#I like her face shape she's got a really strong jaw line

[mass-convergence]

I was in a sketchy mood idk.

Eivor from AC Valhalla.

I’m gonna go pass out now.

[kit-williams]

Glaubenskraft

The big Black Legion/Luna Wolf story. Because of the dark nature of this story aka the rape and other heavy themes like with other dark themed stories there is no use of you or I. There will be an OC that is going to be sent into the dark depths. I will say this with scensarity. When I write for 40k I do take advantage of the grimdarkness of the far future. You are all probably aware of this if you've read a lot of what I write. This is one of the fics I pushed to the limit. I'm also going to apologize for combat scenes I'm not very good at them.

tw: Rape (dead dove do not eat), Forced Pregnancy, some mind break, stockholm syndrome, Breeding and impregnation talk and kinks, clothed male unclothed female for one part, and please let me know if there is something I have missed

Zhur Painbane

Dolli Quest: purple eyes, prosthetic left leg, prosthetic left hand, scars on her arms, large aquilia tattoo on her back from shoulder to shoulder, red hair

Cadia would fall... it was inevitable really. The crusade would succeed but Zhur Painbane was simply here to cause terror within the Cadian trenches as they push hard. His furred cape was black and sooty still hanging together since the days he was a Luna Wolf... a faded wolf head holding the center red gem on his chest. His golden mask turned upward as the booming crack across the sky as the Maelstrom seemed to lash out against the Imperials.

They were trying to surround him. How cute. He thought as they shot at him with heavy munition.

"Dolli call artillery!" He heard someone shout. As his head whips to the soon to be dead Cadian shooting him in his head!

"Yes Sir!" She shouts as she forces Zhur to snarl and reel back slightly to avoid a shot in the eye lens. You're going to die slowly little rabbit. Though he might have fun with that one... he enjoys the shape of her face... the strong jaw and the vibrant amethyst eyes that practically glow. Zhur wants to see that face of hers look hopeless.

He began the quick slaughter as he watched her run down a section of the trench, hopping over holes and dead bodies. When she got far enough... he shot a few rounds and rushed after her.

Dolli got the radio warning of the Chaos Space Marine on her tail. She unloaded a few hand grenades feeling them blow up behind her and causing a chain reaction with unexploded ordinance behind her or grenades. Even the heat of that behind her kept her going as she knew he would be right there. She slid herself to the vox. "This is Vox Alfa 4 fire on our position. We have a Charlie Sierra Mike running through the trench. Emperor Protect our souls."

"Emperor Protects." Was all she got on the other end of the line.

The heavy and chunky thud of her rifle bought her a few seconds as he rushed down upon her. She pressed the barrel of her gun to his throat and pulled the trigger several times. His head jerking back as she barely missed his vocal cords and spinal cord. Snarling as those black and gold fingers dug into the blood filled mud as she overcharged her las and burned several holes into his arm. She kept him on his toes as he played with his food... Dolli knew he was playing with her... she just had to be enough fun.

Zhur heard the whistling and tackled her into the bunker nearby as the earth shaking rounds threw dirt into the air. He was snarling as he could feel his organs shutter. He ground his sharp teeth looking at the body under him. He wasn't a dedicated slannshi to fuck a warm corpse. His fingers cupped her chin as he looked at her, nose and ears bleeding from the explosions and most likely ruptured her organs.

He turned away and walked toward the entrance. She would have made a fine subject to his experiment... a refinement to Honsou's design. Honsou was onto something but he did it wrong... the human body is already capable of flushing out the rejects naturally. Zhur was on the cusp of success... just the last female he had went insane and had died outside of his control but she gave birth to what was essentially a space marine.

Dolli pulled out her knife as she looked at the space marine just standing there. She was going to die... she accepted this... but if she could be the reason this traitor dies she could be happy with it.

Zhur snarled as the knife buried itself into his side and he heard the mechanics of a priming grenade. His honey brown eyes flicked to his side seeing Dolli there with her hand on the knife and the grenade in her hand. She was making a reach to try and tangle herself against his armor.

Dolli doesn't know what happened exactly in that moment as she had stabbed him and was ready to meet the Emperor. The next moment the grenade was out of her hand and her breath was knocked out of her as she felt herself being cradled. Had a loyalist space marine come and saved her? No... it was still black and gold armor against her... NO... NO NO NO NO NO. Dolli began to thrash as nothing good ever came of being saved by a Black Legionary.

He snarled over his vox down at her as she realized her hand holding the grenade was gone and she didn't feel the way he just cut the metal off. "You little bitch. Thought you could get the drop on me?" He snarled as he began to rip the leather and thick cloth of her trousers, crushing the metal and the armor plates on them.

She kicks and tried to slam her prosthetic leg into him trying to get it to go beyond what it was suppose to do. She could hope it would decide to kick a hole in his chest but so far that wasn't happening. "Die in a hole you filthy traitorous scum!" She spits and snarls at him. Dolli had a dreaded feeling of what was going to happen she tries to grab her knife but he throws it away. Its a horror of the battlefield no one talks about... well when one of the enemy's entire perversion is sex... she remembers being warned as a little girl what could happen. She remembers how many of her friends couldn't stomach the idea... it wasn't guaranteed that it might happen... most likely you'd be blown apart but... the thought that you could be an unlucky victim. Dolli never thought it would be her.

Agent Quest?

"Behave!" Snarled Zhur as he grabbed her organic leg and threatened to snap it.

"No!" She screamed back as Zhur pressed his hand down on her stomach as he pushed himself between her legs and pulled his cock out. Zhur would play nicer after this... if she survived.

For Dolli she gritted her teeth as she could feel the cockhead pressing hard against her entrance. She couldn't even kill herself to save herself from this... either it would be a slow painful death via internal bleeding or she would be found later... discharged and always given pitied looks as if there was some sign around her neck that everyone could notice that she had been defiled by a traitorous and tainted space marine.

Zhur watches her face... he expects that fire to go out... to see that delicious helplessness... the begging and pleading for mercy where it wouldn't be found. Instead he found a fire... warp fire in her amethyst eyes. How she was still snarling at him... she looked like one of the corpse emperors living saints right now... the way her eyes glow with righteous anger... the paleness of her skin smeared with dirt and blood... how her hair is splayed out making a halo a dirty halo full of dirt, blood, sweat, and soot. Zhur snarls as he pushes into the unwilling cunt.

Tears prick the corner of her eyes as she could feel it all and the pained cry as he forced himself into her dry. She hissed with pain as he bobbed his hips working each painful inch deeper into her sex.

Mattis go get the others she's having an episode.

Mom?

Mattis go!

Mum please... wake up.

Zhur felt himself bottom out and moaned. He let her cunt spaz about him as blood, his pre cum, her piss, and her own forced arousal helped get him this far. He leaned his head back and savored the feeling of her around him. She glared up at him with wet eyes still looking like a fallen saint. Zhur was hardly a word bearer but perhaps he had found someone who was chosen by the corpse... he grins at the thought of stealing her away from him.

"Oh I think I'm going to do more than just fuck you till I feel better... there will still be that." He moved his hand to her throat as he had to be gentle given he was still fully armored as she was at an awkward angle. "I'm still mad at you little mortal... I didn't appreciate the headshots and nearly taking out an eye." He chuckled as she replied with a snarl.

"You are going to be part of something much more than yourself."

"Fuck you! The Emperor protects me and I will never join Chaos!" She screamed causing him to laugh.

"Silly mortal. I'm currently fucking you and who says I need you to join. Oh what will be happening to you... please do pray. Pray to him and let him see what will happen to you." He purred as he was kind enough to let her adjust to him as he enjoyed the feeling between her thighs.

Dolli refused to scream... refused to cry as she just glared up at the grunting marine above her. She tried to focus on the distant gun shots and explosions instead of the lurid wet squelches that was starting to happen. The wet fapping noise as she felt herself become aroused. Remembering the woman from that class explain that it could happen... its nothing about want... sometimes the body is like a machine and when something goes in there it reacts like how it is suppose to.

For Zhur he was panting and grunting and growling above her jerking her hips to his over and over again...

What's going on?

Mum is having an episode.

Mama's done so well... what triggered it?

I don't know Zekyr!

Calm down Naxos.

... it felt like heaven between her thighs. Oh yes he was going to keep her. Zhur felt so warm inside of his armor as he started to jerk her hips faster. Oh yes he was bringing her back. Zhur groaned as he pulled her tightly against him and spilled inside of her.

For Dolli she didn't know what to expect next... she couldn't stop her thrashing as he grabbed her head and slammed it down. Making everything go dark.

However there was no throne to greet her in the dark. Just a whisper... I'm sorry. The weight of those words sat like a stone in her stomach as she knew she was still alive. Her eyes opened for brief moments... all she could see was black and gold... profane shapes that hurt her eyes... twisted individuals draped in skin... someone touching her face and grabbing at her aquilia before she saw them turn to red paste as the space marine holding her snarled something in a foul tongue.

Dolli felt sore... there was a throbbing in her face... the throbbing between her legs... she wasn't on a shitty medical cot. Dolli was on a soft bed... she opened her eyes she was naked save for her aquilia... her leg prosthetic was missing as was the reminder of her forearm prosthetic. She had been cleaned and that feeling made her feel sick as she had an idea who... seeing hickies blooming on her thigh and one of her breasts.

"Ah welcome back." A clear voice purred to her. Honey brown eyes looked at her from a face that seemed to have some 5 o'clock shadow growing in with short neat black hair shaved to a military standard. His canines were long and so was his tongue but he was dressed in a black compression shirt and some shorts. Dolli was confused... she would have mistaken him for an Ultramarine or even a Blood Angel if it was not for the star of chaos on the door. "So Dolli, that is your name if I remember right. I'm going to tell you what is going to happen."

She looked at him unimpressed, "I assume rape me again and twist me to Chaos?" She said before spitting at him.

Zhur liked his little wife clean. Her hair was a deep red that looked better clean... oh he was eager to see it long and see it pool under her head like a blood pool. "Oh perhaps if you continue to resist it will be rape. But no... in fact I want you to try to resist... I want you to cling to the Emperor as long as you can as I think I like your fire. But no... you're going to help me make more space marines." He said running his tongue over his teeth looking at her on his bed.

Zhur quickly realized when he became a Luna wolf all those years ago that he felt a deep longing for something... he should have been like his brother... having a wife on his hip to come home to... he wanted that. He didn't know why he did and perhaps if everything had succeeded and the Astartes were no longer needed he would have settled down, probably several times given his life span, and had his own wife on his hip. He couldn't explain the deep covetous need it bloomed into and seeing Dolli clean and laying on his bed once again triggered that need.

Lucky for him... she would be the first test of what was his final plan for an improved demoncubula. Though less demons involved and a lot more dark mechanicus involvement and flesh shaping psykers. "No snide comment on that?" Zhur says tilting his head to the side before continuing, "You see I realized that getting pregnant was hard as was staying pregnant... the human body is very good at detecting genetic defects and reabsorbs the fetus'... oh look at me explaining your biology to you." He coos softly as he walks closer, "You are going to be my little wife. " He grabs her chin as she looks at him with wide eyes, "And we're going to make a happy little family."

"You're insane." She hisses softly.

"Perhaps but that is what happens when you want something so badly you are forced to make it yourself. Your womb will be modified and you will be given an organ called a progenoid that will feed into your modified womb. You will give birth to Astartes whom all they need to do is grow up and get the remainder of their organs with no fear of rejection. You," He cups her face, "Will be my reward."

"What."

"Oh yes I already proved that it worked. But I want to make sure it works for multiple babies..." He crawls on the bed and watches her try to crawl away but he holds her in place, "You will also be modified in a few ways to handle my... hmmm tender affections?" He chuckles softly at his own joke. "A wife must be able to handle her husband isn't that right my little wife?" He groans and Dolli watches as he gets hard.

She pushes against his head but he runs his tongue along the valley of her breasts as he grinds against her, "Oh my little wife I shouldn't... you'll be having surgery soon enough... but I'm so excited." Dolli scratches at him as he pushes his ring finger inside of her this time to try and work her. "See darling I can be nice I'll make you feel good." He pants with perverse pleasure, "You'll make such a good mommy for our boys. Won't you? Yes... say yes... you'll be such a good-"

"Mommy?" Dolli finally blinks as she looks up at pair of bright purple eyes, belonging to her eldest Thallos. She looks around seeing three other concerned looking pairs.

"B-boys. What." She looks down at the railing she is holding onto with a white knuckle grip.

"You were thinking about Da- um Zhur again weren't you?" Thallos says.

"You can still call him Daddy, Da, Dada, Dad, or Father if you want I know you all still hold affection for him." She says with a sigh as they look guilty at that fact. They look like a mashup between Horus and their father with a few features from her. She was happy they all had her eyes... "Boys don't feel guilty for what your father did." She no longer flinches when calling him that... she hardly realizes she calls Zhur their father.

Dolli Quest was now an inquisition member along with her four boys... Thallos Quest, Naxos Quest, Zekyr Quest, and Mattis Quest. They were an unidentified 4 man astartes group that just would affectionately refer to their inquisition liaison as mother sometimes. That was the cover the Inquisitor gave her... she couldn't help herself as they were her boys. Zhur gave her four little angels that she loved so much... they were a happy little family.

Dolli knew something in her broke during her time with Zhur... she never fell to chaos even during what eventually turned out to be century with him. But, she was the one who wanted Mattis... she seduced him to give her one more little boy. She was scared that they would have to leave Mattis behind given how close he was to his father when Thallos wanted to help her escape.

She pulled Thallos close before opening her other arm and feeling her boys get close. "I love you four so much... don't ever think I don't... I love you all from the tops of your heads to the bottom of your toes... to the sky above... and the earth below... to the stars beyond... and forever and ever after." She whispered to them kissing their cheeks or foreheads as she let tears fall. Dolli broke... because she couldn't find it in her heart to hate Zhur anymore.

However, she wouldn't go back... she was a loyal Imperial citizen! She wiped her face and straightened up, "Alright boys we've got a mission!"

------

Mattis was a good boy... all of his sons were good boys in his eyes. But Mattis could not keep anything hidden from his father. It is how he learned about Thallos' plan to steal his mother away. Only reason Zhur allowed it and in fact helped it succeed was because he was going on a long deployment and had a feeling someone was going to try to kill his precious little wife. The last kiss he gave her still warmed his lips... the uncertainty in her eyes... nearly giving up the ghost herself it would seem.

Zhur smiled as he watched on the screen as he could see his Dolli! She walked with her retinue and their sons. Zhur keeps telling himself that he allowed this... he allowed all of this... but really the separation was killing him now. He wanted his boys back... he wanted his wife back. He inhales hard and calms his eager voice as he connects to the private family vox channel and purrs out, "Daddy's home"

Thallos: Mommy

Naxos: Mum

Zekyr: Mama

Mattis: Mom

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

Request: hi Amber I know you did this sort of imagine a while back but I was wondering whether you could do another one? Negan’s entrance scene and everything but make it more angsty if possible? And Daryl being really protective over the reader? Thank you!

Warnings: angst, blood, death, dark stuff, negan being a jerk.

The silence that lingered in the air was terrifying. No words had to be said to make you all realise how much shit you all had gotten yourselves into. The rocks beneath your knees dug into your skin making it incredibly uncomfortable but you knew that was the least of your worries. You were all going to die.

“Your shit, is ours. I know that’s a pretty hard pill to swallow… but swallow it you must” his voice bellowed practically vibrating through your body, you leant forward slightly looking towards Rick… begging him to somehow have an idea on how to slither yourselves out of this fucked up death trap but as soon as your eyes landed on him you realised how his ‘leader’ title had been diminished into absolutely nothing. He was weak, tired, scared but you didn’t blame him. No one did. Fear was evident on everyone’s features, some doing their best to keep it at bay but Maggie was in agony- her forehead covered in sweat, staggered breaths leaving her lips as she seemingly struggled to get a hold of herself. “Please” your words cut through the silence suddenly Negan’s cold eyes moving to slowly look down to you as he allowed Lucille to rest against his shoulder “please..” you repeated once again “we. need. a. doctor” you said as calmly as you could.

He studied you his face remaining bored and unamused before a slight flicker formed in his eyes a smirk tugging at his lips “a doctor? Who for? You? You all look in pretty good shape…” his eyes scanned along the group before stopping at Maggie “oh her, yeah, hell- looks like shit” he breathed out with a laugh and you glared into his soul wishing your eyes could burn some sort of holes into him. He was a prick who needed to be knocked down a few pegs.

“Oh tough crowd I see, hm” he said a fake almost mocking frown forming on his face “come on it’s not so bad! I’m letting you all live!” He exclaimed beaming like he was saying the best thing ever. “Shut the hell up asshole” you spat out angrily and his eyes fell onto you again as he slowly moved towards you “you’ve got some nerve haven’t you, darlin’ you know I could easily kill each and every one of you for killing my men…” he said some sort of anger forming on his face as you stared at him “they deserved it” you said in response, not backing down a dangerous look forming on his face “and so we understand each other better… I do not appreciate you killing my men…” he said slowly moving to stare down at Rick “and also when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people.. you killed more of my people…. Not. cool,” he then slowly moved back along the line to where you knelt “not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is” he said moving Lucille down to rest alongside his leg “now, what’s your name?” He asked staring down at you “not cool” you said smugly, believing he was all words. Simply saying this shit for the fun of it. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head “you’re stupid… I like you.” He seemed to get amusement out of everything that he did, you just wanted to get right up there and punch that stupid look off his face and as if he read your mind a small smirk tugged at his lips “I wouldn’t if I were you,”

You clenched your jaw angrily as negan began parading around “rick, you know, you should really learn how to control your people.” Everyone was trembling, visibly afraid of the man but you tried to stand your ground. Trying your best to stay strong as you glared up at him. “It didn’t have to end like this… but if you don’t follow my rules then I have to hurt your people. This is on you Rick” Negan’s voice was terrifyingly calm. You hated it. Despised it. “Now- who’s the weakest in the group, hm? It’s not you Rick… but I can see… you’re breaking.” He pointed the bat at every individual person and once it got to you, you held your breath gritting your teeth to conceal your heavy breathing as you glared up into his eyes and once he had moved past you you let out a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding but before you could even realise what was happening the bat was directly in your face again your breathing getting heavier as your eyes widened “you…” he chuckled out as tears sprung to your eyes “hopefully, Rick, this’ll teach you to control your people” negan exclaimed as he grabbed you by the back of your shirt

“Don’t fucking touch her you bastard!” Daryl’s voice was suddenly heard as he sprung forward trying to attack negan but he was grabbed and shoved back down. Negan slowly trailed his eyes back to Rick as he held your shaking figure up by your scrawny T-shirt, the shirt was practically falling off of you from how old and used it was. “See, Rick? If you controlled them better then this shit wouldn’t happen now would it?” Negan shoved you down onto the floor as you collapsed to your knees in front of the group, embarrassed, weak… you had never felt so vulnerable. You watched as his shadow lifted the bat up above his head and you squeezed your eyes shut trembling- you didn’t dare beg for mercy but you wanted to… you wished you could but you were terrified. You were soon drawn out of your thoughts as negan let out a laugh “you’re all pathetic… you think I’d really kill her to get back at you? You’re wrong.” He smiled staying deadly silent as he looked down at you your eyes locking with his in fear before he looked at the others “Dwight, put her in the back of the truck. Tie her up.” Negan suddenly spoke and Dwight grabbed you dragging you to the back of the truck as you looked at Rick… Daryl.. trying to ask for help but you didn’t want them to get killed.

Fear consumed you as Daryl’s shouting was heard, your wrists were tied along with your ankles before the truck doors were slammed shut and silence filled your ears up… the only sound being your heavy breathing and muffled talking. You squeezed your eyes shut shaking your head… how the hell were you going to get out of this?

Part two maybe

[jortsaaaaaaart]

To Be Forgotten Amongst Friends chp1

Omega! Reader x avengers

Hello all! I revamped my story "ikaros" and this is the new story! Also the name is long rip.

Trigger warnings (later chapters mostly)- ptsd, noncon, kidnapping, human experimentation, Stockholm and lima syndrome

The following chapters will be posted on- https://archiveofourown.org/works/33890977     (seriously- may not post here that often cause i hate the tagging system- go check out ao3)

It's a beautiful day in New York and you're a terrible, no good, thief. 

You were considered New York’s very own Robin Hood. Two hundred ATM robberies in two years, the money flying out of the machines and into the hands of people who needed it. The banks, collectively, had lost over $300,000 from the ATMs alone. But of course, it wasn't just the ATMs. A rash of robberies had spread over the East coast. Most were digital, companies funneling their own money to offshore accounts that wanted nothing to do with U.S. intervention. The FBI were notified, then the CIA, and eventually- after a daring cyber attack against the DOD- SHIELD itself turned it's one eyed gaze onto you.

Nick Fury saw something the other agencies didn't. You had certain gifts that made your line of work incredibly easy. Whether they were natural mutations or some sort of superpower, they allowed you to break into some of the most secure networks known to man. He had almost found you when SHIELD fell and his resources vanished. After the dust cleared he was forced to start from scratch. Hunting you and the remnants of Hydra down at the same time wasn't easy, but, in a strange twist of fate, he found someone else that was searching for you too.

+++

New York was filled with so many people. Most of them were good, in your opinion. (Well, maybe half, actually.) You spent most of your off time working on "projects" or walking around the city. You had become a fixture at the local Bodega. Single omegas were extremely  rare, marked single omegas were almost unheard of. The mark gave you certain freedoms other omegas, sadly, didn't have. It drove away most potential suitors and the ones who were particularly bold would be given a taste of your powers. Once the burrow had gotten used to your presence they saw you as a generous person, but a secretive one. Someone who took no shit even with their designation. You gave to the community and different Omega rights groups in the area. After years of watching you quietly go about helping people you had been welcomed into the burrow's heart with open arms.

You loved helping people in your own way. You loved it just as much as you hated corporations and the police, but when you could make an ATM spew it's contents out into the poorest streets of Brooklyn or make Fox News send a million dollars to Planned Parenthood, you could have the best of both worlds.

At least, for a time. All good things had to end, right? That's what you told yourself as the redhead picked her way through the crowd towards you. 

Seeing an avenger in your neighborhood was an odd occurrence. It was a poorer part of town, untouched in the battle of New York, and too out of the way for any super villain origin stories. In fact, you seemed to be the only mutant in the entire block. You'd always thought, if someone was going to come for you, it would be a couple of FBI agents and not the fucking Black Widow. Your brain and heart went into overdrive as you tried to remember doing anything worth the avenger's time. But there was nothing. The DOD hack had been almost a year ago and all you did was release government files showing attacks on civilians overseas. It hardly seemed like an avengers worthy crime, especially when Black Widow herself had leaked government secrets before.

Any hope of her not not looking for you was dashed when her eyes locked onto yours. She tilted her head, asking a silent question. 

The burst of adrenaline sent you careening through the lunchtime crowds. You couldn't feel anyone on the rooftops but there was a large form blocking your path, trying to box you in. They were stronger and faster but you knew the environment. You ducked into Charlie's, your sneakers skidding on the asphalt as you took the sharp turn. The person behind the counter lazily looked up as you walked to the back. They knew you well enough to not care, they also weren't paid enough to care. The alley would open up into a busy side street. More people meant a better chance to blend in and get away. You were almost to the end when the door opened behind you. Black Widow and fucking Captain America stepped into the alley. For a moment the three of you stood in something akin to a standoff. 

You felt wildly undressed for this life-threatening situation.

"We just want to talk, (Y/N)" Captain America told you, hands raised. The unmistakable stink of an alpha radiated from the captain. You were momentarily thankful for your mark dulling its effect on you. Though, the blonde's scent was tinged with something hauntingly familiar. Something you didn't want to recognize.

Behind him, Black widow's free hand went to her ear. "Target is in the alley between 31st and 32nd," A twitch of your finger and the line went dead. Her hand dropped to the gun at her hip.

"I'm feeling pretty under equipped for this 'conversation'," You replied, slowly raising your hands as well, wondering if they could feel what you were doing. They didn't react and you slowly let your power seep from you.

Natasha was the first to react, drawing her gun and spinning around. Steve looked at her with confusion as her wide eyes scanned the alley as if she was seeing ghosts. She was afraid he realized, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. He moved towards her and you took off running. You felt him hesitate then take off after you, gaining on you with an embarrassingly low number of strides. You tried your powers again, stronger this time, but his focus was unwavering. He was almost to you now and you were running out of options. That’s when the alpha in him came out.

“Omega!” He snarled, “Stop!” Your feet slowed down immediately. It wasn’t as strong as your own alpha’s command would be, but the super soldier certainly commanded respect and obedience. You were forced to stand still, eyes burning holes in the asphalt, as the alpha’s footsteps grew closer. You really didn't want to do this but it looked like you had no choice. Your jaw clenched, and you spun around when his hand grabbed your arm. The blonde's eyes widened as you placed a palm to his chest. 

He barely had time to glance down at your hand before the electricity hit him.

The 1,000 volts you sent into him were supposed to stun him or send him flying, allowing you to escape. However, his muscles spasmed just a bit stronger than you intended. In an instant his grip crushed the bones in your arm and sent the two of you careening backwards into a brick wall. Natasha would find you a moment later, passed out on top of the super soldier, a sizable hole in the wall.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a few blurry white shapes milled about in the corners of your vision. You couldn't remember how you got here, or where here was. All your senses seemed to be dulled. Your wrist was throbbing and each time you opened your eyes the room came in and out of focus. You closed your eyes, opting to ignore the funhouse effect and focus on the sounds around you. The beeping of the monitors, footsteps on concrete, and two low voices.

"She's alright, Buck, I promise." Steve's voice wavered in and out of your consciousness bringing with it the memory of how you got into this bed. "She did something to Nat and ran before I could explain. I wasn't expecting her powers to be so strong."

"I should have come with you," Another voice snarled. Your heart skipped a beat at the low growl. You knew that voice. It evoked a sickening combination of need and terror and you couldn't remember why. "She wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had. What idiot doesn't know omegas are fragile?!"

"It was an accident!" His voice raised slightly before sighing. "I know you're worried, but she's fine."

The scent you had smelled on Steve earlier swirled around the room. Metal and burning pine, it affected you just like the voice had, triggering both panic and yearning. You knew it somehow. The memory was there somewhere, tucked away where it couldn’t hurt you. Where it should have been forgotten.

The scent grew unbearably strong as he leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back he wasn't expecting his eyes to catch yours. 

His expression softened as soon as he realized you were awake. "Omega," Bucky whispered reverently. Stormy blue eyes stared down at you with love and adoration, watching the color drain from your face. "Doll?" 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear the panicked beeping of the machines and Steve trying to calm you down. But it didn't matter. All that you could feel was the need to get far, far, away from this man. You didn't know how you knew him but you knew he was dangerous. You knew he had hurt you. That's why, as he reached out to gently cup your face, you slapped his hand away. 

"Get away from me!" You gasped, voice breaking. You scooted back and tried to back up as far as possible. Your shaky legs barely held your weight as you slid off the bed. Pure terror coursed through your veins, it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. You found yourself pressed into the corner of the room while the men stared at you in shock. Steve and Bucky gaped like you had just told them the Germans had actually won WWII. Eyebrows knit together, blue eyes wide and frantic, Bucky looked like he was in emotional turmoil.

“(Y/N), doll, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s your alpha.” Bucky reached out to you carefully as a low purr rumbled from his chest.

You felt the purr relax you and dull your senses even more. It was nauseating. “I don’t have an alpha! And I don’t know who the hell you are!” You tried to shout and grit your teeth but the words came out in broken sobs, betraying your weakness. Who was this? Why was he the most terrifying thing you had ever seen?

Your teeth were bared at this point but the man kept coming towards you. The tunnel vision and rapid shallow breaths were the only warnings your body gave you as it reverted to its animalistic omega framework. Bucky watched as, in slow motion, your eyes went blank as your body gave out. 

+++

Your alpha held your body to his chest in disbelief. He had expected some shock at seeing him but this went far beyond his expectations. It had been over three years since he'd last seen you. Since he'd last been able to drink in your scent. He'd figured you might not recognize him at first. He had changed a lot over the years. No longer under Hydra's control his physical appearance, demeanor, and scent had changed. But your body should've known your alpha. 

"What was that?" Steve asked. "Why did she react like that when she has your mark?" The two alphas were on edge. Seeing a vulnerable omega drop triggered their protective instincts. Steve desperately wanted to take you and hold you close, ease you out of the drop. If the alpha holding you was anyone other than his closest friend and packmate he would have ripped you out of his grasp immediately. For now he'd have to hold himself back.

"She didn't remember me." Bucky nuzzled his head into your neck, nursing your mark softly. After a moment he pulled back and gazed at your unchanged features. He couldn't wake you from this drop that easily. He pressed in harder this time, teeth lining up with the scar perfectly, but there was still no change. No purr, command, or bite was waking you up.

"We should let her rest, Buck. The pain meds will wear off soon and we'll try again. . . Bring her to the den. She'll need to get used to everyone's scents sooner or later." Steve laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. It was a gentle but firm suggestion. He knew tensions were high, the den, with it's heavy curtains and plush blankets, would calm down his friend and the omega. With little argument the brunette lifted you up and carried you to the den. It was aptly named and extremely well constructed thanks to Stark. Curtains blocked off all light from the windows, mattresses were inlaid into the ground, and the temperature was always cool. It was one good thing about being in a pack with that narcissist, Bucky thought dryly.

Steve led them into a cozy corner of the room. The captain hummed happily as they moved the pillows and blankets, creating a makeshift nest for the three of them. The feeling of the omega pressing into his chest was addictive. He couldn't wait for you to remember your alpha.

The sooner you remembered your bond with Bucky the sooner the rest of the pack, Steve included, could court you.

[sierraraeck]

Struck by Lightning

Derek x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After breaking up with your boyfriend, you go out for a girls night. Unfortunately, he follows you to the club to try and win you back. To show him just how over him you are, you kiss the first stranger you see walking through the door. Luckily for you, that man is a sculpted god of chocolate thunder.

Category: Spicy fluff

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol. Age gap between adults (maybe like 10ish years) but I never actually mention it lol. Some cussing.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This was inspired by the song “Guys My Age” by Hey Violet. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. This is also for @fortheloveofcriminalminds 600 follower celebration! The prompt “in the likely event that this all goes pear shaped, just remember I told you so” is in bold!

“I finally did it,” you told your friend over the phone.

“You did!” she squealed. “You dumped Brody? I’m so proud of you!”

You laughed, “Thanks, Jess. God, I was just so tired of his bullshit. He never wanted to do anything but hang around his house with his friends, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do know,” Jess responded very dramatically. “I’m so glad you’re done with him! This calls for celebration!”

“Oh god,” you mumbled, knowing exactly what that entailed. Jess was always a bit excited when it came to celebrating. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes! Girls night!” The high frequency of her voice nearly blew your eardrums out. “There’s this new bar and club downtown that I’ve been dying to check out. I’m going to call the girls!”

Without getting another word in, she hung up, leaving you no choice but to start getting ready for what you were sure would be a wild night.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Wild would not be the word you’d use to describe the night so far. Irritating would be more accurate.

Not even ten minutes after you’d arrived, Brody and his asshat friends showed up too. Of course, they couldn’t just keep their distance like any normal person who’d just been dumped would, maybe a normal person would even leave to go to a different club, but no. The first thing Brody did was approach you, sliding into the barstool next to you.

You could smell the alcohol and weed on his breath when he said, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Go away, Brody,” you deadpanned. You’d finally gotten away from your immature, never-wants-to-do-anything boyfriend who never put you first, who now all the sudden that you’re gone, decides to start making an effort. And of course it had to be on the night that you were celebrating the single life again that he just had to show up.

“Don’t be like that, babe,” he said, reaching out to touch you.

You scooted out of reach of him, “Don’t touch me.”

“Come on, baby, we used to have a lot of fun. Let me remind you of that,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

You put your hand in the way and pushed his face away from yours. “I would literally rather kiss anyone other than you,” you spat.

“You don’t mean that,” Brody tried to schmooze.

“Yes I do.”

“Oh really? Prove it,” he challenged.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s just go. He’s not worth it,” Jess told you, your two other friends at her sides.

But you were too competitive for that. Plus, this was your girls night out, at the club that Jess had been dying to see for ages now, and you weren’t going to let your stupid ex ruin that. So you accepted by saying, “I will. Next person who walks through that door.”

Brody shrugged, a smug smile on his face. “Fine. Let’s see it.”

You eyed the door as Jess leaned in and whispered, “In the likely event that this all goes pear shaped, just remember I told you so.”

You rolled your eyes, still facing the door. Then you saw movement behind the glass, the door swinging open to reveal the person you’d fated yourself to kiss.

And holy shit. You don’t think you’ve ever been so lucky in your life. The honest to god hottest man you’d ever seen walked through the door. He was tall, broad shoulders accompanying his strong build, and when you saw him turn and smile at the rest of what you assumed were his friends walking through the door, you thought you might pass out. He had to have been sculpted by Zeus himself.

You were staring in shock, as if you’d been struck by lightning, almost forgetting you had a small wager on the line. Jess gave you a small nudge, springing your feet into action.

You couldn’t believe you were about to do this. But, you strutted up to the man still partially in the doorway with confidence like you’d never had before, the group of people facing your way tracking your movements. The man himself had barely enough time to turn around and register you walking toward him before you reached up behind his neck and pulled him just slightly down to you. You smashed your lips to his with a bit more force than you intended, and could feel the shock coming from everyone around you.

They weren’t the only ones to be surprised, though. In only a matter of seconds, without pulling back to ask any questions, he started kissing you back. It caught you a little off guard, to be honest, thinking you were just going to kiss him and awkwardly walk away. But he kissed you back. Like really kissed you back. His lips were soft and smooth, and before you could fully register it, your tongues were exploring each other’s mouths, pushing and pulling in a way you’d never felt before. One of his hands rested on your jaw and the other snaked around your back, spurring on your confidence enough to place your other hand on his very firm, and very muscular chest.

You weren’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but you felt like you had to pull back when one of his friends cleared their throat. You looked into his dark, cocoa eyes now that you could really admire his face close up, and he was looking at you with a mix of confusion and wonder.

You bit your lip and turned to quickly glance at the brunette who’d cleared her throat. She was pressing her lips together to suppress a smile, but wasn’t failing dreadfully at it.

You turned your attention back to the man in front of you, still looking at you in awe. Running on pure adrenaline and confidence, you slowly looked him up and down, then let out a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” you muttered to yourself, barely loud enough for him to hear it. You ran both your hands down his chest and flirtatiously continued, “Not bad at all.”

You easily slid out of his grasp and winked over your shoulder as you strutted away.

You heard the woman who’d cleared her throat say, “I know you’re Derek Morgan, and I know you’re a catch, but has that ever happened to you?”

You peered over your shoulder and saw him staring at you. Derek, you now knew his name to be, shook his head just slightly and mumbled, “Never.”

You quickly turned away, not wanting any of them to see your grin as you practically bounced back to your seat at the bar. Brody was nowhere to be found.

Jess was slack jawed, eyebrows almost lost in her hairline. You teased, “What was that you were saying about things going wrong? Something about telling me so or..?”

Jess pulled herself together and feigned annoyance, “Oh shut up. You know you got hella lucky.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “I know.”

“Seriously, Y/N, what the hell was that?”

You shook your head, feeling as in awe as the man you’d kissed only moments ago had looked. “I have no idea.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

You eyed each other for the next hour or so, neither of you being too inconspicuous about. You’d been on the dance floor while him and his group were at a bar table. He finally approached you when you’d taken a break to get another drink.

He walked up to you and leaned against the side of the bar you’d just order from. He hadn’t said anything yet, so, without looking at him, you filled the airspace. “You know it’s considered rude.”

“Excuse me?” he questioned. It was the first time you’d really heard his voice, and it was a deep velvety sound you wanted to remember.

“It’s considered rude to stare,” you started, turning to face him, “Especially if you’re not going to buy the next drink.”

He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, “Is that so?”

You simply nodded as the bartender brought you your drink. He had already fished out a twenty, holding it up between two of his fingers. He never took his eyes off you as the bartender took the cash and you sipped at the liquid in your glass.

“That’s a little better,” you teased.

You stood there leaning against the bar shamelessly looking each other over for another moment before he spoke up again, “I’m Derek Morgan.”

“I know,” you stated, flashing him a smile. He looked at you expectantly, but you weren’t about to give anything up.

He sighed a little, but gave you a small smile when he asked, “Well, if you won’t tell me your name, would you at least like to dance with me?”

You opened your mouth in fake surprise, “Ooh, so you’re a trade off kinda guy.”

He quickly backtracked, “No, that’s not-”

You laughed, cutting him off. “It’s okay, I like a little trade off. How about I dance with you, and if I’m any good, you put your number in my phone. If I’m not, I’ll tell you my name.”

He smirked, “Deal.”

Derek offered his hand and you gave him a small smirk as you took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

You both started rhythmically moving to the deafening beat, sharing glances and mimicking movements. The two of you owned the dance floor, people from all across the bar looking your way, but neither of you bothered to notice. You were way too caught up in each other, slowing moving closer and closer as you danced.

Being around him was electric, and each time your skin touched his it sent shock waves through your body, as if the man himself was made from lightning. You were becoming more and more convinced that he was handcrafted by the gods themselves.

You couldn’t remember how long you’d been on the dance floor, but when Derek dragged you off, it seemed like you could have wasted endless time in your own world out there. He was a great dancer, and you loved that he was more than willing to dance with you. Not enough men were interested in dancing like he seemed to be.

He pulled you off to the side in a low traffic, dark hallway. His whole figure seemed to glow despite the dim lighting, and the only real sound was your labored breathing above the muffled bass.

Derek’s eyes raked from your eyes down to your lips, so it was no surprise when his actions followed his gaze. His lips were on yours, and your back was in contact with the wall in a flash. He kissed you with more passion and vigour than the first time, completely dominating the kiss. You didn’t mind, wrapping your arms around his neck to get as close to him as you possibly could and then some. Your heart was racing as you tried to cling to the feeling, ignoring your lung’s cry for air.

Derek was the one who pulled away, but only to trail kisses down your neck, giving you enough time to catch your breath. “Hey, hey,” you whispered. He looked up at you with curious eyes, “Does this mean I won our little trade off?”

A hearty chuckle escaped his chest making your knees weak and he beamed at you as he answered, “I guess it does.”

You grabbed a wad of his shirt and pulled his lips to yours again, then released it to take his hand. You led him from the hallway and back to the bar where you’d left your phone, handing it to him. After he’d typed in his number, one of his friends from earlier, the same brunette, approached the two of you. Derek gave her a defeated look and she nodded her head. He sighed, an entire conversation you couldn’t follow happening in front of you. She shrugged and walked away.

When Derek’s attention was back on you, he said, “It looks like I have to go. But is there really nothing I can do to convince you to give me your name?”

You shook your head with a cheeky smile, “I guess you’ll just have to wait for a phone call.”

“You know,” he started with a joking tone, “I work for the FBI and could probably get your name if I wanted to.”

You laughed, “Is that where you’re off to?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered with dry humor.

“Interesting.” He gave you a look but you shrugged. “Makes sense, though, I’d pegged you as more of a SWAT guy.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but join him.

“Morgan, let’s go!” a blonde this time yelled to him.

He rolled his eyes, completely ignoring her and said, “I hope I hear from you soon.”

“Hang in there, Agent Derek Morgan,” you teased.

He flashed you that award-winning smile before turning to leave. You watched him all the way out the door, and once he got there, turned back to look at you. He smiled to himself again and left, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so.

Something about the energy in the room changed when he was gone, like all the electricity had followed him out. You were sure, then, that he wasn’t just created by Zeus, but had to have been Zeus himself. And you couldn’t wait to be struck by the lightning of his presence again.

Taglist

@90spumkin

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E4; Chapter Four, The Body - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧.

WARNINGS: Cursing. Homophobic comments from Tr*y [his in script use of the word fa*ry once] Reader fucking SNAPS.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

The five of us rode our bikes down the road to school, El on the back of Mike's bike as usual. She seemed eager to soak in everything around her like she would never see it again. Wind brushed the wig aside and she clung tightly to Mike.

Mike was beginning to slow down, the group of us all growing tired from the ride. Soon enough, however, we were walking through the back doors to the schools. Mike was in the lead as he turns to speak to us as we walked.

"Okay, remember, if anyone sees us, look sad."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

'He is still missing, isn't he?'

My thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of the speaker.

"Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period."

I looked to the ceiling at the mention of my best friend and by the time I looked ahead, we had made it outside the AV room. Mike was attempting to open the door but it must be locked.

"It's locked." Mike confirmed.

"What?" Lucas asked.

"Hey, El, is there any way for you to open it?" I ask.

Before she could respond, we all jumped at the voice of Mr. Clarke and froze.

"Boys? Lady." He nodded towards El.

"Hey." Lucas breathed, obviously startled.

"Assembly's about to start."

"We know. We're just, you know..." Mike works a solemn look on his face as he spoke and the others seemed to join in, including me although it wasn't that difficult.

"Upset." Lucas nodded, dropping his nervous smile.

"Yeah, definitely upset," Dustin muttered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better to say nothing at all and even looked down to the ground. Channeling all my emotions from just hours before.

"We need some alone time."

"To... cry." Dustin hesitated.

"Yeah, listen... I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let's just be there for Will, huh? And then," Mr. Clarke reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.

He tossed the key to Mike who caught it upon instinct.

"the Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?"

We all looked to each other, wearing subtle triumphant smirks. It couldn't have been that easy, could it?

Mr. Clarke seemed to finally notice that he had no idea who El was.

"I don't believe we've met. What's your name?"

El seemed shocked and began to say 'Eleven' when Mike panicked and cut in.

"Eleanor! She's my, uh-"

"Cousin!" Lucas jumped in.

"Second cousin," Dustin added.

I started to laugh but caught myself just in time to play it off as a cough. I pretended to clear my throat as I looked to Mr. Clarke who was looking a bit confused.

"She's here for Will's funeral." Mike sighed.

Mr. Clarke seemed content with this answer as he shrugged and turned to her.

"Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances."

She looked to us and Mike, then turned to Mr. Clarke nodding her head. "Thank you."

A small smile fought its way into my face. She was doing great.

"Uh, where are you from exactly?"

El shook her head, sighing exasperatedly. "Bad place-"

"Sweden!" Dustin cuts in.

"I have a lot of Swedish family."

"She hates it there."

"Cold!"

"Subzero."

Meanwhile, I had fought back another laugh at the whole exchange and I had to play it off as a cough yet again.

"Are you alright, Mr. Henderson?"

My head snapped up, but luckily I was fairly quick on my feet this time.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I woke up with a fever, haven't been feeling well all morning. But I insisted on coming. For Will." Mr. Clarke seemed satisfied with my answer and dismissed our odd behavior.

"Shall we?"

"Yep!" We all follow Mr. Clarke to the gymnasium in silence.

As we get closer, I can hear the principal speaking from inside.

"At times like these, it is important that we come together as a community. We come-"

Dustin swung open the gymnasium doors far too hard and the loud bang echoed throughout the gym that had drawn the attention of the crowd. I elbow Dustin. I feel him shifting on his feet beside me as panic sets in.

"Abort." He whispers, turning to leave.

Thankfully, Lucas stops him and shoved him forward.

"We come together to heal... we come together to grieve..."

As the principle continues his speech, the five of us wander into the bleachers to find a seat.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Will Byers' death is an unimaginable tragedy. Will was an exceptional student and a wonderful friend to all of us. It's impossible to express the hole his loss will leave in our community. I'd like to introduce you to Sandy Sloane. She's a local grief counselor from the church over in Jonesboro."

While the principal carried on, the five of us all looked to each other, all sharing the same thought.

'We need to get to that radio. And soon.'

"I just want those of you who are having trouble dealing with this tragic loss..."

"Look at these fakers." I heard Mike whisper.

"They probably didn't even know his name till today." Lucas scoffed.

My head whipped to the side when I heard hushed chuckling. I wasn't surprised to see Troy and his friend as the source of the laughter. I glared daggers into them and my hands gripped the edge of my seat until I was sure my knuckles would tear.

The boys and El seemed quick to follow my gaze because soon enough, we were all leaning over glaring at them.

"Who is interested in this? This is so stupid." He laughed.

I grit my teeth as my vision filled with red.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..."

"Y/n..." Lucas warned, reaching out for my arm. I wasn't paying attention, but for some reason, I felt his hand leave my arm almost as soon as he grabbed it.

"'Oh, he was such a great student. Oh, he's going to leave a hole in the community.'" Troy mocked, beginning to fake sob.

I began to shake with rage, wanting nothing more than to stand up and scream 'fu-'

"Y/n,"

"What?!" I hissed at Lucas, my head whipping around to face him, my jaw clenched.

I saw fear in his eyes as he glanced between my eye line and my hands. I looked down at my own hands to see the dangerously strong grip on the wood. I yanked my hands off the bench and rubbed my hands together, keeping to myself.

I was shocked to see the faintest imprint of the most vaguely shaped hand on the bench. It was hardly noticeable and I had to do a double take.

'What the hell?'

El was leaning over and she met my gaze. She briefly looked at my hands, seeming to dismiss whatever thoughts she had. Then looked to Troy.

"Mouth breather." She whispered.

I let out a strained chuckle and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, mouth breather." I whispered, looking back and Troy.

Eventually, the bell rang, dismissing the assembly. Even though Lucas and Dustin seemed to have let it go, Mike and I were not finished.

"Hey! Hey! Hey Troy." Mike called.

I could tell he could hear us because he barely slowed down but was clearly laughing. I stomped towards him and called him out, loud and clear.

"Hey, jackass!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around. He seemed like he wanted to be mad, but almost like he was happy he got a rise out of us.

"You think that shit was funny?" My voice never wavered and the boys and El seemed just as shocked as I was feeling at my newfound courage.

"What'd you say, orphan?" He asked, dumbfounded.

He only called me that when he was really pissed at me.

"You heard me! And how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not an orphan if I was adopted, you dumbass! Now what the hell is in that tiny brain of yours that would compel you to laugh at someone dying, huh? I mean, shit, you must really be sick in the head. I feel sorry for you." I spit out my last few words, my voice dripping with malice.

By now I was in his face, finally letting out all the pent-up aggression I've harbored for years. And it felt good.

"Get the hell outta my face, freak!" He yells shoving me back.

I get ready to strike but Dustin grabs my arm before my fist can collide with Troy's face. I struggle to get free but my brother was determined to hold me back, with the help of Lucas of course.

"Control your 'brother', Toothless. Or he just might lose a few teeth of his own." He glares at me and I still attempt to break free.

Mike seems to have found his voice as all of this happened because he was the next to speak.

"H-Hey, he's right! Laughing like that? That's a pretty messed up thing to do."

Troy, glares at us as his minion speaks.

"Didn't you listen to the counselor, freaks? Grief shows itself in funny ways."

"You little shit-" I attempt once more to get a right hook in but Lucas stops me.

Troy laughs at me struggling.

"Besides, what's there to be sad about, anyway? Will's in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay!"

Lucas loosened his grip on me, silently letting me go as Troy began dancing around, mocking Will.

I swung my fist and I felt it collide with his nose with a satisfying crack. He stumbled back and grasped his nose in surprise, he pulled his hand away to find a few drops of blood on his hands. The crowd that had gathered while all of this unfolded, gasped in surprise. I even earned some scattered cheers among the students.

I seemed to realize the consequences of my actions, but I was prepared to face them. It was worth it. I watched as he stormed towards me, blinded by fury.

"You're dead, freak!" He stomped towards me at a shocking speed and I stumbled back, bracing myself for the inevitable retaliation but it never came.

All I felt was a sudden pair of hands on my right arm, harshly pushing me out of the way. I looked in time to see it was Mike who pushed me out of the way. I gakwed in confusion at what happened next.

Troy had just begun to raise his arm as he was only inches from Mike when he froze.

He completely froze in place.

He seemed just as confused, if not more than anyone. That confusion quickly bubbled into fear as his eyes scanned the room as much as he could without moving his head.

It finally dawned on me and I spared a quick glance at El, who was laser-focused on Troy, head tilted down and the smallest hint of blood dripping from her nose. I smirked and looked back to Troy, a smug smile on my face.

I couldn't hold back the laughter as I saw his pants begin to dampen with urine. A stream of it began pooling at his leg, and it even soaked into his socks and shoes. Other students caught on quickly and one boy in particular, began laughing.

"Dude, Troy peed himself!"

The circle of kids erupted into laughter as Troy stood frozen in a puddle of his own pee. I turned to El, who wore a devilish smirk on her face as she glanced between Mike and me. She quickly wiped her nose and started walking away. The boys and I enjoyed this brief moment of bliss.

"Hey! What is going on here?" The principle shouted.

"Come on!" I whisper, gesturing for the boys who all had the same idea. Before people could start asking questions we grouped together and made our way to the AV room unnoticed.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Call Girl.

for you Zbops... anything

part one   part two

Endevour x camgirl!Reader

wanrings: sugar daddy, sex, Mentions of drug use, choking, jealousy,  Daddy kink, mentions of cam girls and sex work. 

word count: 1,800 (about)

summary: idk this is weird and horny and doesn’t have a plot. 

“(y/n) please? Endeavor likes you he’s not going to be mean if you’re there,” Keigo whined tugging at your sleeve. You shook him off. It was true that ever since you started fucking Endeavor, he was a little bit nicer to your boss. Or to put it more accurately, he hurried your boss out of the office so the two of you could have fun. This new development certainly made your life more interesting. It added a new thrill to your live shows to know that the number one hero was watching along with all the normal people. 

Your bank account was also taking a boost from this new relationship. You had been worried Enji would try to strong-arm you into giving him more content for free. But no, Endeavor was more than happy to pay for all sorts of premium content on the side as well as compensating you for the in person time you spent together. It was almost enough money to quit your day job with Hawks and become a full time play thing for the older richer man.

“Sorry Hawks but I’m already busy tonight cleaning up after you so you’ll have to go with out me,” you huffed making him pout. “But by all means send my love to Endeavor if you think that will make him nicer somehow,” you added already imagining how that would play out. 

“There’s no way you can reschedule?” he asked for the hundredth time. a couple of photographers got a less than flattering picture of Hawks smoking a joint and if you didn’t wrangle that picture out of their cold dead hands it was your ass on the line. 

“this is an emergency Keigo, you can stand one meeting with the man now go, before you’re late,” you said shoving him out of the window, a horrible thing to do to any one except the winged hero himself. 

Endeavor did nothing to hide his disappointment when he saw you weren’t with Hawks. What was the point of dealing with the annoying blonde If you weren’t with him?

“don’t pout old man She wanted to come promise. Even told me to give you a big kiss for her,”

“Sit down,” he snapped rolling his eyes. You had been such a tease all day long, with not only a constant stream of revealing photos on your onlyfans and premium snap chat. but the personal texts about how much you missed him for the past few days where what really got to him. 

“So how long have you been fucking my secretary?” hawks asked stopping him in his tracks

“I’m married, I’m not sleeping with anyone.” Endeavor shot back. Hawks rolled his eyes

“You don’t have to lie to me, I get it. You like her because she’s hot and she likes you because of Daddy issues I just want to know if you’re like exclusive or if I still have a shot with her-”

A hot wave of jealousy hit him. He’d never felt bothered by the fact that other men were looking at you and fantasied about you but some how if it was Hawks it would be too far. 

“Do what you want with your slutty PA, I don’t touch her.” 

“Bull shit, every time we have a meeting you rush me out so you can get your nasty hands on her and you leave marks you know that? you could at least be gentle with her, Dude,” Hawks chided. He had known he’d left bruises. He liked seeing the jealous comments asking whose hand was branded on your thighs. He just hadn’t known Hawks had noticed too. He was always under estimating the number two.  

“So what if I am?” he asked. “what difference does it make to you?”

“Like I said I want to know if I have a shot with her,”

“you don’t,”

“You think so? I think I’ve got a chance if she likes Heroes,” Endeavor was going to kill him. 

You groaned leaving the restaurant. You had succeeded, but It had taken a lot out of you. You wanted to go home but as you checked your phone you saw Endeavor texted you. 

Hawks said you’d be out tonight. Come over to my office once you’re done. I don’t care how late it is. 

you smiled, you could use some stress relief right about now

on my way

Just a few moments later you were knocking on his office door. You wondered if he would be needy, something must be up, he’s never demaned you came over like this, sex was more of a heat of the moment thing. 

“Come in,” he barked.  You hadn’t even closed the door behind you before Enji was marching over to you. 

“You kept me waiting,” he growled and lifted you off the ground as easily as if you weighed nothing at all. His strength amazed you sometimes. You weren’t the lightest girl in the world but he had no trouble as he dropped you on his oak desk.

He grabbed your jaw roughly and shoved his tounge in your mouth his other hand already reaching to remove your blouse. The flames of his beard tickled your jaw as he mauled your mouth. They weren’t hot enough to burn, just warm enough to heat up your face while he trailed kisses over your body. 

Endevour had never been perticularly gentile with you per say, but now he was being especially rough. While he normally was carful not to rip your clothing so you could leave just as put together as you came in, this time he didn’t sem to care at all. Buttons flew as he tugged off your shirt and you heard ripping sounds as he unclasped your bra

“E-Enji,” you gasped as his teeth grazed the pulse point of your neck. He ignored you and kept biting down your neck. 

“you have no idea how badly I need you” he growled gnawing at your skin, He pried one of your hands off of his chest and pushed it between his legs letting you feel how much he needed you. 

You looked down and saw his aching cock through his impossibly tight hero costume, you could almost make out the veins through the taught fabric. you flattened your palm against his shaft slowly masaging his cock while he continued his assault on your torso. 

His large hands easily cupped your breasts kneading the globes of flesh roughly. He pushed you down laying your back against the desk. Enji grabbed you by the knees and pushed your legs apart forcing your skirt up around your waist. he jerked you down pressing your clothed cunt to his cock. 

His body covered yours easily as he leaned down kissing you agian, this time his lips landing on your chest, peppering your tits with marks. Enji loved his hickeys loved claiming you. if you were being honest. you liked it too. In a weird way it made you feel special. 

His hips rutted against your slowly humping your clothed sex. Both of you groaned at the friction. His hand snaked up tangling in your hair and yanking back. You cried out in pleasure as pain ripped through your scalp. You clawed at his shoulders encouraging his actions. 

“Mine,” He growled “look at me you are mine,” he stated firmly tugging on your hair again. his eyes were bright with fury.

“I don’t care how much that bird-brained fuck offers to pay you I’ll tripple it, this pussy is mine and If Hawks tries to touch you I’ll rip his head off.” He rolled his hips agian and your cunt clenched. you felt so empty, you struggled against his grasp to no avail, you desperately wanted him to fuck you already. 

“I-I don’t want to fuck Keigo,” you whimpered back in response. He pulled back ripping off your underwear before reaching to rip off his own under garments

“After tonight you won’t want anyone else,”

His cock was proportional,  just as large and intimidating as the rest of him. 

“Do you need to be stretched or are you still fucked loose from last night?” He purred teasing the head against your clit. Last night you’d done a stream again with the novelty Endeavor themed dildo and you knew no amout of stretching was going to stop this from hurting, but you welcomed the pain. 

“Just fuck me already, please Daddy I need it so much,” you moaned spreading your legs as far as you could while he was gripping your legs.  He smirked and pushed in. 

He didn’t bother going slow, you didn’t need slow pampering, you needed friction if you were going to feel better. The moment he was fully sheathed inside of you he pulled back thrusting in again.

“His pathetic prick couldn’t even compare, I wonder if you’d even feel him your cunt’s so stretched to the shape of my cock,” he growled in your ear. your eyes rolled back in your head as he pounded into, gutteral moans being pulled from your throat. The streach of his cock burned, but slowly the ache turned to pleasure as your doughy walls relaxed, and more slick coated his cock. 

“f-faster Daddy please,” you moaned. He complied shaking the desk with each rock of his hips. 

He took your cheeks in his hands tugging your face up to his level so he could bite your jaw. He let out a low groan against you skin. He was close, you could feel it. 

“Fuck I’m going to cum,”  you moaned knowing he wouldn’t be far behind. His Hand dropped to your neck cutting off your airflow. 

“Go ahead and cum on my cock, I want to feel you cream on my cock,” he growled

“you- you too, I want you to cum to,” you moaned your body spasming under his muscular frame. 

“I’ll cum when I’m damn ready slut, Just do what you’re told,” He spat.  His cock hit your g-spot making you see stars. 

“there’s my good girl,” he praised, he gripped your hips and started moving your body for you, using you like a doll as he chased his own release. 

“you’re sweet cunt is perfect for me baby, and only me,” he growled. His hips snapped forward burrying himself inside of you, his cock throbbing with release. 

“There, now you’re insides are claimed too, so you better not forget who you belong too,” he growled relaxing his grip on your neck, you slumped back on the desk, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. he pulled out and a river of semen spurted out of you. You had teased him about how much he came in the first private show, but it was always wild to see it in person.

“You sure know how to make a mess,” you teased grabbing a tissue to clean yourself up.

“It’s not a mess it’s a reminder,” he purred kissing your forehead. 

“Yeah now I’ll never forget who’s my daddy,”

[jamespotterthefirst]

The Viper (AU: Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Words: 1.5 K Warning: Cursing. Mentions of s e x Summary: Detective Ramsey is a step closer to capturing a notorious criminal. If only Miss Allende, a key witness, would cooperate.

Author’s Note: I am an idiot because the beautiful @beastlyinstrument sent me this AU prompt and I didn't know I was to write a fic. Anyway, once I caught on, I got right to work on this lol. Thank you so much for the prompt! Thank you immensely to @aestheticartsx for pre-reading!

When Ethan awoke that morning, he couldn't possibly predict he'd be punching Declan Nash square in the jaw. It was a long standing fantasy of his and finally, in the crowded, smoke-filled bar, Ethan had found a good enough excuse to do it. One minute, the lecherous pig was forcing his company on the visibly distressed blonde, the next Ethan was shoving him away and punching him with such spectacular force that Nash flew back into a storm of glasses, bottles, and furniture.

Ethan also never imagined his hand, red and swollen from the satisfying impact against Nash's leering face, would be tended to in a desolate dressing room by the loveliest woman he had ever set eyes on. Then again, his mind would require an exceptional measure of talent to invent the perfect arch of her brows, the graceful slope of her nose, the lush swell of her lips. And those eyes— almond-shaped, bright, and the most captivating shade of green imaginable.

Alluring green eyes that were currently meeting his, sending his pulse into an elated flutter.

“All better,” she informed him in that caress of a voice.

Something about the spark in her eyes as she watched him put in a comfortable and flirtatious lull, so much unlike his usual self. The same warm ease had blossomed in his chest when his eyes met hers from across the bar only minutes ago.

“Are you certain you're not a doctor, Miss…”

“Allende,” she supplied, red lips curling into a coy smile. “And no doctors here, just years of experience cleaning up messes. Though if they all looked as handsome as you, I wouldn't mind patching them up.”

She punctuated the heady little pronouncement with a wink that almost made his breath hitch. Ethan's good hand twitched at his side just as she moved away to a vanity. All he could do was watch as she placed herself in front of the lighted mirror, reapplying her lipstick with skilled precision.

“So what brings you here, Detective Ramsey? Don't tell me you just stopped by to defend my honor from the likes of Declan Nash.”

“Though an honorable pursuit, that's not the reason for my visit,” he said, their eyes meeting through the mirror. “I'm here to investigate the Kenmore bank robbery from two nights ago.”

Miss Allende hummed in acknowledgement but added nothing more.

“A reliable source claimed I could come here to find all the information I needed about the Viper.”

She raised her perfectly shaped brows at him.

“You think the Viper is a regular here?”

“It's what I'm here to find out.”

There was a pause in which she realized his intent. To his surprise, she laughed.

“And you think I'm the one who's going to rat the Viper out?”

When Ethan said nothing, only held her gaze steadily, she laughed even more still. This time, Ethan could hear an edge to the sound, something akin to fear.

“I'm not that keen on making enemies, Detective.”

In the silence that followed, she carefully brushed the platinum blonde curls that cascaded down to her shoulders. Those green eyes remained fixed on her reflection, and something told him she was studiously avoiding his eye. His instinct told him she was afraid, despite how masterfully she tried to hide it under the flirtatious veil. To his astonishment, his stomach clenched unpleasantly, the urge to protect her tightening his jaw.

Before he could think of a tactful way to continue his questioning, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of the black dress clinging to her skin. “Now, if that was everything, Detective Ramsey, I really must be getting back to the bar. I'm due on stage in less than ten minutes.”

Ethan intercepted her before he could stop himself as she moved to the door.

“Please, Miss Allende—”

“Lilac.”

“What?”

“My name. You can call me Lilac.”

“That's—”

Beautiful.

He had never heard anything like it.

“Lilac. Anything you might know about the criminal known as the Viper will be of great help.”

Lilac paused, studying his expression for any trustworthiness she could cling on to. Ethan gazed back, acutely aware of how close their faces were in the silence. Something slipped in her guarded expression, revealing a small hint of vulnerability.

At last, she sighed.

“I can't,” she said in a quiet voice. “I'm not—”

“I will protect you.”

Lilac startled at that, as though she had seldom heard the words before. She swallowed, her gaze holding his as she considered his offer, something heavy and tangible pressing into the small space that separated them.

“You offering to be my bodyguard, Detective?” she asked in a sultry voice, the words dripping from her lips like honey. She added a coquettish smile for good measure, leaving no doubt that the mask was securely back into place. “I accept, but you don't need the job title to press me against a wall with your body.”

Ethan had no hope of pushing his point as a crimson nail traced the outline of his jaw. The slow, lazy line made his breath hitch, his mind racing with thoughts of her tight little body flush against his.

Fuck the wall.

He could bend her over that vanity, forcing her to look at him through the mirror as she whimpered his name.

Lilac shifted closer to him still, lips parted as her finger descended down his neck. The intent in her gaze told him she wanted the same thing. Ethan leaned in to capture her lips but something in the mirror caught his attention and made him pause.

Lilac blinked at him, befuddled by his sudden stony expression.

“What?”

Ethan said nothing, observing the stain on the skin of her back. It was insignificant, otherwise imperceptible if not by the slight shift in the fabric of her dress.

Yet, there it was, as present as any hard evidence he might find.

“You missed a spot.”

Lilac stepped away from him, puzzled.

“What are—”

“Tar is notoriously difficult to get off the skin, isn't it, Miss Allende?” His voice grew icier with every word. “But you knew that. Hell, you knew that two nights ago when you slipped on the Kenmore rooftop during the chase.”

“Fuck!” the masked figure had hissed as they hit the black substance coating part of the roof.

She continued to back away. “I don't know what—”

“Tell me, Miss Allende, did you research Kenmore before you decided to strike?”

“You're—”

“Did you know the rooftops were under construction before you led us up there in your hasty little escape attempt?”

Lilac finally halted her steps, keeping her eyes trained on Ethan.

Something shifted in her expression, like a mask falling to the floor.

Then, she smiled wickedly at Ethan.

“Very good, Detective Ramsey. Maybe you are as good as they say you are.”

There was a pronounced silence, steely blue eyes boring into effervescent green ones. In a blinding motion, they both moved—Ethan to restrain, Lilac to evade.

Their bodies were a flurry of limbs moving to strike or to defend. The furniture in the small dressing stood no chance against their skill, which Ethan was surprised to find Lilac possessed. She moved with admirable grace and precision for someone wearing stilettos and a confining, skin-tight dress. It didn't stop her from aiming a high kick at his head, which Ethan barely dodged.

“You're under arrest,” he grunted when he pushed her against a wall.

Lilac laughed in his face, her crimson lips only inches from his.

“You're cute when you're confident, Ramsey.”

In a swift movement, she freed her body from his hold, light and unassailable like the waters of a raging river.

More swirls of movement as they struck, blocked, and kicked, each paired with a breathless grunt or swear. At last, just as his technique descended into sloppiness, Ethan managed to press her against the wooden tiles of the floor. His hands pinned her wrists above her head, his knees digging securely against her hips.

“How did you know?” she asked between pants, still donning a devious smile despite her position. “That this is my favorite position to be in?”

Ethan stiffened as he held her, unable to look away from the rise and fall of her chest. It struck him then how fighting her was not unlike fucking her, just how they wanted only minutes ago. Before he could reign his thoughts in, she freed her legs, hitched them on his hips, and reversed their positions with trained strength and agility.

“Or maybe me on top is better?” she asked thoughtfully.

Ethan grunted, moving to free himself from her grasp, but she was surprisingly strong.

“It's a shame you're a damn good detective,” she continued. “We would've had so much fun together.”

As Ethan unsuccessfully tried to free himself, he saw Lilac's hands delve into her blonde curls until she removed what he now knew to be a wig. A downpour of glossy, dark hair fell past her shoulders, reminiscent of the dark braid he thought he saw in the darkness on the night of the chase. Even struggling and breathless as he was, his traitorous mind couldn't help but recognize how much lovelier she looked with dark hair.

“You'll never get away, Viper.”

Lilac laughed out loud at the use of the moniker, which felt so ill fitted.

“Even as talented as you are, I'm afraid you don't have all the facts yet.” She pressed a hot, languid kiss to his neck before using his own handcuffs to bind him to a nearby pipe. “But something tells me you'll get there soon enough.”

With one last charming smile, she rearranged her dark hair, hoisted herself onto the window, and vanished into the night.

_________________________

Author's Note: Y'all I don't know what this was lol. Thank you so much for reading this! It was so much fun!

A few notes:

The next chapter of my OH3 AU is almost done. Yay!

I'm almost caught up with replies and reading all the fics I missed out on the week I was gone. Double yay!

And (not to jinx myself) but I might finally sit my butt down to complete the next chapter of the Picta series (ages later oops)

Thank you everyone for being here, despite it being almost a month the OPH ended :( Love you guys!

*tags in a reblog

[yeojaa]

( VELVETEEN RABBIT. )

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi?  Answer:  Jeon Jungkook.

pairing.  french lop bunny!jjk x ragdoll cat f!reader.

genre + rating.   hybrid!au set in college.  super fluffy, a little angsty, with a dash of smut to balance it all out.  explicit towards the end because i just can’t help myself.  oops.

tags / warnings.  honestly, this jungkook should just come with his own warning.  but more realistically, mentions of kook using a scrunchie, kook being cute, kook railing his date after using the world’s worst puns...  the usual.

wc.  4.4k

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ as always become, c’mon.  i’m me.  she’s her.  

author note.  this was written as part of @thebtswritersclub​‘s a hybrid fest and is gloriously late (i’m so sorry @ditttiii​​).  i’ve never written anything hybrid-related before so hopefully you enjoy.  feedback goes a long way!  xoxo

He orders the same thing every time he’s in.  Iced Americano, no room for cream, and a single almond croissant.  (Every once in a while, he switches it up for matcha but that’s exceedingly rare.)  He always pays with a tap of his wrist - a sleek black AppleWatch with rubber band - and flashes his trademark slightly too-big smile.  All the girls swoon.  So do the guys.  Everyone except for you.

He’s unnervingly handsome, with long dark ears that sometimes hang in front of his eyes.  You’ve caught him with them pulled back Lola Bunny-style, knotted with a loose silk scrunchie that looks nearly as soft as his fur.  His hair’s usually unkempt, tossed into a little sprout of a bun, overly long fringe falling all over his big round eyes.  He wears butterfly clips sometimes, though that’s usually on days where he isn’t freshly sweaty and carrying his gym bag.  They appear in his hair when it’s damp from a shower, the smell of papaya and honey clinging to every inch of him.  You know, because you have a great nose - one that’s sensitive to every smell under the sun but especially his.  (You try not to think about it much.)  

It’s a Wednesday morning when you notice the change.  It doesn’t register at first, acknowledgement coming in a curious sniff at the air.  Weird. 

“Thanks,” he says like clockwork, a well-oiled polite machine, deceptively slender hands receiving the exceedingly hot cup without a care in the world. He’s got his usual bag over his shoulder - overly big, black, almost tactical - and a pair of comfortable looking pants on that seem more like they belong on your beloved grandmother.  Somehow, he rocks it (but he always does).  “Have a nice day.”

Because of course he says that.  Of course he steals the words right out of your mouth, turns them back on you as easy as he makes your heart rattle around in your chest like it’s a Friday night bingo ball. 

He moves toward the bar - he only ever grabs three napkins, tucks them into the slot on the left side of his bag - but pauses halfway there.  Rooted to the same spot as always, sleek ears following the imposing line of his shoulders.  

One, two—

The thumping starts, so quiet it’s almost negligible.  But you catch it, because you always do and because you’re the reason for it. 

He turns then, levels you with a look from the corner of those pretty, pretty eyes and you can’t help but laugh, openly, unashamedly, with the back of your hand plastered to your mouth. A true ojou-sama. 

His mouth quirks - does that funny thing where he sucks in his cheek then rolls it back out with his tongue - and you think he might finally say something.  Call you out for writing his name wrong for the past five weeks, finding more and more creative ways to do so every time.  Even occasionally using nicknames - silly things you’d come up with while on the walk home, or during lunch, or in bed.

“Good one,”  he states, laugh lines threading over his face, prominent around his eyes.  His nose wiggles with the sound - another of his traits that comes out to play often.  Your favourite of them all, if you’re being honest.

“Anytime.”  

You don’t realise it’s him until it’s too late, until you’re practically running into him, bouncing off the broad expanse of his back with a startled squeak.  Lucky for you, you’re quick on your feet, catching yourself before your skull can become too well-acquainted with the red brick wall to your right.

“You okay?”  Though he asks, you have a sneaking suspicion he knows you’re not and an even stronger suspicion that he’d been waiting for you, hovering past the entrance of the cafe with his big university hoodie on.

“Barely,”  you manage around a laugh, straightening the backpack slung over your shoulders, packed to the brim with goodies you got to bring home at the end of the night and two of your textbooks.

“Should watch where you’re going.”  

This is the most conversation you’ve had - ever.  But it’s fun, easy, organic and natural.  You wonder why that is. 

“You should watch where you’re standing, actually.”

He’s so much bigger than you, imposingly tall (especially being part of the Leporidae family) and wide in the chest.  Not bulky by any means, but big.  Strong.  Threaded with a strength you don’t normally see in hybrids of his kind.  It probably has to do with how often you see him covered in sweat and panting, basketball hooked under his arm, soccer cleats tied to his bag.

When he speaks again, it’s full of mirth, squeezing his round eyes near shut.  “Got a problem with me standing here?”  

You nod, solemn as ever (which is really never, but that’s besides the point).  “It’s dangerous to block entryways, didn’t you know?”  You’re gesturing to the awning, the dark interior just past the window of the shop.  “You’re loitering, Jungkook.”

“So you do know my name.”  You can tell he’s not surprised - that he’s hamming it up for dramatics, softly pink lips rounded in a little ‘O’.  He’s cute like this, you think.  Playful in a way you’ve never seen before.  

“I do?” 

There’s that cheek thing again.  It’s even more attractive up close, the shape of his jaw thrown into prominent relief when he sucks in a breath.  

“You just said it.”

You nod, thoughtful, finger tapping upon your chin.  “I guess I did.”

“Say it again,”  he states, expression inscrutable, eyes bright.  They’re so glossy even under the dimmed streetlights, impossibly big and undeniable.  So easy to get lost in - if your attention weren’t caught by something else.

“What is that?”  

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, caught the scent in passing sometime during the early hours.  You’d been unable to place it then, too distracted by freshly ground coffee, a girl’s three too many spritzes of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, and baking banana loaves.

It’s heady, masculine.  A strong musk that sinks into your nose and makes it twitch, ears rotating as if that’ll help pin the smell down.  

“What’s what?”  You hadn’t realised how close you’d become, your face five seconds from planting directly into his chest.  (It’d probably be nice - you know how soft your school’s merchandise is.)  “Are you okay?”  He asks because you’re now, actually, planting your face right against the worn navy cotton.  It’s terribly nice, silk upon your cheek.  

You answer more to his clothes than to him, nosing into the fabric. “You smell different.”

You feel more than hear his laughter, the sound barreling past his teeth seconds later.  The vibrations running along his spine jostle you from your position face first upon him but you don’t mind.  It doesn’t send you far, dark eyes peering up into the face of the bunny hybrid.  True to his kind, his nose is twitching, puffs of laughter expanding his cheeks when he meets your stare. 

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”  Tone firm, a finger lands upon the neatly embroidered N on his hoodie.  The white stitching stands in stark contrast to your baby blue nails.  “You smell… off.”

Whether Jungkook’s offended or not, you can’t tell.  He’s got that same strange expression on his face - the one from this morning when he’d received his coffee.  It’s made up of too many moving parts:  the flutter of his lashes, the coil of his jaw, the minute tick of the corner of his mouth.  You can’t read him for shit, somehow more confused now than in your 300-level art history class.  (You’d taken it as one of your optional electives assuming it’d be an easy A.  You were wrong.)

“Sorry you think so,”  he hums, looking down at you.  You’ve seemed to fully forget the meaning of personal space, edged up beside him as if you’re best friends and not just two ships passing in the night. 

“It’s not bad.”  Really, it isn’t.  It’s strong and sensual, vegetal in a way, calming in another.  But it isn’t unwelcome. 

In fact, you think you might like this scent a little more - less sweet than what normally clings to his skin, natural honeycomb rather than processed sugar.  It zings across your teeth, pieces broken up and scattered behind your molars.  You can practically taste it.  Him.

“Is that so?”  

“Yep.”

You share a look - one that says more than all the words you’ve ever spoken, that threads together all the silly laughter, narrowed stares, (written) flirtations.  It settles between the two of you, filling the spaces with something akin to cotton, light and airy and soft.

The desire to speak lingers, hidden just beyond the cotton candy dusting.  Should you?  Shouldn’t you?  You still have no idea what he’s doing here, a street urchin making his rounds on the campus village.  

He beats you to it.  “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”  

You don’t think you could want anything more.  “Sure.”

Silence falls again but it’s comfortable, a caress rather than a crutch.  The grounds are surprisingly quiet - wayward students on their way to the library or heading home from lectures.  There are no picnic blankets spread across the grass, no gaggles of girls dressed in school colours.  It feels like the first day of fall, change sitting heavy in the air. 

“So—”  You start.

He finishes,  “do you wanna go on a date with me?” 

That’s surprising.  (Or is it?  You’re not really sure.)  You nearly trip over your own two feet in your haste to look at him, entire body swivelling on the spot because apparently you can’t just turn your head like a normal person.  Something something all or nothing. 

“What?”  

“Do.  You.  Want.  To—”  He’s being insufferable for the hell of it.  You can see it in his eyes, glossy things shining down at you like he’s got the entire fucking nightsky hung in them.  

“Not if you keep that up,”  you retort, though you both know you’re lying.  You’ve been waiting - wishing, wanting - for this moment since the day you laid eyes on him.  Since Yuri had elbowed you so hard in the ribs you’d thought you’d be bruised for days, since Jae had rambled on and on for his entire shift about the cute new bunny who’d come in that morning.  Since that very first wrongly spelt name on his plastic cup and every visit since.  

“Is that a challenge?”  

“You won’t get it in.”  

He scoffs, loud and drawn out, cheek rounding with disbelief at your disbelief.  How can you possibly doubt him - school basketball star and all-around athletic freak of nature? 

“What do I get if I do?”  The ball rests in his palm, poised to be shot through the hoop, sunk without making contact with the rim.  He’s confident - he’s done it a million times.  

“A pat on the back?”  As much as you tease him - loop mockery around nearly every syllable you speak, you’re endlessly supportive, already carrying the fruits of his labour under your arms.  A Pikachu shoved haphazardly into the purse slung across your body, a Snorlax tucked under your arm at an awkward angle that crushes his poor head, a Sylveon tucked into the side pocket of his joggers.  (The arcade was really into Pokemon, apparently.)  “Me saying thank you?”

“Not good enough.”  He leans in close - those big galaxy eyes practically swallowing you whole - and taps a single finger upon your nose.  It makes your nostrils flare, an itch blooming under his touch.  “Gotta sweeten the deal.”

You must look hilarious because Jungkook’s biting back a smile, smirking down at you.  Then, all at once, without breaking eye contact, he’s extending his arm, flicking his wrist, and— swish!  

In goes the ball, leaving him with a perfect score.  

“I want you to stay the night.”

You think he’s joking.  He must be joking.  This is your third date.  

But he’s staring at you like he’s completely serious, gaze expectant, lips pursed around something that reads like a smile but has your heart doing a strange little one-two step in your chest.  It soars for a moment, high above the clouds like the string orchestra of a choral work - Beethoven’s Ninth in D minor. 

“Are you propositioning me, Jeon Jungkook?”  It’s the same reaction he always has when you say his name: a twitch of his ear, the corner of his bottom lip quirking and then resetting, eyes so sparkly it’s almost absurd.

“No.  I’m just telling you what I want.”

“Huh.”  You should say no.  Guys like him - with charm that oozes out of every pore, whose offhanded smiles break more hearts than you ever have - are almost always bad news.  Too sweet, too funny, simply too much for your feeble heart to take.  

“Is that a yes?”  He’s got you in his clutches - a viper rather than a hare, with a smile so dangerous you’re paralysed by just the sight of it.  (Who needs venom?)

Your words catch in your throat, stick to one another like the deformed gummies at the bottom of the movie theatre bag.  What comes out isn’t what you expect.  “Okay.”

Damn you.  Damn him.  Damn how good he smells and the big dumb grin that spreads over his lips, sunshine in human form, undeniable and warm and cute enough to start a war over.  (That’s probably what’s happening - a vicious battle between your head and your heart.)  

Damn his stupid thumping foot that you can make out over the sound of the video games, the boisterous din.  It’s so cute you can’t help yourself from smiling, mouth pulling and pursing around the delight that begs to be freed.  

“Cool,”  he says, and you almost think that’s not very cool.  He’s so nonchalant, cavalier about it as if it means nothing.  You’d be bothered if you felt like you didn’t know him so well - hadn’t learnt his idiosyncrasies over the last two months.  

How he looks when he laughs really hard, his slightly too-big front teeth taking up all the real estate in his mouth.  How he sounds when he’s tired (groggy, with a lisp that rarely sees the light of day otherwise) or when he’s told he’s wrong (pouty, with his bottom lip jutted out so cutely you want to scream).  How he runs every morning, hits the gym every night, and eats double your protein because fitness, bro!  How his cheat meal of choice is soy garlic fried chicken from the place off-campus and he hates tangy, tart desserts (your lemonade lip gloss not included, he insists).  How he can’t sleep if he’s too hot - which he often is - and he spends way too long combing through his ears with a specialty brush he doesn’t let anyone touch.  How he’s secretly raindrops and gummy bears and hand holding in the car, so much more than his high school superlative of most likely to grace the cover of GQ.

You wonder, because you know those things, does that make you special?  Does it make you immune to the heartbreak that you swear you imagine whenever your mood drops (not often, but often enough)?  

You hope so.

“Let’s go shoot guns?”  He’s tearing you from your reverie, planting an open-mouthed kiss to your temple.  It’s sloppy and not very refined, much less suave than what you’d expect from your school’s soccer captain (and basketball small forward and swim team stand-in).  You suppose that’s why you like him so much - because he’s always surprising you, keeping you on your toes. 

“Let’s.”  You agree, letting your date drag you toward the Time Crisis machine.  It’s blissfully unoccupied, allowing the two of you to slide into place.  He takes the blue gun, you the red.  

He squeezes your hip when you take up position, one eye squeezed shut as you look down the barrel of the plastic weapon.  “Better not let me die.”

“Better not get shot,”  you return.  

He doesn’t listen - failing halfway through the helicopter scene, his shot missing and resulting in some sad miserable death in the form of Continue? blinking across the screen.  Neither of you mind that much though.  He occupies himself on his phone, free hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.  You play better when he’s not shouting terrible call-outs, nearly crashing into you because he gets so into it.

(How he’s never got a concussion on the basketball/soccer/etc. field before, you’re not sure.)

By the time you’re done - a good five minutes later, you think - Jungkook’s growing restless, tugging at your belt loops enough that you stumble with every shot, nearly knocking yourself out when you have to steady yourself on the centre console.  

“Kook!”  Your glare is barely that, too affectionate to dissuade him from his childish antics.  

He pulls you forward, traps you between his thick thighs, tattooed hands settling comfortably on your hips.  “Let’s go home.”

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

Of course, he doesn’t deny that.

It’s not the first time you’ve been over.  Not even your second or third.  You’ve met up with him before his games, thrown his jersey overtop and helped him wrap his fingers before hitting the court.  You’d even had to grab his cleats for him once, running across campus as he did drills in his socks as punishment.

This time feels different.  You know why but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow.  It lodges somewhere in your throat, makes it hard to breathe when you kick off your shoes and tuck them neatly beside Jungkook’s.  

“Are you hungry?”  He’s already in the small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at you as you linger in the adjoining hallway, bag halfway over your head.  

“I’m good.”  You are, really.  You’d eaten one donut too many at the arcade, indulged in a little too much disgusting nacho cheese goodness.  You don’t really understand how your date’s still hungry, a cucumber crunching between his teeth when he turns back to you. 

Standing there, vegetable devoured in quick, decisive bites, he looks every inch the French lop bunny he is.

You reach him in the same instant he finishes his midnight snack.  Arms fold around you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, head dropping to rest comfortably upon yours.  Like this, his ears tickle your cheek - velveteen fur lost to the silk of your hair.  “Are you tired?”  

Another no comes - spoken into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater - and he hums above you, whole frame rattling with the noise.  

“No bed then?”  

At least he’s transparent, you think.

“One track mind much?”  You’re only teasing.  A part of you looks forward to… whatever it is that sits over the horizon, lost past the creaky bedroom door and somewhere beneath his surprisingly soft sheets.  (You’d asked about them once - he’d told you his mother liked to send him housewares to remind him of home.  He was a real mama’s boy that way.)

The monster only laughs, snuggles into your hair like it’s home.  “Can you blame me?”  

You can’t do much of anything when he’s like this - so utterly adorable and enticing and good for your heart that it feels as if you’ve taken a straight dose of morphine.

“Let’s go to bed, Wookie.”  Another nickname, recently coined after you’d spent an evening watching Star Wars for the first time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whack him on the way to his bedroom, smack a hand over the arm curled around your shoulders.  He pretends like it hurts, howls in a way he he thinks resembles a wounded animal but really just sounds stupid.  “Not a ma’am.”

“Sir?”  He asks, just to make you laugh. 

“If you don’t shut up—”  

He pushes you through the door of his bedroom while giggling to himself, sound puffing out of his cheeks.  “Don’t be mad, kitten.”  The two of you drop to the bed, a tangle of limbs and silken fur and squeaking laughter.  “You’re so purr-ty when you’re annoyed.”

He’s doing it again.  Dropping those stupid cat puns that make your nose wrinkle, ink-tipped ears folding back against your head.   

“I think I’m hiss-terical, don’t you?”  

Face adamantly buried into his sheets, you don’t give him the time of day.  You don’t even care that your mascara is probably rubbing off against the charcoal fabric, lipstick tint doing potentially irreversible damage.  He knows how unfunny you find these jokes, how you’ve heard them your whole life and roll your eyes so hard your optic nerve might sever every time you face another.  

What’s the point of sharing your pet peeves with him when all he does is lean into them?  Use them against you like it’s the cool thing to do.  Make you wonder what you’d seen in him when he was just another customer, another boy in Seoul National indigo and bedhead so dishevelled it begged to be managed.  

(You’re not sure why you’re so irritated suddenly, caught in the clutches of a moodswing as you curl into your side and ignore his bad jokes.)

Stupid Jeon Jungkook.  Annoying, silly, too-cool-for-his-own-good Jeon Jungkook.  

Jeon Jungkook who makes you second guess your choices, leaves you breathless and confused with just one dumb look.  Who has convinced you into his bed and teases you mercilessly, snickering to himself as his foot bounces against the floorboards because he finds himself that funny.

“Baby?”  The pet name comes, presses itself past your curtain of hair and invades your thoughts.  

You say nothing, adamantly faced away.

He doesn’t like that, sneaking his hands around you and cradling you into his chest as if that’ll lighten the mood.  (It does, a little bit, but you don’t tell him that.)  “Don’t ignore me,”  he mumbles, warmth breath tickling your ears, fingers dancing over the rungs of your ribs as if they’re ivory and not bone, playing a tune only he can hear.

“Stop with the shitty jokes,”  you retort.  You’re being difficult - can feel the vinegar turning your blood even as he tries to will it all away.

You feel the intake, the rise and fall of his broad chest.  You can only imagine how hard he’s biting his tongue, careful to keep his next errant pun at bay.  People don’t tell him no - only you.  Maybe that’s why you do it, to remind him you’re not just like everyone else.  

“Sorry.”  

You don’t tell him to show you how sorry— but he does anyway.

You’re astounded by him, utterly entranced by the way he moves.  How power runs the length of his frame, manoeuvres each of his limbs and turns your own to jelly.  

He’s got you face down, ass up, hands cradling your hips like they’re his home and he can’t bear to let go.  Every upward stroke feels like heaven - feels like a million lifetimes of pleasure you can barely wrap your thoughts around.  He’s impossibly big, thick and long.  The first thought you’d had when he’d stripped his black Calvin Kleins was pretty.  

You realise now there’s nothing pretty about him.  He’s filthy - the devil come to collect as he fucks you across his bed, nearly loses you to the pillows at the head with each snap of his hips.  (What they said about rabbits was true, you think.)

“B-Bunny,”  you sob, scratch over cotton that’s worn soft and smells exactly like your favourite sweater of his.  The linens are defenseless, tangled up and wrinkled with each flex of your fingers, bunched up within your palms every time he buries himself like he’s looking for the answer to life, thinks he might find it within the fluttering walls of your pussy.

“Not my name.”  When he sounds like this, he’s more predator than prey, a thousand volts of electricity shooting up your spine.  He’s demanding and unrelenting.  It makes your head spin.

“Wook—”  

“Not.”  Bunny teeth are just as painful as a feline’s, doing their job as they dig into the flushed skin over your back, marking his territory with two prominent indents right between your neck and shoulder.  “A.”  He ruts into you as if he’s got something to prove, snaps his hips to a beat you can’t keep up with.  “Wookie.”  Grips you so tight you might snap, red blooming beneath his hands.

You sob under him, drool against the pillows because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut.  (You feel like Jungkook post-win, spewing nonsense as he prattles on about game winning plays with his teammates.)

“K-Kookie.”  It’s what he wants to hear - hits him right in the chest, a bull’s eye to the thing that beats wildly and in tandem with your own.  

His rhythm stutters.  The bed is shaking and not because he’s practically breaking the weak wooden frame.  No, his foot’s thumping, bouncing across the sheets even as he tries to regulate the roll of his hips, return it to the assured, teeth-numbingly good tempo it’d been at.  

It doesn’t work.  You love it anyway.  Like it more, because it means he’s just as affected by you as you are him. Your heart sings, leaps out of your chest on hummingbird wings, and dances around your head.  You’re a goddamn cartoon - Pepé Le Pew in ragdoll form - animated pink shapes circling like a crown.

You don’t care.  You can’t.  Not when he plasters himself to your back and asks you to say it again, begs you to tell him how good he is, tells you how he wants to make you his.  

Who cares if it’s three dates in, if your meeting was cliched and silly and he’s the campus heartthrob?  

You don’t - because he’s yours and when he flips you onto your back and you curl your fingers into his hair, it’s your name he stutters out.  It’s you who has him coming apart beneath your hands, the feel of his ears like velvet, the little whines he huffs growing louder each time you tug at the base.  It’s you who knows what he sounds like as he falls to pieces, throws himself against you as if gravity demands it.  It’s you who holds him to sleep, whose skin acts as a canvas for the doodles he traces as he drifts off.  

It’s you and it’s him and that’s enough.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​ @codeinebelle​​

[bangtanloverboys]

until i see you again // ksj

summary - prince seokjin of philos is chosing his bride at his 25th birthday ball and you want to be anywhere but there. unfortunately you’re expected to go as a friend of the king and to escort your younger sister there; to see if she has a chance to win the prince’s heart. unbeknowst to you all, the prince’s eyes are already set upon someone

pairing - prince!seokjin x duke!reader

genre - fluff, angst; royalty au, childhood friends to lovers au, 

word count - 9.1k

warnings - historical inaccuracies, reader being an idiot, kissing, implied/referenced homophobia (it’s very slight, won’t even notice it if you squint), sad ending, star crossed lovers, miscommunication but it’s in the worst way possible

author’s note - sorry not sorry for making sad gay stuff oops; clast is part of the title, not yn’s actual family name. additionally, i put in a hint to new fic in here 👀 also @jinpanman since u asked to be tagged 💕 here u go

The stars had always fascinated you since you were a young lad; the shapes they made and the stories behind them, the way they always shifted in the night sky. While the view from your bedroom window at the castle was great, it could never show the full wonderful picture that was the night sky. Hence why you were now laying in the palace garden and staring up into the vastness before you, your arms folded behind your head.

“Y/N.” A familiar voice startled you into sitting up, only to see the silhouette of the Crown Prince Seokjin standing a few feet behind you. You were surprised to see him outside, but it wasn’t necessarily a shock seeing as your current place of residence was his home, the Castle of Philos. Your father, the Duke of Clast, was a close friend of the King, thus meaning he was invited to a lot of formal events. The Castle Philos was practically a second home to you, making it’s prince a close friend of yours. 

Of course your friendship was by no mere accident. It was by the design of both of your fathers’, wanting their allegiance to hold strong even with the new generation. Neither of you seemed to mind though, you both seemed to get along great with one another. But as the two of you grew up from boys and slowly approached manhood, you felt something else grow deep within your chest each time you saw the prince.

“Seokjin, you scared me!” You whisper shouted at him as sat himself next to you on the grass. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorted. “I saw you from the window, thought I might join you.” Your cheeks burned at his response as you watched him lay back on the grass, assuming the same position you had only moments ago. 

The sight of the young prince was something to behold as he lounged on the lawn, being at only 18 years old he was already picture perfect for everything a prince should be: honorable, intelligent, merciful. One quality you had heard whispered amongst the court ladies was how handsome he was, something not even you could deny. His dark eyes emulated the night sky, reflecting the stars up above. The soft angle of his jaw paired with the dark hair that fell over his forehead framed his face beautifully. Then there was his lips, they looked soft and pillowy; and you wanted nothing more than to feel them for yourself-

“Are you going to lay down or continue to sit there and stare?” He questioned you, raising a sculpted brow at you.

The burn extended past your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You laid down beside him, hoping the cool grass could possibly lower your growing temperature. You laid there, stiff next to him as your gaze locked back onto the sky. Neither of you said a word as the stars twinkled like diamonds above you. You heard the prince shift in his position, now resting on his elbow and staring down at you. 

“You’re thinking.”

“How would you know?” You scoffed at his (correct) assumption of your silence. While your voice remained steady, your head was reeling at his closeness. If he came any closer, he could’ve heard your heart thumping away against your chest. 

“You forget Y/N, I know you better than you know yourself.” He gave you a sly wink before he slipped back to lay his head back down. “Just relax, whatever it is you’re thinking, I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

You open your mouth to protest but a loud booming voice of your name echoed in your ears. 

“Y/N. . .Y/N. . . Wake up!” The voice of your younger sister bleeding through as you jolted awake. “Coachman said we’re nearly there.” Through bleary eyes, you glanced about your surroundings. Seated across from you was your sister, Jia, who stared at you as you blinked away the sleep from your eyes. You turned your head to the window, watching as the green countryside slowly began to turn into the village outside the castle. 

“How long was I out?” You inquired as you moved to sit up properly.

“A few hours,” she responded with a shrug. “Did you have a nice dream?”

“How would you know I was dreaming?” You asked her, still fatigued from the unplanned nap.

“You were smiling.” 

Your heart stung at her words; the question was innocent enough, but a reminder of the hurt you’ve felt since that night. You almost didn’t want to answer her original question, but the eager look on her face had you sighing. No way in hell would she go without an answer. Keeping a neutral face, you replied. “It was a pleasant dream.” That was all you said. There was a slight twinge of disappointment, but she took the answer nonetheless. 

 Letting out a sigh, you leaned back against the wall of the carriage, thinking back on the dream. It had been almost 7 years since that night with the prince. That was the last, what one might call, intimate moment with him. Because since that night, you had both been bombarded with your respective duties; him as prince and you as a duke to be. Surely you had seen him between then and now, but those moments were brief and far inbetween. In fact the last time you saw him was at the funeral of your father, sometime last year. You don’t remember much of that meeting, overwhelmed with grief to even process that he was giving you his condolences. 

But soon enough, you shall be reunited with the Crown Prince for this 25th birthday. Normally you would’ve been excited about going to see Seokjin, all you could feel in your stomach was dread. The reason being as to your visit was because his usual birthday ball had been twisted by his father for him to find a bride. All the eligible ladies in the land, which included your sister, were invited for him to pick one of them out as his future wife. The mere thought of it had you sick to your stomach. Your sister had a possibility of marrying your childhood best friend and your unrequited love, and you had to stand back and watch.

“Can you tell me again what he’s like?” Jia’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Being a few years younger than you, she never got a chance to truly interact with Seokjin; and since the trip began, hell even before then when the invitation arrived, every few hours she would ask about him. What he was like, what he liked, if he was nice. Why she would ask this when all she had to do was wait a few hours before meeting him herself, you’d never understand. 

“Prince Seokjin is nice. He enjoys reading the history of the 7 kingdoms. When his father goes out hunting, he is usually required to join, but he will do anything he can to get out of it.” You droned as you stared out the window, surveying the commoners as you passed them by. 

“You’ve told me all this before though,” she whined, “What else is there to know about him? What was he like when you were boys?” When you remained silent, she poked at your knee, attempting to get some sort of answer out of you. “Come on, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention towards Jia. “He’s always been fascinated with food and the process the cook would go about making it.” You started, noticing how your sister leaned forward, hanging on your every word. “We’d sneak into the kitchens, and he would just watch the cook as he cut up vegetables and meats. He’d go on about how if he wasn’t the prince, he’d want to be the cook.”

Jia barked out a laugh, “Did he really? For such a handsome man, he sure has some interesting habits.”

You gave a noncommittal hum as your stare returned to the window, watching as the villagers made their way out of the street and gawk at your carriage in awe. You could tell the journey was slowly coming to a close, and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to end yet. The dirt road turned to cobblestone beneath the wheels, it was only a matter of minutes before you arrived at the palace steps. 

Jia frantically began flattening out her gown and making sure her hair wasn’t out of place. The trip from Philos Castle to the Clast Manor was merely a half day's ride, it wasn’t like much had changed from when she had left.

You exited the coach first, immediately greeted by a handful of guards who were lined up the stairs of the castle. You wondered how long they’d been there and how long they’d have to be until everyone had arrived. Glancing about, you saw that there were a few more carriages arriving in the courtyard. 

The clearing of Jia’s throat pulled you back to the task at hand, you extended your arm out for her to grab onto as she stepped out onto the cobblestone. “Wow,” she awed as she stared up at the vast castle before her. You couldn’t blame her, the sight of Philos Castle was something to behold, especially if it was your first time seeing it. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the footmen pulling down your luggage and ready to carry it to your rooms. A silent notice that it was time for the two of you to get going. “Come along, Sister.” You started as you began to climb the steps.

Upon reaching the main entrance, you were greeted with the familiar face of the Steward, who perpetually looked like he had just tasted the world’s most sour candy. “Your Grace,” he bowed to you. “And Lady Jia. The King and prince are greeting their guests in the Grand Hall. Follow me.” That said, he turned and made his way down the hall. With you and your sister on his heels practically the entire way, you arrived at the Grand Hall.

The Grand Hall certainly lived up to its name. With high ceilings, beautiful pieces of art mounted on the walls, all glittering in the light of a golden chandelier. It was the picturesque dream of wealth and beauty. But all of its beauty couldn’t compare to Prince Seokjin, who stood at the end of the hall. Since the last time you saw him nearly a year ago, he still looked as handsome as ever. He was smiling at his father when the two of you entered, but when his gaze turned to you, you swore his smile grew bigger; brighter even. Keeping your eyes forward, you could feel Seokjin’s gaze on you, not wavering as you got closer. 

Next to him, the King let out a loud belly laugh as the two of you approached him. “Ah, Clast! It’s good to see you, my boy.” He bellowed out as you and your sister stopped in front of him.

“It’s good to see you too, Your Majesty.” You responded as you and your sister bowed respectively before him, all the while you could feel the prince’s burning stare. “May I introduce my sister, the Lady Jia.” With her introduction, she curtsied again before the two royals. 

“It’s a pleasure, Your Majesty.” She smiled as she rose up.

“The pleasure is all mine. I assume you know my son, Seokjin.” He gestured to his right to where the prince stood, silently staring at you. “Seokjin!” His father hissed, catching his attention.

His head jerked to attention at his name being called. “Sorry, yes. It’s lovely to see you again Clast- and meet you too, of course, Lady Jia.” He stumbled over his words as he bowed his head. “Apologies, my mind has been elsewhere.”

“It’s no worries, Your Highness.” You waved off his slip. 

“Anyways!” The King clasped his hands together. “The two of you must be tired from your journey, the steward shall show you to your chambers.” He gestured to the same sourface Steward stepped forward. “I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow night, Clast.”

“I can’t wait, Your Majesty.” You returned the king’s sentiments as you and your sister were led out of the hall, still feeling the prince’s stare seer into your back as you walked further and further away from the Grand Hall. 

Soon as the Grand Hall was far behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Had seeing Seokjin again affected you this much? While you had managed pretty fine to hold yourself together for that meeting, how on Earth were you going to manage the ball where he had to choose a wife? You couldn’t avoid him, there’s no doubt he’d want to catch up after not seeing you at all the past year. God, you felt like a fool for coming and thinking you’d be able to push your feelings out of the way. But your mother and sister jumped at the chance for the possibility of marrying the prince. Thus, you had no choice but to accompany your sister to the palace.

As the Steward led you down the winding hallways, you noticed that the hallways started to become more and more familiar. Considering you had dreamt of these hallways mere hours ago, it wasn’t that hard to place them from your memory. The King had set aside certain rooms for your family when you visited, you can’t say you were surprised or not about them still being set aside for you. Perhaps it was to still honor your father, or keep the good relationship between your families. However you were surprised to see the Steward stop in front of the heavy oak door of the room that was once your father’s. 

“Your Grace shall be staying here,” he announced as he opened the door. You stepped through the threshold, inhaling deeply as you glanced around the space. Your trunk was at the foot of the bed. The same bed he slept in, the same desk he worked at, the same books he read on the shelves. What felt stranger how despite the room not being occupied in years, it still held the same scent of leather bound books and ink. The scent of your father. “I hope the chamber is to your liking.” The Steward’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.” 

“Very well, if the Lady Jia could please follow me.” With that, he shut the door. The distinct steps of him and your sister fade away down the hall as he escorted her away. 

Now alone, realization began to creep over you. When the invitation to the prince’s ball arrived you didn’t want it to be true. In fact, you almost pushed it so far back in your mind you nearly tricked yourself into believing it was just a bad dream. One that you’d wake up from any moment now. But now that you were finally there at the palace, a mere day away from the event. You were going to be sick. 

The sick knot in your stomach didn’t leave you the rest of the day, despite your best attempts at any distraction. You tried to keep ahead on some of the needs and resources of your providence, read a few chapters of a book you pulled from one of the shelves, changed out of your traveling clothes, anything to keep your mind off the inevitable ball tomorrow night yet nothing seemed to succeed. 

By the time the sun had fallen below the horizon, you still felt the overwhelming dread. So much so that you barely ate the dinner that was privately presented to you, barely being able to get more than a few bites down. In the midst of picking at your meat, there was a knock on your door. Curious as to who would be here so late in the evening, you unlatched the door to see Prince Seokjin standing before you.

“Y-Your Highness,” you stuttered out, not expecting him at such an hour. 

“Are we really referring to each other as titles? I thought we knew each other better than that, Y/N.” He said with a breathy laugh. 

The sound of his voice speaking your name was music to your ears. Loving the way each syllable fell off his lips, before you could stare at his mouth any longer than you probably already were, you cleared your throat. “Seokjin,” his face lit up when you called him by his name, “what are you doing here?”

“I thought we could catch up a bit? Seeing how we weren’t able to properly when you first arrived.” He shrugged, as if the plans were obvious. 

You hesitated a bit, seeing the late hour and if this would even do your heart any good considering you had 24 hours to attempt to get over him. 

“If you don’t want to, I understand.” He added, filling the silence you had provided. “It’s late, and you had a long journey. I’ll let you rest.” He began to turn, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, your hand wrapping around his wrist. When you realized how brash your action was, you released him, silently cursing yourself. “We can catch up, if that is what you wish.”

A smile grew on his face. “Of course! You still like stars, correct?”

You were taken back by his question. While you still had the fascination with stars, you had very little time nowadays to look at them. In fact the last time you even had time to look at stars was the night from your dream, when the prince laid down next to you in the castle gardens. Since that night, you’ve been too exhausted to stay up late enough to examine the night sky. “Yes?” 

“Brilliant! Follow me,” he grabbed your hand and whisked you down the hallway, barely giving you enough time to shut your door. Seokjin led you through the passages, only the moonlight shining through the windows to guide you. Your heart was going to beat out of your chest, with your hand snug in his grasp. 

He led you up a large door. With his free hand, Seokjin opened it, exposing a staircase before you. As the two of you started to climb up, you were beginning to recognize where you were going. “Are we-?”

“Shh! We’re almost there!” He shushed you as you arrived at the top of the stairs, revealing the observatory to you. You’re in absolute awe of the room, the large windows making up the walls and ceilings; the moon fully illuminating your surroundings. “Over here!” Seokjin tugged you towards the direction of one of the windows, a telescope set up and ready for use. 

You pulled your hand from his grasp and let your hands trace over the cool brass, enthralled with the device before you. When the two of you were boys, you weren’t allowed in the tower observatory in fear that you might break something. When you got older, you’d only been in there once before, but never beneath a clear night sky. 

A rush of chill air hit your body, you looked up to see the prince had opened up a window, giving more room for the telescope. “Take a look!” He stepped away from the device, making space for you.

Leaning down, you peered into the eyepiece. A gasp escaped your lips as you took in the brilliance of the stars right before your very eyes. You could pinpoint a few of the constellations you remember reading about. But instead of the fuzzy dots you were so used to seeing, you saw them clearly; they seemed even brighter. “Wow, Seokjin, I. . .” you straightened to look at him, who looked very pleased with himself, “I don’t know what to say? This is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in years.” That was partially a lie. He was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life, nothing could top him. 

“You’re welcome,” he said with a sly smile. “I got it recently and I thought of you.”

“You. . . thought of me?” Your heart fluttered at the thought.

“Of course, Y/N.” He took a step closer to you, “I always think of you.” His words were soft as he gently raised his hand to your face, brushing a few stray hairs from your eyes. Your breath hitched as the tips of his fingers grazed over your skin. Meeting his eyes, you noticed for a split second that his gaze flickered down to your mouth. Then he slowly began to lean towards you. Your feet turned to stone, you couldn’t move as he got closer and closer to you. You weren’t sure what was happening. It couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream. Your mind was racing at a million thoughts a second, as Seokjin got closer and closer. Just about when the prince’s lips seemed to hover over your own-

DONG

The sound of a clock chimed loudly in the observatory, shattering the moment and bringing you back to reality. Immediately, you stepped away from Seokjin, your face burning hot. “It’s late. I- I need to get to bed.” You turned away from him, embarrassed at what had just happened. 

“Right.” There was a twinge of dismay in his voice as he spoke. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”

“That won’t be necessary!” You cringed at how quickly you rejected his offer. “It’s late, and your chambers are farther than mine. Goodnight, Your Highness.” You bowed your head then rapidly made your way back down the stairs, barely hearing the prince’s ‘Goodnight’ in return. 

The following morning you did not want to get out of bed. You did not- could not face the prince again after last night. What happened had to have been a dream, it had to be. But the clear memory of the stars, how you could vividly recall the way your hand fit into his all proved you otherwise. It actually happened, and you couldn’t help but feel humiliated. He was getting married soon, for God Sake! And it couldn’t be you. It will never be you. 

Eventually had to get up. Dressing yourself up a bit, but you remained in your room. Deciding to read and work on any paperwork, distracting yourself from even thinking about Seokjin. 

You managed to do so quite nicely up until the hours before the ball was to start. Outside your window, spotting the hustling of all the castle staff trying to finish up the last of the preparations, scrambling to get them done. However all the chaos from outside the window and outside your door pulled you from your progress of not thinking of the prince or the party. All throughout the halls, people were gossipping about the prince and which lady he would choose as his possible wife. 

When the clock struck the hour, signalling that the ball was to start, you knocked on the door to your sister’s chambers. “If that’s you Y/N, I’m nearly ready. You can come in!” She called from the inside. With a roll of your eyes, you pushed open the door to see your sister sitting in front of a vanity, a maid-servant finishing up her hair. Looking at you through the mirror, Jia lips quirked up into a smile. “Why don’t you look handsome, Brother.”

You take a quick glance at yourself behind her; you’re dressed only more elevated than usual. Fresh pair of trousers and shoes on, your waistcoat buttoned neatly, and your hair is more styled. Other than that, you look practically the same as you would on any other day. Not wanting to argue with your sister, you merely bowed your head in thanks. 

“What do you think of the dress?” Jia asked as the maid finished with her hair, she stood to reveal the full picture. The style of the dress was similar to something she had worn to your ascension, yet this was light blue in color. There was no grand design amongst the dress, it was simple and fitting. 

“You look lovely,” you responded.

“Thank you. You said he liked blue, correct?” She questioned as she began to slip on her gloves.

“Pardon?” 

“The prince? His favorite color is blue?” She clarified as she walked over to you. “Honestly, Y/N, where is your head? I’m trying to gain his favor. Helps that I have his best friend as a brother.” She chortled as she linked arms with you. 

“Right, yes. He favors blue.” You muttered as you turned towards the door. “Right, well, let’s get going. Don’t want to be late.” You forced a cheerful tone. With that, your sister smiled at you and you began to make your way towards the ballroom. 

Already you saw lines of fabulously dressed noble women and royals from across the seven kingdoms, all willing to try and win Prince Seokjin’s affections. You saw a few familiar faces as you escorted your sister about the room; friends of your late father, fellow dukes and viscounts, even a couple visiting princes. All of which were either here to escort the most eligible woman in their family or merely showing support for the prince’s birthday. 

About an hour in, Jia excused herself to try and gain a dance with the prince, leaving you standing alone at the sidelines; watching Seokjin dance with lady after lady after lady. He was a talented dancer, dancing gracefully with each partner. With each dance, you couldn’t help but notice a disinterested look grow on his face. A few times when you thought he caught your eye, you spotted a glimmer in his eye. A spark of happiness that managed to peak through his facade. But when he turned, causing his partner to face you. You saw a proud smirk on their face, as if they were the ones that made him perk up. 

“Clast? Is that you?” A familiar voice called out to you. Turning your head to follow the voice, you spotted the owner of the voice. Prince Yoongi of Lun was making his way towards you, pushing his way through the crowd. “It’s good to see you.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

With a smile, you took it. “Good to see you too, Your Highness. How are things?”

“Good, everything is good. You’re here on behalf of your sister, I suppose?” He asked as his hand retreated.

The mention of your sister had your chest aching, reminding you of the entire situation once again. “Y-yes. She is somewhere in the crowd, waiting her turn.” Hopeful that he didn’t catch on to your hesitation; you gestured over to the dance floor, as if you couldn’t see her waiting at the front of it. 

It was clear that he had noticed it, yet he didn’t point it out, only saying “I see.” He turned to face the crowd next to you, standing in silence as the band played on. “Have you married yet, Clast?” He questioned.

“No, h-haven’t had the time.” Your basic response to whenever anyone questioned your marital status, a normal question made by men wanting to set you up with their daughters. Why would Yoongi be asking you that though, you thought to yourself, unless he was thinking about asking to set you up with someone? But that couldn’t be, as you don’t recall him having any female relatives. 

“Not having the time. . .” He repeated, laughing softly to himself. “Surely you’ve had enough time, attending balls like this? You’re a young man with a title, young ladies and their mothers must be crawling over you.” He further inquired. 

“Well, yes. . .” you struggled to rack your mind for a plausible excuse. He was for the most part correct, parties like this usually had young eligible noble women practically throwing themselves on to you. But upon your excuse, they usually backed away. Not further question you. “It’s just-uh-” 

Before you managed to come up with a concrete answer, Yoongi spoke again. “You don’t need to answer that. But to a degree, I can understand you.”

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow?”

“You’re in love, are you not?” He turned his head to you, a knowing expression. You opened your mouth to deny it, but no words came out. “It’s clear as day. But for some reason, you cannot be with them. Yet you long to be.” His face seemed to fall a bit at his words and he turned to face the crowd again. “Believe me, you’re not alone in that sort of suffering.” His gaze fixated on a young male servant, who stood at the edge of the ballroom, tray in hand. For a fraction of a second, you saw a soft smile across his face. But soon as the smile was there, it was gone. “Take my advice, don’t let him get away.” He gave your shoulder a firm pat before he walked back into the crowd, not permitting a response from you. 

Glancing back to the center of the dance floor, you made eye contact with Seokjin. This time there was no denying it. He beamed at you and suddenly all the people in the room seemed to fade away, like it was only the two of you. He was radiant in the light of the ballroom, his smile radiating happiness. Yoongi was right, you were in love with the prince and you wanted nothing more than to be by his side. 

With his advice echoing in your mind, you moved to take a step forward but your legs felt like lead. All at once, the golden glow of the ballroom faded to grey; the prince’s bright light dimmed, dark shadows danced at the edge of your vision. You could feel all of the court staring at you, whispering amongst themselves. Jia’s eyes were locked on you, fire burning in them The King frowned in disapproval. There were too many eyes on you. Your heartbeat was in your ears, throbbing against your skull. At the center of it all, Seokjin stood out in the crowd, his features twisted with concern. He mouthed something to you, something you couldn’t make out. You took a step backward, it felt easier than moving forward. You took another, and another, until you turned on your feet and dashed out of the ballroom. 

Air, you needed air. Quickly, you weaved your way through the busy hallways until you found the door to the garden terrace. Thankfully, no one from the party seemed to have come outside as of recently, leaving you alone. You let your hands rest upon the stone railing as you caught your breath, the cool night air filling your lungs. Raising your head up, you stare up at the sky, the moon staring back down at you. 

“You alright?” Whipping around, you saw Seokjin standing in front of you, the light of the open door behind him giving him a golden halo. “Y/N?”

You turned back around, staring back out into the gardens. “I’m fine.”

His steps against the stone echoed, only stopping once he was practically right behind you. “Don’t lie to me, what happened?”

You barely understood what had happened. One moment you were filled with confidence, ready to pull him to the side to speak with him. Then the next you felt nothing but shame. The judgement of the court, your sister, the king. You couldn’t tell him. Yoongi had sweet sentiment, but it just couldn’t be. He was the prince! And you were a duke. A man. You wouldn’t even be able to openly tell him you love him, let alone marry him! “I needed some air.”

“I could use some too, it was getting stuffy in there.” He responded as he continued to stand behind you.  “Come on. We could both use a little break from the excitement.” You didn’t move, it was a bad idea to go with him. Just return to the party and move on. “Y/N. . ?”

Despite your better judgment, you turned to face him. His beautiful smile grew once you faced him. “Lead the way.”

He led you down the stairs of the terrace and into the gardens. Neither of you said anything, letting the music of the ball fade away into the sounds of the night. The further you walked away from the palace, the less concerned you found yourself about if the people were going to come looking for you. It was only you and Seokjin now.

He took a turn off the path, walking over the lawn towards the roses. Spotting a stone bench, he seated himself, you continued standing beside him. “You can sit, Y/N.” He gestured to the spot beside him. You hesitated for a moment before finally sitting down next to him. His knees brushed against yours as you both stared out over the gardens. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked after a moment.

“Nothing is bothering me.” 

“Y/N, I know you better than you know yourself.” Repeating the very same words he said nearly 7 years ago. “What’s the matter?”

Taking a deep breath, you answered. “You’re getting married.”

Seokjin frowned at your admission. “What on Earth gave you that idea?”

It was your turn to be confused. “Your father? On the invitations, it was a call that you’d be picking your future bride at this very ball.” You explained. 

“Believe me when I say this Y/N,” he took your hands in his, “I have no intentions of picking a bride tonight nor ever.”

Those last few words echoed around in your brian. “Ever?”

“I can’t be with someone who I don’t love,” he said as if it were obvious. “When I become king, the only person I want by my side is you.”

Your hands grew clammy as your heart pounded against your ribs. “Seokjin, what are you saying?”

“Is it not obvious?” His hands moved to cup your face. When you met his eyes, the poor attempt at a wall that you tried to build over your heart broke away. 

“I need to hear you say it,” your voice faltered, barely above a whisper. 

Leaning in closer, his breath fanned over your lips. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for barely a moment before you closed the gap between you two. Your eyes fell shut and the entire world melted away, leaving only you and Seokjin being the only sole beings in that moment. And oh how you wanted to live in that moment forever. To know nothing else but the feel of his lips against yours, the sweet scent of the roses around you, the brisk air of the night tickling any exposed skin as you clung to each other. 

You don’t know when but tears had begun to roll over your cheeks. The wetness passed over your lips, tasting of salt as you continued to kiss. The slight bitter taste had him pulling away, eliciting a whine to fall from you. He couldn’t leave now, not after how long you’ve dreamt of this moment! Opening your eyes, the blurry outline of Seokjin was whipping away your tears. Blinking the rest of them away, the clear image of him filled your mind, taking notes of any little detail. You had to remember this moment for the rest of your life.

“Why are you crying?” His voice was soft as his thumb caressed your tear stained face. 

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” You responded, the last coming out in a sort of chuckle. Baffled at your own emotions. 

“No more tears, love.” He brought his lips to your forehead, pressing a small kiss to it. “No more tears.”

Despite you nodding in agreeance, more tears fell from your eyes. Whether it be tears of relief or joy, you couldn’t stop them from flowing. Placing one of your hands over his, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. You opened your mouth but you could even manage to get a word out, a shout was heard. 

“Prince Seokjin! Your Highness? Where are you?” An unfamiliar male voice called out.

Within a second, you pulled yourself away from him, fearful of being caught. Seokjin closed his eyes, letting out a huff, clearly upset with the interruption. “It appears our company has been missed.” He sighed as he stood up, straightening his overcoat.  “I’m here! Clast and I were merely stepping away for a moment.” 

The servant appeared around the corner; with the cover of the night, you doubt he saw you kissing, but you couldn’t be sure until he spoke again. “The King is calling for you, sir. He wants you to dance with the Princess of Maldonia.”

“Thank you, I’ll be with him right away.” Seokjin gave him a tight smile as he dismissed the servant, who promptly bowed and scurried back towards the party. “I’m sorry.” He sat back down, taking one of your hands in his. 

“No, it’s not your fault.” 

“But there’s so much we need to discuss-”

“Seokjin,” you squeezed his hand, “we’ll figure it out.”

With a smile on his lips, he kissed you one last time before standing again. The two of you walked hand in hand back towards the castle again. He stopped when you reached the stairs to the terrace. “I’ll send a letter to your room later tonight, I would stop by but I fear my father isn’t going to be happy with hearing me not choosing a bride.” He chuckled, looking down at your still linked fingers. 

You laughed with him, before falling silent. The music of the party reminded you that you couldn’t remain there forever. “You need to go.” Seokjin didn’t move yet, still staring down at your hands, trying his damnedest to turn a single moment into a thousand. 

“Not yet.”

Unfortunately, as soon as the words left his mouth the servant stepped out onto the terrace, forcing him to drop your hand. “Your Highness, the King is growing impatient.”

With a sigh, he made his way up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he looked back down at you. His smile was back on, glowing and beautiful, yet his eyes were pained as he spoke. “Good talk, Clast. Enjoy the rest of the party.” Then he turned toward the servant, following him back into the brightly lit hallways of the castle. 

 The rest of the party went by in a blur. When you returned to the ballroom, your sister came up to you and complained about how she didn’t get a chance to dance with Seokjin before he started dancing with the Princess of Maldonia. Whatever she said you didn’t hear, because you were too busy looking for the prince but he was nowhere to be found. The only prince you did make eye contact with was Prince Yoongi, who was standing across the hall, a knowing look on his face. 

By the time the party was over and you had returned to your room, you were anxious to wait for Seokjin’s letter. You couldn’t help but think about what it might contain. Plans for the future? His feelings about you? You stayed up waiting for a servant to knock or perhaps it would slide beneath the door. 

Yet nothing arrived. 

You waited until the rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, but nothing came. Laying down on your bed, you felt a knot grow deep in your stomach. You thought of a million scenarios as to why. Perhaps by the time he talked with his father he fell asleep soon as he reached his room, or maybe he fell asleep writing it. You tried to be reasonable with your thoughts, but your mid went to darker places as you laid there. Did his father get mad at him for not wanting to choose someone and throw him in the dungeon? Were you spotted and he was getting punished? Would they come for you next? Or what you thought could be even worse, did he regret his confession?

It was 10 o’clock when a servant came to wake you, finding you red eyed and exhausted. He was clearly shocked by your current state, as you could see by his face, but he said nothing on it. “Your sister is nearly ready to go, Your Grace.”

“I’ll be ready in a moment,” you grumbled as you pulled yourself out of the bed. The servant bowed before he left, probably to get your carriage ready. One half of you wanted to get ready as fast as possible, leave the castle and never return. You’d hide away in Clast Manor forever. But the other half wanted to stay, find Seokjin and demand an answer as to why nothing came. 

Once you were dressed and reorganizing your belongings into your trunk, there was a knock, followed by Jia throwing the door to your chambers open; quickly followed by some footmen. 

“You were apprehensive to come and now you’re stalling to leave?” She raised a brow at your still open trunk.

 “Had a lot on my mind, I apologize.” You dryly apologized as the servants shut your case and began carrying it out of the room. Your answer didn’t seem to satisfy her, as she rolled her eyes at you. “Let’s get going then,” you held out your arm for her to take. With a huff, she linked arms with you. The two of you walked in silence as your steps echoed in the halls. 

As you turned towards the staircase that would lead you towards the entry hall, you heard your name called out. Turning, you spotted Seokjin running towards you. Glancing at your sister, she looked confused as the prince was making quite a hurry to get to you. 

“Go wait by the carriage,” you told her, kissing her cheek. “I promise I’ll join you soon.”

“You better, or else I’m leaving without you.” She muttered as she started down the stairs, the footmen following behind her. 

You watched her descend as Seokjin arrived behind you; putting on a brave face, you faced him. He looked nearly as tired as you were, yet somehow he managed to make dark circles under his eyes attractive. Opening your mouth to say something, he pulled you off to the side of the hall, hiding behind a larger planter. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to deliver it sooner,” he huffed out as he placed a sealed parchment in your hand.

“I-” you were stunned, for a moment you truly thought he might’ve regretted what happened last night. Yet here he was, parchment in hand. “Why? What took you so long?

“I uh- Well. . . you’ll know in the letter.” He waved your question away before taking both of your hands in his. “Promise me you’ll write as soon as possible? Please?”

You stared down at your joined hands, and all the hurt feelings from the night bubbled up to the surface again. The anxiety, fear, betrayal. It all came rushing back, but as you looked up to speak your mind, your words died in your throat. His pleading eyes bored into yours and butterflies erupted in your stomach. Sucking in a breath, you nodded. “I promise.”

Seokjin looked like he was going to cry as he heard your words, pulling you into his arms. You attempted to resist for a moment before melting into his embrace; wishing you didn’t have to leave so soon. Wishing you had more time to talk. His lips grazed over the shell of your ear,  his breath fanned against your skin as he hesitated for a moment. He said nothing as he pressed a kiss then he pulled away. He gave you one last fleeting smile before he ran back down the hall, disappearing behind a corner.

Stuffing the letter into your pocket, you made your way down the stairs. As you approached the bottom, you came across the King as he was bidding some of his guests goodbye. Despite how badly you wished to leave as soon as possible, you couldn’t risk not saying goodbye to your host.

“Ah, there you are Clast! I hope you enjoyed the ball!” He said as he shook your hand tightly. 

“It was a wonderful party, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.” 

“But of course! I hope you can come around again for the wedding!” He patted your hand as he let go.

“W-wedding, Your Majesty?” You questioned as he turned to the person behind you.

“Goodbye, Clast. Have a pleasant trip home!” Either he didn’t hear you or he was purposefully ignoring the question. Whichever it was, your head felt like it was spinning as you exited the palace doors. 

You spotted your carriage not far from the base of the steps, Jia looking thoroughly annoyed in the window as she waited for you. Carefully as you could, you made a beeline for the door. You didn’t even give a footman enough time to step down and open the door for you, just throwing it open and clambering in.

“Your Grace-?”

“Just go!” You snapped, waving your hand to signal for the coach to get moving. Seokjin’s letter burned through your clothes, you wanted nothing more than to rip it open and find out for yourself what the King meant by a wedding and what his explanation was. But with Jia sitting across from you, who was eyeing you like a caged animal, you had to wait till you returned home. 

The journey to Philos was a long drag you will admit, but the return to Clast Manor felt like ages in  comparison. Jia must’ve sensed your agitation as she said nothing the entire way back, not even a word when you stopped for supper at an inn a quarter through the way home. Soon as you arrived back at the manor, you took off towards your bedroom, not even bothering to greet your mother or other siblings. You could hear the murmurings of your family as you clambered up the staircase. 

Once behind the safety of your locked chambers, you lit an oil lamp and pulled Seokjin’s letter out from your coat pocket. Your fingers traced over the seal of the prince, staring at the blue wax for a moment. The seal should’ve settled your anxiety yet it continued to bubble deep in your stomach. Breaking open the wax, you unfolded the paper to read what explanation Seokjin might have. 

My dearest, Y/N

I’m sorry for such a delay, but I have unfortunate news. Apparently the ball was merely a facade of choice for me, Father has gone behind my back and arranged a marriage between the Maldonian Princess and myself in a fortnight. Upon my refusal, he locked me away in my room and won’t  let me out until I agree to the union. With you waiting and about to leave in the morning, I have no other choice but to say yes. By the time you have read this, I will be engaged.

So there was your explanation of the wedding, the King was referencing. Your heart ached at the words, hating the news, but you read on. 

I’ve devised a plan though, a plan for you and me to flee Philos and live together far away. Where no one can ever find us ever again. My title shall go to my cousin Hoseok, he shall rule Philos instead of I. Remember all those games and stories we made up where we didn’t have to be king or duke? Those dreams can become our reality! I know it sounds insane, but I’m ready and willing to do it. 

For you.

Write back to me as soon as you can and we can begin our plot.

Until I see you again, 

Seokjin

Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall onto the parchment. Not daring to drop the precious letter, you ran over to your desk and scrambled for fresh parchment. You were soaring above the clouds as you seated yourself down, reading your pen and ink. You held nothing back as you accepted his proposal to run away, ready and willing at any moment he proposed. You didn’t care about the ink droplets that fell or any scribbles of words you misspelled. All that mattered was you sent the letter off at first light. 

Without even thinking, you heated up the blue ink your mother had not so subtly been purchasing for you, in hopes you’d find yourself a lover or a wife anytime soon. Pressing your personal seal into the hot wax, you officialized your promise to Seokjin. 

Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the exhaustion of not sleeping at all the night before slowly caught up on you, barely giving you enough time to even properly undress before you collapsed onto your bed. That night you dreamt of your new life with Seokjin. The two of you so far away from anyone you might know, living in a cottage at the edge of the woods, perhaps selling bread to a nearby village. The both of you together, completely happy.

When you woke up the following morning, rushing down to a messenger to send off your letter to Philos at once. Despite the confusion of you just being there, the messenger followed the order and rode off fast as he could. The rest of the day you were in a chipper attitude, something your family was a bit surprised at considering the grim demeanor you held leaving the manor and arriving back last night.

However the happy attitude could last so long. 

It should only take a day or two for the prince to respond to your correspondence, but when your messenger arrived back empty handed, you felt the familiar flood of anxiety rush through you again. You dismissed it though, perhaps he’s following through with his father and visiting Maldonia for some reason or other. Waiting a few more days, yet nothing arrived. You crafted another letter and sent it off with a different messenger that night. The only thing that returned was a wedding invitation.

You dropped the letter off in the parlor where your family were all visibly excited about a wedding. The only one sharing your glum mood of the announcement was Jia, who was mourning the loss of such a match. You didn’t even bother telling her it wouldn’t have worked out anyways, just sitting in silence as your littlest sister talked about how pretty a royal wedding was going to be. 

The day of the wedding your mother all but dragged you out of bed to go, not even giving you a moment to even feign sickness. 

“You must go in support of your future king and friend! I won’t have you wasting away all the work your father did for us to continue to be close friends of the royal family.” She scolded you, throwing wear onto your bed. With your younger siblings staying behind; you, Jia, your mother, and your other brother all got into the carriage and started off towards the capitol.

The city was decorated with ribbons and flowers as crowds of people lined up along the streets, waiting for a chance to get a glimpse at the royals and nobles arriving. You wished to be home at the manor, a nearby kingdom, just anywhere but have the man who broke your heart and made a fool of you stand in front of you and get married.

Exiting the carriage, you joined the line of the court to be escorted into the Grand Hall. With your mother on your arm, she pointed out the things that have changed since her last visit, but her chittering fell on deaf ears, you simply stared off into the distance as the entrance to the Grand Hall grew closer and closer. By the time you had arrived at the threshold, you were greeted by the king. 

“Ah, Duke and Dowager Duchess of Clast, lovely to see you both.” The King greeted you as you both bowed before him. Taking your mother’s hand, he pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “And you’re looking wonderful, Dowager.”

“Oh thank you, Your Majesty. You’re too kind,” she giggled, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the scene. 

“Clast, I'm glad you could make it.” He shook your hand next, “Seokjin has been. . . anxious to hear from you. He’d be so happy to see you’re here.” His grip on your hand tightened as his words began to register with you. 

“Wait-”

“Enjoy the wedding,” he released your hand and moved on to the next guest. Your mother pulled you and your siblings in the direction of the pews. The voices of all the people echoing against the walls became muffled as you were seated down in the front of the hall, right in front of the altar. Thoughts were rushing through your mind faster than you could think of them. 

Does that mean Seokjin didn’t purposefully not respond? Did he even receive your letters? Did his father know? How did his father know? You had to find Seokjin, perhaps you could come up with some sort of plan and you could still run away together after the wedding. You just had to find him-

The sound of a horn silenced the Grand Hall, everyone falling quiet as they stood and watched the Crown Prince walk down the aisle. The breath was sucked out of your lungs as he walked past you. He looked absolutely regal in his royal wear, his crown placed perfectly on his head, he looked every bit of the prince he was. The only give away there was to his true mood was his eyes; there were dark circles under his eyes, deeper than they were the last time you saw him. When he stopped at the altar, he turned, his eyes surveyed across the court.

His eyes met yours and his gaze sharpened. You felt all the hurt and pain you’ve been feeling returned to you tenfold in that moment alone. You wanted to run to him, scream and cry out for him. Tell him that you did write back, that you did want to run away with him, but you were frozen in your place. 

When the music started up again, his eyes snapped to the aisle to watch his bride. He remained focused on the Maldonian Princess standing in front of him. The entire ceremony your eyes never left Seokjin, silently begging- pleading for him to turn and look at you. 

But he never did.

[thatharringrovehoe]

So I've been playing Dishonored which is my favorite game and this popped into my head so now you all have to suffer with me. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

He's so fucking cold. Like he’s been plunged into a lake mid winter and can’t find his way to the surface. Hands shaking, Billy sifts clumsily through the box of his mother’s things he keeps hidden in the back of his closet. He's found that if he thinks about the good times, picnics at the beach under the California sun, the thing oozing it's way though his brain losses just a bit of it's grip. Leaves Billy with enough motor function to stumble around his bedroom, trying to find the right pieces. And fucking hell it’s been so long since he's done this. He can remember helping his Ma when he was little, chubby fingers clenched tight in her cotton sundress as she arranged the items on the table just right. Pricked her finger to draw sigils in a language long forgotten, her voice a soft cadence through the bedroom as she hummed Billy’s favorite lullaby. No words, just a beautiful mournful thing. Humming a song of grieving loss. Billy doesn't know why he likes it so much.

“Remember baby. When you offer your gifts they have to be special. Well loved. Something that brings you joy every time you use it.”

His mother kept a pair of earrings on the cloth covered table. She never wore them when his father was home. Took them out and put them back on the little rickety stand in the back of her closet every day before he came back from work. Dangling silver daggers with the onyx beads. Billy shoved one straight through his left earlobe when he turned fifteen and has barely taken it out since.

His Ma told him that everything he built his shrine with had to mean something. Had to be something he treasured. From the fabric to the stand itself. So Billy tried his best. Draped his best leather jacket over the milk crate that held all of his favorite hair products. Placed his Ma's Fleetwood Mac album next to one of his mother's silver earrings (the one he always wears), arranged as neatly as he can manage. He’d had to prick his thumb seven times because to his dawning horror it kept healing over. Just another tally mark towards something being really fucking wrong. And he remembers the warehouse. Can still feel the slimy caustic sludge being pumped down his throat by a fucking tentacle. But he’d hoped it had been a dream, a nightmare from reading to many Lovecraft novels. Billy curses as he slices open his thumb for what feels like the millionth time.

Apparently not.

He's drawn the characters just how he remembers. His mother had made him practice every day, showing him each and every shape and line, drawn in colorful crayon. She gave him a cookie every time he got them right. Never hung them up on the fridge though. Didn't want his father to see.

He can feel the shadow creeping through his blood, dragging it’s claws against his veins. It might not know exactly what he’s doing yet, but it must be able to feel the intention. Billy thinks of ocean waves and a soft hand running through his curls. Fights the pull at the back of his mind to just give in. To sleep. His hands shake harder.

Fuck, where is it?! Billy combs through records and trinkets, a bottle of her perfume. He’s desperately hoping it didn't get lost in the move because his mother never taught him how to make one. Hell, he's pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to find the pieces he needs in Hawkins anyway. Not like Melvalds has a supernatural voodoo isle.

Then finally, finally he finds it. Lifting up his mother’s satin scarf it comes tumbling out to land on the floor with a clatter. Bleached white and beaten smooth by the waves, it's about the size of a sand dollar. Billy picks it up, places it in the palm of his hand. He still remembers the day he found it out on the shore. Washed up between some sea glass, the leather bindings still somehow soft even soaked with salt water. Etched with symbols and shapes Billy will never understand. When Billy showed it to his mother an unreadable expression crossed her face. It was that evening she showed him her shrine.

The rune seems to hum against his skin, an otherworldly song from far away ghosting past his ears. The thing that’s trying to Shanghai Billy’s brain writhes. It's angry, but more than that it’s fucking terrified and Billy has never been more sure of anything in his life. This was a good idea. But his limbs are getting colder, heavier. Whatever this evil piece of shit is it doesn’t like what Billy’s doing. He has to fight against the deadening of his limbs, crawling towards his shitty attempt at a shrine from his place on the floor. His vision is starting to grow dark when he finally clutches on to the milk crate, placing the rune between the earring and his cassette tape. And he knows that there's no guarantee. That whatever his Ma prayed to every night never shielded her from Neil’s fists, didn’t do a damn thing as the cancer slowly drained her down to nothing. That sometimes (most times) when someone would call out to the void the only thing they heard in return was their own disappointment. But he's got no other options. This is his trump card. His last resort. If this hocus pocus bullshit doesn’t work then Billy is up shit creek without a paddle. With a frustrated shout against the nightmare pulling him in, Billy begs.

“Please! Fuck, help me! I'll do anything, c’mon just- please!”

The air in Billy’s bedroom all of a sudden seems to shudder. The shadows flicker and meld together, reaching outwards. The sound of dry fall leaves blowing in the wind, a wail of a thousand dying worlds ricochets off the walls. Then nothing. Billy scrunches his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Fuck, of course it didn’t work. Story of his life. He called for help and just like always it doesn't mean shit. No one is coming to save him.

“Well well well. Certainly been a long time since someone summoned me like that. Very old school.”

Billy’s eyes snap open, the surprise and adrenaline enough to fight the heaving weight of his limbs to raise his head. And there, perched on his shitty milk crate shrine, sits the most beautiful boy he's ever seen. He's got hair the color of soil after it rains. High cheekbones and full lips, milky white skin dotted with a constellation of beauty marks. Billy didn't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't this. The boy god is dressed in a swanky leather coat the color of charcoal with pants to match. Eyes like an oil spill, inky black and endless. With a good look at Billy, they narrow dangerously.

“I thought I fucking told you not to touch this world. You want a repeat of last time?”

Whatever deity he summoned looks pissed as hell. Did he not do it right? Maybe the items weren’t good enough. That would be just his luck. He's so confused he almost doesn’t notice it right away. The shadow slowly working it’s way through his body has stopped, retreated a little even.

“I-... I don't know what you’re talking about. Please, there's something wrong with me. Something got put inside of me and I need it out. Please, help me.”

Billy hasn’t begged since his Ma was takin her last breath in that damn hospice bed. Didn't see the point when it always got you nowhere. But now he can't make himself stop. Cuz he's never been this scared before. The things this monster inside him wants him to do. It's so strong, like he’s fighting a steam roller. He's got no hope on his own.

The boy sitting on his best leather jacket stills. Cocks his head to the side slightly, considering. Then those pretty pink lips are spreading out into a gleeful smirk. Slides off the shrine to settle on his knees in front of Billy. Reaches out his hand to cup Billy’s jaw gentle enough it makes him want to cry.

“You can't get a good enough hold of this one can you? Interesting. Tell me trouble maker, what's your name?”

That voice, deep and ethereal, seems to echo from all around him. He can feel it vibrate in his bones. He wants, no, needs to answer.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

The boy smiles now, all gleaming pearly whites. If Billy looks long enough reality starts to flicker. And for just a second all he can see is teeth sharp like knives in a Cheshire grin. There for a moment and gone in a flash. The hand on his jaw tightens just the slightest fraction.

“Well Billy Hargrove. You seem to find yourself in quite the predicament. That parasite sucking on your soul is an old acquaintance of mine. He's one nasty little shit.”

If a brain washing shadow monster could feel indignant he’s pretty sure that’s what's happening now. Whatever was hijacking Billy's mind has curled up somewhere tight, sunk it’s teeth in deep. Cornered like a threatened animal.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want. I can’t… I can’t fight it. It's too much.”

There’s enough tears leakin down his face that it's soaking the front of his shirt. The boy is giving him this look, almost amused. The longer he holds Billy’s jaw the more the monster losses his grip, and Billy is ready to do anything at this point. Because that thing stuck to his brain wants him to find people. Feed it people. Wants Billy to drink all the chemicals in the supply shed at the pool. Told Billy that if he tried to fight it would take Max first and he can't let that happen.

The boy seems to come to a decision, grabs Billy’s hands to help him shakily to this feet. He doesn’t let go even when they’re both standing.

“You know there’s not many who can fight his hold for this long. I'm impressed.”

He steps forward until his chest is practically pressed up against Billy's. He smells like ozone and smoke, bottomless black eyes trained on stormy blue. Reaches up to tangle his fingers into Billy’s curls, sending tingles across his scalp. Smiles wider at the small noise that escapes Billy's throat.

“I'll help you Billy Hargrove. But in return, you have to do something for me.”

Billy's nodding before he can even really register what’s being said. Anything. He'd do whatever this pretty boy asked as long as he keeps touching Billy like this. Gentle, with a reverence no one has ever bothered to show.

“I need you to kick this little shit back into the hole he crawled out of. Can you do that for me Billy? I wanna see how your story pans out trouble maker. Wanna see what you do when someone gives you a chance.”

Billy nods again, breathless. The boy chuckles, the sound saccharine. Like warm honey dripping down his spine.

“Gunna have to use your words baby.”

Billy swallows, the click of his dry throat loud in the warm personal bubble they’ve created.

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll do it. Whatever you want pretty boy, please.”

It comes out a whisper but the boy hears it all the same. The boy smiles bright, pulls Billy forward. Soft warm lips press against his own and Billy is floating. He's never been kissed like this before. Slow and deep, the boy's tongue pressing in to curl and slide. Stuff him full. Billy's shaking for a whole other reason now. Reaches out to grip the boy's coat, cool to the touch where Billy is burning. Fire rushing through his veins, and he's already so close just from this. Whimpers brokenly into the kiss.

The boy pulls him in impossibly closer, slots his thigh between Billy’s legs, pushes up up up. And Billy is right fucking there, grinds down as he swaps spit with an old god in his shitty bedroom with the peeling yellow paint and the door that locks from the outside. Can feel the tell tale tingle spreading behind his navel.

“ ‘m gunna cum! Fuck, more please!” Billy mumbles curses into the kiss, breath hitching as his balls draw tight. The boy smiles against his mouth, yanks his curls back to bite into the meat of his neck and Billy’s gone, pulsing rope after rope of cum into his underwear.

“Oh my- .. Fuuuuuck. Yes! Uhhhnn!” He's panting like a dog as he slumps forward into the boys shoulder. Gentle fingers card through his hair as aftershocks zap up and down his body. A kiss is pressed behind his ear, a soft warmth flooding his core. He can't feel the shadow anywhere.

“So good for me sweet thing. Makes me want to keep you.”

It's said so quiet, like the boy doesn’t intend for it to be heard. Billy presses his face into his neck. There's no heartbeat under the boy's skin.

“You could. I want you to.” Whoever this is, whatever he is, he came for Billy. Answered his literal cry for help when no one else did. He doesn't know what he has to offer but he wants to give this impossible boy everything.

The boy in question hums. Brings Billy's left hand up to kiss the back of it. His skin feels hot under his lips, bordering on uncomfortable. Like stepping on sun scorched pavement. When the boy pulls back there’s a tattoo on his hand. A strange design that looks vaguely like a compass. It's the same mark as the one on the middle of the rune sitting behind them.

“I haven't given my mark to someone quite so special in a while. Try not to disappoint me Billy Hargrove.”

The boy goes to pull away but Billy still has his hand clenched tight on his coat. Panic wells up in his chest. Doesn't want to end whatever this is quite yet.

“Wait! What’s-…what's your name?” Which is a valid question he thinks. And probably one he should have asked at some point before he started grinding his dick on the guys leg. Oh well.

“I've had many names, none if which would hold any significance for you. Call me what you want trouble maker. I'll be there when you need me.”

Billy believes him. Then between one blink and the next the boy is gone, tendrils of dissipating smoke the only evidence he was ever there. A deep voice whispers from nowhere and everywhere.

“Ask your sister about the monsters in the woods.”

On the shrine the only thing that remains is the rune, both his gifts having apparently been accepted. Billy gives a hysterical bark of laughter at the thought of some higher being listening to Fleetwood Mac somewhere out in the void. It gives him an idea. He drags his lips across the fresh mark on his hand, mumbles into his skin.

“Thanks Stevie.”

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter one - Big Sky

Also on Ao3

Billy doesn’t give a fuck about the rodeo. 

He doesn’t care about country music, or fancy horse riding, or the beauty queens, even the bull riders. 

What he does give a fuck about it not being in his house today. 

Not when his dad was obviously itching to pick a fight. Not when Max gave him such an easy out over breakfast. 

“I saw a flyer for a rodeo. I think it’d be kinda neat.”

It was in town for four more weeks. 

And Billy could tell the second he and Max bought tickets, he was about to be spending more time than he ever fuckin’ thought he would spend at a rodeo. 

He based that on the way Max’s eyes lit up the second she stepped inside the big fairgrounds. 

Not knowing that he was right. He was about to spend a lot of time at the rodeo. 

But not for Max. 

For himself. 

And a pretty horse rider named Steve.

He didn’t see Steve that first day. 

Was too busy shelling out his own hard-earned cash to buy Max sugary funnel cakes. Sitting next to her watching the poor suckers get bucked off their pissed-off bull. 

But when Max was in the car she turned to him, the sun setting outside, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Can we come back tomorrow?”

And the tickets were dirt cheap. And Billy hates being at home. 

So they did. 

And they watched the rodeo queens. 

And the team-roping. 

But it wasn’t until the calf roping that Billy felt his heart sink. 

Because he thinks Steve Harrington might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

Tall and broad, smiling like sunshine at his gorgeous black quarter horse, patting her strong neck and leading her to the entry point of the arena. 

His name was loudly announced after the event name. 

Calf roping, with our very own Steve Harrington! Steve will navigate his beautiful June into the arena, trying to rope and tie down a calf as quickly as possible!

Billy had tuned out everything but his name. 

Leaning forward on his bench seat to watch him lead June up to the starting line, give her a few more pats before swinging one leg up, heaving himself up and over her back, settling into the saddle with a grace Billy doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to describe. 

Steve appeared to shake himself out, leaning forward over June’s neck to speak quietly to the sleek horse, wiggling his hips a bit in the saddle. 

And then he sat back up, readying himself and waiting for the countdown. 

He was off like a fucking shot. 

Billy’s never seen anything fucking like it. 

June kicked up dirt as she thundered through the arena behind a small herd of a few calves, Steve ducked low against her neck as he led her forward, his lips moving as he spoke quietly to her, egging her on and forward. He was clinging to her for dear life, his legs straining as he was tossed up and down in the saddle. 

And then he let go of her reins, one hand reaching for the rope on his belt. 

And it was the most hick shit he’s ever seen. 

This flannel-wearing cowboy on his perfect fucking horse, roping a baby fucking cow. 

He slipped the knot around it from his perch on the moving horse, lassoing it easily like that was a common skill, and with a fluid practiced movement, he tossed himself off the slowing horse, getting on one knee to tip over the calf and tie it up like it was second nature. 

And maybe it was. Performing in a show like this. 

That’s all it was, a performance. Practiced and rehearsed over and over for Steve and June. 

It was over in a blink, Steve tossing his hands up to show he was finished, and the calf didn’t break its bonds. 

The whistle blew and Steve’s time was read to the arena. Nine seconds. And apparently, nine seconds was a good time, judging by the way Steve’s raised his fists in the air, and patted June’s neck so gently. 

He mounted back on his gorgeous horse as the calf he had roped was released by a few of the rodeo workers and the next guy took his position at the starting line. 

Steve did a lap around the arena of June’s back, smiling and waving to the crowd. 

And maybe Billy just has an overactive imagination. 

Maybe his stupid gay brain was looking for something not there. 

But he could’ve sworn he saw Steve grin just a little bit brighter in his direction. 

There were a few riders after him. Competing to earn a faster score on the same track. 

But Billy didn’t give a fuck about calf roping if he wasn’t watching Steve and June. 

The sun was setting as Billy finally led Max out of the fairgrounds, one hand on the top of her head, steering her towards the Camaro. 

“So, you think we can come back next weekend” Max was giving him a big shit-eating grin, powdered sugar all done her front from the final funnel cake Billy had shelled out to buy her. 

“Don’t see why not. Get’s us outta the fuckin’ house, don’t it.”

“Plus, there are lots of good-looking cowboys, just everywhere. Did you see the guy doing the cattle roping, or whatever? He was cute .” Billy rolled his eyes. Max was just touching the age when she stopped thinking of boys as gross, saw them as cute, and whatever else she said. It also made her realize that having a gay brother apparently meant talking about nothing but boys. It made Billy wanna slam his head into the steering wheel. He grunted in response as she kept going on and on about Steve. 

Like Billy didn’t see the way his thighs gripped the sides of his horse, like he didn’t watch as he hurled himself off June to tie up the fucking calf. Like he didn’t watch him take that fucking victory lap, shit-eating grin looking like home on his pretty fucking face. 

“You gotta carry your own weight, you know that, right Shitbird? I’m talking, pay for your own damn fried shit.” He bets Susan would give him money for tickets if he acts real nice this week. 

He can’t blow all his savings at the fucking rodeo of all things this summer. He’s got plans for the wad of cash burning a hole in the shoebox in the back of his closet. 

Max huffed at him. 

“What am I supposed to do? Get a job? I’m thirteen .”

“So? Babysit or some shit. Rob an ATM. Fuck if I care. Just quit stealing all ‘a my goddamn cash for your fuckin’ funnel cakes .”

“You’re just pissed off because you didn’t try one. They’re the best. You gotta have one next week.”

“I, unlike you, care about what I put in my body.”

“Yeah, because cigarettes and beer are so much better than fried dough .”

“Whatever.” The truth is, Billy’s gotta watch what he eats. Max didn’t know him when he was prepubescent and chubby. He can’t be sitting there shoving funnel cakes in his mouth and not expect it to all go to his gut. Not like her. There’s not an ounce of fucking baby fat on her. She’s positively scrawny. If anything, the funnel cake might help her out a bit. 

“Yeah, whatever .” She huffed, slumping back in her passenger seat. “But can we come back?”

“Fuck, if you keep askin’ me, the answer’s no .”

She huffed again. She does that a whole lot when they talk. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I saw the way you were watching Steve race. You were practically drooling .” 

Billy clenched his jaw. 

“Was not .”

“Was too .” 

And Max had a knack of leading Billy into moments like this, childish little arguments that made him feel kinda weird inside. Made him feel kinda warm at how sibling it was. Like they hadn’t been forced together just a few years ago. 

For all his bitching, he really did like the little spit. If he didn’t, he’d be a bigger asshole than she’s always accusing him of being. 

“You don’t even know what I look like when I’m really eyeing a boy, if you think that was it. Just, you know. Respected his riding.”

“ Respected his riding. Yeah ‘cause you wish he was riding-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m pushing you out of the fucking car.”

“I’m right, though.”

Billy just reached forward to turn up the radio, letting Dee Snider drown out any other awful shit Max wanted to say to him. 

Which was probably showing his hand too much. No direct answer pretty much means affirmative when it comes to Billy. And yeah, Max knows that. Judging by the way she’s cackling like a goddamn gremlin over the sound of the music. 

He just pressed his foot down further on the gas pedal, letting them fly down the highway. 

And he thought about Steve and June, thought about how fast Steve could press that girl to go. Thought about him leaning forward, flattening himself to the horse’s neck, gripping onto the reins and urging her forward, urging her faster. 

And if he thought about those strong legs wrapped around him, if he thought about what Max was about to say, Steve riding Billy like he would that fucking horse, his hips flexing as he bounces up and down, well, that’s his business. 

And the next Saturday, Susan slid him a crisp twenty-dollar bill to buy Max some lunch at the rodeo. 

They took it more seriously this time, bringing water bottles, and Max slathering thick white sunscreen on her freckled skin. 

Billy even wore shorts, some old jeans he sacrificed to the summer gods when he wore holes in the thighs and chopped pretty much in half. 

And it was kinda fun. 

He knew what to expect now. Knew the barrel racing was all women, all beautiful horses winding their way along clover-shaped tracks. He knew that the bull riding was a little more fun to watch with a shot in him, and that his fake i.d. could get him an alcohol wristband from the tent at the front.

Max sneered at him when he bought himself a beer later in the day. 

“Uh, you know you have to drive me home, right? Like, and not crash your stupid car on the way home.” 

“Fuck off. It’s one beer.”

“And also that shot earlier, and I know you have a flask.”

“Okay, what are you, the cops? I’m just tryna enjoy myself in this blistering fucking heat. I don’t exactly get my rocks off to any of this shit.” Which is a lie. He’s totally sold on every stupid fucking event at the motherfucking rodeo. 

“Fine. You wanna get stupid and drunk? Then you have to take me to the pageant. I wanna watch it.”

“Since fucking when do you give a shit about the pageant .” Max glared at him. Her nose was beginning to get red. 

Maybe if Billy were less of a shithead he would tell her to put some sunscreen on. But she was really testing his patience today. 

And then her eyes went huge, and her jaw went slack, and Billy was just about to tell her to close it and quit lookin’ like a dead fuckin’ fish when he heard someone cough slightly behind him. 

And when he turned, he almost made the exact same stupid dead fish face as Max. 

Because gorgeous cowboy Steve was standing right in front of him. In another cracker of a flannel shirt, stupid blue jeans, and fucking cowboy boots, because yeah. He’s a goddamn hick that rides a horse and ties up calves in a traveling rodeo for a fucking living. 

And God save Billy, because hot damn. 

Steve had an easy smile on his face, a little bit lopsided, and perfect white teeth showing between perfect pink lips. 

“Hey there.”

“Howdy,” Billy responded before he could stop himself, his face burning up. 

He was hoping he was already sweaty enough Steve wouldn’t notice the flush. 

But thankfully, Steve’s smile went wider, and he laughed, this gorgeous bright laugh, his head tossing back, and that thick hair flowing easily. 

He had gold streaks in his hair, lighter browns tussled within the darker colors. Billy wondered if they were natural, days spent out in the sun on his horse. Part of him hoped they weren’t. Part of him hoped that Steve was that intentional with himself and his goddamn hair. 

He smiled at Billy. 

“I’m Steve.”

“We saw you. Last weekend,” Max blurted out before Billy could kick her. She looked shocked that she had even spoken when Billy turned to give her a death glare. But Steve just laughed his gorgeous laugh again. 

“And what’d you think?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about you on the way home.” And Steve was back to looking at Billy, and his eyes are so fucking big, like, who’s eyes are just. Like that. Just fuckin’. Big. 

“And what about you, uh-”

“Billy. And this is Max. My sister.”

“Well, Billy,” and fuck Billy nearly creamed himself at the sound of Steve saying his name. “Did you like my display of talents ?”

“Could say so. I don’t give too many shits about all this hick farm stuff. But I can respect it.”

“Well, that’s alright then.” And Steve reached out to pat Billy once on the shoulder. “I hope I see y’all around. I gotta head off, June needs some TLC before our time.” He smiled at Max, and her already red face flushed deeper, almost blending into the roots of her flaming hair. 

And then he doubled back. 

“You know what, I forgot why I came over here in the first place.” He was digging through his jeans, rummaging around in his back pockets. 

Billy wanted to slide his hands in there, cop a feel while he helped Steve look for whatever he was going to offer Billy. 

And then Steve brought out two white wristbands. 

“They’re for, uh, VIP seating and stuff. If you’re interested. Gets you closer to the arena. That way I can just see what you look like after I’m comin’ off a ride.”

Hoo boy. 

This little cowboy has some fucking charm. 

And he knows it too, judging by his smug little half-smile he gave Billy while he fastened the wristband around his wrist. 

He helped Max with hers, doing it faster than he had Billy’s, and with a lot less eye contact, which was a good sign. He’s not perving on his twelve-year-old sister. Which is cool. 

And then he was looking back at Billy, and brushing his long fingers over the tops of Billy’s shoulders, his arms out in his shirt, the arms torn off an old Aerosmith t-shirt he found at the Goodwill last year. 

“You should reapply sunblock. Don’t want you burning now.” And Billy’s sure if Steve was wearing a Stetson, he woulda tipped it at them. “Enjoy the pageant.”

And he was off, and Christ, those jeans. How did Steve even successfully ride his horse in those things? They were so tight, showed off his nice peachy ass as he walked through the fairgrounds. 

“Wow,” Max said. And yeah, Billy felt the same. 

“In case it wasn’t clear, based on the way he was flirting with me, and also that he’s way too old for you, but, uh, dibs .”

“Billy, you can’t just call dibs on a person.” Billy just laughed. 

He knows that his twelve-year-old fucking sister doesn’t have a shot in Hell with Steve. Really, he doubts he even has a shot in Hell with Steve, but he also likes to spend his time making her life as difficult as possible without actually being a shitty person. So, he just riles her up. Says shit that’ll get her going. He wouldn’t be doing his brotherly duties if he didn’t say that shit. 

Max calls it even by kicking him in the shin twice and making him watch the stupid beauty pageant. 

Which, like, why the fuck are there beauty pageants at the rodeo anyway? 

Turns out it wasn’t pageant at all, but the four previous Miss Rodeo’s all lined up and looking far too glammed out for this fucking heat. 

Max faked being disgruntled by the disappointment, but Billy knows, somewhere inside that tough bitch little soul of hers, she’s glad she didn’t have to sit through a goddamn pageant just to make Billy miserable. 

Besides, Billy had whipped out his flask a few times, and he was feeling alright. Just buzzed enough that the heat had stopped making him feel quite so disgusting. 

But not too drunk to miss calf roping. 

And yeah, maybe it was a little bit lame to make their way over to the VIP seating earlier enough that they scored the front row. But when Steve came trotting out, leading June behind him, Billy was close enough he could pick out the cluster of moles on Steve’s left cheek. 

So, lame was not in Billy’s vocabulary today. 

It was pretty much the same thing as last week. Steve made everyone in the arena ooh and aah with his riding, tied up the calf in less than ten seconds once again. 

But this time, when he took that jaunty little lap around the small arena, Billy knows for a fact Steve grinned at him. Knows his stupid gay brain wasn’t making up the wink he tossed effortlessly in Billy’s direction. 

And they left, just like last weekend, as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. 

“Just, c’mon. Mom gave you money .” Max was whining for a corn dog, of all things. When they have perfectly good, not fried food, at home. 

“Maxine, I swear to Christ, I’m fucking tired. Let’s go home so I can crash, and you can fucking drive Susan up the goddamn wall with your whining.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too bad.” And Billy felt his insides curdling at that voice, felt himself wilting and shriveling because he would not be getting out of this day without one final, no doubt embarrassing, encounter with his gorgeous cowboy. 

Steve was leaning against a booth selling chili fries, looking like a perfect picture of a Clint Eastwood movie. 

Billy had never liked westerns. 

But he was gonna go home and spend all night watching every one he could get his grubby little hands on. 

Steve pushed off the side of the booth as Max found her words again. 

“You don’t have to live with him.”

“And you don’t have to live with my folks. I’d trade you any day.” 

And Billy nearly died. Right there. On the spot. Because. Holy shit. I’d trade you any day. 

Billy was more than happy to follow this fucking hick around America, watch him ride his pretty horse before fucking him against the stable wall. 

Or whatever. Do they have stables? Billy doesn’t know how a traveling rodeo works. 

But like, they’ve gotta have stables, right?

“Nah, you’d get sick of him. He stinks.”

“Have you ever smelled horse shit? Because that’s the fragrance I wake up to every morning.”

And Max was laughing, and Steve was laughing, and Billy was trying to keep his hands as casually as possible in front of his slight chub. 

“Will I get the privilege of seeing you two again?” And what a way to word it? The privilege. And then Steve was looking Billy up and down, and he was biting that perfect bottom lip and opening his mouth and “I could always give you my phone number. So we can. Meet up. Next time you’re here.”

“‘Course. You can give us the grand tour.”

And Steve was digging in those tight back pockets again, and shoving his phone into Billy’s hand, and he doesn’t have a passcode, but his home screen was a picture of him and his fucking horse which is, just about the sweetest thing Billy’s ever seen. 

And Billy put himself in as Billy Hargrove , and then panicked because Steve doesn’t know his fucking last name. So he settled for Billy and then for good measure shoved San Diego after it because. Billy’s a common name, okay?

And Steve took his non-password protected fuckin’ horse girl phone, and Billy was giving him as charming a smile as he could muster with sweat on his upper lip and saying-

“You better text me, Pretty Boy. So I can save your number.” Billy shrugged, looking off to his left to try and seem. Nonchalant. “In case I wanna see you again.” 

And Max was rolling her eyes, but she wasn’t stopping away. Wasn’t even whining at Billy, no doubt on her best behavior in front of hot cowboy Steve. 

But Steve had a glint in his eye, and if Max wasn’t here Billy would be playing this all different, laying on the charm a lot thicker than he was. 

But he can’t be a horny bastard in front of her. That’s just, like, gross. 

So he settles for making a real show of licking his bottom lip, and maybe flexing his bare arms just a tiny bit. 

“We should probably get goin’. Got a curfew for this one,” Billy jerked his head in Max’s direction. She huffed before she could stop herself. “See you around, Cowboy Steve.”

And Steve gave another one of his pretty ringing laughs. 

“Come again soon, Billy and Max.” And again, Billy’s sure that if Steve were wearing a hat, he would’ve flicked the brim at them as he set off back into the rodeo, dodgin off the main thoroughfare. 

“Wow. That was embarrassing for you.” 

Billy whipped his head around to stare at Max, giving her the most disgusted look he could muster. 

“The fuck you mean?”

“You were so obvious.”

“That’s the fucking point . We were flirting. It’s supposed to be obvious, you demon.” Billy shoved her once before stomping in the direction of the parking lot. 

“Yeah but you were like, making these faces at him.”

“Shut the fuck up. I know what I was doing, okay? It was all very calculated . Let him know I’m down for it, and if he texts, then I’m good to go. If not, then I move on.”

And the thought of Steve not texting was kinda, disappointing. Because Billy really wanted him to text. He wanted to stay up late giggling at his phone and the dumb things Steve texts him and pretend they don’t make him flush like a fucking school girl. 

He pointedly didn’t look at his notification when he reached the car, just shoved an old tape in and turned up Black Sabbath when Max wrinkled her nose at it. 

They were both quiet on the drive back home. Something heavy unsaid between them. 

And only as Billy was pulling into his spot in the driveway did Max suck in a big breath to actually put it out there. 

“I won’t tell. About him. Not even Mom. Not even that I think he’s cool.”

“Thanks. Easier just to. Avoid at all costs.” 

And if Billy were a better person, maybe he would hug her or something. 

But they don’t do that. Instead he sighed and didn’t hip check her violently off the porch like his instincts were telling him. So really, he’s a fucking saint. 

[gnocchighoul]

peach bubbles & cherry wine

Summary:

“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring.

“Now be a good girl and spread your legs.” 

A/N: inspired by a convo about Lucifer’s bathroom with @thedemonstherapist​​ , and a drunk anon :D (definitely go check out her blog, she wrote something for this concept as well and it’s *chefs kiss*)

AO3 Portal

“Don’t move.”

“If I don’t I’ll drown!” 

“Just—fuck, here.” Lucifer hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you up, just slightly out of the water. He straightens out his legs, still holding you up with the ease of a bodybuilder lifting an orange, and yeah, you’re a little bit jealous at how strong he is.

Warm water closes around your hips as he gently lowers you back into his lap, and you can’t help but think about all of the things you could accomplish if you had that supernatural strength. For instance: you could probably lift a car, all by yourself. Or a really heavy bookcase. A sturdy one, made from really expensive wood. Pink ivorywood. Dalbergia. Or—

Oh, what is wrong with you? Who even cares about all of the theoretical things you could do with unimaginable strength when you are literally butt ass naked in a tub with Lucifer! And you accomplished this all on your own, with only the vastly underrated power of puppy eyes. 

Also, wine. So much wine. 

You swirl what’s left in your glass—the red liquid twisting in a dark vortex. It swallows up the dim light of the bathroom—looks more black than red. You know that color intimately. It’s nearly the same shade as Lucifer’s eyes—gleaming bright in the dark room as he dripped cherry wine into the hollow of your belly button—lapped at the red juice with his fleshy tongue and got you all sticky.

Which is how you ended up here, lounging together in warm, bubbly water. Not that you’re complaining.

Honestly, if you had known how nice Lucifer's personal bathroom is, you would have set out on your quest to date bone him so much sooner. 

It’s a lot like his room—far too much black. All doom and gloom and gold metal. Black floors. Black walls, carved of marble with gold veining, and a few floor to ceiling mirrors. The ceiling is a dizzying mural, saturated with (you guessed it) more black, but white and gray too. Sometimes, if you stare long enough—you think you can see shapes dancing in the fog of it. 

(Though that may just be a hallucination conjured up by your alcohol addled brain.)

The best thing about Lucifer’s bathroom though, by a landslide, is the massive tub situated right in the center of the room. Carved entirely of smoky quartz and the size of a small pool, you could quite literally spend hours lazing around in bubble bath bliss. Which you do, quite often. It’s borderline an obsession at this point.

(The first time you commandeered the bathtub, you had read an entire book in one sitting—as you were finishing up the last chapter, Lucifer had burst into the room all feathery and freaked out and totally convinced that you had managed to somehow drown yourself. A fair assumption—in his defense, you had been awfully quiet.)

With a tub like this, you would never use the shower again. And yet, for some horrible and awful reason, Lucifer insists that the shower is better. (Which is actually quite nice as well, but that’s neither here nor there.) When you had interrogated him about it, he just casually confessed that he hardly ever used the beautiful tub. Said something about 'showers are just more practical’. Pah. What does he know? Nothing, apparently.

But now? Well, it isn’t a challenge to coax him in with you.

Lucifer tips his head back against the cool ledge of the tub, eyes sliding shut. “Who’s idea was this anyways?” 

You down the rest of your wine, scrunching your face like an accordion when the bitter flavor bursts on your tongue. “Yours.” 

“That can’t be right.”

“Well it’s not left."

Lucifer groans loudly, acting like your totally great joke caused him real physical pain, and you tch at him.

You lean into him—rest the back of your head on his shoulder and set your empty wineglass aside on the broad, flat rim of the tub. His right arm snakes around your waist, tugging you up tight against his chest, fingertips tracing shapes into the side of your ribs and sending shivers racing across your skin.

You eye the mountain of white bubbles in front of you—lift a poofy handful out of the water. The smell of peaches brightens the room—all sun kissed and sweet.

You wonder if Lucifer is drunk enough to let you give him a bubble beard. 

"Hey, babe—"

"Don't even think about it." 

"Wh—you don’t even know what I was going to say!" 

Lucifer nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Keep the bubbles away from my face."

"...You’re such a killjoy sometimes." 

“Am I?” He threads his fingers through your hair—pulls slowly to tilt your head to the side and ghosts his lips over your neck, pausing to nip at your pulse point. Slides one hand over your breast, rolling your hard nipple between his soft fingers.

You feel it again, then—the pleasant ache still between your thighs, softened by the water's warmth settling into your body.

Lucifer bites down on your neck with sharp incisors, pulling a soft mewl from you.

You squirm. “Again?” 

You’re not actually surprised. Saturdays are devoted just to the two of you—marathon fucking and unwinding from the weekly chaos. It’s a necessary tradition, especially after a week like this previous one. You had barely seen your beloved, thanks to his boyfriend keeping him busy .  

(Lu has made it very clear that Diavolo isn’t his side piece, but like. Would it really be that bad if he was? You could invite him over for your Saturday Fuckfest, which is a very appealing thought. Who wouldn’t want a piece of that princely cake?)

“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Fuck. He sure as hell doesn’t need to tell you twice.

His fingertips skate down your stomach, deftly moving lower to brush teasingly over your clit and your head lolls back with a strangled little mewl. You turn to the side—he captures your lips with his own, swallows down your little cries. Tastes like cherry wine and dark chocolate. 

It’s too much, and not nearly enough. The damp slick of his chest against your bare back, his hand cupping your breast. He toys with you slowly, teasingly, pressing only the lightest of touches to your clit, and you want—need—more. You rock your hips back, right up against his aching cock and he hisses—pinches your nipple and slips his fingers inside of you in tandem, stretching you wide and exploring as you desperately grind against his hand.

He spent all day teasing you—pushing you to the brink and then taking his sweet time unraveling you. Playing you like a finely tuned instrument until tears pricked at your eyes and you dissolved into a begging, whimpering puddle. That fire still burns in your belly—kindled back to life, red hot and unforgiving as he presses his fingers deeper inside of you.

When it comes to fucking, Lucifer is far more patient than you are—something he’s proven a thousand times over. He enjoys it—breaking you. Ruining you. Pushing you to the brink and leaving you there, time and time again. 

But right now—you want more than just his skillful fingers.

You squirm out of Lucifer’s grip, confusing him for all of two seconds, until you turn around and straddle his strong thighs. Bubbles stick to your arms and tummy like little clouds. 

“I want you inside me.” you pout.

“Was I just not?” he says, cheekily, and you glare.

He suddenly bucks his hips up once into your own, threatening your already questionable balance—nearly sends you careening face first into his shoulder. Sudsy water sloshes over the dark rim of the tub as you steady yourself by placing both hands on his chest. You glare at his smug fucking face. 

His eyes, vibrant and jarring, meet yours—sparkling with delight. Crimson shot through with so much black that you’re not sure where the pupil ends anymore. 

You grab his chin with your slick hand—dig your fingers into his jaw and pull him into a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and heat. Relish the taste of his mouth and the slide of his lips, wordlessly begging for what you want.

He grins against your mouth. “Such a needy little thing.” 

You don’t entertain him with a reply—just grind your hips down on his cock, catching your throbbing clit, leaving you keening.

He sucks the plush of your bottom lip into his mouth and bites as you sink down on the heavy weight of cock, inch by agonizing inch until he’s buried to the hilt. He murmurs praise against your lips as he fills your pussy to the brim—sends white hot sparks shooting up your spine. You burn. 

Experimentally, you roll your hips. Lucifer meets you halfway—always does. Grinds his hips languidly into yours, easing the painful stretch of his cock between your walls into a pleasant fullness. There’s no urgency—he’s already ravaged your sweet, tight cunt. 

Lucifer feasts on your mewls—swallows them whole as he thrusts his hips up, sloshing more water over the tub rim. His hands dig into your hip as he grinds up into you with sharp, short jabs—buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard. Draws blood to the surface and lingers there. Leaves behind berry-red marks. 

Your nipples rub against his chest and you grip his shoulders—dig your nails into the taut, firm lines of muscle. Your thighs tremble as you bounce on his cock, rocking down faster—needy. 

Heat spirals and coils in your belly, winding tighter and tighter until your blood is singing with it, leaving you breathless and dizzy and alight. He snakes a hand down between your legs—fingers finding your clit and your hips spasm, squeezing him so tight that it pulls a hiss from him.

Your climax hits you hard—steals your breath away and makes your vision all fuzzy and dark. Your walls clench and Lucifer pulls your hips down, again and again and again, spurred on by your gasping and whimpering. Dragging your tight, warm pussy on his pulsating cock as he floods your womb with his seed.

As his cock softens inside of you, he releases that bruising grip on your hips—tugs you into a close embrace with absolutely no possibility of escape, squishing your slippery breasts against his chest. Heart drumming a furious beat beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around his neck and melt into his arms. 

For a few beats, it’s silent. You can tell that he wants to say something—he’s practically buzzing with words unspoken.

You lean back to see his face properly and tap the pad of your pointer finger against his chest. “Out with it, handsome.” 

“You know that I love you.” A statement, followed up by a softer, “Right?”

A smile tugs at your lips. As if that’s even a question.  

“Well I'd certainly hope so, because you're stuck with me. Forever.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth slide upwards into that dazzling grin you love so damn much. Then he shifts his hips, reminding you that he's still very much inside of you, and nudges his cock over that little patch inside of you that makes you see sparks but is also far too sensitive right now. Your breath leaves you in one great big whoosh and you bite down hard on your swollen lip.

"You're so mean." 

Lucifer hums in agreement, looking far too thrilled by your reaction. Presses a kiss to your jaw and murmurs, "Say it back."  

"What?" 

He leans back. Searches out your gaze and meets it with his own. "Say that you love me." 

Oh.

You would think he'd be reassured by the fact that his dick is literally still inside you, but… you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to use your words, too. 

You hold his hand—link your pinky finger with his own and say, "I love you."

It’s a promise. 

You relax back into his arms, content to just sit quietly amidst the peach-scented bubbles and confessions.

…For about ten seconds.

“So… About that bubble beard…”

Lucifer scoffs. Presses a kiss to your temple and smiles there. 

He really does love you.

[qianinterprises]

Among the Horses {Part One}

Pairing: farm boy!Jaehyun x female!Reader

Other Characters: OC's, Haechan (sorta, kinda, not really), Renjun (sorta, kinda, not really)

Genre: fluff, angst, country au, farmboys and lady's au, falling in love, slow burn, friends to lovers

Warnings: verbally abusive aunt, yelling, degrading (not the fun kind)

Word Count: 3.8k

Overall Synopsis: Being sent to live with your aunt isn't exactly something wonderful, especially because she's verbally abusive and downright determined to turn you into a "proper lady" who a wealthy man will want to marry. However, perhaps living there won't be so bad. After all, you've got a handsome farm boy teaching you to ride horses.

Part One Synopsis: Arriving at your aunts is very challenging and trying. After being put through the ringer with your attire, you finally get a chance to explore the green world, and spend more time with the farm boy who'd picked you up from the airport.

Author's Notes: So I started this a while ago and didn't really do anything with it, but I love it and I really wanna write more so yeah... Also, I've posted this on a03 as well.

Tagging: @treasuretaeil @hachanbaecon @hwangful

A white, dirty pick-up truck pulled off the main road and onto a long, winding dirt road, leading them closer to a grand house that you had only been to a few times in your life. The place you’d be living for the next year or two.

The truck bumped along the loose gravel, crashing over potholes, sending you bouncing on the very worn cloth of the cab, your eyes glancing worriedly to the male beside you, one of his hands planted firmly on the hard steering wheel, the other loosely placed on the stick shifter in the center of the bench.

“Are you sure the tires won’t… fall off?” your voice was thick and laiden with worry.

He glanced over at you, warm brown eyes gazing intently into yours, the opticals flecked with curiosity and amusement. Embarrassment crept under your skin.

“You haven’t been out here in awhile? Have you miss?” he asked, tone filled with friendly amusement.

You awkwardly scratched at your nose, a bit of a nervous habit she’d picked up over the years.

“No. My parents never had the money to travel.”

Your voice was small, etched in nervousness and anxiety.

He cast you a gentle smile as he pulled the truck around a sharp curve in the road, and there it was.

The house was huge, at least three stories high and stretched across the land it was perched upon. The foundation red brick that looked freshly cleaned (it probably had been), a contrast to the pearly white of the rest of the structure. The curves and contours of the slightly oddly shaped house made it more enchanting and nerve-wracking, especially as you grew closer, tires hitting the smooth cement before your driver moved the shifter and parked the truck.

“Head on in, miss, I’ll get your bags.”

His accent was a combination of Asian mixed with southern, an odd mix that somehow seemed so delicately smooth and perfect, especially the way he drawled over the “r’s”

“Miss?”

You’d been stuck in your thoughts, eyes wide as you surveyed the prospects of your new home.

“Right, yes, thank you,” you said softly, moving to get out, the door creaking as it was opened.

Your black, falling apart sneakers hit the tan pavement of the driveway, the hooks of your overalls rattling loosely against your torso as they accommodated your movements; the loose denim legs falling just above your knees as you pushed the dingy door closed.

The male you’d ridden with, Jaehyun, he said his name was, pulled the latch of the truck bed and reached up to grab your mismatched luggage, his sturdy frame pressing into the hot metal of the truck.

“Do you need some help?”

Your voice was small, mixed with worry and hesitation.

You’d do just about anything to prolong the inevitable.

“That’s quite alright, miss,” he began. “You should head on inside. The heat is a harsh place for a lady,” he answered.

You looked down, playing with your fingers, but you didn’t reply. Instead, slowly moving toward the brick steps that would lead to the entrance of the beautiful home.

~

Anina Lee was a strict lady. She liked things just a certain way and she got them how she wanted. She didn’t tolerate bad behavior or disobedience. And she had a strong dislike for people that got in her way. Thus, she had never been married.

She lived alone, if you count having two live-in maids, a chef, and a stable hand that slept in the barn as living alone.

Alina was your aunt. Your mother’s elder sister who had alienated your mother when she’d married a man of lower class. That same man later had a wife who blessed him with three kids to care for, spending his days fixing the cars of those more fortunate than him, hoping to make a buck for his family.

That’s why you were here. A young girl, coming of age to be married off and starting a family of your very own. Your family couldn’t support you any longer, and as you prepared to move away in hopes of finding some sort of job or a life, your aunt had hastlessly offered to take you in. Your mother had all too happily obliged, hoping her only and eldest daughter would learn a thing or two from the elder woman, maybe turn you into the lady your mother and father had tried for years to make you.

The stainless white door slowly opened and an older woman stood in the frame. She was clearly in her 50s, stress lines drawn thickly in her forehead, wrinkles in the corners of her dull gray eyes, deep lines around her nose and mouth, her neck sagging just a little beneath her sharp jaw. She was a small lady. On first glance one may have a hard time understanding what makes her so fierce. She was small in stature, small in size and in frame, but she had the tongue of a snake, the heart of a lioness, and the skill of a chimp.

“(Y/N)! You’re finally here!”

You stood a good few inches taller than the woman, but that made you more nervous if anything. You made her way up the steps and, as you reached the woman in the door, you were promptly pulled into a proper hug that severely lacked warmth.

“I can’t believe you got on a plane and sat amongst all those people in that ghastly attire. You must change at once!”

The woman’s voice was so shrill it could pierce glass, but you held back the flinch.

“Martha!” the same voice called into the house as she pulled you in, shutting the door and encompassing them in the cool air conditioning.

A larger lady appeared, dressed in stained blue jeans and an ugly yellow shirt.

“Please show my niece to her room and help her change into something more… feminine and lady-like,” her aunt’s voice commanded.

“When you’re finished dear, have Martha show you to my study.”

There was no endearing term in the word “dear.” Simply an icy addition to a perfectly manicured sentence.

You watched your aunts receding form, pencil skirt tight on her legs, black heels sharply hitting the hardwood intimidatingly.

“Come with me, dear. Let’s get you changed,” the larger lady spoke softly.

She was older, maybe 60 or so, her skin dark tan, although you couldn’t tell if it was the sun or her natural skin pigmentation. Her voice was grainy, but soft and endearing. Motherly she’d dare say. And you thought that this woman may actually make living here bearable.

You followed the lady up the grand staircase, up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway until you reached the end. The lady pushed open the thick white door and stepped inside, you following her closely.

Inside, the room was surprisingly rustic. A simple, full-sized bed with an obviously homemade comforter thrown across it. A light gray plush rug beside the bed. The hardwood floors were surprisingly and delightfully bare. One large section of the wall was home to a large bay window that stretched from the ceiling to the plush gray cushion of the bench. There were a few flower paintings and other pointless nicknacks scattered on obsolete surfaces around the room, but you paid no mind to them as your attention was drawn to the lady opening the large mahogany grand dresser and plucking out two cloths.

She unfolded both neatly, placing them on the bed and you sighed. The skirt was long and pleated, patterns of red and white stretched in an annoying kaleidoscope arrangement across the nearly pointless garment and the white shirt appeared to be partly transparent.

“Go ahead and get changed dear, I’ll help you when you finish,” she said kindly and turned her back.

You waited for her to leave the room but it was apparent she had no intention to. Awkwardly, you began unhooking the straps of your overalls, letting the fabric clang to the floor. Your skin heated up, feeling all too exposed before sliding into the skirt, the itchy elastic clinging to your hips uncomfortably. You pulled your stained blue t-shirt off, swapping it for the crisp white one that you feared you’d stain in the next few moments.

The lady turned around, her wide hips bumping into the dresser slightly. The dresser was sturdy enough not to jostle, but it was obvious the corner was sharp and painful. You almost felt bad at the way the lady’s face winced, but it was quickly pushed away as calloused hands began gripping the delicate skin of your arms, squeezing along the skin up your arms.

She tsked and turned around, rummaging through the dresser once again, only to turn around with a black, light cardigan.

You gawked. Why on earth would you wear that atrocious thing in this weather? It was the middle of August! Not December!

“I know. But if your aunt were to see your arms, she’d have a fit. She probably still will,” she said.

You sighed. Your aunt hadn’t changed one bit. Your skin was fragile. The tops of your forearms lightly tanned, a pigment passed on from your father. The rest of your arms and body entirely was light. Lady’s should be gorgeously sunkissed to be beautiful and to be taken seriously.

With a huff, you put on the long black sleeves, the intricately designed cotton draping over your shoulders perfectly. But that didn’t mean it was any more comfortable. You could already feel the added heat seeping onto your skin. You’d be sweaty and uncomfortable soon.

“Now let’s do something about your feet.”

You looked down; your worn socks had holes all through them, mud permanently stained to the sweaty fabric.

Bustling from the room, you were left stunned in the wake of the surprisingly fast woman, watching her round the corner and disappear down the hall to fetch something to apparently “fix your feet.”

You thought you’d do something to speed along the process. The more time spent getting you dressed in these ridiculous clothes, the less time you had to explore the outside world. You made your way to the bay window, taking a seat on the plush cushion that accommodated you nicely. You pressed your back against the edge of the wall and turned your gaze to the picturesque green world filled with surprisingly lush looking grass, dips and hills along the valley, and the tops of trees further off in the distance. All this land was yours for the roaming. You couldn’t wait to get out those doors and go exploring.

The sound of water sloshing in a pot brought your attention back from the window, glancing curiously as the large lady placed the pot down in front of the window.

“Put your feet in.”

You didn’t argue. You were hesitant, but thought better than to argue and have your aunt boil you alive in this pot.

As soon as your dingy, dirty, mud pasted feet hit the water, you hissed. The temperature felt that it could boil the skin right off.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s hot, but your aunt is expecting you down soon and I have to do this as quickly as possible,” the lady said.

Grabbing your left foot, she picked the appendage up from the water along with a suds coated dish sponge and began mercilessly scrubbing away at the tender flesh. You whined and howled, tears pricking to your eyes as your skin was scrubbed and abused by the harsh bristles of the brush. You attempted to yank your foot away, but the tight grip on your ankle prevented much movement. You were stuck suffering as the skin became reddened from the irritation.

~

As soon as the painful experience came to a close, your now pink feet were dried with a towel before being slid into a pair of eccentrically beaded, golden strapped sandals that accentuated the rest of the over-the-top outfit nicely.

“You seem presentable enough now, although I’m sure the mistress of the house would have a few unkind things to say about your wild mane.”

You tried not to take offense. You liked your hair. It was an untamed mop that curved wildly carefree, blowing in the breeze that picked up the thick tufts.

“Thank you for your help ma’am.”

She bowed at the waist, a kind smile on her lips.

“No need for the ma’am dear. Call me Martha, or Mrs. Rivera if you must.”

And with no more haste, Martha Rivera led you back down the grand staircase to the bottom floor, the tight flats biting at your heels and ankles with every step you took, fighting off the winces that followed. You rounded a few sharp corners, venturing into a large sitting room with an extravagant flat screen high on the wall and couches that looked brand new. Through a dining room, table decorated with a sequined bronze cloth and the finest China you’d ever seen, although that wasn’t really a stretch. Finally, they made it to a large oak door, cracked just enough that you could see your aunt’s silhouette sitting behind an elegant red desk, glasses perched on her nose, pen in hand, eyes married to the computer screen. Mrs. Rivera left you by the door, and you almost spun on your heel and walked away. But of course, that would be too easy.

“Come in child. Stop standing in the doorway.”

Your blood froze in your veins. You pushed the door open and stolled in, tripping over the lion skin rug, stumbling a bit before catching your balance. Harsh wisps of breath rushed past your aunt's lips and the chair creaked as the weight lifted from it.

You straightened your back, staring fearfully into the cold gray eyes that trailed over your face and down your clothes.

The woman began moving slowly around you, manicured nails and boney fingers tracing over the outline of your clothes and jaw, running through your wild mane and down your hands, inspecting the bitten off nails. As she walked, she muttered things like “hair won’t do” and “horrible posture” before she stood back in front of you.

“You simply won’t do,” she said sternly.

The words hit hard. You may have been expecting something like this, but it didn’t make the words hurt any less.

“You look like you’ve been sleeping with the horses. Your nails are pitiful. Your skin is far too light.”

She gripped your jaw, tilting your head up harshly to expose your still slightly chubby neck.

“Can you ride a horse?”

The question was sudden and it caught you off guard, but you answered as quickly as your brain would allow.

“N-no. I’ve never ridden before.”

The woman sighed loudly, hot puffs of air pouring out of her flared nostrils.

“That’ll have to change. Starting tomorrow, you will be taking riding lessons from the stable boy. Every lady should have the basic skills of riding,” her tone was cold and brisk as she looked away and perched back at her desk.

“You’re dismissed. Dinner is at 6. Don’t be late. You may roam the grounds.”

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed her niece and immediately went back to work, not bating another eyelash as you fled hastlessly from the room, your eyes welling with tears as stress and fear washed over you, although more relieved that it was over and you could finally do something for yourself. You’d start by ditching these God forsaken shoes.

You made your way around the back door of the house, more by pure necessity than memory, simply logically thinking the best way around in the expansive flooring. When you made it, a smile broke across your face as you unfastened the painful shoes, kicking them off in a sloppy jumble by the door before opening the heavy door, the heat of the afternoon hitting your face, not that you minded.

As you stepped out, bare feeting meeting hot cement, you stripped the cardigan from your shoulders, draping it over a random, sun baked chair. You tore off through the grass, laughing giddily, breeze blowing wisps of your hair, skirt fluttering delicately over your skin. It would be difficult to do anything in the blasted thing, but you wouldn’t give yourself enough time to strip down into something better, opting to enjoy the last of the day while you could. And you’d start in the bright red barn your eyes immediately fell on.

~

Making your way through the soft grass that squished under the weight of your feet, you strolled into the half open barn, the soft snorts of animals bringing a smile to your lips. Just because you couldn’t ride, doesn’t mean you didn’t love the animals. You loved horses especially. They were such beautiful and majestic creatures. You’d always wanted a horse, but your family had never been able to afford one. You’d always wanted to ride, and now you could, although you didn’t understand why it was so important to your aunt.

The cool concrete felt rough beneath your feet, stray straws of hay littering the floor. It could have been a picture straight out of one of the Country Living magazines you’d kept hidden away at your parents home.

The first horse you came upon was a tall brown animal, head hung over the stall door, ears perked to attention, eyes trained on the new invader inside the barnhouse. He snorted at you and his hoof hit the barn door lightly in an attempt at getting closer. You stepped closer, slowly offering your hand out, letting the animal sniff searchingly.

“He’s looking for some sugar cubes.”

The voice came out of nowhere, interrupting your serenity, a yelp leaving your lips as your whole body jolted in the sudden fright.

You turned your head to the barn door where your driver was standing, taunt arms crossed over a broad chest, veiled from prying eyes by a lightweight flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His long legs were clad in dusty denim, mud and hay from his knees to the tops of the worn work boots.

“I’m sorry. I just like horses-”

“And you thought you’d come visit them?” he finished your sentence.

You immediately began shuffling your feet, eyes turning back to study the fading paint on the stall to keep from facing him.

Heavy footsteps hit the floor as the male moved closer until he was close enough to touch. His large, rough hand gripped your wrist lightly, bringing it up toward him. You let out a little yelp, riddled with confusion and curiosity until three small blocks were placed in your palm.

“Hold your palm out to him and don’t jerk away,” he spoke calmly, slowly urging you.

You nodded, having some sort of unkempt trust in his words as you turned back to the animal and extended your arm, palm flat, cubed sugar offered to the horse, who greedily munched them right out of your hands.

“His name’s Haechan. He’s a bit of a character.”

You nodded, drawing your now horse-slobbered hand away, opting to stroke the animal's fur from his nose to between his eyes.

“That’s an interesting name,” you said.

He hummed behind you and you heard his boots hitting the concrete as he moved away.

“Do you like animals?” he asked.

You spun around, eyes wide and shining.

“Yes! I love them! Sometimes I prefer animals over humans!”

His smile was gentle as he surveyed your physique, a dusty pink tinting his cheeks, although you thought nothing of it.

“Come on, I want to show you something,”he said, walking past you to the opposite exit of the barn.

You followed close behind, curious as to where he was taking her. Your feet fell back onto the grass, the long blades sliding between your toes as you followed in his wake. As they walked, a white picket fence came into view, not far from the barn, but oddly well hidden beneath the crest of a hill rolling through the land. Once you reached the fence, his hands curled around the boards, hoisting himself up, foot balanced on the bottom board as he climbed up, throwing a leg over one side, then the other, and jumping down. You stared at him in awestruck confusion.

“Climb over, I’ll catch you on this side.”

You didn’t know why you blindly trusted him. You didn’t know him from a random stranger in the town, but you complied, placing your foot onto the same board he had, pulling yourself up and swinging a leg over, then another. The skirt snagged in the boards a few times, one of your feet nearly slipping off the boards as you attempted to keep it pushed down. This proved to be more of a challenge as you balanced on your heels, hands clutching the top piece of wood as you contemplated how to get down now. That is, until his arms outstretched, slightly bent at the elbow, fingers parted, palms facing one another, and you knew what he wanted you to do. Taking a deep breath, you pushed off with your left foot, hands releasing your grip on the fence, letting yourself drop, eyes squeezing in slight fear that you’d soon flop hard against the green earth. But when strong hands caught your waist, arms drawing you in, broad chest breaking your fall, you braced herself against him, feet carefully being lowered until they pressed back into the earth.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

His teasing tone had you pulling away, glaring playfully at him before turning and pretending to walk away, leaving him in your path.

At least, until you heard a rustling in the long grass inside the fence.

You squeaked as it grew closer taking a step back as your harsh gaze followed the rustling of the grass, positive a snake would wrap itself around your leg as it dug its venomous fangs into your soft flesh.

Needless to say, you were in for quite a shock when the small head of a brown and white calf popped up from the grass.

And you were sinking to your knees.

The calf moved toward your lowered body, sniffing at your arms until you reached out to run a hand down it’s small head and back, cooing quietly, eyes brimming with unfiltered delight as you wrapped your arms around the baby, stroking the fur of its back lovingly.

“This is Renjun. He’s my little cousin's calf.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. Your cooes of joy were enough to show every emotion you were currently feeling.

Horrible aunt or not. You could certainly find worse places to be trapped. At least here you had rolling hills of green, beautiful animals to fawn over, and Jaehyun, handsome stableboy who you couldn’t wait to get to know.

[alderaani]

conceal don’t feel

Summary: Fox removes his helmet in front of Riyo for the first time, and she very much likes what she sees. | AO3 

Pairing: Foxiyo, no warnings.

A/N: I’m not even really sure where this came from, but it has been all my brain wanted to write for the past two days, so.......here she is.

Riyo knew what it was like to fall.

It was a rite of passage on Pantora to climb the cliffs outside the capital, the only high point disturbing the tarnished gleam of the marshlands for hundreds of miles. It usually took adolescents several tries to reach the top and Riyo had been no different, just one of many amongst the blue-and-purple sea of her peers. She’d been fifteen then, straddling the cusp of adulthood and desperate to prove herself. How funny, now, that she wanted to peel back a decade and tell that young girl to slow down, not rush, to cling on to her youth.

The day of her climbing she’d been so impatient, so sure that she would be among the first to reach the top. It had lasted as long as it took to leave the ground before all ambition had been wiped away, the world narrowing down to the tips of her fingers, the pads of her toes and the way she sought out crevices in which to place them. She wasn’t the first to fall, nor was she the last. The memory was sharp and clear, like the cold air near the top of the ridge, where the birds took flight from their nests and swirled, screaming, around their earthly intruders. She’d hesitated a beat too long, her fingers sliding on the slick rock, and then there had been the lurch of her stomach dropping out, the white noise of terror supernovaing inside her skull. The split second of free-fall, of feeling totally and utterly weightless, before gravity had set in. The sudden finality of the drop, of the way the air rushed through her horrifyingly empty fingers.

The ropes had caught her, of course, along with the eager, guiding hands of her friends, and before long she’d been stood on the peak, feeling the wind corral the backs of her legs and pull teasingly at her hair, victory surging in her gut. But the feeling had stayed with her - that long, eternal moment, like a drawn in breath.

It was the sort of thing most people didn’t experience twice. But now here she was, staring into Commander Fox’s face and stepping into free fall.

“Senator?” He was saying, his hands firm and solid on the curves of her shoulders. Her poncho had gone awry in the bomb blast that had shattered her windows and put the Senate into lockdown, and he pulled up the edges and tucked them round her almost absentmindedly. She shivered at the feeling of his gloved fingers brushing over her naked skin, despite the blunt efficiency of the touch.

“Senator Chuchi?” The commander repeated, his hands going tight. “Senator?”

When she didn’t reply, unable to do anything but stare, he released one of her shoulders in favour of putting his commlink to his mouth.

“I need a medic here stat. Think the Senator’s going into shock.”

That was enough for her to shake her head, feeling the scrape of her hair pieces against her scalp where they’d gone awry. Pulling some sort of composure together out of the rubble was harder, though she did her best seeing the worry in those brown eyes.

Was this always what he looked like under that helmet? Was there always so much feeling, fleeting and raw across his naked face? She was so used to having to parse out his emotions from the slant of his shoulders, the tight motions of his hands, the hard shape of his voice, that so much bare skin was almost overwhelming. 

“Sorry, Commander, I’m well,” she murmured. His eyes were a brown she’d seen literally a thousand times, but somehow were completely different. The full lashes, the little creases developing at the corners, the flecks of gold sitting bold at their centres. The hard, piercing gaze that was all Fox, breathtaking without his helmet in the way. It was almost worth the ruin her office had been turned into to have seen the strong line of his jaw, the soft streaks of grey hair developing at his temples. His lips looked chapped and raw, and a not-insignificant part of her wanted to touch them with her thumb. 

“Senator, you’ve been staring at me for five minutes,” Fox informed her flatly, voice deep and scratchy with a bass that the vocoder must usually filter out. “And - kriff, you’re bleeding.”

“What?” Riyo reached up to touch her face, then squeaked when Fox caught her wrist and reached into his utility belt for a tissue, which he used to dab at her hairline. There was a flash of pain as it came away dark, and the cold night air funnelling through the open window sharded against her bare skin, sending shivers wracking through her body.

“Oh,” she breathed, as Fox cursed and pressed the tissue back down. As he shifted she caught sight of a thin line of red beading on his cheekbone and tilted her head. “You’re bleeding too.”

“Just stay still, Senator,” Fox said, ignoring her comment in favour of glancing over his shoulder and shifting so that his body was between her and the door. His uncovered curls lifted as a fresh gust of wind blew in, his shoulders hunching. She saw him glance at his helmet more than once, resting by his feet with the visor shattered, and considered how odd this must be for him too as she let herself be manhandled away from the window to one of the plush green chairs in the corner, stained now and blackened with soot. 

“I’ve never seen your face before. It’s very nice,” she said before she could help it, fighting the urge to clap her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, or to phrase it like he’d picked it at a store. 

Usually she was so careful around the Commander, so choosy with what she said. Riyo had learned early on that blunter commentary would make Fox withdraw, turning him back into a professional pillar of plastoid and paint. Too many nights of him leading her escort back to her apartment had gone by in silence before she’d mastered the knack of weedling him into polite conversation, like luring a baby loth-cat into the open. 

She liked him - liked the way the harsh things seemed to roll impassively off his back, the way he turned to stone should anyone cross him or his brothers, the plainness of his feelings when you knew how to look. She didn’t know why she’d felt so compelled to learn his tells, and he hadn’t invited her in as much as she’d bothered to knock. Commenting on his face, bared without permission, felt much more like picking the lock and forcing entry to the tight facade he so carefully maintained.

It seemed to be a night for surprises, though. Fox just tilted his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You’ve seen several of the Guard, before, yes?”

Riyo nodded, then winced as it sent pain skittering down her neck. Fox noticed, of course, and moved one hand to support the base of her skull while he continued to press down on the wound. Now that he’d mentioned it she could feel the blood trails tickling as they dried down her cheek. 

“Then you have seen my face, Senator. I got the standard GAR issue, same as everyone else.”

She shook her head before she could think better of it, and realised suddenly that she was trembling, shivers wracking up her arms. Perhaps the Commander was onto something with his assertion of shock. 

“Now that’s not true at all,” she murmured, aware that she was setting herself up for another fall but unable to stop the words tumbling out. “Now that I know it, I’d recognise yours anywhere, Fox.” 

His brow crinkled, concern burning bright in those pretty eyes, and she realised, distantly and unable to care much, that she’d never called him by name before. Not without ‘Commander’ attached, at least. He raised his commlink again. 

“What the Sith-hells is taking so long, Oops? Get your shebs up to level fifty now,” he hissed, then pressed down firmly when she shifted again. “Please stay still.” 

“I’m cold,” Riyo said quietly, closing her eyes briefly until Fox made a low sound and shook her, just a little. 

“Come on Senator, keep talking to me. Are you sure there’s no medkit in here?” He asked.

Riyo gestured at the still-smouldering remains of her desk. “There was one in the third draw down.” 

Fox cursed, soft and sharp, and despite the cold and the way her head was swimming, it made her giggle. 

“Sorry Commander,” Came a panting, tinny voice. “I’m in the stairwell now, moving to your location. It’s chaos down here, ‘m gettin’ run over by half the karking Senate.” 

“Tell him corridor 847 is always empty,” Riyo murmured. “The maintenance tunnel half way down pops out just opposite my aide’s office.” 

Fox raised an eyebrow but dutifully relayed the message, getting a laugh and an affirmative from the medic on the other end. 

“Don’t give me that look,” she said, instantly regretting it when Fox’s expression shuttered. “No - I mean - you can laugh. I suppose it’s silly, but sometimes it’s the only way to avoid Senator Bronn. I climb in there with a datapad and pretend I’m out until he leaves. Courageous of me, isn’t it?” 

Fox’s forehead creased. “Is he giving you trouble?”

Riyo laughed weakly. “No, no, it’s very kind of you to worry, Commander. He just likes to talk too much and orders the worst food - some sort of delicacy from his home, I think, but they taste awful. And it would cause offence to refuse.”

There was a short pause before Fox’s lips stretched into a small grin, his head ducking as if to hide it from view. 

“So you hide in the maintenance halls?”

Riyo couldn’t help the answering smile that burst onto her face, even as her cheeks went hot. Their gazes met, and the jolt that ran through her was electric before she forced herself to look away. She swallowed thickly. 

“I’ve never liked confrontation,” she shrugged. “So where I can, I avoid it. Perhaps not the best trait in a Senator.”

Where Fox’s hand still cupped the back of her neck she felt the gentlest pressure, the quick sweep of a thumb against the dip of her spine. 

“Seems like we could sometimes do with more of that to me,” he said, voice soft but still amused. At this distance she could see the light stubble on his cheeks, a small scar on the bridge of his nose that had paled with time, the deep purple shadows ringing his eyes. 

Riyo stilled, lost again in the thrill of every little detail, and still hadn’t responded by the time they heard a thump and a yelp from outside the door. Fox rolled his eyes, but she could see the tension drain out of his shoulders.

“That’ll be Oops.” 

She smiled. “A promising name.”

Fox smirked. “He’s one of our best, Senator. I’ll let him in.” 

The cold rushed back in from the moment he let her go, but she could almost still feel the imprint of his hand on her skin, the weight of his eyes on her. Fox stood from where he’d been kneeling next to the chair, then turned to go to the blast door.

Riyo cleared her throat.

“Commander Fox?” 

He turned, the emergency lights slanting red over the bridge of his nose. 

“I meant it - what I said. You do have a pretty face. And I’d recognise it anywhere, GAR standard issue or not.” 

It seemed awfully important that he know, right now, before this moment ended, even though she couldn’t articulate why. She had to let him know that it mattered; that for however little it was worth, considering what she was and what the system she was part of made him do, she could see him. 

“I think that may be your head wound talking, Senator. But...thank you.”

He raised his hand towards the control panel, his head ducked, but as he pressed a button and the lights went green, Riyo could see the shy, bashful smile forming on his lips. 

She could only hope that he’d deem her worthy of that great privilege again.

taglist: @simping-for-fives @leias-left-hair-bun @nelba @iscream4clones @dom-i-nic @battletales | list here

[edens-breathless-melodies-moved]

words: 3.4k

pairing: kageyama t. x f!chubby!reader

prompt: sweat kink

warnings: cursing, oral (female receiving), fucking in a personal gym, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), sweat licking (he’s a freak lmao)

summary: kageyama knew you looked good while working out. the way your soft arms would suddenly flex and he’d see the muscles you were so good at hiding.

he knew he liked to watch you work out, but he never would have known that the sight of you covered in sweat would stir something so primal in him.

a/n: kageyama likes his women chunky you can’t change my mind. just to clarify, reader is an american who came to japan because iwa convinced her she’d go to the olympics if she followed him. she met iwa in her first year of college and quickly became friends. reader is insinuated to be a rather plush woman, but she’s ✨ s t w o n g ✨

“group bonding exercise?”

you repeated dubiously, blinking owlishly at the blonde in front of you as he just sits there and smiles, nodding his head.

you look to the other men in the olympic gymnasium for help, but they either shrug their shoulders in equal confusion or nodded their heads with atsumu.

when you had walked through the gym doors this morning with iwaizumi, ready to start the days training, you didn’t expect to have atsumu come up to you and propose a “bonding experience”, in his words.

hinata came bounding up to you with that ridiculous speed of his, orange hair bouncing in his excitement. he was practically vibrating with energy, hazel eyes glowing under the fluorescent lighting.

“yeah! we overheard you saying how you wanted to get back in shape and slim down a little, so what better group to help you out than us?”

all the men in the gym froze at his oblivious words, shocked that he really just said that to your face. kageyama froze in the middle of his lunges and choked, eyes wide.

‘this idiot really has no class…’ they all thought simultaneously as they watched the scene unfold with bated breath, waiting for the inevitable moment you ripped his head off and stomped on his body.

if there was one thing they all knew, they knew it was to never mention a woman’s weight. especially to you. you weren’t exactly the thinnest around, but that didn’t make you any less attractive.

in all honesty, you were hot, in all your foreign, sexy glory.

to everyone’s obvious surprise however, instead of killing the ginger, you laughed instead and patted him on his floof, thanking him for reminding you.

the team sweat dropped as hinata bounced around, clearly enjoying the head pat as he started spouting off different types of exercises they wanted you to do, bokuto and atsumu quickly joining in.

they all surely expected you to spike his head off or something, but they were pleasantly surprised and grateful you didn’t. they couldn’t afford to replace him so close to the games.

you see, you were no stranger to physical violence or getting physical in general. you had been recruited to manage the japanese men’s olympic volleyball team by none other than iwaizumi hajime, himself.

it was funny how things worked out because you two had already known each other before the offer was even offered.

you had met previously during college where you both graduated with the same degree. having spent the last four years taking the same classes and becoming best friends, it wasn’t a surprise when iwa asked you to come back with him to japan.

though you were pretty adamant in staying in america, despite knowing japanese, you somehow were convinced by him. before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to your hometown of los angeles and saying hello to tokyo.

because of your past with iwaizumi coupled with the fact that you both had the same degree and title, you two were known as the demon trainers from hell.

where iwa was all obvious brute strength and harsh glares, you were much more reserved but still equally as terrifying with your sickly sweet smiles and icy words if the boys were getting out of line.

but just because you preferred to make them cry with your words instead of your fists, that didn’t mean it wasn’t common to see you either hitting one of them upside the head or spiking a ball at them with deadly accuracy.

when the team first met you, however, they could hardly believe that you were a certified athletic trainer, let alone their manager on top of that. it wasn’t anything against you, you just… didn’t look the part.

standing at a whopping 5’4”, all the men on the team easily dwarfed you in height, and your body wasn’t all hard planes and corded muscles. you were soft and squishy looking, running a little heavy for your height.

you just looked so adorable and soft. your cheeks had this permanent blush across them from your constant sunburn (blame the california sun), and they always puffed out when you pouted.

but that was their first mistake; underestimating you. even kageyama, your boyfriend, had underestimated you, though he denies it now.

it was actually how you two had met, though it was under less than ideal circumstances.

he was bold enough to question whether you were even meant to be on their team your first day meeting them, unintentionally offending you and all your hard work to get where you were.

“it’s nothing against you personally, but you just don’t look like you’re meant for the job.”

kageyama had said without looking at you, and everyone, including the coaches, were stunned by his blunt and brash words. even ushijima was rendered speechless.

kageyama looked around confusedly at everyone’s silence and wide eyes. what? did he say something wrong? he didn’t mean to offend you, he was just telling the truth how he saw it.

it was only when iwaizumi snickered and everyone broke out of their shocked reverie that all eyes shifted from kageyama to you.

chills ran down their spines at the eerily calm smile you gave kageyama, eyes closed tightly as you took a deep breath in. “you really fucked up now, kageyama.” iwaizumi chuckled.

everyone’s hearts stopped when you opened your eyes, and even kageyama shivered when your gaze met his. the way the fire in your eyes seemed to run so hot it could freeze over hell, looked eerily similar to the look hinata gives on the court.

“so i “don’t look the part”, hmm?” you muse, smile growing even wider as you watched the setter fumble over his words, trying to save face.

you let out an over dramatic sigh as you tossed your head back, clicking your tongue once as iwaizumi let out another laugh before walking over to stand by your side. apparently this happened often.

kageyama stopped fumbling over his words as he watched his old senpai cross his arms over his chest. you chuckled as you shucked off your trainer jacket, revealing your plain black t-shirt underneath.

the team never took their eyes off of you as you raised your arms above your head and stretched. gasps rang out across the gym as they saw your flex and the muscles that bulged from underneath your fluffy flesh.

“y’know, kageyama-san,” you drawled, lowering your arms as you began methodically stretching your thick legs, sharp eyes never leaving his. “you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

“she’s right,” iwaizumi mused with a smirk. “i’m pretty sure i was, and i still regret it to this day.”

kageyama gulped nervously and the team could only watch in awe as you finished your stretching before bending over slightly to your left.

you lined up your shoulders with iwaizumi’s hips as you placed a firm grip on his knee and around his shoulders.

with wide eyes and jaws dropped to the floor, the entire team and even the coaches watched you lift iwaizumi with ease and settle him into a comfortable fireman’s carry.

atsumu, bokuto, and hinata audibly screeched and even the usually stoic sakusa and ushijima choked on their spit in shock.

without breaking a sweat, in a sheer display of strength and power, you casually walked towards kageyama, and iwaizumi couldn’t repress his snickers because kageyama looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

how are you so strong?!

your smirk never left your lips as you stopped only a couple of feet away from the shocked olympian, and raised an eyebrow at him mockingly. “what’s wrong, kageyama-san? cat got your tongue?”

you grin grows maliciously as he struggles to answer you, obviously flustered. “do i still look too “soft” or “weak” to be able to handle you guys?”

when kageyama still didn’t answer you, still too flustered and shocked by your impressive display of strength, (cause iwaizumi is not light, that man is straight muscle), you sighed before giving the gym a quick scan before settling on one of the team's liberos.

“yaku-san.” yaku jumped at your polite tone when you called his name, but he quickly recovered with a sincere smile. “yes, (l/n)-san?”

you shot him a sweet smile of your own, and chose to ignore the blush across his cheeks to avoid embarrassing him. “can you give me a number between one and twenty?”

yaku stared at you confusedly along with the rest of the team and iwaizumi fully burst out laughing, shaking on your shoulders. you fought back your own grin as you threatened to drop him.

“um, ten?”

you grinned as you widened your stance, feet placed shoulder length apart as you took in a deep breath, preparing your muscles.

“good, i wanted a decent workout today, anyways.”

and when you began to squat your best friend with perfect posture and ease, kageyama didn’t even register the howling screeches of his teammates as they lost their minds over this mini she-hulk they just got as a manager.

instead, kageyama could only focus on the blood rushing through his ears and to his cheeks as he watched you squat his senpai with a smile on your beautiful face, a singular bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

oh, he was in deep now.

—————————

kageyama knew he should be ashamed of the way he was staring at you, but he couldn’t find it within himself to tear his eyes away.

with a harsh gulp and wide eyes, he watched you as you continued on with your leg presses, eyes closed as you took in even breaths.

you didn’t even seem bothered by the amount of weight you were pushing, but then again, 300 lbs was something normal to you.

finishing your reps, pushed your legs out fully before locking the press, taking a deep swig of your water as you lifted yourself up from your reclined sitting position.

blue eyes followed the trail of your sweat as it glided down the side of your neck before being absorbed into the fabric of your sports bra strap, and he gulped again, pants suddenly feeling tight.

that feeling only intensified when you lifted the edge of your shirt to wipe at your soaked brow, exposing your pudgy and soft tummy. you’ve never looked more delicious to kageyama than now.

when your boyfriend of six months and olympian in training had invited you to his home to work out in his personal gym after you finished atsumu’s little “team bonding experience” you didn’t expect him to just stare at you as you went about your reps and sets.

you chose to ignore the hungry way he gazed at your plush body as you moved over to where the squat stand was, bar already loaded with your preferred weight.

not minding the intense stare from across the room, you bit back a smile when you heard the light gasp come from your boyfriend as you ducked under the bar and settled it comfortably on your shoulders.

you stood up straight and relished in the familiar weight against your flesh. stepping back with a deep breath, making sure your posture was correct, you squatted your first rep.

as you came back up, you weren’t surprised when you noticed your boyfriend had disappeared from his seat by the shoulder press.

what did surprise you was the sudden warm presence behind you, and you bit back a startled gasp when you felt his large hands come to gently rest on your waist.

“as a professional trainer, you should know it’s dangerous to squat without a spotter.” kageyama’s deep voice muttered out. he resisted the urge to dig his fingers into your soft skin as you chuckled.

“you’re right, but i think i can handle myself.” you musea. you held back a gasp when he leaned forward to nudge his nose against your jaw, breath cool against your sweaty skin.

kageyama inhaled the musky yet sweet scent of your sweat against your skin and had to bite his lip to repress his groan. why was he getting so worked up over this?

“squatting 320 isn’t something you just cover on your own.” he growled into your ear, and you finally realized how worked up your boyfriend was from watching you work out.

not that you can blame him, however. watching him do his arm reps and the way his back muscles rippled under his plain white tee whenever he lifted himself for pull ups had your yoga pants feeling a little damp.

sensing things were about to get hot and heavy, you stepped towards the squat stand to put up your bar, kageyama’s hands never leaving your waist.

just as the weight left your shoulders and was properly put away, you let out a gasp when you felt his cool tongue slide sensually up your neck, and you blushed at the deep groan that left his lips.

your own moans soon filled the air as kageyama ground his hard cock against your ass through his joggers, groping your soft sides fully with his hands.

you rested your head against his chest as you let him massage your body roughly with his dexterous digits, mewling and panting at the way he teased and pinched your nipples through the fabric of your sports bra.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped in your ear, maneuvering your bodies to lay on the padded gym floor. you let him spread your thighs as you propped your body up on one elbow.

you panted lightly as kageyama looked down on you from above, kneeling between your legs while gazing over your glistening form.

your baby hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead as your skin seemed to glisten under the fluorescent lights above.

blue eyes zeroed in on a stray drop of sweat that glided from your neck and began its descent down the valley of your breasts.

something in him snapped and he lunged forward, causing you to yelp in surprise before moaning as he tongue followed the sweat drops path, groaning against your heated skin at the salty taste.

he needed more.

“the way you look when you’re working out, the way your sweat makes your skin glow,” a whine escaped your lips as he nipped gently at your collar bone.

he lifted his head to meet your eyes and you gasped at the feral look in his blue orbs, pupils blown wide with lust.

“you make me so hungry, (y/n).” before you had a chance to respond to him, the sudden sound of fabric tearing and your inner thighs exposed to cool air made you balk, and you stared at your boyfriend in shock.

“you did not just rip open my yoga pants!” kageyama gave you a blank look before shrugging, leaning his face down to your exposed core, pleased to find that you were already dripping onto the floor.

“i’ll buy you another pair.” a breathy moan replaced your curse for his causal destruction of your clothing as he licked a fat stripe up your cunt, fingers digging harshly into the plumpness of your thighs as he drank in your flavor.

moans spilled from your parted lips uncontrollably as kageyama ate you out, tongue flicking and suckling against your clit as one of his hands released your thigh in favor of sinking two fingers into your hot core.

“fuck!” you choke out in a whisper as you wind your fingers through his silky locks, gripping them tightly as you roll your hips into his face.

kageyama took your grinding on his face in stride, speeding up the movements of his fingers as he searched your walls for that one spot that made you see stars.

“a-ah!” you cried out, thighs clenching around his head as he smirked into your flesh. found it. tears began pricking your eyes as your body was assaulted with pleasure, kageyama’s fingers slamming right into your g-spot.

kageyama knew you were getting close when he felt your walls flutter around his fingers and your soft moans began growing louder as you neared your release.

with a snarl, kageyama pulled his fingers from you roughly and sat up from in between your legs. your whimper at the sudden emptiness was swallowed by him as he slammed his lips to yours hungrily.

you moaned into the kiss, tasting yourself as you felt him fumble with the tie on his joggers before pulling them down along with his boxers to free his cock.

kageyama pulled away from the kiss, greedily taking in your breathless and flushed expression before slowly pushing his length into you, groaning as he forced your walls to accommodate his girth and impressive length.

tears sprung in your eyes and fell down your soft cheeks as you cried at the stretch, mind going delirious from the pleasure as your boyfriend continued to sink into you.

kageyama leaned down to lick up your tears before roughly snapping his hips into you, sinking the rest of the way in as his pelvis settled flush against you.

you choked as he bottomed out, and your hands instinctively went to grip onto his muscular shoulders, nails digging into his flesh hard enough to leave marks.

kageyama groaned at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, and he pulled back before slamming into you, relishing the way your walls seemed to suck him back in.

“tobio!” you cried out, voice breathless and wobbly as he slammed directly into your g-spot. kageyama smirked at your already fucked out expression, and slammed his cock into you again.

nothing but the sound of skin against skin and your wanton moans filled the stuffy gym air as kageyama pounded into you.

“fuck, (y/n),” kageyama groaned, leaning back on his haunches as he pounded into your sopping cunt, holding your legs up by your knees while biting his lip, watching you lose yourself on his cock.

your soft stomach jiggled with each thrust, shirt having ridden up while you squeezed your breasts through your bra, eyes crossing from the pleasure.

“fuck! you feel too f-fucking good!” you moaned, voice stuttering from the intensity kageyama was fucking into you with. kageyama smiled down at you, cheeks flushed from the compliment. “you’re taking me so well, pretty thing.”

he hissed as you clenched around him. apparently you liked that. so he continued.

“you feel so nice and tight around me, pretty girl.” he moaned out, feeling his high begin to approach him as your soft walls fluttered around him. he let one of your legs drop as he brought a hand to your aching clit.

rubbing tight circles into your sensitive nub, he sped up his hips until you were practically sobbing from the pleasure, coming dangerously close to tipping over the edge.

kageyama groaned at the sight of your flushed cheeks shining with tears and sweat, swollen pink lips caught in your teeth as you stared up at him with furrowed brows.

“i-i’m close!” you stuttered out, body beginning to seize while you could practically taste your orgasm. kageyama wasn’t any better, his hips losing rhythm as he opted to just pounding into you with whatever he’s got left.

“go on, pretty girl.” he huffed out, lazy smile curling his lips as he continued rubbing your clit with precise circles. “make a mess on me.”

a scream ripped through your vocal cords as you spasmed on his cock, eyes clenching shut as you clamped around him so tightly kageyama became lightheaded.

with a choked moan of his own he came deep inside you, filling you up to the brim with his cum as he fell forward, stopping himself from falling onto you as he held himself up with his arms.

you both sat there for a while, desperately trying to catch your breaths as you eventually came down from your highs.

opening your eyes, you find that kageyama was already staring at you, eyes softened and face still flushed from his high. you watched as a singular bead of sweat rolled down his nose before dropping onto the corner of your mouth.

without even thinking, your tongue swiped out to lick it up, and you saw your boyfriend’s eyes harden again, and a gasp escaped you as he rutted his hips into yours, cock twitching back to life.

a devious smirk filled his face, and he raised a singular eyebrow at you in challenge.

“you don’t think we’re done, do you? we still have a lot more sets to finish.”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie