#I MOTION INC.

[retrocgads]

USA 1993

[chernabogs]

A Rainy Wandering

Inc: Reader/Malleus (99% platonic but we had to sneak those subtle feelings in there at the end. Love me some two oblivious clowns) Second person POV Warnings: None WC: 1.8k Summary: Er so that new Malleus card, yeah? (Or: hey your bff scheduled in a 4 hour gargoyle tour, are you coming, orrrr...?) Also s.o to Alexandra with her literal Field Guide to Gargoyles and founding of the Gargoyle Appreciation Society. My hero rn for this hope they are thriving.

The campus is shrouded in grey as the rain falls at a steady rate around you. You grip your umbrella with both hands to combat against the gentle tug of the wind as you stand at the end of your dorms long walkway, shifting from side to side on occasion to look at both ends of the road. Behind you, the orange glow of Ramshackles cozy inside beckons to you, promising an escape from the rain in the form of wool blankets and terrible reality television. You’re half tempted to go back, but you staunchly remind yourself that you had made a promise, and you were not someone to fall back on your word.

That being said, your friend is about five minutes late, but you can forgive him. He’s never been good at keeping track of time. 

You shift on your heels again as you tilt the umbrella back to look at the grey sky. You last all of two seconds before too many raindrops fall on your face and you look back down, blinking the water out of your eye. The motion lets you take note of a pair of boots standing to your right. 

“Oh!” You splutter, moving your umbrella again to look at to whom those boots belong. Malleus stands in a very casual, unassuming manner, his own umbrella in hand and his brow quirked in amusement. “How long have you been standing here for?” 

You know the answer to that already—probably just seconds—but Malleus’ lips curl into a secretive smile as he shrugs a shoulder. “Long enough to observe you taking a makeshift wash.” 

A sour look is what he gets in turn, although yours always lack venom when it comes to him. A quick glance over his form shows you that he’s come prepared for the weather as well. In addition to his umbrella (which is decorated with gargoyles, to your amusement), he wears a black and purple raincoat, gloves, and has tied his hair back in a looped knot you think you've never seen him wear before. Compared to your yellow rubber boots and yellow raincoat, he looks like he stepped out of a high-fashion shoot. 

To serve and observe, apparently, is the agenda for today. You missed that memo. 

“I need to tie a bell to your wrist so I know when you’re coming.” You grumble as he steps back to the road, leaving you to fall in line with him. His warm laughter fills the air as you begin the first few legs of the tour he’s been talking about for ages.

“Now, I do think I recall you saying that once before,” he muses, tapping his fingers against the metal gargoyle at his umbrella's base. “You have yet to follow through.” 

 “I think your students would mob my dorm if I were to try and tie anything to you. Maybe I should just put an alarm on your phone instead—as long as you don’t break it again.” 

Often this would earn you a look of mock hurt, but Malleus seems far too jubilant at the moment to care about the subtle read you’re giving him. He’s smiling away, as happy as can be as he walks by your side. He even has a little bounce in his step. It almost makes you want to laugh at the sight; how can anyone call him intimidating when he’s looking like a child about to get a present? 

“Ah, yes, yes. I have been diligent in keeping my devices in check. Shroud has been of much help in that.” His gaze darts around the campus until he loops his arm with yours and pulls you swiftly to the right. You’re pliant to his guidance, only sighing in response as you let him pull you wherever he sees fit. This is something you’ve come to realize about the nature of your relationship with the prince. Malleus is a chronic wanderer, tending to just go off wherever he wishes, but he’s also mildly codependent. Since you two had firmly established that you are friends—hell, you gave the man a friendsgiving card—everywhere Malleus drifts off to, he takes you like a tether.

“Ah! Our first stop on our tour,” he begins, still brimming with energy. He tries to move his umbrella, only to have it collide with yours in the process. “Actually, before we begin, would you be so kind as to close your umbrella? We can use mine.”

You lean back to look up at your friend incredulously. At well over 6 feet, horns excluded, you doubt that you will remain dry for long should Malleus shield you both with his umbrella. He stares back both unwavering and with expectation in his look. You purse your lips. He raises an eyebrow. You lean back a bit, he replicates the action, his gaze looking you up and down. Daring you.

Oh, girl.

After a second of silent staring with a dash of attitude that the man rarely shows anyone else, you huff a sigh and close your umbrella, scooting closer to him once you do. His expression lights up as you roll your eyes, and he resumes his tangent. 

“Thank you, my dear friend. Now, as I was saying, our first stop on our tour! If you direct your attention upwards you will see what is aptly called a screamer gargoyle. The positioning of its body—with hands behind its head and its mouth agape—is meant to remind those who witness it that torment lay ahead if they fail to fulfill a particular purpose. You may see these on the cathedrals in numerous nations, as they were quite popular to evoke terror in worshippers.”

 You scoot forward to look past the edge of the umbrella at the gargoyle in particular. True to Malleus’ word, the carved figure looks as though it’s screaming in agony, its eyes directed upwards, and its body bent at an angle. You smirk a little. 

“Kind of looks like Ace and Deuce during exams.” 

Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is why they put one on a school ground. To remind students of the torment they will endure should they neglect studying and strike deals for grades instead.”

“So mean,” you chastise, even though you were the one to start this train of thought. The two of you continue your trail along the main road. Malleus keeps your arms firmly linked together as he chatters on, stopping on occasion to point out a particularly significant gargoyle, or a grotesque lined against the wall. You reckon this is the most your friend has talked in a while, considering his need to stop and clear his throat with an apology. 

You also consider that this is probably one of few times that he’s managed to rope someone into a walk with him like this. Out of the joy his joy seems to bring you, you prompt him with several questions as you tour about, doing your best to remember the info dumping you’re being subjected to. A slip up of calling a grotesque a gargoyle by mistake, which earned you a verbal berating in the gentlest of manners, was enough to make you pay closer attention.

As the rain begins to lighten and the sun valiantly fights to break free, the two of you come to a stop in one of the courtyard areas of the main building. You fish out a granola bar from your pocket as Malleus holds the umbrella, offering him half of it before you look around at the building. There aren’t as many gargoyles here as the other areas, save for one impressive dragon carving looming over the courtyard entrance. You gesture to it in silence, your mouth too full of chocolate and granola to speak. Fortunately, Malleus has become more then attuned to your gestures to know what you’re saying—another reward of your friendship. 

“That is one of the older gargoyles present on the campus. Considering that the courtyard we are standing in served as part of the original residence, I would wager that the initial owner of the lands commissioned this.” Malleus taps the base of the umbrella again as he tilts it back to look upwards. A few stray raindrops hit his cheek, making his brow furrow as he inspects the moss-covered structure. He’s looking at the gargoyle, while you’re looking at the expressions he’s pulling. “Most people surmise that the selection of a dragon was done to evoke fear in opponents who may try to take these lands, but I’m of the mindset that it was done to symbolize the wisdom and guardianship the owners held over their subjects. Dragons are, after all, quite wise.”

“So the dragon says.” You reply teasingly as you look at the statue. He’s right to guess that it’s certainly the oldest one you’ve seen. The stone is aged and slightly cracked along the edges. You know that Malleus has a habit of carving statues himself, and you wonder if he’s ever considered trying to repair it. Given his love for all things crumbling and ancient, however, you also wager that the thought of rebuilding something that time has claimed is well against his personal morals. 

“My assessment is free of bias, Prefect.” He counters with a mockingly scolding tone to his voice. You know it to be in jest by the way his eyes remain alight with joy. He really is infectious when he’s in a good mood, dangerously so, and a part of you wishes he could stay this way consistently instead of sliding back to the quiet, brooding form he can be when he’s feeling temperamental. 

You scrunch up the granola wrapper before shoving it in your pocket with a shake of your head. “Oh yes, definitely no projecting going on here.”

“I will leave you out in this rain.” He warns, tilting the umbrella so that you’re out of its cover. You yelp in protest and duck back underneath, practically squishing yourself against him to keep from doing that again. 

“You like me too much to do that!” You argue back as you grip the umbrella handle yourself. He breaks his facade of sternness to laugh as his arm comes around you to rest on your back. The act feels far too natural for the first time he’s ever done it, yet you acquiesce regardless. “Besides, who else will finish this loop with you? Silver is training with Sebek and Lilia is off… well. Doing whatever he pleases.”

Another thoughtful hum vibrates in Malleus’ chest, which you can feel considering the proximity of your bodies in this moment. A sudden awareness strikes you that makes you feel a bit awkward about it all. Out of reflex you nudge his waist with your arm, prompting him to give you some more space.

“I suppose you have me there,” he notes, granting you a half smile as he looks down to your irate expression. He offers you the crook of his arm, and you silently oblige by linking it with yours. He tugs you a bit closer this time around as he beckons to the courtyard exit. “Let us continue, then. I would say we have another hour at least. Oh, I do hope you’re as excited as I am for what’s to come.”

[redrose10]

Here is the first part! There will end up being a second chapter.

CEO Yoongi x Female Barista/College Student Reader

Title: Cold Brewed Love

Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, hints of smut(nothing explicit), Yoongi is mean but we all know he’ll turn fluffy later, violence, kidnapping, mention of a gun

Word Count: 6,934

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You walked into work today at Jin’s Java House filled with dread at the situation. Lately things had been a nightmare there and you definitely didn’t get paid enough to put up with it. The only reason you hadn’t quit like everyone else was because the owner Jin was very flexible with your schedule and would accommodate your college schedule around your shifts, plus he let you have unlimited free coffee and snacks any time you wanted which really helped your already small bank account.

Your plan was to only work here a few months until something better came along, but now here you were two years later still at the same position as a barista at a coffee shop in the lobby of the largest office building in your city. It got your bills paid and you figured once you graduated college soon you could move on elsewhere.

After you clocked in Jin asked you to meet him in the office so you followed along hoping for good news.

“Y/N this is Jungkook. He’s the new employee I was telling you about. Please make sure he gets up and running before you move to the evening shift.”, he said before walking away to answer a phone call.

“Hi”, Jungkook nervously smiled.

“Hi”, you smiled back, “So the easiest thing to learn would be the register so we will start there.”, you said motioning for him to follow.

Thankfully he was a pretty fast learner. After just about an hour of you showing him the register he was already taking some orders by himself which you were very grateful for and thought maybe things were finally starting to look up.

After the morning rush you were just mindlessly wiping down the counter when Jungkook walked over to you.

“Who is that?”, he asked almost in awe.

You rolled your eyes after quickly recognizing the man walking by in his perfectly tailored suit and slicked back hair with a piece that fell perfectly against his forehead, “That’s Min Yoongi. He’s the CEO of MYG INC.”

“Wow he’s beautiful.”, Jungkook whispered.

You chuckled, “Yeah unfortunately his personality doesn’t match his appearance.”

You braced yourself for a fight with him, but thankfully it seemed like Yoongi was going to pass on the coffee today and headed straight for the elevators instead.

“I take it you’ve had some bad experiences with him?”, Jungkook asked.

“Yeah you could say that”.

You and Yoongi have a difficult history. You are about the same age, but he runs a successful billion dollar company while you make coffee for barely above minimum wage and also take classes at the local college which makes you feel intimidated by him and maybe even a little jealous. And he knows that.

His order was the first one you had ever made. Not only were you nervous because it was your first time, but he was also one of the most handsome men you had ever seen and you developed almost an instant crush on him. You were so nervous in fact that you dropped his cup of coffee making it spill all over the counter and right onto his expensive leather shoes. He was quick to reprimand you to the point his assistant Hoseok stepped in and pulled him away from the counter while giving you an apologetic smile. Hoseok returned later that day to apologize for his boss’ actions and offered to buy you lunch from the neighboring Thai restaurant.

Then just a few months later you had been asked by Jin to take up several cases of pastries to Yoongi’s office for some big meeting they were having. After you placed everything in the break room you quickly moved trying to hurry back down to the cafe to help out your co-worker who was working alone during the breakfast rush in your absence when in your haste you turned and ran right into Yoongi causing the stack of documents he was holding to fly everywhere through the office. He had a scowl and some choice words for you once again while you crawled around on your hands and knees trying to reorganize the mess and not cry in front of him. Hoseok was quick to save you then too and that’s how your friendship with ‘Hobi’ started.

Ever since that day though, Yoongi was always rude to you while ordering his coffee. He purposely got your name wrong even though it was right on your name tag. He hardly ever looked up from his phone and if he did it was only to look down on you and try to make you feel small. You hated him. But you hated it even more that no matter how much you hated him you couldn’t abolish the little crush you had on him. He was easily one of, if not your least favorite customer to deal with and you couldn’t ever see that changing.

A few weeks go by and thankfully Jungkook was getting faster and faster, but at the end of the day he was still on the newer side. Jin hired two more people, Jimin and Taehyung but they weren’t going to be starting for another week. Taehyung was going to work mornings with Jungkook and Jimin was going to work the evening shift with you. Today was your last morning shift because your classes started in a couple days so you begged Jin for a few days off to relax and reset which he approved after convincing his sister to come help out at the cafe for a few days.

Jungkook was manning the register as usual since he was much more of people person than you were while you worked away at making the orders.

It was a particularly busy day, worse than usual. There was a huge conference being held in one of the offices bringing in lots of out of town customers as well as your regulars. Jungkook was doing his best to take orders on his own leaving you to have to do all of the prep and stocking as well as make everything ordered.

You stared out at the sea of people letting out a sigh before returning back to the drink you were working on.

You were making a particularly difficult drink when Jungkook nervously stepped up next to you. “Y/N there is a customer at the register that wants to speak to the manager.”, he whispered.

You technically weren’t a manager, but you were the closest there was so you made a mental note to talk to Jin about a promotion and a raise before taking a deep breath to steady your nerves.

“Please hand this drink to order 613. I’ll handle the complaint.”, you said before grabbing a few free drink coupons as an apology.

Stepping up to the counter you felt your stomach twist at the sight. This wasn’t going to be any normal complaint. Not only did you have to apologize for something out of your control, but you had to apologize to your least favorite customer, Mr. Min Yoongi.

He didn’t even give you a chance to speak before he started, “The wait time is ridiculous. There is no reason that it should take nearly twenty-five minutes in line to get a mediocre cup of coffee.”

“I know Sir. I apologize. It’s just Jungkook and I and he’s still pretty new. We’re trying our best.”

“Clearly your best is not good enough. I don’t know how you can get any lower than a measly coffee maker, but maybe you should try something else.”

“Again I apologize Sir. Here are some coupons for free drinks and I’ll make sure to speak with the owner about improving our processes.”, you said still trying to be professional.

He scoffed, “Do I look like I need coupons for a free drink?“

“No, but there is not much else I can offer you. I apologize for the long wait, but as I said we’re trying our best.”

“Do better because this is unacceptable.”, he spat before leaving his coffee and walking way.

At that point the wall you built up crumbled and tears began to fall freely.

“Hey go in the back and take a few. I’ll be okay.”, Jungkook said.

“No it’s okay. I have to make the orders.”

“Y/N, go. I’ll be okay. I’ll make some of the drinks that I know and then ones I don’t I’ll just wing it. I mean they can’t get any more upset than they already are so what’s a wrong drink going to do.”, he chuckled.

You nodded and walked to the back for a few minutes.

You couldn’t believe the audacity of Yoongi. Like sure the wait times were terrible, but it’s not like he couldn’t afford to just order coffee from somewhere else or send Hobi to get it. You felt like he purposely just wanted to ruin your day and that hurt more than it should have.

After taking a small break you returned to the front thankful that Jungkook had everything taken care of. It seemed like most of the line left after Yoongi’s spectacle and you walking away so there were only a few people left.

“See I told you I could handle it.”, Jungkook smiled as he was clearly making the wrong drink, but judging by the puppy dog eyes the girl at the counter was giving him you didn’t think she’d really care anyways.

“Thank you Kookie. That break really helped.”, you said giving his arm a squeeze.

When your shift finally ended you said goodbye to Jungkook and left for home. Exhausted you plopped down on your couch taking out your phone.

You: Is your boss PMSing or something? He was an even bigger jerk than normal today.

Hobi: Ohhh that’s probably what he was mumbling about when he got in.

You: What?

Hobi: Nothing, it’s nothing. Yeah sorry about him. He’s trying to close this really important deal or something. He always gets like this when he’s working on that. Plus I think his parents are on his case about something.

You: Well he should learn to keep his emotions to himself before he really hurts someone.

Hobi: I thought you said he was an emotionless robot…

You: 😑

Your mini vacation was much needed especially after your latest Yoongi encounter, but it went by way too fast for your liking. Classes started up again and they were already kicking your ass. You moved to the evening shift at work which was a nice change of pace. It was a little slower than the mornings and although you missed Jungkook you were getting along great with Jimin.

Earlier today Jin had texted you to let you know a new employee would be starting at night. He didn’t give you much info other than he’d only be working part time and you were oddly warned not to have sex in the office because this guy was apparently super hot. You were just excited to get another worker so maybe you could eventually reduce your hours a little and take some of the stress off so you weren’t going to complain.

Your shift was going by extremely slow so you had your back to the counter as you wiped down one of the old machines trying to accomplish something for the day. From behind you someone cleared their throat making you jump a little.

“Hi welcome to Jin’s Java House how can I help you today?”

You stopped in your tracks feeling your heart speed up, “M-Mr.Min?”, you asked.

He rolled his eyes before grabbing an apron from the rack.

“Uh Mr. Min?”, you questioned.

He looked more pissed off than ever.

“Y/N”, he said finally looking at your name tag, “I guess I am your new coworker for the next several weeks. Maybe I’ll be able to to come up with a better system to solve the slow service around here.”

“Umm uh sir? W-what do you mean coworker?”

He rolled his eyes again, “Obviously I mean we are working together.”

“I know what a coworker is. My question is why is a successful billionaire ceo working at a coffee shop for minimum wage?”

“Because my lovely parents think I need to learn some humility and how to talk to people other than just demanding things. They said I do this or they’re removing me from the company so I have no choice.”, he said picking at some lint on his shirt.

“So I’m working here for a little. I figured if anyone knows some humbleness it’s a nobody coffee maker.”

Being the reliable hard worker you are you sucked it up, “Okay sir. The easiest thing is to learn the register first.”

He followed you over to where the computer was located.

“Okay so this row is the specials. This row is basic coffees. Then when you select a coffee it asks if you want to add any thing. That’s where you’ll find the flavorings and toppings. This row is cold drinks. This row is baked goods.”

You noticed he was very quiet so when you looked up you weren’t surprised to see him staring at some blond in a very short pencil skirt sitting at one of the cafe tables. It did make you feel a sting of jealousy, but you quickly shook that away.

“Are you even listening?”, you questioned.

“Y/N, I run a billion dollar company. I think I can figure out a few buttons on a computer screen at a coffee shop.”, he smirked.

“Okay, here’s your first customer.”, you smiled as Mrs. Kang walked up to the counter. She was a familiar regular who was notoriously difficult and you couldn’t wait to watch Yoongi crash and burn.

“Hi, welcome to Jin’s Java House, how can I help you?”, he greeted her as cocky as ever.

“Sure can I get a medium coffee with two pumps of hazelnut, half a pump of vanilla but make sure it’s only half a pump. Last time they definitely put too much. I want the coffee fresh brewed but a mix of the house blend and the cinnamon nut. Then also add a caramel swirl and use half oat milk half almond milk that is warmed up so it doesn’t cool the coffee too much. I also want a banana nut muffin on the side but warm it up also.”

You felt a deep sense of happiness as you watched Yoongi’s fingers hover over the buttons unsure of how to complete the order. Reluctantly he looked at you for assistance.

You showed him how to type in the order while Jimin got to work making it.

That was definitely a humbling experience for Yoongi who was much more open to help after that.

The following few weeks flew by between your classes and shifts at the coffee shop. You and Yoongi were working surprisingly well together. He was actually a decent worker and wasn’t as insufferable to be around.

“Y/N please stop calling me Sir.”, he said one evening.

“I’m sorry it’s just a habit.”

“Well please just call me Yoongi. Sir is reserved for other things.”, he smirked.

You quickly turned away hoping to hide your blushing cheeks from him.

He even apologized for always treating you so coldly, especially that one day he made you run in the back and cry. He chuckled saying Hobi heard him ranting about how much of an idiot he was. He said he came down later in the day to apologize, but you were already gone and he said it bothered him ever since. There was a small shift in your relationship after that.

He had texted you earlier today to let you know that he was going out and wouldn’t be working tonight which kind of made you feel a little as as you had grown to look forward to working with him.

“I strive to be like him one day. Rich, successful, good looking, always having a hot woman on my arm.”, Jimin sighed.

You spun around just in time to see Yoongi walking through the lobby towards the door with the pencil skirt blonde tightly clinging to his arm as he licked his lips while looking down at her.

You don’t know what you expected when he said he was going out or why that sight made your chest tighten, but you quickly returned to portioning out coffee beans so Jimin wouldn’t see your eyes watering.

Maybe you were naive or just had too much wishful thinking, but you had really thought that maybe there was a small chance Yoongi was starting to like you too. You noticed his gaze lingering a little longer than it used it. How he’d “accidentally” bump into you or brush his fingers against your skin. How he started showing up a little earlier every shift and would immediately make his way over to you. But apparently it was all in your head. The more you thought about it the more you felt silly for thinking someone like him could ever be interested in someone like you. So you spent the rest of the shift trying to keep your thoughts away from what Yoongi was up to.

After last night you were thankful it was Saturday because Yoongi never worked weekends which meant you could avoid him for a couple days.

Unfortunately for you, luck was not on your side because when you arrived for your shift Yoongi was already behind the counter.

You faked a smile as you rounded the counter to grab your apron with Yoongi following behind with a red drink in his hands.

“I got you a smoothie from that health place down the street.”

You looked at him confused.

“I just thought you might be sick of coffee.”, he said feeling self conscious all of a sudden for some reason.

“Oh thank you. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to be working today.”, you said taking the drink from him.

Shyly he scratched the back of his neck, “Oh yeah I figured since I couldn’t work yesterday I’d pick up a few hours tonight.”

You nodded before clocking in and heading over to wipe down the already clean counter just to avoid him. Being around him made you feel so confused and conflicted and you didn’t have it in you to deal with that right now.

“How was your date last night? She was hot. I bet you had a good time with her.”, Jimin smirked as he handed Yoongi a cup to fill.

You happened to look up noticing Yoongi quickly turn away from you, but you didn’t miss the slight blush on his cheeks.

He turned back to Jimin, “Yeah she was alright.”

“You gonna see her again? Does she have any single friends or maybe a hot older sister?”

You rolled your eyes before walking away not really wanting to hear Yoongi’s answer anyways.

As days went on you got over Yoongi and the pencil skirt incident until it was Friday and yet again Yoongi texted you that he couldn’t work because he would be going out.

Before he left the office he stopped over at the coffee shop.

As much as you wanted to you couldn’t stop staring. He looked good. His suit jacket was thrown over his shoulder. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up giving you a great view of his hands and forearms that you weirdly loved. His hair was messily styled after the gel gave out from hours of work. As he walked up to the counter you were hit with the scent of his cologne, a comforting cinnamon and vanilla that made you think of eating Christmas cookies by the fire place.

“I thought you were going out?”, you asked sounding more hurt than you wanted.

“Meeting that hot blonde again?”, Jimin asked wiggling his eyebrows.

Yoongi chuckled, “No not tonight. I’m just meeting my parents for dinner at that new sushi place everyone’s talking about. I thought I’d stop by and see if either of you wanted me to bring you something back for dinner.”

Your heart felt warmed that the once cold CEO was now going out of the way to see if you wanted food and you also selfishly felt joy at the fact that he wasn’t meeting that woman again tonight.

“Oh my god yes! I’m starving!”, Jimin excitedly exclaimed making you and Yoongi laugh. As you watched Yoongi write down Jimins order someone walked up to the counter and cleared their throat. Expecting a customer you were happily surprised to see Jungkook.

“Kookie!!”, you shouted jogging around the corner and into his arms missing the scowl that crossed Yoongi’s face.

“What are you doing here? I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I was in the area and thought I’d stop by to get a coffee and say hi.”

As you walked over to the register to ring in an employee drink Yoongi leaned forward over the counter motioning for Jimin to do the same.

“Who is that?”, Yoongi whispered.

“Ummm that is Jungkook. He works on the morning shift. Haven’t you seen him before?”

Now that Jimin mentioned it he did remember seeing this kid working at the coffee shop. He didn’t like him back then and he really didn’t like him now watching him as he flexed his muscles in a tight black tshirt while you excitedly told him about the paper you were writing for your philosophy class. Yoongi wondered if maybe he should start going to the gym more. He also felt a bit of jealousy watching you so easily talk to Jungkook. You always acted so scared of him which he knew was mostly his own fault, but still. He wished you could freely talk about your life with him or that you would act that excited when he walked in. He also wished Jimin would stop bringing up that woman. He didn’t even remember her name. He had zero real interest in her and just wanted to have a distraction to try and stop his growing crush for you because he knew at the of the day you deserved better than him. But then he saw the look on your face as he walked out of the office building with her that night and he couldn’t take it. He gave the woman some money to buy dinner as an apology and also keep her quiet and went home by himself wishing he was as work with you instead.

And now here you were flirting with this Kookie guy right in front of him.

“Hello earth to Yoongi.”, Jimin said waving his hands in his face.

“Sorry what was that?”

“I changed my mind. I want a rainbow roll instead of the eel roll.”

“Oh yeah sure. Whatever you want.”, he said going to write that down when he saw it. You using your fingers to trace over Jungkook’s new tattoo as he conveniently flexed his bicep at the same time and that was it.

Yoongi never thought of himself as a jealous man because if one woman broke his heart he could have another replacing her that same night, but there was something different about you. And watching this all unfold made him turn green with envy.

He took out his wallet and handed Jimin a card, “Here take my card and go order whatever you want. Get something for Y/N too. I’ll cover your shift while you’re gone.”

Jimin looked at the shiny black card and wasn’t about to question him so he happily threw his apron down on the counter before sprinting for the door.

Yoongi picked up the apron putting it on trying to cover as much of his outfit as he could regretting not bringing a change of clothes since Gucci and coffee didn’t really mix.

As he walked around the counter you looked at him stunned, “What are you doing? I thought you had to meet your parents? And where is Jimin?”

Yoongi finished washing his hands before he walked back over to you, “I gave Jimin my card and told him to go get us dinner. Seemed like he needed a break. My parents will understand. I mean, me working here was their idea to begin with.”

“Oh okay.”, you replied still suspicious but there wasn’t anything you could do anyways.

Jungkook was quick to sense the tension in the air so he gave you both a goodbye before grabbing his drink and practically jogging out of the building.

“So uh how are your um classes going? What’s your major again?”, he nervously asked.

“Oh they’re alright. Lots of work.”, you chuckled, “My major is in marketing with a minor in communications.”

“Wow that’s pretty amazing. You must have big plans for once you graduate.”

“Yeah I guess. Maybe I’ll work for one of your rivals one day.”, you joked getting a laugh out of him.

Jimin seemed to be taking his time getting dinner which left you and Yoongi alone with each other until a familiar face showed up at the counter.

“Hey Namjoon, what are you doing here?”, you asked.

“Hi Y/N, I’m checking out the new art exhibit up the street and thought I’d grab a coffee first. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah have to get myself through college somehow.”

“Hey a jobs a job. Did you get your results back from Mrs. Cho’s class? That test kicked my ass.”

You giggled, “Yeah tell me about it. I studied for days and still barely squeaked by.”

Yoongi watched the scene unfold before him. “What is going on around here tonight?”, he thought to himself. You flirting with a tall handsome guy with cute dimples who was smart and artistic and friendly and Yoongi felt his blood boil again as he watched him flirt right back. He knew he couldn’t take much more of this.

As soon as Namjoon said goodbye he walked up next to you.

“Maybe we should call Jimin. Knowing him he’s probably going on a shopping spree with your card right now.”, you laughed turning to look at Yoongi.

He stood in front of you not saying anything. His hands were sweating and he felt like he was going to throw up. He leads very important meetings with some of the most powerful people in the world with ease. He’s had to fire people two days before Christmas and didn’t think twice about it. He’s faced his parents and told them off like he had a death wish but it didn’t phase him. But standing here in front of you was the most nervous he had ever been.

“Will you go out with me?”, he blurted out unsure of where this sudden confidence boost came from.

“I’m sorry what?”, you questioned.

“Y/N, will you please go out with me?”

“Like on a date??”

“Yes…like on a date…with me…Min Yoongi…and you…”

Internally you swooned seeing how nervous and flustered he was, but you did your best to remain cool on the outside.

“Yes, I would like to go on a date with you…Min Yoongi.”

You nervously paced around your bedroom that was littered with different dresses and skirts and shoes. Sure you had been on dates before but never with enemy turned lovers that were also successful billionaire ceos.

“Seriously, Yoongi isn’t going to care what you wear. He doesn’t worry about stuff like that.”, Hobi chuckled from where he was laid out on your bed snacking on some of your chips.

“Yeah well I’ve seen the women he’s left the office with over the years and I beg to differ.”

“Yeah and 99% of those women were one night stands that he just used to get his dick wet. Y/N trust me. He likes you more than that.”

“Really?”, you questioned.

Hobi nodded, “He’s been a nervous wreck all week. I swear I’ve had to cancel fifteen different reservations because he never thought the restaurant was good enough. He’s called every florist in the city looking for a bouquet that he felt was pretty enough for you. And you didn’t hear this from me and I’ll throw you right under the bus if you say you did, but he even had Jimin come up to our office yesterday and I heard Yoongi asking him for romance tips.”

“Whaaattt?”, you stated in shock.

“Mmhmm yes ma’am. I know it’s hard to believe, but Yoongi doesn’t usually do romance. He’s more of a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. So he is really trying to impress you.”

You knew Hobi was trying to help, but now you were even more nervous than before.

After settling on a simple black dress with your “comfy” heels Hobi left you with a hug and made you promise to text him afterwards so he could get all the details.

Yoongi was exactly on time as he nervously handed you a beautiful bouquet of red, white, and pink roses.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”, you smiled quickly placing them in a vase of water.

Offering you his hand he lead you out to a waiting car that quickly sped off to your destination after you were settled in.

“You look very nice tonight Y/N.”, he blushed.

“You looking really nice yourself.”, you added. And he did. He was dressed down from his usual business suit, but somehow still dressed up for the date. He wore perfectly tailored black dress pants and a slim fitting black dress shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up just like you liked. He had a few dainty bracelets and some earrings on to accessorize the look which was finished off with his hair lightly styled. His cologne was intoxicating like something you’d never smelled before. Masculine but yet soft and gentle much like the person who was wearing it. He looked incredible and it took everything in you not to beg him to take you in the back of the car right then.

The restaurant, of course, was fancy and expensive and you would have never even set foot in it if it wasn’t for Yoongi.

“I hope this okay. Now that I think about it should’ve asked you where you wanted to go. I’m sorry. We can go somewhere else if you would like. I don’t know if you even like steak.”, he ranted after noticing you staring in awe.

You shook your head, “Yoongi this is great. Everything looks so good. I can’t decide what to get.”

“Well order whatever you want.”, he smiled trying to relax a little.

Dinner went smoothly. The food and drinks were good. Yoongi was a great conversationist once he got rid of some of his nerves. You had a great time and when he walked you back up to your apartment you felt a sense of nervousness about what the next move should be.

As you awkwardly stood in front of your door you could feel the tension between you both until Yoongi broke it and chuckled, “I’m sorry I’m kind of new at all of this. I don’t usually take women on actual dates.”

You laughed along with him, “That’s okay. Just do what feels right to you.”

Taking a step forward he placed his hands on your hips, “Right now it feels right to kiss you.”

“Then do it.”, You replied trying to hide the quiver in your voice.

A simple kiss turned into another turned into hands wandering and undoing belts and removing clothes until you were both naked under the covers of your bed entangled with one another.

When you woke up the following morning with Yoongi’s naked chest pressed closely against your bare back and his arms still tightly wrapped around your waist you felt the most content you had in a long time. A feeling you didn’t know was possible.

“How was your date with Yoongi last night?”, Jin questioned when you walked in for your Saturday evening shift. You looked around surprised. The only people that new about your date were Hobi and Jimin. You knew Hobi and Jin had never even met let alone talked so you through a glare in Jimin’s direction who put his hands up in defense as if to say he had nothing to do with it.

Jin continued, “It’s all over the internet. I knew the two of you would end up together. That’s why I said no office sex.”

In a panic you took out your phone and started searching. Sure enough the first headline you read was ‘MYG INC.’s Min Yoongi Finally Settling Down?’ Another one read ‘Who Is the Mystery Girl That Stole the Heart of One of the Worlds Most Wanted Bachelors’. Both were accompanied by photos of you and Yoongi at the restaurant, driving in his car, and even walking into your apartment building.

“What? I didn’t know we were even being followed.”, you whispered to yourself.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Must be a slow news day. It’ll be forgotten about by tomorrow.”, Jimin said while clocking in.

You pulled out your phone about to call Yoongi when you already heard his voice behind you.

He leaned on the counter giving you a sad smile.

“What are you doing here?”, you asked.

“I have some work stuff I need to get done so I thought I’d come into the office. I’m guessing you saw the news?”

You nodded, “Yeah I have.”

You noticed that Yoongi seemed uncomfortable maybe even worried about something.

He shook his head, “This is so fucked up. I didn’t think anyone would follow us. The last thing I wanted was for it to get out that I was dating you.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Are you embarrassed to be with me?”

Yoongi looked like he could cry. Frantically he reached over to grab your hand shaking his head, “God no Y/N. I would never be embarrassed to be with you. There’s just a lot of crazy people in this world you know and I just want to keep you safe. That’s all.”

Something about his words didn’t sit right with you, but in the moment you chose to let it go.

“I have to get upstairs, but call me at the end of your shift.”, he said leaning in for a kiss before deciding against it after noticing a customer walk up to the counter. Instead giving your hand a quick squeeze before walking to the elevators.

Before you knew it your shift was over. Taking out your phone and sitting down at one of the empty tables you called Yoongi who answered on the first ring like he had been waiting all day for your call.

“Hey baby, How was work?”

“Alright. Jimin tripped and fell face first into a piece of chocolate cake he was carrying which was pretty hysterical.”

Yoongi chuckled at that, “I wish I could’ve seen that. Where are you now?”

“Just sitting next to the cafe. I think I’m going to go home and get something to eat. What about you?”

“I have to have an emergency meeting in a few minutes with our partners in Japan. There was a big dip in profits in that market so we need to figure out a plan. Shouldn’t be too long though.”

“I know you’ll figure it out. Call me when you’re done with your meeting.”

“Hey uh Y/N, how about you go to my place instead?”

“Okay yeah that sounds good? I’ll just stop home and change and then head over.”

“No!…I uh…I mean why go out of your way? My place is just down the street from the office building. I’ll call the guards and let them know to let you in. I’ll text you the address and the entrance code. Just go in and shower, find something of mine to wear, get a snack if you want. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way and I’ll order us dinner.”

“Okkkkaaaay. I’ll see you later.”

“”Alright babe I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight.”

You hung up feeling very confused if not even concerned. You knew you would eventually go to his place, but you didn’t expect it to be so suddenly and with him being so pushy about it too.

“You hanging out with Yoongi tonight?”, Jimin asked taking a seat next to you.

“Uh yeah I guess so. He wants me to go straight to his place.”

“Wow he doesn’t waste any time does he? He’s a man who knows what he wants.”, Jimin chuckled.

You laughed with him, but then were smacked in the face with a sudden realization.

There was no way in hell you were going to let Yoongi, the guy you’ve been dating less than a day and also successful rich ceo, see you in your purple polka dot granny panties and mismatched sports bra. You hadn’t even washed your hair from last night and you definitely could already feel some stubble on your legs. None of this would bother you if you two had been together for a while but with the relationship being so new you still wanted to impresses him. Yoongi did say to head straight for his place, but you knew his “quick” meeting was probably to going to be a while so you could make it home, shower, and change into something nicer and then head to Yoongi’s and he’d never know and you were sure he’d appreciate it.

“Great work today Jimin! Gotta go.”, you said jumping up and running towards the door leaving Jimin behind looking dumbfounded.

Once in your bedroom you grabbed the white lace lingerie set that you thankfully decided to splurge on as a birthday gift to yourself a few months ago and started heading towards your bathroom when you felt someone grab you from behind.

For a minute you thought maybe Yoongi’s meeting really had been quick and he beat you home until an unfamiliar voice spoke, “Gotcha! Don’t fight or make this difficult. It’ll only make it worse for you.“

You tried your best to break free elbowing the guy in the throat and you managed to escape to the bathroom slamming shut and locking the door behind you.

You knew you should’ve called the police first, but at that moment there was only one person you could think about. Quickly you dialed Yoongi’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. He must still be in the meeting and had his phone shut off.

“Yoongi please help me.”, you screamed., “I went home. I’m sorry I know you said not to but I didn’t think anything would happen. There’s a man here. He broke in and he’s trying to kidnap me or something. I need you Yoongi.”Just as you hung up and we’re about to call the police there were now two men who busted through the bathroom door that was separating you from them.

“I told you not to make this difficult.”, the man from earlier spat as he picked you up by your wrists and began dragging you down the hallway. You tried to fight back but ultimately they overpowered you.

“For fucks sake I didn’t think that guy was ever going to shut up.”, Yoongi groaned with a stretch.

“Yeah that meeting took a lot longer than it should have. I’ll have the summary notes typed up and on your desk within an hour.”, Hoseok replied.

“No it can wait until Monday. Go home and relax.”, Yoongi said with a smile.

“Ahhh so not only does my best friend enjoy the benefits of boyfriend Yoongi but I also get them?”, he smirked.

“Go, before I change my mind.”

Hoseok laughed, but quickly exited the office knowing his boss really could change his mind.

Yoongi finally pulled out his phone noticing the missed call and voice email from you. He didn’t think much of it at first until the recording started playing and all the blood drained from his face. He felt like he could pass out.

He grabbed his keys and began sprinting through the office building out to the garage. He jumped in his car speeding off completely barreling through the security gate. He tried calling you over and over but there was no answer.

His car stopped in front of your apartment. Yoongi reached over into the glove box grabbing the loaded hand gun he had hidden there and thanked the stars he decided to drive himself to work today instead of having a driver pick him up like he usually would.

He ran up the six flights of stairs to your floor like they were nothing. The adrenaline running through his body made him feel like he’s was on a high and unstoppable.

Entering your apartment he drew his gun, but then immediately saw the clear signs that there had been a struggle. He checked every room, under the bed, in the closets. He screamed your name, but there was no answer.

He dropped down on the couch before running his hands over his face and groaning, “Fuck! I fucking knew something like this would happen.”

He stood up and walked to the door where right in front of his face was a note that was stabbed into the wall with a bloody knife,

“Min Yoongi, We told you not to fuck with us, but you didn’t listen. Now we have your girl and one of you is going to pay the price to make things right.”

[echobx]

hear me out: rafe with inexperienced reader showing her how to touch herself

-🪩

Teachings - Rafe Cameron × fem!inexperienced!reader

warnings: fluffy, fingering

word count: 1.1k

author's note: I love this idea so much. I hope you like what I did with it.

“And this is my room,” you say while slowly opening the door. Rafe lets go of your hand and walks inside, leaving you standing with the closed door behind your back.

You watch him as he paces around the small room, fingers tracing the edge of your desk, running along the spines of the books on your shelf. He stops and looks down at your bed, more specifically the old Monster Inc. bedding that you had put on last because you felt nostalgic, and he chuckles.

“I don't usually-” you try to explain yourself out of your light embarrassment, but he stops you with a single glance.

“You don't have to explain yourself to me, darling. This is your home. It's very important that you are comfortable in your own home.” With every other word he takes a step closer until his arms embrace you, and he pulls you flush to his chest.

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him, trying to control your breathing and not pass out over how fast your heart is beating as soon as he gets closer to you.

“There's nothing you should feel embarrassed about when it comes to me, ever,” Rafe whispers in a husky voice that sends shivers down your spine in the most comfortable way you had ever felt.

“Okay,” you whisper and when he kisses you, you forget all about the tiny bit of anxiety that was still pooling in your guts. He leads you back to your bed, never breaking the kiss and falling down on it with you.

You like making out with Rafe, but he's never before been this needy over it. His hands are groping at your boobs and although it feels nice, you're still a tiny bit scared. Or more like, stuck in your head, because you haven't yet told him that you don't know anything, that you have never had the opportunity to do anything before he came along.

“God, you're gorgeous,” he rasps while pulling your top down and freeing your tits to suck on them. You moan at his affections, unsure why exactly it feels so amazing to have his lips around your nipple, sucking and almost biting you.

“Rafe?” you manage to break out, and he stops to look at you.

“Somethin’ wrong, sugar?” he asks, seemingly drunk on none other than you.

“I have to tell you something,” you whisper, and he sits up and pulls you with him, leaning back against the headboard and caressing your cheek.

“I- I, uhm…, I've never had a boyfriend before,” you start slowly and he nods. “I've never- I don't- I'm scared,” you whisper and he smiles softly.

“There's nothing to be scared of, baby. I'll show you anything you wanna know. I can be patient for you if you need me to,” he assures you, and you nod.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything you wanna do now? Or just go back to what we were doing?” Rafe asks and you take a second to think.

“Can you show me how to, uhm, how to help myself out?” you ask tentatively, not even wanting to use the actual words for it.

“You want me to show you how to pleasure yourself?” he asks more clearly, but still not as vulgar as you expected.

“Yes. Could you?” You look at him with your best puppy eyes, but he had already caved long before you even asked.

Rafe starts kissing you again, pulling at your shirt until you take it in your hands and pull it over your head. Just a moment later, he starts fumbling with your jeans, opening button after button and slipping his hand between your legs. You squirm when you feel his fingers dig into your clothed pussy.

“You're so wet for me, baby,” he rasps into your ear, biting your earlobe and abruptly pulling himself away from you. Tugging your jeans off of you rather harshly and kissing your stomach. “I'm taking this off too,” he announces and slides your panties down your legs in a swift motion.

Straddling him is easy, you've done so a thousand times. Having your own hand pressed against your cunt, isn't as much.

“It's all good, baby. Let me,” he says soothingly, and you let go of your own hand, leaving him to use it however he likes.

“Let's start here.” Rafe moves your hand up, letting your fingertips stay on a spot that feels overly sensitive. “You're gonna draw some sweet circles here, maybe even flick it if it feels right,” he instructs, and you do as he says.

“Oh god!” you yelp and pull your hand away at the shockwave of intense pleasure that nearly knocked you over.

“Keep going, darling,” Rafe whispers and kisses you slowly. You return the kiss, feeling like your world is being turned upside down while your fingertips are still attached to your clit. You can't believe that it takes so little to make yourself a moaning mess, and Rafe can't fully grasp it either.

“You're doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he muses and runs his fingers between your folds, having you jump a little when he slightly pushes into you.

“Give me your hand,” he demands, and you take it up from your clit, just for him to pull it back down. He takes your middle finger and pushes it into you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“How's it feel?” Rafe cradles your cheek in his free hand and you sigh.

“Warm. Good. Soft,” you babble and he smiles proudly.

“Look at me, baby,” he whispers, and you open your eyes again, your heart beating out of your chest. “I want you to do this,” he says and shows you how to curl your finger and once you mirror the motion inside your cunt, you gasp and moan even louder than before.

“God, Rafe,” you cry out as he starts sucking on your tits again.

“Just keep doing that baby,” he mumbles against your hot skin while his hand that had just been guiding you was drawing harsh circles on your clit.

“You feel that? Feels good, doesn't it?” he smirks, and you nod, biting your lip, trying to stay a bit quieter.

“It's so much, Rafe, I can't keep going,” you whine, and he kisses you, gently placing a dozen loving kisses on your lips.

“You can let go now, baby. I'm here,” he breathes against your lips. And when you let go of the unbearable tension that has built inside your stomach, you feel a million times better than you have ever had before.

Rafe pulls your hand from your pussy and, to your surprise, he starts sucking off your finger, humming around it. “Good God, you taste so sweet, baby. Can't wait to eat you out.”

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

[anadiasmount]

hershey kisses - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: dad! jude coming home to being left confused why his girlfriend wont kiss him. maybe a chocolate kiss could solve his worries?

wc: 1.4k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa🗣️: had not seen dad! jude on the timeline for a minute so i wrote a small fic! this is not my best work so i'm sorry, but I hope you still enjoy ☹️🤍

“hi, my chunky man! you finally woke up,” you cood at your 9-month-old who yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes. he had been asleep since the match started, sleeping all the way through and not once making a sound. he cuddled into your neck as you fixed his loose-fitted jersey and brushed his curls back. he smiled when you repeatedly kissed his cheek and ran your hand across his back.

“someones’ still tired,” you said noticing him yawn again, walking out of his monster's inc themed nursery and into the kitchen where you were preparing the batter for your favorite cookies. you took advantage of his nap and cleaned around the house, playing music softly against the background as you picked up clothes, toys, and dishes lingering around. 

you pulled out a go-squeeze and fed it to zak, who downed it quick. after serving water in his sippy cup, you also put a small handful of the baby puffs and sat him on his toy mat where he watched his dad on the screen being interviewed. “dada!” zak squealed, pointing and made grabbing motions at the tv with his chunky hand. “that's right. dada scored again! can you believe it?” you baby talked watching as he showed you his four front teeth. 

you quickly changed the channel and put on his favorite cartoons, going back to the kitchen and grabbing an ice cream scoop, scoping out small chunks of the dough onto the parchment paper, often looking up to make sure zak was okay. before you put them into the oven, you placed hersey kisses in the middle, popping one, well more than three into your mouth. 

“smells good in here,” jude sighed, smelling the cookies and quickly setting his stuff down by the door. zak bear crawled over to jude, making the two of you laugh at his speed to be held by his dad. jude’s heart warmed at the sight of the small but loose jersey on zak, immediately crouching down and picking up the baby in diapers. 

“scored a goal for you,” jude kissed his forehead, and then felt your hands go around his torso, “and meant it for you,” he said leaning down and giving you a kiss on the lips. “so proud of you handsome,” you squeezed his cheek and went back to the kitchen, hearing the timer go off. “that's it? that’s all i get even after scoring a goal for you?” he joked, zak kicking his feet as jude followed you into the kitchen. 

“baby, you know i'm always proud of you right? plus i’m baking us cookies,” you said in an obvious tone, jude watching you grab the christmas mitten and pull the cookies out of the oven. “you listening to this zak? momma doesn’t love me,” he muttered, tickling his neck and then sides, your baby bursting into laughter. 

you cocked your head to the side at his comment, asking yourself inwardly if he was being serious or not, but knowing he was joking, two can play for two. after putting the cookies on the rack and letting them cool down, you also prepared hot chocolate, also warming up zak’s bottle so he can be feed after he ate his dinner. 

you purposefully had avoided and dodged three of his kisses, either pulling away from his grip, or moving your head to the side, jude giving you a confused glance everytime. you wanted to tease him a bit for the joke he said, but also wanted to prank him by giving him a hershey kiss. it's not that you were trying to ignore him, jude’s kisses felt like heaven, getting lost even if it was a small peck, but it was just a small joke.  

jude was upset, left wondering if he had done or said something before he left. instead of overthinking it like he always did, he played with zak, blowing raspberries into his tummy, and played with the small firefighter toy truck he had, mimicking the sirens and watching as your son died from laughter. 

jude looked over to where you were, frowning as your attention had gazed somewhere else. An hour and a half later, zak was fussy, knowing he wanted to sleep. jude grabbed his bottle and went to his room where he changed him out the jersey and into dinosrour themed pj’s, changing his diaper as well. 

he rocked him slowly, brushing back his curls and humming a small lullaby to sleep. “i hope you know you and your mom are the best things to exist in my life. although she’s mad at me for some reason and acting stubborn with me, i love her and you to death” after placing a small kiss on his chunky cheek, he set him down gently onto his crib. tucking the white bunny under his arm, and pulling the small blanket over his body. 

jude walked back downstairs, rolling his eyes at you. not only did he let his overthinking get the best of him, but he was now annoyed you were refusing to talk to him even after avoiding his kisses. he grabbed the remote and sat on the couch, different scenarios running through his head on why you would be upset with him. 

after scrolling through some comments on his latest post, he heard your voice call for him. “babe come here for a second?” you giggled inside, grabbing a wrapped hershey kiss from the bag, almost bursting into laughter as jude walked in seriously, with crossed arms and with a pout. “what a child” you thought. 

“i think i know why you are upset with me,” you attempted to sound resentful, but jude just nodded for you to continue your explanation. “i think it's due to the fact i haven't let you kiss me…” you looked away dramatically, shaking your head. you caged him into the countertop, jude becoming nervous at your proximity. 

all jude could do was stare confused, “do you want a kiss?” you sighed dramatically, playfully rolling your eyes, watching as a frown appear on his face, now leaning against the counter top. you ran your hands against his chest and then down to his biceps, goosebumps running along his skin as you leaned up. jude became tense for some reason, all of a sudden becoming nervous. 

his lips had parted, lips barely touching his, and you quickly placed the unwrapped chocolate into his mouth, letting out a fit of giggles as he cockily smirked at you. you ran quietly around the kitchen trying to avoid the 6ft tall man who wanted to catch you. when he finally did he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and sat you onto the countertop where you had caged him before. 

“woman? do you not know how worried i was? thinking  i had done something to you?” jude confessed still laughing and catching his breath, pushing back your hair and cupping your cheek. “i was scared you were going to make me sleep on the couch again,” he said, reminding you of the time he pissed you off and you made him sleep downstairs. later tucking back into bed with you.

“so you're not mad at me?” he asked shyly, wanting confirmation you weren't mad or upset with him. “no baby, i was just joking around,” you laughed, hearing a deep chuckle come out his throat. while he continued to cup your cheek, your hands ran along his sides anticipating his next move. “i hope you know that means you owe three kisses,” he said along your lips, kissing your nose. “four after the chocolate i gave you,” you reminded him. “that's right, four kisses you owe me.”

“well what are you waiting for?” you say timidly, becoming intimidated by his strong gaze. “i'm thinking whether you deserve my kisses or not?” he says playfully, observing the way you bite your lip and your hands pulling him closer by his back. “kiss me jude… i know you want it,” you close your eyes, breathing in his still present cologne. 

“that’s right, i do want it.”

his lips brushes against yours, your tummy fluttering at his needy but soft movements, jude’s hand coming from your cheek now to your hip. he tugged you closer, wanting to fill the smallest space that was left, letting a groan at the chocolate taste that remained in your mouth. he licked his lips, pulling away and chuckling at your pout, running his thumb along your now swollen lips.

“your kisses are way better than the chocolate ones.”

[officialrocketjumper]

HOWDY EVERYONE- so excited to FINALLY be able to show off my piece for this year's Bumbleby Big Bang!

Unfortunately no accompanying story as of yet- but I really hope you guys get to read it someday! The premise involves Yang cursed to be trapped inside a sword, which was an idea I KNEW I had to make move.

Details and development stuff under the cut!

Lots of fun collaboration with the author, Celeste! We worked together to find the look-of-picture, Blake's outfit, how the Grimm look, the style of the sword, the whole shabang! I'm really happy with how it all turned out!

When I first saw all the prompts, even before claims opened, I got to work on a handful of exploration pieces based on some of the summaries, to decide which of the stories I was interested in would be the best fit. Here's the initial idea for this one I put together over a lunch break:

After showing Celeste, we got to work finding the look we wanted! Went back and forth a bit and found this great look for Blake! Also shoutout to Pinterest boards for visdev inspiration I love you Pinterest boards.

Just about everything stayed to final anim, with the simplification of getting rid of that purple cloth hanging from her belt, (since I already had the rope ends to think about working with), and the light purple strap across the chest, since leaving it out would simplify the linework on her chest.

The sword also went through a bit of change! Celeste had the idea of Yang making the sword catch on fire, which I LOVED. I went with a split design so we can see the fire more clearly start from the hilt and grow to cover the whole blade.

And from there we brainstormed animation ideas! I went all over Youtube for video reference of sword work (that would be complex enough to be interesting, but short enough to be manageable). I found something we liked from Motion Actor Inc., a channel I've used LOTS for both personal and professional work (I work in 3D Animation, for those who don't know). I edited this together, to see the action from multiple places at once, which gave me the idea for that camera move that's in the final anim!

Now for the fun part! Make that badboy MOVE. For the cam turn, the first frame she's in the air I'm referencing the top left video, and the frame she lands I'm referencing the bottom left one. While she's airborne I'm just inbetweening that! No reference for the Grimm, just wanted it responding to her attacks, but I end up tweaking the roughs later on to make the block feel stronger.

Then from there we had to actually figure out Grimm designs! Nimona had just released, and Celeste and I loved it, so she asked if I could take some inspiration from Nimona's shadow form! GLADLY. Here's what I came up with!

I was going between how the movies and comic designed Nimona, really loving the almost liquid shadow of the movie, but also how the comics had this broken up/held together rougher form. Celeste liked the second to last one the best! The original plan was to have it leave a wispy shadow trail like the concept art, but to simplify the animation we left it solid instead!

Next up is tiedown! Basically just getting the roughs more on-model, so the lineart comes out nice and clean. I've also transferred the new Grimm design to the base from earlier, and fire's also outlined orange so it reads clearer. (SPOILER- if you look REAL close here, you can see Yang visible in the fire! I liked the idea of Blake's slash also doubling as Yang throwing a punch. The idea is in the concept art earlier but now it's working with the action.)

Next step- final look of picture!! I asked Celeste for sources of inspiration to draw from when thinking about environment design, and we got Nimona, She-Ra, and Owl House! Used each of those as springboards for shading style, colour palettes, and how the fire would look!

From there, we kept the straight trees/bush/lake/foreground greenery from the first one, the blues from the second, and the fire from the third!

Once I had this frame, it was a matter of working backwards and making the background work pre-camera turn (which was ABSOLUTELY the most challenging part of this process). Learned a lot doing this! Procreate isn't quite equipped to make something like this efficient, but I'm pleased to say that Dreams would make something like this easier in the future (keyframing objects instead of hand-drawing/spacing duplicates by hand, for example).

From then on it was just colouring the lineart, adding shading, and finishing up the background! Beginning-to-end this whole process was beginning of July to end of October!

I had an absolute BLAST putting all this together. Here's to next year where I find a way to do something even more ridiculously complicated!! It's fun!!!

[sgiandubh]

Lallybroch: copyright vs. trademark

An excellent question was asked by our friend @rosfrank in the comments thread to 'The door faces North' post and given the cosmic amount of uninformed bullshit being ventilated for almost ten years in this fandom, I think it's time to answer it once and for all:

Whenever we are informally talking about 'owning the rights to something', I think it's very important to bear in mind a fundamental distinction between two different categories of ownership rights: copyright and trademark.

The copyright is the most familiar one to many of you. It is what you usually find on those annoying and apparently useless first or last pages of all the printed or digital editions on this planet. Something like this:

In the US, copyright issues are regulated by the Copyright Act of 1976, as included in Title 17 of the US Code. The US public authority competent for registering and managing copyright is, as predictable, the US Copyright Office.

Perhaps the most seminal US Supreme Court decision, as far as copyright is concerned, is the 1991 Feist Publications, Inc., v. Rural Telephone Service Co. In it, the Court ruled that mere compilations of information or facts (such as, for example, telephone books) are not protected by copyright, according to US law. In other words, the ancient legal concept of 'sweat of the brow' (which simply means the amount of work required to gather and compile those facts/information) is not enough to qualify a work for copyright protection, if no creative effort is added to enhance its content. This is why I have always considered absolutely ridiculous Marple's efforts to watermark public information screenshots: it is useless (to the extent that it legally protects her from nothing) and, as her timelines, a mere compilation of facts (legally ditto). A similar approach is preferred by the UK and also by many Roman law legal systems, such as the French one - just making things clearer, here, by the way.

See how 'Erself is roughly doing, right now, in this department:

But I am rambling. In my view, Lallybroch, as a pivotal concept used in Diana Gabaldon's books, is protected by the copyright granted to each and every of her books mentioning it, according to the Roman law principle 'accessorium sequitur principale' (the accessory follows the principal). So it will remain protected for at least 70 years since the last of her books mentioning it would have been published under copyright. Unless she chooses to separately protect the entire finished cycle as a whole, once Book Ten (fingers crossed) is published, preferably during our foreseeable lifetimes.

That being said, that goes only for one copyright category: (published) text - you cannot copyright that secret diary in your drawer, LOL. This is why, the current US Copyright Office records concerning Lallybroch look like this:

Sony Pictures Television Inc owns the copyright to the fictional name Lallybroch in the motion pictures category, as it is the title of the Episode 12, in Season 1 - DG has been handsomely compensated for this, no worries. And someone I have no idea about owns the rights to an original musical score she has written and titled Lallybroch in the music category, since October 2013.

Onwards to the trademark. This is something different and this is all about making your name/concept/idea profitable. It is all about branding it, putting it on a product and selling it under that brand. It includes all the graphic elements and the logo of the brand (accessorium...) - in short, its visual identity to the consumers. In the US, trademark issues are regulated by the 1946 Lanham Act and the public competent authority is the good old US Patent and Trade Office (USPTO).

Right now, the situation for the Lallybroch trademark is as follows:

So, we see three different trademarks: two of them, owned by Diana Gabaldon, are classified as 'dead' (cancelled and/or abandoned) and the third, Lallybroch Spirits, owned by S's Great Glen Company is pending approval - he will not be able to label any booze bottle Lallybroch Drink Me before permission is granted by the USPTO.

Let's unpack:

Both Lallybroch trademarks formerly owned by Diana Gabaldon were filed at the USPTO on February 21, 2000 and granted on December 12, 2000. The first was aimed at producing 'tartan fabrics for the manufacturer of clothing' and it was abandoned in December 2003:

The reason is that the owner did not file in any Statement of Use after the trademark was granted. She had three years to do so, and since she chose not to do anything about it, the trademark was deemed abandoned (Stacy K. Smith is the attorney hired by Herself, btw). That means she specifically implied not to intend using it in the future. As such, she may claim NO rights on a now free to use mark:

The second trademark was aimed at producing 'clothing, namely, t-shirts, dresses and headwear' and also 'jewelry, namely, rings, pins and necklaces'- to cut the story short: OL merchandise - and it was cancelled on March 1st, 2013:

The reason is that the owner did not file the Section 8 declaration (of continuous use for five years) within the allowed legal timeframe (6 months after the fifth anniversary of the trademark granting renewal). Her trademark federal rights are now deemed canceled (but not her state law and/or common law rights!) and if she wants to ever use that name again, she would have to start the whole process over, bearing in mind the trademark could have been granted to someone else, in the meanwhile (not her case).

And for anyone who might ask, 'Erself does not own any other trademarks whatsoever:

The other (Doll Lab - LOL for ages) Diana Gabaldon is a pharmacist from Albuquerque, NM. Chill. 🤣🤣🤣

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as far as published text is concerned, is Diana Galabdon.

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as far as motion pictures are concerned, is Sony Pictures Television Inc.

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as a personal work of music, is Mrs. Kelly Ruth Davis, of Pennsylvania, USA.

The owner of the Lallybroch Spirits trademark will be Sam Roland Heughan, when that trademark is granted by the USPTO.

I hope this answers your question, @rosfrank. Thank you for asking.

[lavenderedhoney]

hi, can I ask how you finger/generally play with your girlfriend's pussy? my girlfriend is also trans and she likes it when I play around there, but I haven't figured out quite how to really make her feel good there yet. I thought it might just not be her thing, but she had her first full prostate-only orgasm from a vibrator there the other day (after she had already come from me going down on her) and now I'm all excited about it again lol

YES YES YES YES YES I LOVE TALKING ABOUT EXTERNAL PROSTATE STIM

Here's from the article where I first saw it talked about:

It took some figuring out the exact location but my baby's g-spot is about halfway between her balls and her hole and she loves all kinds of touch and contact. Her pussy is very sensitive so even gently grazing it with my knuckles or fingertips makes her moan and shake. She loves tongue and I can make her cum by lapping at her and pressing my tongue against her, and a vibrator is also always a winner. But my favorite is using my first two fingers on my right hand (keep your nails short!). I find the right spot and I press upward and use thrusting and slight hooking motions and she goes fucking crazy. When I first started experimenting down there she said I would sometimes pinch her or press too hard and accidentally overstim her, but now I've gotten it down so well I can make her cum in less than a minute (and as many times as I want).

I really hope you can find a way to touch her that she likes because it's one of my favorite ways to make my girl feel good. 💖

Put your age on your blog before interacting with this post or perish!

Edit: if you reblog from r*pe, abuse, ageplay/"icky kiddo," or inc*st kink blogs get off this post

[badasgirlfriend]

Step By Step | Bada Lee

pairings: bada lee x fem!oc

genre: friends to lovers, student x teacher

a/n: idk i just had an idea

parts: 1, 2 , 3.....

"Sorry." The short-haired girl bowed as she bumped into a man. He turned, his face twisted with anger, and he uttered a curse at her.

The girl winced at his harsh words, but she can't blame him, it was her fault after all. She's the one running around like a headless chicken

With a sigh of frustration, she began running once more. She didn't plan on being late, but her teacher had insisted that she remain after class for discussion of some things. To her, they were utterly stupid matters, but she had no choice but to comply. She was quite certain that the teacher was merely looking to curry favor with her, just because her mom is a famous ballerina.

"Sorry maam." Nari said to the older woman, " Do you happen to know where the-" she paused looking at her phone "Jam Republic agency is located?"

The older woman scoffed "Are you blind"

Nari was astonished by her bluntness, she didn't expect that

"It's right behind you. Even at my age, I can see better than you, it would seem."

"Well, you're not wrong about that." she replied, murmuring the statement to herself, and quickly added, "Thank you. Have a nice day"

Turning away, she saw that the old lady had been correct all along. With an exasperated sigh, she pushed through the door leading into the building,

As her eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, she soon spotted the reception's desk. However, to her dismay, no one seemed to be stationed there. Walking a bit closer, she placed her bag on the ground and sat in one of thr chairs.

After waiting a few minutes, and not hearing or seeing anybody else, Nari finally decided to proceed with her outfit change. She had no desire to keep waiting around, and risk anyone seeing her in her tight pastel pink skirt and green top. Her mothers choices

Just as Nari began to stand, she spotted a tall girl exit through a doorway nearby. She was wearing a white shirt, grey sweatpants, and a grey zip-up hoodie. The girl had a white hat on concealing most of her features, making it quite difficult for Nari to take a good look at her face at all.

Not to mention, the girl was looking straight down at the ground, making it even more difficult for Nari to see her expression.

With a quick motion, she locked the bathroom door and took out her clothes from her bag. First, she slipped on the black sweatpants, followed by the grey sports bra. Then, she wore the baggy t-shirt, but didn't like the way it looked, so she instead placed it behind her neck only covering her shoulders. After a few adjustments, she stood before the mirror looking at herself

Having had enough of the ugly pink bow that was on her hair, she tossed it into the trash can. Then, she gathered her hair up into a rather messy, yet loose, ponytail, securing it with an elastic band. She looked in the mirror now happy with her appearance. She felt like herself, not like the girl her mother wants her to be

She unlocked the door and went outside, entering the now familiar hallway she saw the same tall girl from earlier, sitting in one of the chairs

Embarrassing, she witnessed her outfit change

Quietly, she returned to the chair, and took her seat once more. She waited patiently for anyone to arrive, casting a glance in the direction of the tall girl, who appeared to be preoccupied with her phone, as her eyes remained firmly fixed to the screen.

"Excuse me," Nari blurted out before she could stop herself. She immediately fell silent, feeling a sudden wave of tension wash over her. The girl turned her head toward her in curiosity, and Nari became utterly speechless, as she was not expecting her to be this beautiful. Nari found herself completely unable to move, as she was simply lost for words, and utterly mesmerized by the sight of the other girl's striking looks.

"Yes?"

Fuck, not only was she attractive and beautiful, but even her voice was incredibly alluring.

In an effort to regain some level of composure, she cleared her throat, and hoped that her voice would not crack. "Uhm, do you know if Bada Lee is here?"

"I'm Bada," the girl stated, leaving Nari utterly confused

"What"

"What...?"

However, Nari's confusion only deepened, as she was under the impression that her teacher was a man, based on the information that her friend told her before.

"You're not Bada" the younger girl blurted out, shaking her head in disagreement.

Now it was Bada's turn to be confused "Im pretty sure I am" was this girl on drugs

"My friend told me that you were a man," she said

"Well, your friend is mistaken" Bada replied with a slight chuckle. "And, my name is definitely not a masculine one," she added

"Im so sorry" Unable to hold back her rage, Nari found herself itching to find her friend, Chaeyoung. With the next class being only a few short hours away, the anticipation of making Chaeyoung face her consequences was nearly unbearable.

She was in deep shit

"You're Shin Nari right." Bada asked, and Nari confirmed with a quick nod of her head.

"Well, I wasn't expecting you to be this young," Bada stated, looking at Nari with a confused expression. "Here it says that you're in your thirties, so this is a surprise."

Nari felt a rush of embarrassment wash over her, and she wanted to bury herself and die "Sorry I have a habit of picking random birth years everytime I apply for something"

If Bada said no to teaching her she wouldn't be surprised

"Alright, let's not waste any time and begin," Bada stated with a nod as she and Nari both stood up "Are you familiar with dance, were you a dancer before?"

"Yes Im a ballerina" Nari nodded

Bada's eyebrow raised in surprise, yet again, and she couldn't help herself from inquiring further. "Oh, really? So, what brought about the shift from ballet to hip hop?"

"Oh, but I'm not quitting ballet completely," Nari clarified with a quick glance toward Bada. "I actually love both ballet and hip hop," she added. "So what you have here is a two-for-one dancer," Nari joked, smiling at her own words.

Bada chuckled at Nari's joke, Nari was truly a sight to behold, she couldn't deny her beauty. Ever since she had first seen her, Bada was left in a state of awe at her natural beauty, and it was something that she hadn't expected at all.

However, what she hadn't anticipated either, was the fact that Nari would turn out to be her student.

"Alright, then, we will first begin with some exercises meant to loosen up your stiffness, considering your ballet background," Bada stated, clarifying their focus "This is the main priority at the moment," she added.

Nari nodded in agreement, she couldn't wait

[iron-rose-art]

Chance Meeting

Context, Reader works at Daycare and was leaving the plex now that their shift was over. They saw a rowdy kid being too rough on a certain gator and their parents weren't around. Although the reader is tired, the reader couldn’t stand by and not say anything to the kid, especially when you know that the animatronics aren’t really programmed to tell a kid to back off. One thing led to another and it shouldn’t be a surprise that a kid that thinks he’s allowed to do anything has a parent that lets him do anything as long as it doesn’t disturb them.

Monty x Reader, no use of Y/N, reader is tired and has to go full Fazbear Inc. customer service mode on a parent

Read on Ao3 too if you wanna

---

“Ma’am, Fazbear Entertainment has full rights to escort you out of the premises for being discourteous in our plex. We ask of you and your family to be respectful to our star members.” You pointedly say with a trained smile on your face. You know the woman’s fuse was on a short timer, a few seconds away from having a meltdown over you telling her kids to act at least somewhat civil to the animatronics.

“HOW DARE YOU!” She bellowed out, her face getting red as she pointed a manicured finger at you.

Yup.

There it was.

You’d would find some humor in her overreaction if you weren’t so tired from your shift.

“You do NOT get to tell me what to do!” She aggressively poked at your chest. “I should call your manager! He’ll get you fired for talking to me like that!”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and scowl at her, instead standing straight with your feet planted and tipping your head to the side with the same polite smile on your face. “We take customer service seriously here at our Pizzaplex. We also do not allow harassment of workers, it is a serious breach of contract of our terms of services.” You reply back with a calm voice. You can hear the murmurs of the people around you noticing the one-sided screaming match, no doubt your co-workers and managers will hear about this tomorrow. Great.

“I don’t care! I paid to be here and you were the one to ruin it for me and my family!” She jabs you again hard enough to make you take a step back. You clasps your hands in front of you, partially to keep your hands still and partially to give a bit of space between you two.

“If you are dissatisfied with our service, you are more than welcome to file a claim to our customer service office. If that claim is revised through camera footage,” you point to a nearby camera, “audio files, and witness testimony and is deemed as false, you hold a chance of being banned and blacklisted from the Plex. Permanently.” She opens her mouth to retort but you step forward and motion to a nearby Security Bot. “If that is something you wish to avoid, alongside paying for damages done to company property, I strongly advise you to leave for the day.” You watch as she narrows her eyes at you, her gaze flickered from looking at you, behind you, to the security bot and back at you. She scowls but steps back, glaring at you while the security bot starts to guide her to the entrance.

You feel bad for how tight she is holding her son’s hand as she walks away. He looks more embarrassed than her for being told to leave.

“Thank you for your patronage and we hope you have a Faz-errific Day!” You say in your best impression of the bright daycare attendant and wave with a cheery customer service smile as they leave. Once they were far away and the crowd around you lost interest, you turned around and heaved a sigh. Another day, another shitty parent like that.

You open your eyes and freeze when you see the giant animatronic you forgot had been behind you and was the whole reason you were dealing with that mom. Your eyes trail up as you take in the green scale pants, the broad yellow and green torso, the sharp teeth and finally the red eyes behind the star sunglasses.

You look up at Monty and give him an apologetic look, suddenly aware he had been quiet the whole time. “Um, sorry for uh, stepping in like that. Just y’know I’m not really a fan of uh, bratty kids and entitled parents.” You shrug and wave your hands in front of you before fiddling with the collar of your shirt to resist the urge to clear your throat and apologize more. Monty was staring at you unblinkingly, his jaw open enough for you to see a hint of tongue behind sharp teeth. There is the faint sound of a motor whirring but you figure it’s just a noise from somewhere else in the plex.

You stare at him as he stares at you.

Now you’re definitely wishing you were in your car and on your way home. “Do you um, do you need me to call Parts and Service to check if anything-”

“You were able to handle a piece of work parent and now you’re nervous?”  You would be a liar if you denied jumping a bit from hearing him finally talk. You were wanting him to talk of course, but it still caught you off guard. Especially with his voice being deeper than you thought. And he has a southern tilt to his voice box, odd but it’s fitting. He had an eyebrow raised and you realize it’s better to focus on what he asked than think too hard about his voice.

You feel your face getting hot under the scrutiny. This isn’t how you thought your first meeting with any of the Glamrocks would go. “Uh, I mean I deal with shitty parents that don’t actually want to parent their kids all the time so…” You shrug and mumble before you can think better of it. You lean back when he throws his head back as he laughs out loud. It’s a nice laugh to hear; sure it’s rough and gravely, it’s loud, but contagious and so wholehearted that it has you laughing along to the situation as well.

This really is where your life led to isn’t it? You can tell a mom to back off like you’re a lawyer but as soon as you need to talk to a seven foot tall robot gator you forget how to speak. Poof. All ways of talking go out the window. It’s so ridiculous the only thing you can do is laugh. And you can’t find it in you to care if it attracts attention from the crowd this time. It takes a minute before he exhales and makes a motion of wiping away non existent tears from his eyes.

“And you’re cussin in front of me! I could tell on ya if I wanted to y’know. That ain’t very family friendly.“ He cocks his head to the side as he grins down at you, the southern drawl in his voice deepening as he speaks.

You snort as your own laughter dies down to giggle. “I doubt The Montgomery Gator would tell on me for cursing on the job.” You look up at him, his own toothy grin mirrored back by you. You don’t know when you moved closer to him over the short conversation but you’re not feeling the urge to step away just yet.

“You’re not wrong.” He snorts and nods to your shirt as best he can. Or at least you think that’s what you think he was doing. “You sure aren’t what I expected from a daycare worker, y’know?” You look down at the bright lettering of the SuperStar Daycare Staff name tag still clipped on your shirt. With all the ruckus that happened, you completely forgot to take it off once you clocked out of your shift.

"Um, thanks." You weren't quite sure how to respond to that but you figured it was a compliment. You eye up the dented casing on his lower arm. "Are you sure you don't want to call Parts and Services to get that checked out?"

“Nah, m’ handler will check that out when I go down there in a few. You look,” he tips his head to the side as he pauses for a second, “tired, you shouldn’t you be going home now?”

To prove his point, you feel a yawn crawling its way up. You instinctively raise your elbow to hide your yawn and nod at him once it passes. “Yeah, definitely should be on my way home. Hopefully you won’t have to deal with any more shitty parents today.”

“I doubt it.” He says with a chuckle.

“Good good.” You wave at him while you start walking away. “See you around then Monty, have a good night.”

“Goodnight Superstar, don’t be fighting any more parents if I’m not around, you hear?” He lowers his sunglasses to wink at you as you walk away.

You scoff and roll your eyes but still smile at that. You give him one last wave while you make your way to the entrance, fishing out your car keys from your pockets as you leave the plex for the day. You think about the times the little kids at the daycare would say that Monty was scary, but from that little interaction you had with him, you realize he might not be as bad as people make him out to be. You feel a soft smile on your face as you drive home. Hopefully you can run into him and talk to him some more tomorrow, preferably under better circumstances.

What you don’t know you missed is the same gator watching you leave with a fond and curious look on his face, also looking forward to bumping into you while you work.

[retrocgads]

USA 1993

[moni-logues]

Even Though

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: friends/FWB(?)-to-lovers, smut

Summary: Hoseok comes running every time you call, even though he knows you don't want the same things. Unless, of course... you do?

Word count: 7.4k

Content: alcohol consumption/drunkenness, oral sex (m. and f. receiving inc. deepthroat and face-sitting), unprotected sex

A/N: It's almost Hobi's birthday, so have a repost because I won't be writing a new fic for it lmaooooo! This one has had a bit of an edit and I think is much improved for it tbh; I was always quite fond of this one (esp for having written it in one sitting between midnight at 2:30am lmao) but I've added a few bits and changed the ending so it feels a little more ~realistic I guess. I've also (I hope) knocked out the bajillion typos that I had left in it before whoops! anyway, enjoy!

* * *

You turned, huddled into a corner of the club, carefully cradling your phone against your cheek as if that would, in any way, block out the noise. The voice at the other end was quiet, groggy.

“Hello?” 

“Hoseok?!” you shouted into your phone. “Hoseokieeee! Can you hear me?”

“y/n? Are you ok?”

“No! I miss you! I miss you so much! I wish you were here; no one else is any fun. Can you come out, please? Come out and playyyyy.” 

You swayed on your feet and had to brace yourself against the wall with one hand, staring pointedly at a chip in the paint, studiously focusing on it, trying to get it to stop swimming in front of you, doubling and twisting before your eyes. 

“y/n, I was sleeping-”

“No! No sleeping! Come and play with me, Hoseok; I want to play.”

“How drunk are you?”

“Hardly,” you said with a snort, almost tripping over your own feet. “I’m basically fine, actually. I don’t even really feel drunk anymore.”

“Are you with people? Who are you out with?”

“I’m at work!”

“No, who are you out with?”

“Work! I’m at work with club at the people.”

“You’re at a club with people from work.”

“That’s what I said. But I don’t care about them... I just want you. I miss you. I want you. Please come out. Please, pretty please a thousand times.”

“Is someone looking after you?”

“Noooo. No one looks after me like you do. You’re the only one. You’re my favourite. Of all everyone, you’re my best one.”

You didn’t hear him sigh, didn’t see him rub his face with his free hand, staring up at the ceiling, facing off with the inevitable. He would come and get you. Of course, he would. That’s what he did. He’d come and get you and take you home and tuck you up in bed and leave water and painkillers on your bedside table and you’d tell him how much you love him and how much you miss him and you’d list everything you like about him and then you’d pass out and wake up in the morning and say you couldn’t remember what you said the night before. The texts would be right there in your phone but no one would mention them. Hoseok didn’t know if your amnesia was real or feigned but it didn’t really matter either way. 

He knew this is what would happen, and he knew that it would slice through his heart like a knife, but he agreed to come and pick you up anyway. Like always.

* * *

“Hoseok-y! Ho-socky and mittens! My yang-mal and jang-gab-yyy. You came!” 

You stumbled over to his car and made grabby motions at him through the open window. He got out and walked to the passenger side, opening the door for you and helping you in. You grabbed at his jumper and pulled his face close to yours. You sprinkled kisses all over his face as he tried to extricate himself from your clutches and return to the driver’s side. 

“-ease please please please please,” you were saying as he sat down, shut the door, and buckled his seatbelt.

“Hm? What do you want?”

“I want to kiss you, please!”

You took his hand in yours and kissed the back of it with a loud, noisy smack.

“Not while I’m driving.” 

“Plleeeeaaassse,” you insisted, leaning in as close to him as you can. “If I ask really, really nicely?”

“Not while I’m driving, ok? It’s dangerous.”

You groaned, frustrated, and threw your hands in the air. The world whipping by so quickly outside made you feel dizzy and then, suddenly, tired. The kind of drunken tiredness that was like an unexpectedly strong wave that knocks you into the sea, pulls you under. If you didn’t lie down now, immediately, you thought you would pass out. So you fumbled down the side of the seat for the lever to adjust the angle and flew back with an anguished wail when it tipped all the way backwards. 

“Are you ok?” Hoseok asked, eyes flicking briefly in your direction before returning to the road.

You were kicking your feet in the air, pressing your shoes against the roof of the car. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he said softly, tapping your leg gently, encouraging them down.

Hoseok was just glad you weren’t trying to kiss him anymore. 

* * *

“Daisy, daisy, give me your answer, dooo,” you sang, with little consideration for your neighbours, as Hoseok half-carried you to your front door. “I’m half-crazy all for the love of you!” 

He carefully propped you up as he unlocked your door and helped you inside. As he shut the door, you took his face in your hands and continued.

“It won’t be a styyyyylish marriage! I can’t afford a carriage-”

A squeak interrupted your song as he lifted you, carrying you to your bed.

“But you’d look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle made for two! 

“Have we ever gone bicycling, Seoky? Can I ride a bike? I think so... I don’t own one, though, but we can rent them, right?”

You blathered on as he took off your socks and pulled the clips out of your hair and hung up your jacket.

“Come here, please!” you called for him as he brought you a stack of reusable cotton pads and your make-up remover. You took both from him and chucked them on the bed, then pulled him down next to you.

“I love you,” you cooed, rubbing your nose against his. “I love you I love you I love you.” 

You flopped back, head against the pillow, and dragged him with you. 

“I think you are the most best, probab- Stop it! Stop it!” You swatted at his hands as he tried to wipe your make-up off for you. “I don’t want you to do that. I want you to kiss me, please.” 

He turned his head as you reached for him and you kissed his cheek and his temple and his brow bone. 

“Hoseok-y, why don’t you want to kiss me?” You were whiny and pouting and your big, shining eyes were boring into him.

“You’re drunk, love.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“But I still want to kiss you!”

He gently, but firmly, took your hands from his face and held them by your side. 

“If you want to kiss me that badly, you can wait eight hours and kiss m-”

“Eight hours?! No, I can’t wait eight hours! I can’t wait even eight whole seconds!” 

He wished more than anything that you weren’t drunk. He wished that you would be sober, sober and still this keen, still this loving. He knew wishes didn’t come true. 

You sighed, growling at the end, frustrated and pouting and pretending to be angry. But you did, at least, stop trying to kiss him.

“I just love you, that’s all,” you said, as he lay down next to you.

You turned on your side and pressed your finger against his bottom lip, flipping it up and down. 

“My name’s Hoseok,” you said, as if he were your ventriloquist dummy. “And I’m so pretty and I’m so smart and I’m so kind and I’m the best person in the world but I won’t let my girlfriend kiss m-”

Girlfriend. There was that word again. You wouldn’t dare utter it sober, and nor would he. He distinctly remembered the time he tried to get you to agree to a ‘date’ and how badly that went, so he wouldn’t dream of even thinking that word in your presence. But this wasn’t the first time you’d drunkenly referred to yourself as his girlfriend. Which was what made this all the more difficult for him. Somewhere, in whatever walled-off section of your mind (and heart), you were his; you were his girlfriend and you loved him and you were willing to let him love you. And the key to this little cage was, apparently, copious amounts of alcohol. So, you went out and you drank too much and you called him up and he came running because he loved that you need him, loved that he was the one you called even in the middle of the night. And you called yourself his girlfriend and he pretended for five minutes that it might really happen. 

“Just go to sleep, ok?” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear, pulling the covers up over you. 

“Not if you’re going to leave me.”

“No, I’ll stay. I’ll stay here.”

“Good.” 

You waited for him to lie down and then flung your limbs over him, holding him close to you, fisting his T-shirt. He kissed the top of your head and waited for you to pass out. 

* * *

You woke, in the morning (later that same morning), thick-headed and dry-mouthed. You chugged the glass of water Hoseok left on your bedside table, finishing it before you could reach for the painkillers, which you opted to dry-swallow and then immediately regretted doing. You unlocked your phone and grimaced as you noticed the time: it was 7am, which meant you’d been asleep for all of three hours. You felt ghastly but, somehow, also wide awake. You scrolled through your phone, looking through your fingers at the messages you sent last night. There were so many. 

You: Hoseeereeokkkkjjyyyy.

You: are ayou sleep?

You: I msiss you so mchu. I wish you wer hreeeeee. 

You: if u coome, I wlll love youf roever. 

You felt movement from the other side of the bed and rolled over, away from the embarrassment of your phone, to see Hoseok standing up. You watched him as he put his phone in his pocket, ran a hand through his hair once, twice, then turned around.

“Oh, you’re awake.” 

“Catching you in the disappearing act this time.” 

You sounded annoyed, but you weren’t really sure why. Just hungover. Probably.

He smiled and you wondered why he looked so shy. He was usually gone before you woke up, at least these days. Maybe he actually was embarrassed to be caught running out on you. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

You shrugged. 

“Like I drank an entire bar and then had three hours’ sleep.” 

“You should sleep it off; it’s still early.” 

You didn’t know what compelled you to ask, didn’t know why now was the time, but you didn’t have the capacity to filter your thoughts from your mouth.

“What’s the point of you staying if you always run off so early?” 

He blinked, taken aback. He replied slowly, hesitantly, almost reluctantly.

“You don’t like it when I overstay my welcome.” 

It was such a specific turn of phrase, you could hear a bell ringing distantly in your brain, as if you’d had this conversation before – though, if you had, you didn’t remember having it. 

“You don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn, though, just to get away from me. You can sleep in; you were also up at 4am so I’m hardly going to kick you out at 7.”

You thought he looked as if he was biting something back; his face was heavy with all the things he wasn't saying and you felt frustration settling on you, slowly taking the reins. 

“I don’t know why you bother, to be honest,” you told him, your lack of sleep and excess of booze making you sound meaner than you really intended. “Why get up, pick me up, take care of me and then just disappear? What’s in it for you if you don’t even stay for breakfast?”

“Well, it’s the only time you’re ever really nice to me, so...”

It hit you like a slap in the face.

“What?”

“What?” he threw back. 

“What do you mean it’s the only time I’m ever nice to you?”

“You and I both know what I mean. Take a look at your phone if you’re confused.” 

He turned and, after a second’s pause, started to walk out of the room.

“Hey!” you called after him. “You can’t just say that and leave! Come back here!”

He looked at you from the door and you almost didn’t recognise him; you realised you’d never seen him angry.

“What do you want me to say? We both know what this is. This...”

He floundered, looking for a word, betraying the fact that, actually, neither of you knew what this was, what had become of you.

“I want more than you will ever want; that’s a fact. I want what you can’t or won’t give me. I made my peace with that. But then you call me in the middle of the night and you tell me that you want me and need me and that you miss me and you love me and I come running every time because I know you will never say that to me sober, will never look at me in the cold light of day in the same way you look at me in the small hours of the morning. Maybe I shouldn’t. In fact, I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. That’s what I mean.”

Without another word – not that you could’ve managed one anyway – he turned on his heel and you heard the front door slam shut. 

He wasn’t wrong. You knew. You didn’t want to know but you knew. It had always been complicated between the two of you. 

* * *

A mutual friend introduced you because he thought you would like each other and he wasn’t wrong. But you hadn’t expected him to be so right; you were entirely unprepared for Hoseok. Entirely unprepared for the most perfect man to just waltz into your life and lay himself at your feet. You weren’t ready for that. You thought you would meet a guy who was basically fine (hopefully a little better than fine); a guy who would be fun for a few dates, good for a casual sort of arrangement, nothing serious. You thought you could see this guy and continue to sow your wild oats elsewhere. But Hoseok was different. 

You hit it off immediately. Yoongi introduced you at a party and you instantly connected, forgetting anyone else was there, talking all night. Drinking, too. When he offered to walk you home, you knew you would offer him a nightcap in your apartment. He knew he would accept if you did. Your memories of that night were slightly hazy but you knew the sex had been good because you had sent almost everyone you knew a message that was simply five mind-blown emojis. 

Hoseok had a party the following week and you were invited. He had been a perfect host and you had spent hours, desperately frustrated, trying to convince him to forget about all his guests and come rail you in his bedroom. By the time everyone else had left and he could finally give you his undivided attention, you had sobered up and your memories of that night are crystal clear. You had sent your best friend a text that read ‘I will never sleep with another man ever again’.

That was not a vow you kept. 

Hoseok was kind and caring and considerate in a way no one had ever really been with you before. It almost began to annoy you, the way he took care of you, looked out for you, thought of you when he passed something in a shop window. You had begun to feel claustrophobic in his affections; this wasn’t supposed to be a relationship. He wasn’t supposed to like you or, heaven forbid, fall in love with you. 

Your ‘dates’ had been casual up to that point because you had forced them to be. You would swing by his apartment after dinner with your friends or invite him over to yours when you had no plans for the weekend. When he had asked you, finally, to go on a real date with him, out to dinner somewhere, your response had been ‘why would we do that?’. That was when things had started crumbling. 

He had insisted you could keep it casual and still go out to eat together. He had insisted that it didn’t matter what it was called and, if you didn’t want to call it a date, he wouldn’t call it a date; he just wanted to spend more time with you. You had called your mutual friend and given him an earful for introducing you; you had got several earfuls back. Hoseok dropped the subject. 

Then he had started talking about a weekend away, going into the country, getting a cabin or something, going swimming in the lake and walking up the hills and stuff that all sounded far too romantic to you. You had asked him why the hell he kept insisting on treating you like you were his girlfriend. You had told him repeatedly and emphatically throughout that conversation that you were not his girlfriend. You kept telling him that you were friends and he kept telling you that he doesn’t fuck his friends like that. You told him maybe he should so he might lighten up a bit. 

You stopped sleeping together after that. Mostly. Kind of. You hung out more often and you thought that maybe you had been right, maybe you were just friends and you told yourself that this was probably the ideal outcome. But a few weeks later, at another party, you had both got drunk and immediately sought each other out across the crowded room and left without so much as saying goodbye. You tumbled into bed and you cursed yourself for ever giving this up, for ever thinking you could go without him. Until the morning came anyway. 

This happened a few more times and, each time, you grew colder and more distant in the morning. Hoseok wasn’t stupid and it wasn't as if he thought you would magically change your mind about dating him if only you had sex just one more time, one more time, but he wasn’t expecting you to behave the way you did. He had asked if you could at the very least not be rude to him, and you had shot back that overstaying one’s welcome was also considered rude and maybe he should think about that. He decided he wouldn’t sleep with you again.

It happened a few more times after that, too. Then he decided to give up drinking around you. It would’ve been easier to just cut you out, take you out of his life completely, but he was too far gone to do that. He would walk over hot coals for you; he knew it and so did you. 

* * *

You woke again much later that morning and thought about what Hoseok had said. You dialled Yoongi’s number.

“On a scale of 1-10,” you began as soon as he picked up the phone, not even bothering with a greeting, “how much of a dick am I to Hoseok?”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Please just answer the question.”

“Ok, well, what’s included on the scale? Does the worst include like, violence and murder?”

“No! Obviously not. Just like, for normal friends, scale of 1-10, how badly do I treat him?”

“Is 10 the worst?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, then 10.”

“What?!” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Everyone knows. You know.”

“I’m not that bad, surely.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well then why haven’t you done anything? Why would you let your friend treat your other friend like that?”

“Well, firstly, because I don’t actually control you. Secondly, you may recall that we have spoken about this on a number of occasions and I have always made it very clear that you are being a dick and you are hurting his feelings and always told you that you need to stop dicking him about. But like I said, I don’t control you. And I don’t control him, either. I have also had numerous conversations with him about you and I have told him he deserves better-”

“Hey!”

“Are you seriously trying to argue with that?” 

“Well-”

“Exactly. I don’t know what answer you wanted from me but, of course, the answer is 10. On a scale of 1-10, you absolutely treat him the worst.”

“Surely he takes some responsibility for it at this point.”

Yoongi interrupted you before you could say more.

“Don’t you dare go there. You are my friend and I am saying this because I do actually value you as a person and, this aside, I do think you’re a decent person: you are treating him like a cunt and he deserves better and, if you were anyone else in the world, I would’ve cut him off from you months ago and literally kept him under lock and key to keep him away from you if that’s what it would’ve taken. 

“That said, I’m glad you’re asking the question. I hope this means you’re actually giving it some thought? You’re actually considering his feelings now? Considering your own, maybe?”

“What do you mean my own?”

“Your own feelings for him.”

“I don’t have feelings.” 

Yoongi hummed non-committally and you could almost hear his eyes rolling through the phone.

“Well, anyway, let me repeat one more time for the record that you are a total dick to Hoseok and you should treat him better.”

“Thanks very much.”

“You’re welcome!” he rang off brightly, ignoring the sarcasm of your comment. 

* * *

You were grumpy and hungover and tired and feeling unsettled, disturbed. It had been some time since you and Hoseok had discussed anything to do with... whatever it was that you were or had been or wanted to be, and it always made you uncomfortable. You did know, really, deep down, somewhere you tried not to look, that you were treating him badly, and on days when the hangover anxiety was at its worst, you felt sick with guilt about it. But you also felt sick at the thought of more. He wanted so much of you. More than you felt you had to give. He saw things in you that you were sure just weren’t there. And you didn’t want him to see the things you kept hidden, the dark things, the bad things, the things that would make him turn and run for the hills if he knew. He was too good for you and it scared you and it hurt you and you chose, simply, not to address it. To run away from it as far as you possibly could, which, when you’d had a drink or six, was not very far at all.

You showered to try to wash the discomfort away; you stuffed yourself full to try to distract yourself from the anxiety in your guts; you, briefly, considered drinking again but the thought brought bile to your throat. You stared, unseeing, at the TV, ostensibly watching a drama, but really replaying your own, real-life drama over and over in your head.

You wanted to be reasonable about it but the guilt and embarrassment and anxiety curdling in your gut made you feel sick and you couldn’t face it, so you chose not to be reasonable. You kept butting your head up against the fact that, if he really hated it that much, he could just not answer your calls. Sure, you could stop calling him, but you only did it when you’re drunk and who had that level of self-control after that many drinks? He didn’t have to come and get you; he didn’t have to walk you into your apartment; he didn’t have to put you to bed. He did all of that on his own. And maybe if he actually slept with you, it might've made a difference...

You tossed that thought aside because you knew both that it wasn't true and that you would not want to be anywhere near someone who would soberly fuck anyone even close to as drunk as you usually got. Hoseok was not that guy. 

The more you thought about it, the more annoyed you got. You knew that you couldn’t really think straight; you were not at your best right now, but you were annoyed. You were annoyed that you had to be tired and hungover and thinking about this. Why couldn’t he just keep it simple for you both and leave you alone? Or, at least, ignore you when you didn’t leave him alone? You felt like he was making his feelings your problem. And you were done with it.

* * *

You stood outside his door, hesitating. The taxi ride over had taken just long enough that your immediate anger was subsiding and a tiny part of your rational brain was waking up again. Then you thought about the texts you sent him last night and were so embarrassed at yourself that you needed to feel something else: guilt, shame, anxiety, anything would do. You hammered at the door. 

Hoseok opened it and looked surprised to see you, but nevertheless stepped back to let you in. 

“What’s up?” he asked. 

“We’re finishing this,” you told him and he looked at you blankly. “We’re finishing this now.”

“What do you mean? Finishing what?”

“This!” 

You gestured frantically between the two of you.

“I’m fucking sick of this!” you cried. “You want me so fucking badly? Then why don’t you do something about it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying do something! I’m not drunk anymore! Why don’t you do something?” 

“Listen to what you’re suggesting. We’ve done that. And it’s ended up with us here. How do you think doing it again is going to lead somewhere different?”

You opened your mouth to argue but he wasn't finished.

“Besides which, I don’t want to just ‘do something’. That’s the whole problem. We’re in this because I want more than just something, I want more than just sex and you don’t. And when I made it clear to you that I wanted more, you ran for the fucking hills. Before you came running back, that is.”

You were surprised because he’d never argued with you like this before. You realised, with a lurch, that he’d never been angry with you before. You couldn’t put a name to what it made you feel; you were too busy swimming with frustration and anxiety and anger to be able to think clearly. You just knew that this was different so, maybe, this was good. 

“And why do you let me back, then? If I’m so awful and I treat you like such shit, why do you pick up?”

“I already told you. And you don’t need to tell me I’ve lost my fucking dignity and pride; you don’t need to tell me that I should be better than that, that I shouldn’t be begging at your table for scraps. I already know. Trust me, no one is as sickened by me as I am.”

“Sickened? Wanting me sickens you, does it? I sicken you, do I?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fuck you, Hoseok.” 

You stalked closer to him, stuck a finger hard against his chest.

“Fuck you for putting that on me,” you spat. 

The world held its breath for one second and, the next, you were tangled up in each other, his mouth finally on yours again, his hands against your skin, yours in his hair. He lifted your T-shirt over your head and you sighed as his fingers grazed your nipple, quickly teasing it to a tight bud. You pushed down his trousers and he stepped out of them, pushing you backwards until your legs hit the sofa. He ripped off his own top before guiding you down until you were lying on the sofa with Hoseok at your feet, tugging on your jogging bottoms. You tilted your hips to allow him to pull them off and he brought his hands up to relieve you of your underwear. 

His eyes were black, darker than you’d ever seen them and he looked at you like you were in trouble, like he was imagining all the things he could do to you. You gulped and arousal pooled in your core; you were suddenly desperate for him, clawing at him until his mouth was on yours so you could taste him one more time. You palmed him through his boxers and he groaned into your mouth, swearing softly as he pulled away.

You were tingling all over with anticipation as he trailed kisses down your neck and onto your chest. He licked a broad strip across the mound of your breast and bit down hard on your soft flesh. You whimpered and arched your back into him, urging for more. He clamped his teeth around your nipple and sucked, rubbing his tongue over the stiff nub and you shivered.

“Oh god,” you whispered. You had forgotten it was this good. 

“Touch me, please,” you asked quietly. You didn’t want to break whatever spell was over you, but you were aching with a desire so strong, it almost hurt. And you knew how much he liked to hear you beg. “Please, Hoseok, please touch me.”

“Why should I give you what you want?” he asked, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes, his mouth slack, breathing heavy, voice rough. “When do I get what I want, huh?”

“Anything. I’ll do anything, please.”

If you had both been thinking with your brains, you would both have known this was not true. Your brains were, however, otherwise indisposed.

Hoseok sat back on his knees, looking at you, a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. He stood, briefly, to discard his boxers and then he looked down at you, slowly pumping the thick length of his hot, stiff cock.

You were on your knees in an instant, replacing his hand with your own. You brought your open mouth to his tip, softly licking across his slit, keeping your eyes on his as you wrapped your lips around him and sank slowly, slowly down his shaft. He grunted when he hit the back of your throat and outright moaned when you kept going.

“God, I’ve missed this mouth,” he said, his voice tight and gruff. He gripped your hair with one hand and slowly pulled you back. Then he kept your head still as he thrust back in, still slowly at first, gentle almost, and then, when you moaned around him, faster, and then harder when your fingernails dug into his thighs. His eyes never left yours, even though yours were swimming with tears and he was no more than a blur above you. He was always looking at you. Until his eyes fluttered closed and you knew he was close to coming, could see it when his eyes opened again, piercing in their intensity; you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth and you tapped his leg, signalling him to stop. 

He fell from you in an instant and you pushed him onto the sofa.

“Don’t think you’re the only one who gets to have their fun,” you told him.

You pushed him back until he was lying and you pinned him down with your knees either side of his head. He was impatient, wrapping his arms around your legs and pulling you down to him, your core wet and dripping over his mouth. He looked at you, making sure your eyes met as licked through your folds.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “I forgot just how wet you get. I’m going to fucking drown in you." 

He licked into your centre, drinking you in, taking you for everything you’d got while you rolled your hips against him, rubbing your clit against his nose, desperate for contact, for friction. You heard him chuckle low in his throat and you whimpered.

He was impatient to get started but he liked to take his time with you. He wanted you to beg: beg him to start, beg him to keep going, beg him to finish you off. He licked languidly through your folds, he sucked, he nipped, he returned again to fuck you with his tongue, all while you shivered and whined above him, pleasure building in you, urgency mounting. You grabbed his hair with both hands and tried to hold him still so you could direct yourself above him, but he was stronger than you and his arms kept you in place. 

“Hoseok, please. Please, I need to come.”

He hummed against you and you tugged on his hair. 

“Please, please.”

You tried harder to grind against his face, your clit throbbing and burning under the absence of his touch. He held you still. His face was buried in your cunt and you could just see his eyes, glinting at you, watching you fall apart under your desperate need for him. 

“Hoseok,” you panted. “Hoseok, please.” Your voice broke as your desperation peaked, every part of you alert and armed, like tinder just millimetres from a flame. 

He finally sealed his lips around your clit and you went up like a bonfire, ecstasy roaring through you, consuming everything. You were hot and sweating and writhing on top of him as he licked and lapped and sucked at you, pulling sounds out of you that only he could: loud, desperate, animal cries and his name over and over and over again. 

It was only when you let loose his hair and your legs quivered either side of his head that he loosened his own grip on you and you flopped backwards, lying on top of him with your head on his hip. 

“See how good I am to you?” he asked, wiping his mouth, sliding out from underneath you, towering over you once more. 

“Yeah,” you whimpered. You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, so good.”

“But you don’t fucking want me.”

“Yeah, I do. I do, Hoseok, god, I do. Please.” 

He rested his hands against the arm of the sofa above your head and lowered his face to yours.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said low, menacing.

He kissed you lightly and you lifted your head to meet him again but he moved too far off. He knelt over you, his heavy cock resting on your mound, and considered you for a while. This wasn’t usually part of your game and you were impatient, still needy for him, remembering the way he split you open, the glorious stretch of him inside you, the fluidity and power with which he moved. 

“Fuck. What do you want from me?” you asked.

He tipped forward, back over you, hands either side of your head, his face so close, you could barely see him. He moved and kissed you lightly just below the ear.

“Everything.”

He stood and put on his boxers and you were overwhelmed with anger again. 

“For fuck’s sake, seriously?!” you shouted, hitting him with a scatter cushion. “Are you fucking kidding?”

He turned to you, pulling his trousers back up and shrugged.

“No, I’m not kidding. I told you. I want everything. I want you, all of you, even this shitty part of you that treats me like crap, even the part of you that tells me you love me and then pretends to forget all about it in the morning, even the part of you that pretends to be sickened by the very idea of being my girlfriend, despite the fact that you refer to yourself as mine in the dead of night. Even your excessive drinking, even your emotional constipation, even your big, fat heart that you try to hide from everyone, even your insistence that you don’t give a shit despite giving a hell of a lot of a shit all the damn time, even your stupid fucking determination to do everything by yourself even when you actually need help, even your terrible taste in films and those god-awful reality TV programs you like, even your snoring, even your back turned back against me. All of it. All of you. I fucking want all of you, all the fucking time.” 

You stared breathlessly at him as his chest heaved, his breathing ragged. Your heart was in your throat, blood roaring in your ears. He was waiting for you to say something but you’d lost the ability to speak. Words flew into and out of your head without your being able to catch any of them. You couldn’t think. Your mind was buzzing, static blaring, nothing but white noise. You could only stare at him, bewildered, overwhelmed, utterly naked. 

His breathing slowly settled and he rolled his eyes and turned away from you. 

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath. 

He was walking away from you and you knew you had to stop him. Your brain had no capacity to filter anything on its way to your mouth and you said it before you even really knew you were feeling it.

“I love you. I fucking love you.” 

He turned quickly and watched you, wary, unsure. You didn’t let yourself think anymore. You staggered to your feet and took his hands and pulled him close to you. 

“I fucking love you,” you said again. “I love you, ok? And I'm not drunk this time and fucking fine, if I’m such a piece of shit but you still want me, then fine. Fine. Have me.” 

He was still looking at you, looking into your eyes like he was trying to solve a riddle.

“I’m not fucking with you. I’m not lying. I want you. I want you and have always wanted you and always wanted not to want you as much I do because you’re terrifying. Ever looked directly at the sun? Ever looked at the fucking face of god? ‘Cause I have and it’s you. Ok? It’s you. When I get drunk and I call you and I tell you that I love you, it’s true – that's true. It’s only you I call.” Your skin was hot, flushed, but from embarrassment now, from feeling skinned, raw, exposing yourself in a way that you never did, never wanted to. Your voice broke and you desperately didn’t want to cry, didn’t want this to be more embarrassing than it needed to be, didn’t want him to see how pathetic you really were even as you were telling him. “It’s only you I want. And it’s only when I’m not sober enough to fight myself that I can admit it. I’m a piece of shit and you’re a literal angel, a fucking god, but fine, if you really want to have me, have me. I’m yours.” 

He gently nudged your nose with his and whispered your name, his eyes carefully watching you. Then he kissed you, soft and slow, and wrapped his arms around you. His hands wandered, exploring your body, caressing any part of you he could reach, as his tongue rolled with yours, as you raked your fingers through his hair, as he moaned into your mouth, as he picked you up and took you into the bedroom. 

He lay you gently on the bed and slipped off his clothes once more. He covered your body with his and pressed kisses into your neck. Then he bit down and you keened, arching your back into him, suddenly violently, urgently aware of the slick between your legs, of your fluttering walls, desperate for him now. 

“Please, Hoseok,” you whispered. “Please fuck me, now.”

This was where you were comfortable. No more talking. Just Hoseok with his body over yours, his soft skin and softer lips, his nimble fingers and strong body, his eyes black as pitch as he looked at you like you were prey.

“Gladly,” he whispered back, his lips just grazing yours. 

He pressed himself against your entrance, eyes flicking between your face and your cunt as he watched himself disappear into you and watched your face, lest you betray any sign of pain or discomfort. But there was none. There was only the perfect, overwhelming fullness of him inside you and then the tight drag, feeling every contour of his cock, as he pulled back and thrust in again. 

“God, no one compares to you- fuck...”

He liked to watch your face as you whined and whimpered beneath him when he lifted your legs, pushing against the backs of your thighs, hitting you deeper, harder. You were hot and sticky everywhere; your skin was slick with sweat, your cunt slick with arousal. Every part of you was fit to bursting, coming apart at the seams. You felt like a dam about to break and then he took his hand down between your bodies and pressed hard, the motion of his thrusts knocking his hand until you were crying out for more, much more, crying out that you were close, crying out please, please let me come, let me come. And he did. The flood engulfed you; you were pulled through a riptide of pleasure, unable to scream, unable to breathe, suffocating in the swirling pool of your orgasm. Hoseok kept going, fucking you through your climax until he was coming, too, painting your walls white, falling under the surface of ecstasy with you. 

He fell down next to you and you lay, quiet save for your heavy breathing. When he took your hand in his, you let him, despite the thrum of anxiety in your heart.

“So,” he said, and he looked nervous when you turned towards him.

You were nervous but you’d said it now. And you’d missed him—you had. And Yoongi’s words were ringing in your ears, about your feelings, about how badly you treated Hoseok, and words from much, much longer ago, about how much you’d like him, what a great guy he was, how much Hoseok had liked meeting you, how much he liked you.

He was waiting for you to speak, not daring to go first. You looked down at your joined hands, looked up at the ceiling, looked at his face.

“I’m,” you began, your voice quiet and croaky. You cleared your throat but still didn’t know what words were going to come out. “I’m… I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

He rolled onto his side, facing you, and you took your hand from his so you could use both to cover your face. You gave a frustrated sigh and slapped them onto the mattress on either side of you.

“I don’t know how to be a girlfriend. Not to you.”

“’Not to me’? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing! That’s my whole point!”

You squirmed, embarrassment heating your cheeks again, and ended up on your side, facing him.

“There’s nothing wrong with you and it’s… intimidating. I’m not like that. You said it yourself. There’s a lot wrong with me and-”

“That’s not what I said. I actually think you’re perfect.”

You blinked, stunned into silence.

“But you said all those things.”

“I still think you’re perfect. Even though I said all those things, even though you do snore and even though you have handled this situation in about the worst possible way and even though it’s hurt my feelings. Even though all of it. I still think you’re perfect and I still love you.”

You turned onto your back, staring at the ceiling, blinking away fresh tears.

“I think you’re crazy,” you told him.

“There you go; there is something wrong with me after all.”

He leant over you and cupped your cheek with his hand. When he kissed you, it was soft and sweet and it wasn’t going to go anywhere—nor did you need it to.

“I don’t want to get it wrong,” you whispered to him, his face still close to yours, his breath fanning over your face.

He shrugged lightly.

“It’s ok if you do. We can’t be right all the time.”

“You’ll still love me?”

“Yes. After all this, I still love you. I’ve tried not to, I promise. So, yes, I will still love you if you get it wrong. As long as you love me.”

“I do.” You wanted to say it back, felt it stick in your throat. You swallowed hard, blinked slowly, took a deep breath. “I love you, too.”

He kissed you again, still soft, still gentle, and then settled back on his side.

“So…”

“So?”

“So can I actually call you my girlfriend now?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and couldn’t stop the little thrill in your heart or grin on your lips.

“I guess, if you must.”

He grinned back at you, wide, beaming.

“Yes, I fucking must!”

You thought that sounded just fine.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Meghan drops in on Santa Barbara tweens to complain about being the most bullied person in the world by u/Hermes_Blanket

Meghan drops in on Santa Barbara tweens to complain about being the most bullied person in the world Imagine being a fly on the wall at this event. Reported by Madame's favorite mouthpiece, Vanity Fair.Trigger warning: there's a video with copious slow-motion hugging, clawing, and rictus grins.https://ift.tt/OLIyDE8 version here:https://ift.tt/9hMNx2R October 2, the duchess visited Girls Inc. of Greater Santa Barbara to help out with a new digital-wellness program called Social Media U. Now, Girls Inc., the national mentorship and leadership organization, is announcing a partnership with responsible-tech advocacy group #HalfTheStory to bring the program to students nationwide.“We did an activity where we talked through a bunch of scenarios, and Meghan talked about being one of the most bullied people in the world,” May tells Vanity Fair. “We had girls wave these little emoji signs and talk about how each one of these scenarios would have impacted them emotionally.”SERIOUSLY?! Did she say something like "Then Kate wouldn't share her lip gloss, and made a face at me ... how would you have felt?" Little girls wave emoji sign for SAD. Unbelievable!I will give her this: She was covered up this time, no skanky dress, and her shirt appears to have been ironed.https://ift.tt/sC9kjwm post link: https://ift.tt/OSEBsQH author: Hermes_Blanket submitted: October 11, 2024 at 05:14PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[niikosia]

; hotel room sex with sanzu haruchiyo.

synopsis: in which sanzu haruchiyo fucked y/n a real good one before letting her sleep.

warning: gentle to soft dominance sex, rough sex, use of drugs (hallucinogenic), blood.

He closed the door slowly, and as his gaze met mine, I began to undress, feeling his penetrating eyes roaming over my body. Sanzu approached me with a deliberate stride, his lips meeting mine in a tender kiss that overflowed with love. This kiss was different from any we had shared before, it was filled with an intensity that resonated deep within me. 

"I need you inside me, Haru," I whispered against his neck, my voice laced with desire, "I want you all to myself." My tongue grazed his Adam's apple, igniting a surge of passion within him.   "You're mine, Haru," I murmured, sinking my teeth into his neck possessively, leaving my marks on his skin. "All mine." Tilting my head up to meet his gaze, I demanded his understanding. He responded with a nod, obediently submitting to me. 

Sanzu effortlessly lifted me and gently deposited me onto the bed, a tinge of playfulness evident in his actions. Entwining my leg around him, I sensually descended onto his erection, feeling the tightening sensation in my core as I enveloped him completely. Pleasure emanated from us both, his fingers entangling in my hair as we engaged in a fervent, passionate kiss. 

While Sanzu's movements inside me retained a tenderness, they also carried a sense of power and control. "Sanzu," I moaned softly, his name escaping my lips as I reveled in the pleasure he provided. This version of Sanzu, who skillfully merged gentleness with desire, was undeniably exhilarating to me. 

Looking deeply into my eyes, Sanzu confessed, "You are the epitome of beauty," his voice filled with sincerity as he thrust into me. Waves of ecstasy coursed through my body, my nails digging into his back as he delved into the depths of my being. 

This experience proved to be the pinnacle of sexual pleasure, the best I had ever encountered. Yet, to my surprise, Sanzu's desire showed no signs of waning; if anything, it intensified. I met his gaze, noticing a shift in his expression as the twinkle in his eyes disappeared, replaced by an animalistic hunger. 

"I don't make love, I fuck hard," he declared vehemently. In that moment, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation flooded over me.   With a forceful thrust, he sent me reeling, a gasp escaping my lips as I experienced a surge of painful pleasure. "Sanzu!" I clung tightly to the sheets, my nails digging into the fabric. "Fuck! Right there!" I screamed uncontrollably, the intensity overwhelming me. Sanzu groaned in response, matching my fervor with faster, harder thrusts. 

"Change positions," he commanded, gripping my neck and pulling me towards him as he assumed a supine position. Crawling towards him, I took hold of his erection, guiding it to find its place within me. "You know my body is fragile," he confessed, his gaze fixed on me as his nails pierced my skin, inflicting a combination of pain and pleasure. "Yes," I admitted, feeling a mixture of sensations coursing through me, an intoxicating blend of pain and satisfaction.  

"You're hard," I murmured in awe as I tenderly traced my fingers over his scars, my movements matching the increasing speed of my bouncing. He tilted his head back, his hand instinctively finding its way to my clitoral area, eliciting a sharp gasp from me. Our moans intensified, filling the room with our shared pleasure. 

In a sudden motion, he flipped me beneath him, causing a jolt of excitement mixed with pain as his teeth sank into my breast, drawing blood. Despite the slight discomfort, his relentless thrusting only intensified, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. The repeated rolling back of my eyes is a testament to the heavenly sensations he effortlessly brings me. 

With my head lifted, I eagerly met his lips in a passionate kiss. The words escaped his mouth, barely audible amidst the increasing pace, "I adore you." Our movements quickened, matching the intensity of his words. Pain mixed with pleasure as he gripped my hair, soothing the aching wounds on my neck. Lost in the moment, I continued to moan uncontrollably. 

A sharp sting tingled in my neck, and a surge of pain intensified in my sensitive area. Despite my immense pleasure, I was reaching my limits. 

The pristine white bed sheets now transformed into a vivid shade of red, a visual testament to the passion unleashed. 

He relentlessly continued his thrusts, leaving me only able to dig my nails into his skin, a desperate attempt to channel the overwhelming sensations that rendered me unable to vocalize further. 

Sanzu's body glistened with sweat, his exertion apparent in the sheen coating his skin. My fingers, unable to resist, traced the tattoo on his torso. In a moment of pain, I closed my eyes, seeking solace in his familiar touch. "What are you?" I questioned, partially lost in the intensity of the moment. His response came in a soft whisper against my ear, "A god." 

I knew Sanzu all too well. He wouldn't cease his passionate exploration until he was fully satisfied. Already having reached the peak of pleasure multiple times, my once energetic body now felt drained and weakened. 

"Please, stop," I pleaded, tears welling up in my eyes. "I can't go on." With a sigh, he withdrew and collapsed momentarily, his voice filled with concern, "Oh, love, you've become so pale." 

As my consciousness began to fade, I wondered if I would pass out, succumbing to the intense sensations that had overwhelmed me. 

He handed me a small, pink tablet, offering it as a solution. However, I resisted, refusing to take the medication. Despite my protest, he gently forced my mouth open, delicately placing the tablets inside. "Sleep well," he whispered, his concern evident in his voice. 

don't repost my work to any platform. thank you!

© 2023 niikosia. all rights reserved.

[valentine-cafe]

{ when I found out you knew k-pop I HAD to order this, I recommended using the group ATEEZ as a good example !}

Last time I ordered here is was amazing! So this time..May I get the egg tarts..oh! And a churro, please!

{GN! reader}

Just imagining you had gone away for a few days to go see your favorite k-pop group.

They are very happy you got back home safe of course..however they are mega concerned when your voice is basically gone.

“Were you screaming for your life or something?” One would ask. You pull out your phone to play a video you took at the concert.

The loud sounds of the video play from your phone as they hear out loud you were screaming, since when the hell did you scream that loud? All the fan chants just like everyone else. Since ince when the hell did you scream that loud?

“Geez..sounds like a cult.”

“Oh, you have no idea—“ you would laugh with your horse voice, laughing at their concerned looks.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ verse 1311 alessio & jìngyí

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍮 ꒱ rockstar x reader, enigma x reader, villain x reader, mercenary x reader, naga x reader, grim reaper x reader, mechanist x reader ꒱

“I’d say I’ve had fans screaming their heads off at my performances - but never like this.” alessio motions to the video a bit, his brows lifting before he leans back into the sofa and props his arm over the back.

jìngyí glances over at you. mostly in concern before he brings his fingers to your throat and very gently rubs along the front. before he steps around the island and shuffles in the fridge silently. the kettle is turned on and the fresh smell of lemon fills your nostrils.

“take better care.”

is all you hear from your typically quiet lover. all while alessio gives a small pat of his lap and beckons for you to come over. so that you sit down on him while he pulls you closer. a comforting arm kept around your waist.

“for once I agree with our boyfriend.” he muses. earning a scoff and small white-eyed glare from the kitchen. all he does is chuckle.

his hand raises to your head and brings it to rest on his chest while jìngyí steps closer with the freshly made lemon and honey tea. he sits beside you and brushes his thumb along your face.

“if you screamed half as loud for us. I’d go deaf again.”

your eyes widen a bit at his words - but alessio giving a few chuckles has you smiling regardless.

[leiawritesstories]

PART NINE: SEPTEMBER

Word count: 10.7k

Warnings: *covers eyes* swearing, a shitload of scheming, Maeve being her usual self, police presence, angst, one NSFW scene, and um maybe some angst *runs away*

All my thanks to my lovely betas @mariaofdoranelle & @house-of-galathynius love you guys 🫶🫶

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin had felt ice prickling at her spine for a handful of weeks now, and as she walked into her office on the morning of September 6th, she knew it was time to put the contingency plans into motion. Ever since Arobynn’s demise, she had sensed that her Boss days were numbered, so she’d been working on a range of options for what she could do if—when—she was discovered. 

She almost couldn’t stomach the idea of letting her beloved company go, but it had to happen. 

Elide, Nehemia, Ansel, and Lysandra all came to her office at eleven, as she’d asked, each woman wearing an expression of a different level of confusion. 

“What’s up, boss lady?” Elide broke the film of tension as she sat down, fixing Aelin with a look that was equal parts concerned and hesitant. 

Aelin twisted her ring beneath the surface of her desk. “I asked if you would all meet me because I…because…” She pressed her lips together and took a deep, steadying breath. “Because there are some documents that I need you to sign.” 

“Why does this sound ominous?” Ansel’s eyes narrowed. 

“It’s a contingency,” Aelin admitted. 

“For what?” Her lawyer was nothing if not persistent and exacting. 

Pain wrinkled Aelin’s forehead. “For if—when—the law catches up to everything and everyone that I am.” Her words dropped like stones in the silence of her office. 

Lysandra’s brows crinkled in unspoken sympathy. “Will you tell us about this contingency before we have papers pushed at us?” 

Aelin cracked a half-grin. “It’s pretty simple, honestly. If I should be, shall we say, involved in a shockingly lurid criminal trial, I vacate the CEO position and completely step away from the company. Ells, you become CEO in my place. Lys, you assume the COO role. Ansel, you’ll probably be faced with the impossible task of defending my guilty ass, but you’ll retain your position here, and you’ll have full authority over the company’s finances.” She exhaled, twisting her ring around her middle finger. “Nehemia will remain in charge of the labs.” 

Elide curled her fingers around the edge of Aelin’s desk. “Why me?” 

“Because you’re not only the right woman for the job, you’re the perfect woman.” Aelin met her dear friend and lifelong business partner’s heavy gaze. “Ells, you’ve practically given your life to this company, and I trust you completely to guide us through whatever fallout happens when the law catches up to the Boss.” 

“You said when.” Lys broke in. 

Aelin nodded. 

Lys drummed her fingertips against her thigh. “Why did you say when?”

“Because I’m afraid it’s inevitable,” Aelin murmured. “I…something tells me that shit’s going to come crashing down. Soon.” A haunted look flickered through her eyes. 

Nehemia’s penetrating gaze fixed on Aelin for a long moment before she picked up a pen, pulled the stack of papers towards herself, and began working through the pages, signing where it indicated. The office was silent as the chief engineer worked, and when she finished, she simply laid down the pen, nudged the papers back to the middle of the table, and folded her hands. “I trust you, Ae,” she said. “I want to protect this place and these people too.” 

Unexpectedly, Aelin’s eyes watered. “I don’t deserve you, Nemi.” her voice cracked. 

“Nonsense.” Nehemia returned. “We’d all have left a very long time ago if we weren’t determined to keep Gal Inc alive and well.” 

Elide nodded as she picked up the contracts and the pen. “I second that.” 

The office was silent again as Elide worked through the papers, carefully reading each section before she signed and initialed the dotted lines. When she reached the final line, her hand faltered slightly, but she set her jaw and signed her name, accepting the role that she couldn’t help but feel would fall upon her before the end of the year. 

“Let me know when you want to talk about the transition,” she said quietly. Aelin’s eyes were glassy as she nodded. 

Surprisingly, Ansel was the next one to sign the papers, not really reading any of the text as she worked through the signatures. She had been the one to draw them up, albeit reluctantly and with a hell of a lot of questions about the motivation, when Aelin had come to her a few weeks ago. “I still don’t like the fatalism of all of this,” she remarked as she slid the stack of papers into the center of the table. “It feels…Ae, I’m going to be blunt here. This feels like you’re about to make some big, splashy statement to the press and bring down the cops and the TSF all over the place.” 

Aelin flinched. “No.” 

Ansel raised a brow. “No?” 

“No.” Emphatically, Aelin shook her head. “My goal with…with the Boss has always been to stick to the shadows. It wouldn’t make any sense to pull off some kind of grand reveal, which would just jeopardize the safety of these plans.” She tapped the stack of papers. “I have this sense that my days of hiding are almost over, but I’m not going to try and upstage the cops by revealing myself. When the law comes, I’m not going to hide from it. That’s all.” 

Elide weighed Aelin’s words, mulling over the phrasing. When the law comes. “Ae, do you…” She paused, the question hanging thick in her throat. “Do you think you know who’s going to put all the pieces together?” 

Thick, tense silence blanketed the room for a moment. Slowly, Aelin nodded, a jagged slice of grief flickering through her eyes before she shuttered it. “Yes.” The finality of the single word dropped like a stone into the air-conditioned silence of the conference room. She closed her eyes for a brief, steadying moment. “And knowing that he’s the best at his job and would always have figured it out won’t make it hurt any less.” 

Everyone in the room knew who she meant, knew why that grief had crossed her face. 

“Still feels an awful lot like doomsday,” Lys commented as she pulled the papers to her seat. She hesitated for a moment before she began reading and signing, stuffing down the bile that churned in her stomach as she signed the documents. Out of all of them, she was still the most closely linked to the Boss business, since she monitored the cameras around the Boss’s apartment and warehouses. She’d seen everything that happened when the TSF and PD went through Fenrys’s stakeout apartment. “But if you trust us, boss lady, then I trust you.” 

“Thank you,” Aelin rasped, reaching across the table to squeeze Lys’s hands. “Thank you.” 

By the end of the day, the documents were notarized and filed, ready to reshuffle the executive structure of Galathynius Inc. if anything should happen to its current CEO. 

When that something inevitably happened to its CEO.

~

“You needed me, ma’am?” Connall stepped into Maeve’s office, his eyes adjusting rapidly to the familiar darkness. He’d never understand why the hell she insisted on keeping her office so dark she could barely see five feet in front of her, but it was probably for the whole “Queen of the Night” aesthetic. 

“I did.” Maeve’s voice was as cool and controlled as ever, although as Con drew closer to her desk, he could see how her skin was paler than usual. “Connall, I suspect that I’m being poisoned.” 

He remained absolutely still, keeping his face neutral. “What do you need me to do?” 

A faint, insidious smile curled the corners of her scarlet lips. “Kill the kitchen staff and replace them. Get me the doctor for a diagnosis, and when he’s given it, kill him. Then, find the antidote.” 

Con nodded, a sharp dip of his chin. “Right away, ma’am.” 

Maeve smirked. “Good boy.” 

He was on his phone before he even left her office, calling the doctor who lived in the compound to get his ass to Maeve’s office. He let Maeve hear that brief conversation, because she needed the assurance that her closest, most loyal dog was doing her bidding. 

All of his carefully-laid plans would crumble if she turned on him. 

So Con headed down to the kitchens, patting the gun tucked into his hip holster and the assortment of tiny darts hidden in the pockets of his black jacket. He knew the handful of cooks and servers who were kept on staff to feed the Queen of the Night and her men, and he knew that the kitchen staff was aware that they could be killed at a moment’s notice. 

Not a single one of the twelve kitchen staff were surprised when Con strolled into the kitchen, locked the door, and sat down at the raised butcher-block counter, and placed a row of tiny darts in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

Jes, the current head chef, just removed their apron. “We all know you’re not a sadist,” they replied, calmly sitting down opposite him. 

Con’s throat tightened as he pulled a small, narrow copper tube out of his sleeve. “The least I can do is make it quick.” He’d had the darts specially designed to be surgically sharp and as small as possible, and they were one of his favorite ways to knock a target out cold. 

To knock them out, not to kill them. 

The drug contained in the darts put all twelve of the kitchen staff into a kind of comatose state that looked like death to an untrained eye, slowing their breathing and heart rate until it was just high enough to keep them alive but just low enough that a cursory inspection would assume they were dead. He hauled each one out the back door, loading their inert bodies into the back of the nondescript van that Maeve’s men used to dispose of bodies, and drove off the property. A quick glance in the mirrors showed a flicker of dark violet curtains in the upper hallway, the only sign that Maeve had been watching as he dragged the ostensibly dead kitchen staff out of the compound. 

Perfect. 

After dropping the slumbering staff off at the docks, where they were taken aboard a cargo ship that belonged to Kingsflame, Celaena Sardothien’s smuggling company, Con drove back to the compound and returned to Maeve’s office. He pushed open the door, blinked in the familiar shadowy gloom, and sighed as he nearly tripped over the corpse of the doctor. 

“Dry cleaning nearly had a fit the last time they had to wash blood out of your carpet, ma’am.” 

Maeve shrugged. “I wanted him to think he had a chance.” 

Con let out a snort. “I’m always in awe of your creativity.” He stopped in front of her desk. “What did he say?” 

“He suspects that it’s some kind of concentrated medication or steroid that’s damaging my internal organs,” Maeve said, oddly calm for someone who was being poisoned. “The suggested treatment is to consume a dose of activated charcoal, induce vomiting to see if it will purge any substance that hasn’t been absorbed, and immediately start NAC supplementation to counteract the poison.” 

Connall nodded tightly. “What do you need me to do, ma’am?” 

“Get me the things that the doctor mentioned.” Maeve’s cold, calculating expression swept over Connall. “Get the corpse off my floor, send the rug to dry cleaning, and then come find me. You know I like to reward my good boy.” Something almost like fondness passed over her face. 

“And if dry cleaning throws another fit about your rug?” The last time he’d taken Maeve’s run down to her preferred dry cleaners, they had all but thrown the damn thing at his face when he informed them that it was once again bloody and needed expedited cleaning. 

“I’m sure they can be adequately convinced,” Maeve drawled. “However, I have begun to tire of this old thing.” She scraped the toe of her crimson-bottomed stiletto heel across the rug. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too terrible to freshen up the tired old décor in here, if necessary.”

“Of course, ma’am.” With a dip of his head, Con left, dragging the doctor’s body behind him. Out in the hallway, he deposited the corpse in the large, unmarked chute that would send it down to be incinerated, frowned at the blood on his hands, and ducked into the closest bathroom to wash up before he left the compound again, heading to the nearest pharmacy. They had long since grown used to Maeve’s men barging into their storefront, and he had a hunch that she either paid off the pharmacists or planted one of her men in the place to make them more agreeable to her…needs. Or both.

He picked up the few things that Maeve needed, palming a vial of essential oil that he tucked into his sleeve as he strolled through the small pharmacy. Combined with the pennyroyal oil that he was already lacing into Maeve’s food, the rosemary oil would speed up the effects of the poisoning, making Maeve weaker by the day. 

Making it easier for when Celeana Sardothien led the Queen of the Night to her death.

~

Aelin rolled down her window as Rowan turned off the highway, letting the mid-September breeze brush through her hair as she inhaled the crisp scent of the leaves beginning to turn. She and Rowan had finally found a day where both of their calendars were clear, and he had wasted no time in planning this date. Don’t even think about accepting any calls, love, he’d teased as he picked her up from her apartment, a laugh sparkling behind his tired eyes. 

“First time you’ve seen sunshine in a while?” Rowan joked as he drove down the country road, flicking her a glance in the rearview mirror. 

Aelin poked his firm shoulder. “I have plenty of windows, love. I should ask you the same things, since apparently it’s a requirement at the police station not to have any windows, if the crime shows I watch are any indication.” 

He chuckled softly. “We have…uh, some windows.” 

“Liar.” A grin broke across her face. “We have to enjoy this last bit of good weather while we can, since I’ve heard we’re supposed to get a record cold winter this year.” 

“No,” Rowan groaned. He turned onto a secluded side road, heading east, towards the Oakwald Forest. The road was mostly gravel, so Aelin reluctantly closed her window. 

Her expression brightened as she realized where they were going. “You remembered,” she whispered, her throat unexpectedly tight. 

“Of course.” He reached over and laid his hand atop hers. A few weeks ago, Aelin had told him about the spot where her family always took picnics when she was a child. About an hour’s drive outside Orynth, the natural area that bordered the Oakwald had been one of her favorite places to explore. When she was little, she daydreamed about being a forest princess who could speak to the Little Fae Folk of the fairy tales. That daydream had faded as she grew up, but the place had remained one of her favorite spots to go when she was feeling overwhelmed. 

In fact, she’d been there just last week, right after she’d filed the contingency documents, and she’d stared out across Terrasen until the sunset faded into star-speckled darkness. 

Rowan pulled into the small parking lot, hopped out of his SUV, grabbed the picnic basket from the backseat, and hurried around to open Aelin’s door. He looped his arm around her waist as they walked down one of the trails, his warmth seeping into her skin. She stole the bag with the blankets from him and slipped her arm around his waist, flashing him a smirk. 

“I can’t let you carry everything,” she teased. 

He pretended to sigh. “It’s called being a gentleman, love.” 

“And I love you for that, but I’m an independent woman.” 

“You don’t have to be all full-on girlboss with me.” He kissed the top of her head. 

A tiny corner of her heart melted at the sincere softness of his words. “I know, but…it’s so hard to get away from that persona.” 

“I know.” His thumb rubbed against the curve of her hip. “I feel like I can’t ever turn off the investigator half of my brain. It’s always going, always trying to fit different puzzle pieces into different places, even when I’m sleeping.” 

“That sounds rather distracting,” she remarked. “For me, it’s all the contracts, all the deals, everything I’ve ever signed or shaken hands on. It’s the details and little clauses and wondering if I said the right words to the right people.” 

“Sounds noisy.” He stopped as they came to a spacious meadow at the top of a rise. “Looks like we’re here.” 

Aelin’s throat tightened again as she drank in the familiar view. “This is my favorite spot out here,” she murmured. “Thank you, my love.” 

“Anything for you, Fireheart.” Rowan tipped his head down and kissed her, slow and sweet. Then he swiped the blankets from her and shook them out before arranging them on the grass. He pulled out an impressive spread of food from the basket and set it all up nicely, turning to her with a big, dazzlingly proud grin. “Eat up.”

“What if I’m not hungry for food?” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, tracking the slow bob of Rowan’s throat as he swallowed. 

“You need real food first,” he rasped, hooded gaze trailing lazily down her throat. 

She sighed delicately as she sat down, plucked a pair of cherries out of the bowl, and stared straight into his eyes as she sucked both cherries into her mouth and bit into the perfectly sweet-tart fruit, spitting out the pits. “I’ve had real food now.” 

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, clearly fighting his urge to lunge across the blanket and claim her. “Aelin,” he half-groaned. “You’re driving me wild, Fireheart.” 

“You know I love to do that.” She smirked. 

Very slowly, he picked up a skewer of grilled chicken and bit into the meat, holding her gaze the whole time. “Eat your lunch, love.” 

Her smirk widened. “Enjoying your meat on a stick?” 

Skewer almost to his mouth, Rowan spluttered out a string of coughs, his cheeks blazing with a bright crimson flush. “Aelin!” 

She laughed, the gleefully bright sound echoing around the valley. “I couldn’t resist.” 

He wiped off the corner of his mouth. “My gods, I’m in love with a wild woman.” He graced her with a brief, wicked grin before he took a handful of cherries and ate them, licking the juice off his fingers at a borderline explicit pace. “Two can play this game, love.” 

“Oh, I do love a game,” she purred, picking up a skewer of chicken and dipping it into a small container of sauce. She lifted it to her lips and licked the sauce off of the meat, flicking her tongue against the first piece of chicken. “Delicious,” she hummed, her voice almost a moan. 

Rowan’s knee banged into the picnic basket as he shifted in his seat, brazenly adjusting his erection in his pants. Aelin swore she heard the faint clink of metal in the basket, but dismissed it as probably some extra silverware or something her overprepared boyfriend had packed. He always brought extra stuff whenever they had a date outside the city, something for which she always teased him. 

By the time they had finished lunch, Aelin knew her panties were ruined, and she was certain that Rowan’s dick was about to rip through his jeans. Still, he clung to his impressive control, carefully packing up the picnic and putting everything back into the basket. Aelin took advantage of the moment when his back was turned to lay down on the blankets with a contented hum. He laid down beside her, effortlessly tugging her into his arms so she laid atop his chest, and idly ran his fingers through her hair. 

“I used to dream about being a princess,” she said, finding herself content to just relax in his arms, the heat in her blood dimming to pleasant warmth. 

He chuckled softly, no doubt imagining little Aelin in her pink princess dress at a family picnic. “Did you?” 

“Yeah.” She smiled, the memory old but still vivid. “Little Aelin wanted so badly to run off into the Oakwald and find the Little Fae Folk. I probably read way too many fairy tales.” 

“And then you grew up and became a practical businesswoman,” Rowan teased. 

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “You mean business princess.” 

His laughter cascaded over her like a summer shower. “I think little Aelin did read too many fairy tales, but it made her heart that much brighter.” 

“And it made me believe I’d one day find my true love.” She rolled onto her side so she could meet his eyes. “It took a while, but I did.” 

A suspiciously glassy gleam misted his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered. 

She cupped the side of his face, running her thumb over his jaw. “I love you too.” Her lips brushed his, her kiss gentle at first but quickly growing deeper, all the love she had for him poured out into the stroke of her tongue against his. 

They laid in each other’s arms until the sky began to darken, until Aelin shivered and Rowan helped her up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders for the walk back to his car. As he loaded the picnic basket into the backseat, she heard that metallic clink again, and once again, she dismissed it as just the sound of the containers shifting against each other. She climbed into her seat, tucked the blanket around herself after she buckled her seatbelt, and kissed Rowan’s knuckles when he reached over to help adjust the blanket. She didn’t miss the soft, tender flicker of a smile that crossed his face. 

Aelin drifted into sleep as Rowan drove back into Orynth, only waking when he pulled into the parking garage of her building, stopped the car, and kissed her awake. She let him walk her back to her apartment and kissed him goodnight at her door, giving him a sleepy wave as he headed back down the hallway, his figure illuminated in the soft yellow lighting. 

She was snug in bed by the time he finally pulled out of the garage, having sat there in his car for a good half hour, head in his hands, agonizing over whether to pull the handcuffs he’d hidden in the picnic basket out and go back up to her apartment to face the inevitable arrest, or to just go home for the night and wait another few days before he had to arrest the love of his life. 

In the end, he drove away. 

He could delay the heartbreak for another few days. 

~

“You needed to see me, ma’am?” Connall assumed his usual stance in front of Maeve’s desk. 

Maeve nodded. “I have an assignment for you.” 

“Where?”

She slid him a single sheet of paper. “Sardothien has a warehouse near the docks where she holds her shipments before distribution. I need you to find out what’s currently there and what’s coming next.” Her orders were silky-smooth and firm, despite the tremble in her hands that she couldn’t quite conceal and the sunken circles beneath her eyes, obvious signs of her body weakening. 

Con glanced over the building’s details. “Looks like it’s got a few layers of security,” he observed in a neutral tone of voice. “How often does she visit it?” 

“Practically never.” Maeve scoffed. “Unlike a proper leader, she lets some underling run it.” 

“So it’ll be easy as fuck to break in,” Con remarked. He allowed a sharp-edged smirk to curl across his lips. “Damn, I was hoping for a challenge.” 

The Queen of the Night chuckled softly, a sinister rasp that would have been far more villainous if it hadn’t broken into a hoarse cough after two seconds. “I believe the interior will be the challenge you want, Connall. Sardothien allegedly posts a rotating guard at the place, and I haven’t yet determined how much of the building is patrolled or how extensively.” 

He grinned, his teeth a stark flash in the gloom of her office. “What should I do if I happen to run into the guard, ma’am?” 

“I suppose you’ll be forced to subdue him,” Maeve said calmly. She gave Con a small, chillingly ruthless smile. “I don’t foresee you having any difficulties with that.” 

“None at all, ma’am.” Con tucked the folded paper into the hidden pocket in his shirt, the same place where he kept the vials of Maeve’s poison. 

“I look forward to your discoveries, Connall. Dismissed.” 

Con bowed, turned sharply on his heel, and strode out of Maeve’s office. He returned to his room, where he laid out a small array of easily concealed weapons on his bed, took his Navy SEAL vest out of the closet, and began methodically loading each blade and dart into the multitude of slim pockets in the high-tech mesh material. He tucked a set of lockpicks into a front pocket, along with a generic employee ID card that Celaena’s tech guy—Nyx or Nox or something like that—had given him. The card would, in theory, work at the Boss’s properties. 

With his weapons and devices ready, Con pulled off his plain gray long-sleeve shirt, threw it into the laundry basket, and changed from his jeans into black tactical pants, which were reinforced with a layer of the same material that made up his vest. He pulled on his boots, laced them up, and then he reached into the back of the drawer where he kept his socks and retrieved a small, slender chrome tube. He uncapped it and removed a roll of sterile blue paper, which he carefully unrolled and laid flat on the bare top of his dresser. Also in the tube was a pair of long, narrow tweezers and a small silicone spatula that looked like a bakery dough scraper. He went and washed his hands in his sink, patted them dry, and then removed the tweezers from their plastic packaging and, slowly and carefully, peeled back the top layer of blue paper. 

Near-invisible atop the sterile paper laid a pristine pair of what looked like very, very, very thin, delicate latex gloves molded to the precise measurements of his hands. 

Put this onto your hands if you’re ever going into my property, Celaena had said. I can’t tell you much, but it will ensure that you leave no fingerprints. 

She’d called it “SecondSkin.”

Carefully, Con lifted the first glove, sliding the flat prongs of the tweezers between the layers that were almost too fine for him to see. He slipped his left hand into the glove, surprised at how the synthetic material didn’t cling to his skin like ordinary latex would. Once the glove was on all the way to his fingertips, he exchanged the tweezers for the scraper tool and pressed the synthetic against his skin in order to get every tiny centimeter flush against his skin. 

By the time he was finished, he couldn’t even tell there was something over his skin. 

He repeated the process with his right hand, carefully scraping every little bit of the synthetic material until it was molded seamlessly to his hands and wrists. Finished, he rolled the paper back up and tucked it and the tools back into the slender chrome tube, which he stashed back in his drawer. For good measure, he also put on a pair of flexible faux leather gloves, the same ones he wore whenever Maeve sent him out. He pulled on a close-fitting black thermal shirt, strapped on his vest, and tucked a black balaclava into his pocket. 

If he did run into anyone at the warehouse, it would be best if nobody saw his face. He wasn’t yet ready for the entire military of Terrasen to know that he wasn’t actually missing or dead in action, as they all believed him to be. 

It took roughly twenty minutes for Con to drive down to the edge of the industrial district, park his nondescript car innocently in a 24-hour grocery store parking lot, and weave through the dark, twisting tangle of alleys and unpaved roads that meandered through the district until he reached the Sardothien warehouse. He took a careful lap around the property, noting that the one guard posted by the west loading dock was apparently asleep on the job, and slipped around to the southeast doors. 

The employee ID card worked, and the little sensor by the door flashed green as the steel door unlocked with a clank. Con winced at the sound but darted inside and slowly eased the door shut behind himself. He waited a full two minutes before he moved, both to let his vision adjust to the shadowed gloom of the warehouse interior and to listen for sounds of any other presence. Finding the place mostly silent except for the gentle mechanical hum of the overhead fan system, he slunk around the perimeter of the space, heading for a set of steel stairs that went up to a mezzanine level positioned about halfway up the wall. 

A perfect height to observe the entire warehouse. 

The steel walkway spanned the whole south wall and curved around the east wall as well, but Con had his sights set on the single office built into the mezzanine. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, but as he entered, the apparent lack of security made perfect sense. Because there was a rather sophisticated security camera system arranged on one wall of the office, allowing him to look around the floor without having to walk all over the place and potentially disrupt the tidy stacks of crates and pallets that stood in orderly, numbered rows. 

It also required him to spend ten minutes editing the camera footage to wipe away his presence from four of the camera angles, but that was just the job. 

Having learned from the camera feed and the printout taped to another wall that the warehouse was currently mostly full of ammunition, Con left the office and stealthily paced the length of the mezzanine floor before he crept down the other set of stairs. He’d set the cameras up to run on a loop for the next hour, giving himself that time to have a good look around the place and get himself out. The stacks of pallets and crates cast overlapping shadows on the concrete floor, hiding Con from the handful of dimmed lights that gave some illumination to the empty space. He hadn’t yet seen or heard anyone else inside the building, so he assumed that the outside guard probably had a view of the security cameras. 

Not that it mattered, since the man was still sleeping soundly. 

Con wove through the neatly organized stacks, mentally noting how each was marked with a date of arrival and a date of distribution and the distribution dates were spaced out across the span of a week. It would apparently be a few days before they were sent out, since the first date was the 27th and it was currently only the 23rd. Aside from the efficient cataloging system, he didn’t really notice anything unusual or worth reporting, so he headed for the south door and let himself out. 

He was almost back in the safe cover of the warehouse’s shadows when he heard the faint but bone-chillingly recognizable scrape of footsteps. 

Shit. 

Con’s Navy SEAL instincts kicked in within split seconds, and he ducked around the closest corner of the warehouse, where a set of steel rungs bolted into the exterior wall led him up to the roof. He scaled the ladder in seconds and was crouched on the rooftop, mostly hidden in the deep shadows of the venting pipes, before he dared to look down at the ground. He tugged the balaclava over his head and tapped the special lenses that laid over his eyes, activating a highly secret and definitely experimental bit of vision-enhancing tech that allowed him to zoom in on the muscular male figure that was messing with the keypad of the south door. 

The man was slightly taller than Con and was also dressed in tactical black, but the Kevlar vest and flexible-soled boots he wore, paired with the obvious expertise of the way he disarmed the door’s safety features, identified him as TSF. 

Double shit. Just what Con needed—the goddamn Terrasen Special Forces on his ass. 

They aren’t on your ass yet, idiot, he snapped at himself. He kept his vision trained on the TSF man, watching as he opened the door, stepped back, and ran a slow, analytical, sweeping gaze over the loading docks and the property. Con instinctively sank deeper into the shadows, holding his breath as the man’s dark green gaze flicked briefly over the warehouse itself. But the man was apparently satisfied that he was alone, because he ducked into the warehouse and closed the door. 

Con tapped his lenses again, returning his vision to normal, and uncurled himself from his crouch. Slowly, keeping his boots silent against the roof, he swung himself around the pipes and slipped back down the ladder, barely breathing until he was back on the ground. He swept a look over the area, found it clear, and kept his tread as light as possible as he dashed towards the neighboring warehouse, which backed up into the headache-inducing tangle of the industrial district. 

He was four feet from safe cover when the Boss’s warehouse door banged open and the TSF man sent a knife whizzing past Con’s head. 

“STOP!” The barked command almost made Con’s own military training jerk him to an abrupt halt, but he ignored those instincts and instead took the last stride and a half into the shadows surrounding the closest warehouse building. The TSF soldier gave chase, and Con stifled a rather creative curse as he ducked around the corner of the building, found a ladder, and got himself onto the roof in under twenty seconds. Just in time for TSF Jackass to come into view and ah fuck. 

That was Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn, who was currently part of a joint TSF and Orynth Police investigation into Celaena Sardothien. 

And also one of Fenrys's closest friends.

Don’t think, just move, idiot! Beyond thankful for the film of smoky fog that smeared the midnight sky over the industrial district, Con ran along the rooftop, his boots light as feathers atop the ridged metal plates, and launched himself across to the roof of a mossy brick building. He tucked and rolled, absorbing the impact of the landing, and kept going, darting from that rooftop across a series of other connected roofs. When he reached a brownstone building with a weathered tile roof, he crossed to the corner and swung himself down via the drainpipes. 

Tucked into a dark, cramped alley that reeked of soot and garbage, Con waited with held breath for the sound of pursuit. After three minutes, he deemed it safe enough and ducked out of the alley, hiding himself in the shadows of the industrial district’s disorganized sprawl as he wove the most confusing path possible back towards where he’d left his car. He paused every few blocks to make sure there was nobody behind him, unaware that he’d left his would-be pursuer in the dust back at the warehouse. 

And Rowan Whitethorn, who’d only just managed to pry his knife free from the steel wall that it had embedded into when it missed Con by an inch, grumbled under his breath about damned fucking criminals and returned to Sardothien’s warehouse to discover that it was full of neatly stacked crates of military-grade ammunition, all of them marked for distribution to decidedly non-military personnel. 

~

Rowan’s house was quiet, peacefully removed from the noise and lights and general clamor that made up downtown Orynth. As much as Aelin loved her downtown apartment, she was drawn to the illusion of isolation that her love’s house offered, an oasis of calm amid the noisy sea of city life. She’d only been there a few other times, scattered throughout the whirlwind blur of their months together, and most of those visits had been spent either in his bedroom or on the spacious covered patio, lost in a haze of love and desire and him. His home was large but cozy, its dark wood paneling, plaster walls, and mismatched furniture giving it a comfortable, lived-in ambience. The fireplace in the living room burned brightly, recently re-ignited as the cool nip of early fall began to descend over Orynth. 

Bourbon in hand, Rowan dropped into his comfortable armchair, legs automatically spreading into what she teased him was a typical man-pose. Aelin curled lazily on the couch opposite his armchair, tugging her sweater down so it artfully draped over her lean, muscled legs, hiding another lingerie set that would no doubt bring him to his knees, and set her mostly-full glass of wine down on the side table. 

“I’ve missed this.” Her soft, open look radiated with warmth and trust, and he was torn between the desire to bottle up that look and keep it forever and the fear that it was all a façade. “Just us, some drinks, and a snatch of time to breathe.” 

Despite the iron weighing down his blood, he smiled. “I’ve missed this too.” 

“When was the last time we got a whole night to ourselves, maybe May?” Her soft laughter warmed his numbing heart. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t backed me into the wall yet, Ro.” 

Fire sizzled down his spine, but Rowan calmly lifted his drink to his lips. “And what if I want you to be patient for me?” 

Aelin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, hooded gaze tracking the thick bob of his throat as he swallowed another mouthful of bourbon. “Seems an awful lot like you’re sitting there and doing nothing, buzzard.” 

“Is that so?” With deliberate slowness, he set his drink down and uncrossed his legs. “Don’t give me ideas you don’t want me to have, darling.” How can I not want you? His internal echo was desperate, aching, filled with the emotion he stifled. One last time.

“Who said anything about not wanting you?” 

“Not me.” The humidity of the room seemed to be increasing with every whispered word and hitch of breath. 

“Good.” Languidly, she stood and stretched her arms over her head, sliding off her oversized sweater in the process. “Because I don’t wear gold for just anybody, Lieutenant Whitethorn.” 

“What did I say about using my name, Aelin?” Warning crept into his words. 

“I might need a reminder…Rowan.” She strolled across the plush carpet of his living room until she was inches away from where he sat. “And you need to stop brooding about your work.” 

He sighed. “I’m not brooding.” He knew full well that he was—he couldn’t help it. Work currently meant the sudden, jarring end of their relationship, and he still questioned if he had the strength to do that. To either of them. 

She snorted. “Look in a mirror and tell yourself that, if you can.” 

“What have we discussed about the sass, love?” Abruptly, he rose to his feet and wrapped one strong arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. 

Her lips dropped into a soft O of surprise. “That it’s–hmmm.” Before she could properly answer, he kissed her, slowly at first and then deeper, more urging. 

“Fine,” he murmured, pulling just an inch away. “Maybe I’m brooding. I’m sure you can help me forget why, though.” I wish I could forget why, he added, silently. Deep down, he wished she could erase that part of his mind—the part that knew this was the last time. 

“I’m sure I can.” She looped her arms around his neck, the lace of her delicate lingerie brushing his bare chest, and pressed her lips to his, her kiss soft, sensual, tender. “I love you, Ro,” she breathed against his lips. 

If only you did, his heart screamed. But he threaded his fingers into her hair and slid his tongue between her lips, losing himself in her kiss. “I love you too, Fireheart,” he whispered, his words thick. He slid his free hand down and lifted her into his arms, and her legs wrapped easily, fluidly, naturally around his waist, her panties notched against the fabric of his trousers. In a rushed, heated blur, they were in his bedroom, Aelin’s back flush against his sheets as he kissed her harder, toying with the string of her panties. Lingerie that was his favorite shade of gold. 

She gasped, a soft whine breaking from her lips as he brushed his thumb a fraction away from her clit. “Rowan, please.” 

“So good for me,” he smirked, though the words nearly killed him to utter. So good. Ironic, when the woman sprawled beneath his touch was anything but good. He shook his head, shoving those thoughts aside for the moment. 

One more night. They could have one more night. 

Always so clever, Aelin’s fingers flicked open the clasp of his trousers, and the tailored material pooled around his ankles. “Good girl,” he purred into her ear as he kicked off his pants, relishing the quiet moan his Fireheart let out at the praise. 

“My gods,” Aelin rasped as Rowan stripped off his boxers. “I could never get used to the sight of you, love.” Her eyes were bright as she watched him, her figure a vision in scraps of gold sprawled upon his bed. 

“Likewise.” He pounced, ripping those tiny golden panties right down the seam, and she’d barely gasped in shock before his tongue was on her cunt. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, swiping his tongue in a long, lazy stroke, “so ready for me.” Her fingers knotted into his hair as he licked her, swirling his tongue indolently around her clit, and she released a garbled string of moans that could have been his name. He just smirked, his gaze lifting to sear into hers, as he devoured her, loving how quickly his love turned wordless and needy for him. Only for him. 

“Rowan!” Aelin screamed as she came, her hips thrashing against his face, and she rode out the waves of her orgasm along his tongue and fingers, calming just in time for him to lift his glistening jaw, swipe a long, slow touch through her pussy, and kiss a deliciously indecent path from her cunt up to her throat, removing the lacy bra as he went. 

When his lips claimed hers again, the taste of her thick and heady on his lips, she locked her leg around his and smoothly flipped them, landing him on his back with her astride him. One-armed, he pushed himself into a seated position, wrapped her hair around his fist, and tipped her head backwards, kissing her hard and sinful, a promise wrapped into the curling strokes of his tongue. 

“Yes,” she breathed against his lips, her hand sliding down to wrap around his cock. Her grip was dangerously close to perfection, and she stroked the length of his dick with just enough pressure to ignite his blood. Her nails scraped lightly along the underside of his cock, and he groaned, pinching her tight little nipples in return. She smirked and tightened her grip, squeezing and twisting her wrist. 

“Fireheart,” he growled, far too close to begging as she shot him a devious, cunning smirk and shifted just far back enough to lower her head, pressing kisses down his throat, his chest, his tattoo before he lifted her head back up. “N-not this time.” His words were shaky, uneven, laden with the urgency of his need to be fully inside of her and the weight of his knowledge that this was the last time. “I need you.”

She pushed herself back up, tracing the script of his tattoo. “I need you too,” she admitted, a gleam of vulnerability flickering briefly through her heated gaze. 

Not trusting himself to reply, Rowan just kissed her neck, flicking his tongue along the tender spot he knew could make her tremble. “Ready, love?” 

“Always.” Fuck, the word drove a knife straight through his fragile heart. 

He lifted her hips up, and she positioned herself just right before she sat down, sliding onto his steel-hard dick, and both groaned at the utterly perfect sensation. Aelin’s head arched back with pleasure, but Rowan tipped her chin forwards, kissing her deep and slow as he rocked against her. She broke the kiss to drop her head to his shoulder, laying kisses and tiny bites on his tattoos, and he brushed her hair over her shoulder so he could drag his hands down her dragon tattoo, feeling the seemingly delicate ridges of her spine and the solid firmness of the muscle lining her back. The dragon on her spine coiled and shifted with the pattern of his thrusts, its flames almost alive, if only for an illusory moment. 

The kiss he laid atop those flames was both a claiming of her whole self as his and a final confirmation that the flames licking out of the dragon’s screaming maw matched the one image he’d caught of Celaena Sardothien. Gently, in stark contrast to the roughness of his thrusts, he kissed those inked flames. 

A gesture of farewell. 

Aelin choked out his name as she flew closer and closer to orgasm, and Rowan breathed hers as he drove his pace faster, pushing them both into silent, unending bliss. He held her close as she came down, as the shaking of her body calmed, as his movements beside hers slowed. Carefully, he lifted them off the bed, not pulling out until they were in the shower, Aelin languid and relaxed as he lathered her lavender body wash over her skin. 

He carried her sleepy form back to bed and tucked her between the sheets, then slipped into bed behind her, curling into her warmth as he’d grown so used to doing. His breathing deepened with hers as she fell into dreams, and he kissed her forehead, tucking her soft hair away from her face. 

Aelin slumbered peacefully beside Rowan, her golden hair strewn messily over his pillows. Her face tucked downwards, the hint of tension that always lined it softened with sleep, and the moonlight that slanted through his bedroom window cast the splattering of freckles on her cheeks in pale silver. She looked so vulnerable there, asleep in his bed, so soft and sweet. But he knew full well what lurked under that innocent face—a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. 

The jarring juxtaposition of images haunted his restless sleep. 

~

Aelin blinked awake to moody gray light filtering in through Rowan’s curtains, the sky dimmed by a thick blanket of clouds that promised rain. She stretched, feeling the delicious ache in her body, and rolled out of bed, throwing on one of Rowan’s worn old t-shirts before she went into the master bathroom to brush her teeth and do her morning skincare. She came back out to get dressed, changing into the clean trousers and silk blouse that she’d brought, and went back to put on makeup and brush out her hair. She tied the golden waves into a thick braid, put in a pair of pearl drop earrings, and paused to check for stray hairs or mascara smudges before she left the bathroom. 

The scent of fresh coffee floated down the hallway, and she smiled. Rowan had probably been up for at least a couple of hours, enough time to get in his morning run and brew fresh coffee before she even dragged herself out of bed. She followed that enticing scent out into the kitchen, rose onto her tiptoes to get a mug from the cabinet, and turned around with a smile that instantly froze. 

Because Rowan’s gun was trained on her. 

Handcuffs dangled from his tattooed hand, glinting in the kitchen lighting. His voice shook and his eyes were shattered pools of tormented grief, but his aim was rock-solid and locked between her eyes as he said, “Celaena Sardothien, you are under arrest for more crimes than I can possibly enumerate.”

She simply, slowly, raised her arms and placed her hands in the air in front of her. “There’s no need for the gun, Lieutenant Whitethorn. I am not going to resist.” 

“Put down the mug and bring your hands back up,” Rowan commanded. The coldness in his voice was one hundred percent TSF. 

Aelin obeyed. 

Rowan holstered his gun—the safety had been on the whole time—stepped forwards, and locked the cuffs around Aelin’s wrists. He didn’t speak, but the pain carved into his features spoke louder, screamed louder, than any words ever could. Betrayal, regret, and a thousand other emotions flickered across his face, but he locked his jaw, guided her hands down, and turned her so her back was against the kitchen counter. 

“I loved you,” he breathed, hoarsely. “I loved you so goddamn much, Aelin Galathynius.” He refused to let the tears glossing his eyes fall. “Why?” 

The past tense—loved—drove an iron spike through her heart. Tears of her own sprang to her eyes, and she didn’t have the strength to keep them from falling. She looked into Rowan’s gaze, meeting the eyes that seared her soul, and stayed silent. 

No words could ever describe what she felt for him. 

He breathed deeply, steeling himself, and she watched as the investigator’s mask descended back upon his face. “I’m going to go collect your things. Don’t move.” Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, his boots thudding hollowly on the hardwood floors. He returned a few moments later with her purse and work tote slung over his arm. “Everything’s here. Let’s go.” 

She followed him out to his TSF-logoed vehicle, grateful that his home was secluded enough from the city that there weren’t any neighbors around to snatch photos of the CEO of Galathynius, Inc. being escorted to a TSF car in handcuffs at seven in the morning. She could deal with her arrest—hell, she’d been planning to be arrested for months. She couldn’t deal with the media storm until it became unavoidable. 

Ever a gentleman, Rowan opened the passenger door, helped her up into the seat, got her buckled, and set her bags at her feet. He closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, and he only spared her a glance after he was on the road, driving towards the city. “I’m not going to hold any of your things for inspection.” 

Aelin nodded. “Thank you.” The first words she’d spoken since acquiescing to her arrest. 

His jaw ticked, a clear sign that he had questions begging to be released. “Why…” He took a sharp breath. “How are you so calm right now?” 

“This was inevitable,” she replied, masking the quiver of her shattering heart with her cool, professional, CEO voice. “Lieutenant, you’re the best in the TSF for a reason. I knew as soon as you were assigned to the investigation that you would discover me. I suppose I’m both surprised and grateful that it took you this long.” 

“Grateful?” 

She turned her head, staring out the window to avoid his penetrating gaze. “For…for you.” 

They were silent for the rest of the drive. 

When they arrived at Orynth PD, Rowan pulled around to the private parking lot, parked, and helped Aelin out of the car. To her surprise, he unlocked the handcuffs and removed them from her wrists, but he replaced them with a single black cuff around her left wrist. She glanced at the smooth silicone and instantly recognized it as an alternative, more technologically advanced, version of an ankle monitor. Her team had spent over a year developing it before they sold it to Orynth PD, and the irony of her own damn tech being used on her was almost enough to make her laugh. 

It was called a Wyrd cuff.

“Come with me.” Rowan led Aelin into the building through a side door, escorting her past a row of offices and down some hallways until they reached his office. He opened the door for her, drew the blinds over the window, and stepped back out of the office. He locked the door from the outside. 

“Fucking hell,” she heard him whisper, a faint, broken rasp, before he collected himself and strode off down the hall. He was back in a couple of minutes with at least three others, judging from their silhouettes in the hallway, and she listened as best as she could to the rumble of their conversation. 

“B-but we can’t just toss her in jail!” That sounded like a younger voice, probably a junior cop. 

“What choice do we have?” Rowan. “She’s been arrested.” 

“She’s probably able to post bail and just leave,” the younger man argued. “I bet she’s filthy rich from all the exports she does.” So Rowan hadn’t revealed who Celaena Sardothien really was. Interesting. 

The voices continued in a hushed flurry, and Aelin was only able to pick up scraps from their conversation. There were four of them—Rowan, the younger one, a middle-aged one, and one about Rowan’s age, and each of them seemed to have a different opinion on what to do with the highly dangerous criminal currently locked in Lieutenant Whitethorn’s office. 

Rowan grunted with frustration, and Aelin’s ears honed in on his voice. “There’s also the fact that the goddamn media will be up our ass as soon as they find out who she is.” 

“A murderer?” That was the older one. 

“Not just a murderer,” the younger one piped up. “A crime boss.” 

“A criminal.” 

“A killer.”

“Someone who knew exactly what she was doing.”

“A mastermind.” That one made her smile. 

“And one of the most famous women in Orynth.” That was Rowan, and her blood chilled at the resignation in his words. He raised his voice. “Sardothien, open the blinds.” 

With a deep, steadying exhale, Aelin pulled up the blinds on the office door. 

Three absolutely stunned faces stared back at her. 

The younger cop pointed a shaky finger at her through the glass. “Th-th-that…that’s Aelin Galathynius, sir.” 

“Alias Celaena Sardothien,” Rowan said. 

Unable to resist the opportunity, Aelin gave the cops a little finger wave and a wicked little grin.

The young one, whose wild, curly hair matched his goggle-eyed shock, gaped openly at her with wide, deep brown eyes. “I…we thought they were two people.” He ran his fingers through his frizzy curls, astonished. “Holy shit, sir! She’s had us fooled for gods know how long.” 

Rowan’s jaw was set in a tense line. “Thank you for your astute observation, Luca,” he ground out, flicking Aelin a bare hint of a glance before he turned his irritation onto the young cop. 

Luca shrugged, totally unfazed by Rowan’s famously icy attitude. “Is it too much to ask for an autograph?” he quipped, muffling what was probably a shit-eating grin. 

The older cop pressed his hands to his eyes in fatherly exasperation. “What have we discussed about not pushing Lieutenant Whitethorn’s buttons, Luca?” 

“Sorry, Brullo.” Luca didn’t appear particularly sorry—he looked like he had both the means and the camaraderie to needle Rowan incessantly. A small part of Aelin’s heart was deeply glad that Rowan had found that kind of friendship with a few of the cops. 

“Everyone out.” Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t know why I even bothered to ask for anyone’s opinion if the only thing you were going to do was stare googly-eyed at the most infamous crime boss in Orynth.” His tone was authoritative, but edged with a faint undertone of humor. 

“I wouldn’t call her the most infamous,” Brullo commented. “What about the Queen of the Night?” Luca snickered. 

“That bitch,” Aelin muttered, turning away from the cops, wrath flickering briefly across her face before she smoothed her expression back into careful neutrality. It wasn’t the right time for the police to find out that she knew something about Maeve the Fucking Bitch Queen. 

“Good god,” Rowan mumbled. “Alright, here’s what’s happening, since apparently I have to do everything around here.” He waited for the others to quiet down before he continued. “I’m calling the TSF. Yes, I know this is a joint case, and it was me who brought Sardothien in, so I get to decide who’s gonna keep an eye on her while she awaits trial.” 

“Actually, I was just about to ask if TSF was going to get involved again,” Luca said. 

“Good.” Rowan tipped his chin at the other cops. “You can go, then. I’ll make the call.” As the other cops headed away, he pivoted slowly towards his office, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders before he unlocked the door and came in. 

“Luca seems like a bright kid,” Aelin remarked, casually. 

Rowan paused next to his desk, posture stiff. “If that’s a threat…” The coldness of his voice cut Aelin through to the bone, but she heard the protectiveness hidden beneath the ice. 

“It’s completely genuine,” she said softly. “I only threaten the kind of scum that deserves it,” she added, letting some of the Boss’s notorious darkness edge her words. 

“And the list of your kills will prove it.” He picked up his phone, clearly unwilling to speak with her any longer before he contacted the TSF. Aelin relaxed herself in her chair as he spoke on the phone, his words terse and clipped. 

“Whitethorn.” A short pause. “Yes, I have her in custody. She’s fitted with a Wyrd cuff.” Another brief silence. “I understand that, sir, but with all due respect, I don’t really think prison is the right move. We’ve seen how effortlessly she was able to pull Allsbrook, and my instincts tell me that it’d be better to have her in TSF custody.” A longer pause, during which he pinched the bridge of his nose, indicating his muffled frustration. “Yes, but still. We can’t take that risk now that we finally—fine. Yes, sir.” He hung up with a click and braced his hands on his desk.

“Allow me to reiterate that I am not going to resist, Lieutenant.” Aelin broke the thick silence. “I gave you my word.”

Rowan was quiet for a handful of seconds before he turned to face her. “I believe you. Gods only know why, but I’ll take your word. So. TSF is sending a squad to escort you to your home, where you will be placed on house arrest. There will be a special forces guard assigned to your door as well as a pair of soldiers stationed in the lobby of your building lest you try to stage an escape.” 

“Should I expect a guard in my home?” 

He shook his head. “No. At this time, we don’t believe that an in-home monitor is necessary, particularly because you’re wearing a Wyrd cuff. The device is similar to an ankle monitor, but—” 

“But lighter-weight, much better protected against involuntary removal, and specially outfitted with tracking and monitoring technology that connects via satellite receiver to the person or people who placed and activated the device. Additionally, once placed, the Wyrd cuff can only be removed by the person who closed and locked it, as it has both fingerprint and DNA sensor locks to ensure that the criminal is unable to remove it. Despite these features, the Wyrd cuff is currently the most humane piece of monitoring technology.” Aelin lifted her chin, professional smile tugging at her lips. “The Wyrd cuff was developed and sold exclusively to Orynth PD by Galathynius, Inc.” 

“I…ah, I was unaware.” An uncharacteristic flush dusted Rowan’s cheeks. “It’s an impressive piece of engineering.” 

“And I’m glad to see that it’s being used precisely as we hoped it would be.” 

Rowan looked like he was on the verge of saying something else, but he was interrupted by a rapid knock on his door. Luca stuck his head into the office. “TSF is here, sir.” 

“Thanks, Luca.” Rowan stood up. “Ae—Sardothien, you ready?” 

Aelin swallowed the tears that sprang up at Rowan’s use of her alias. “I am.” She allowed him to lead her out of his office and down the rows of hallways into the bullpen, his hand just barely touching her back as if he was hiding his lingering desire to touch her one last time behind the pretense of keeping a safeguard on the dangerous criminal. 

“Luca, where the hell are the TSF?” 

“Right—” 

Commander Gavriel Ashryver strode into the room…and jerked to an abrupt halt as he took in the sight of his niece in a Wyrd cuff. 

“Um, here, sir,” Luca finished, sheepish. “I tried to time their arrival into the bullpen with yours.” 

Gav hadn’t moved a muscle. His keen, assessing gaze swept over Aelin, who was the portrait of neutral professionalism with her tote slung over her shoulder, and Rowan, who stood stiff-backed and tense at her side with a stony mask over his features. Six TSF soldiers were arranged in neat pairs behind Gav, having stumbled but rearranged to a military stop when their commander unexpectedly halted. 

“Aelin?” Gav whispered, half incredulous. The shock in his voice stabbed Aelin right in the heart. 

She nodded. “As well as Celaena Sardothien.” She felt more than saw the collective gasp of astonishment that rippled through the bullpen as she confirmed her double identity. 

Ever the master of soldierly stoicism, Gav came forwards and settled one protective hand around her elbow. “I’ll take it from here, Whitethorn. Good work.” He escorted Aelin forwards, and the other soldiers promptly stepped out of the way and re-formed themselves into a short column behind Gav and Aelin as they went out to the waiting TSF vehicles. “She’s with me,” was all that Gav said as he helped her into his black SUV, its tinted windows able to obscure her from sight. The other soldiers climbed into the TSF-logoed van beside Gav’s car, and they drove away together. 

As they navigated the crush of downtown Orynth during the morning commuter hours, Gav flicked Aelin a look in the rearview mirror, his glance laden with heavy sorrow. “I didn’t want to believe it was you, Aelin.” 

She met his sorrow with resignation. “We both knew my crimes would catch up with me someday, Gav. Thank you for protecting me while you could.” 

He nodded, a tight dip of his head. “How bad is the media going to get?” 

“Awful, once the news drops. I’m hoping it won’t break until I go to court, but I’m afraid PD will want to inform the whole world that they caught the Shadow Assassin.” 

“Leave that to me.” 

Aelin’s throat tightened for the thousandth time that morning. “I can’t ask you to keep shielding me, Gav.” 

Her uncle reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m not keeping you unknown, Aelin. I’m simply making sure that my men aren’t stormed by rabid paparazzi.” 

She huffed a soft wisp of a laugh. “Thank you.” 

The rest of the drive passed in silence, and Gav was able to get Aelin as well as the three TSF men assigned to guard her into the building and up to her apartment without attracting much notice. Her apartment building catered primarily to wealthy executives, so private security guards were a common sight, and nobody paid much attention to her new patrol. 

Alone in her apartment, Aelin set down her tote, stepped out of her heels, and walked quietly to her bedroom, heading through the cozy space into the master bathroom. She closed and locked the door behind herself and, suddenly, she slumped to the floor, her body curling into a protective ball. Head in her hands, Aelin Galathynius loosed the tears that she’d been holding at bay all morning, wracked with grief not at her arrest, but at the heartbreak that accompanied it. She cried for herself, for the woman that Rowan’s love had allowed her to become.

And she cried for the lost dream of the future she would never have with him.

~~~

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