet, you pull some tissue towards you and pat the blood away. More leaves you, a heavy flow that makes your insides feel like they’re being pulverised. You’ve gone and done it; you have killed your baby.

You sob loudly, blood smearing over your half-covered body, “My baby—". Your body is racked with the undulating guilt that attacks your system. Tears pour uncontrollably from your eyes; you fight to take in breaths. Your heart feels like it’s breaking - literally. The stiffness in your chest spreads across your ribs and constricts your airflow.

You desperately clutch at your chest, wanting your fingers to tear into your skin and fix your heart. It feels like you’re on fire.

You’re dying.

Darkness blankets your vision; spots of clarity allow you to merely reach the door of your bathroom.

Chris sits at your desk, his phone pressed to your ear. Your doctor’s words feeling like stones in his stomach - he’s diagnosed you with severe depression and fears that a mildly stressful event may be enough to cause an onset of more severe physical problems. You entrusted Chris as your next of kin, in case your doctor believed something awful had happened to you. He listens intently to the information that is relayed to him - you have an inflamed artery. It could lead to your death. The doctor’s words make his stomach sink.

The call ends with Chris promising to accompany you to your appointments and he notes down the number of the referred psychiatrist.

A small wail comes from far away in the apartment, Chris sighs and stands up. He strides quickly to your room, the sight that greets him almost makes him retch. Your blood soils the room. Your body is still, your breaths are shallow and fast. Your hand is clutched over chest, your face distorted with pain riddled in the pores of your skin.

“Baby,” he calls out immediately and crouches down towards you. He feels for your pulse and panic lines his stomach; he grabs for your phone quickly and calls for help. He barely registers what he does in the next two minutes but all he can do is clutch onto you with all his might.

“Tell me what’s wrong, huh?” he whimpers, he pulls you onto his arm. He cradles you, his face pressed against yours. “Come on, you’re supposed to be my favourite girl, you can’t play with me like this…” he chokes out a frantic chuckle.

You’re barely responsive. “B—Baby, stay with me. Stay with me, okay,” he taps your face as his tears roll onto your skin, “don’t leave me.” He begs as his hands tremble. “What am I going to do without my moon and my stars, huh? How can my world go on without you?” His sobs shaking you lightly, your eyes flicker. “Don’t leave me.” He implores, sobs ripping his throat apart.

He can hear the door opening, the flurry of movements that happens around you two separates your bodies away from each other. He grips onto your limp hand desperately, tears blinding him as the paramedics rush you away from him.

He can’t feel his body as he falls to ground, watching your limp hand hanging from the side of the gurney.

The lift doors shut behind the paramedics.

He never sees you again.

Nevertheless, he still loves you, he'll always love you.

Fin.

--

@chvntelle-99,@harrysthiccthighss,@tessa-bl

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

heyo I finally got silicone-based lube and while I think it's gonna be a lot better for hands-only stuff, what do I do when I'm using silicone toys? if I put a condom on them would that be enough to prevent any deterioration that might happen or is water-based lube absolutely necessary?

my main issue with water-based (aside from how much you have to reapply) is that all the ones I've tried taste really strongly. and also the ones I've been able to find at an in person location have had glycerin in them and I've read you're supposed to avoid that

hi anon,

let's talk about lube.

specifically, let's talk about what Dangerous Lilly has said about using silicone lube with silicone toys, because I like to defer to the experts. the tl;dr from this article is that silicone lube with silicone toys can be fine, as long as you're using a sufficiently high quality lubricant with a sufficiently high quality toy. safe lube brands recommended over @ DL include Sliquid, Pjur, and Fun Factory; safe toy brands include Tantus and Fun Factory again. go Fun Factory!

for those of you in the audience currently wondering what it means for a sex toy to degrade - essentially, the material breaks down in such a way that it could begin harboring harmful bacteria or fluids that will be difficult to clean out due to their tiny little hidey holes. it can also, in time, develop rough or uneven edges with the potential to really hurt your insides, which is obviously the last thing we want during sex or ever.

so - will a condom cut it? potentially, although given the risk I wouldn't take chances if you don't know for sure your lube and toy are safe to use together. it would be a lot less risky to either use a silicone-friendly lube (something water or oil based) or a silicone lube-friendly toy (all other body safe materials - hard plastic, metal, glass, polished wood or stone).

if you aren't opposed to oil-based lube, it may be easiest to use that for sex toy shenanigans and silicone lube for the hand stuff - nothing wrong with having a whole lubricant library for different kinds of sex. oil-based lubes can be long-lasting as silicone lube, since you mentioned that's a concern, and the only major con is that they absolutely cannot be used with latex condoms - but if the toy in question is only ever being used on one person's body, that wouldn't be a problem.

ultimately there are enough options for alternative toy/lube pairings that I would recommend playing it safe and not even fucking around with silicone on silicone action unless you can verify that they won't react badly together. but at the end of the day, I'm just a hag on the internet and it's up to you to make the call that feels right for your body.

also about the glycerin thing - it's not dangerous per se, it's just that it can sometimes slightly increase the risk of a yeast infection for people with vaginas. but, you know, having sex in the first place also increases the risk of a yeast infection, so calculated risks all around.