#I realized Summer Stock was a show and I lost my mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helnjk · 4 years ago

Text

Stitching Together - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader

Requested: yes !! by my lovely bean marissa @lumos-barnes

please accept my humble request for a george x reader where the reader owns a shop in diagon alley and one day they walk into WWW and george knocks over a whole display, he is a complete SIMP & cannot compose himself. complete buffoonery when the reader is near. they become friends & do all these nice things for each other and the reader is oblivious like "george, i'm so lucky to be your friend" (even though the reader is secretly simping) and he's like "um what, i'm literally in love with you"

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of meals and drinks (coffee), but other than that it’s just pure fluff & Dumb Idiots In Love

A/N: somehow i always end up writing george knitting? idk how it happened, but it happened. i hope you like it marissa 🥺💕

–

You took a step back to admire your handiwork.

After what seemed like neverending hours, the layout of your shop was finally perfect. From where you stood, you had a view of the streets of Diagon Alley, several passersby coming and goings from your sight. The display of charmed knit work by the window was already moving, demonstrating simple stitches that formed into a scarf.

It had always been your dream to open up your own shop in the most prominent wizarding area of Britain, with your passion for knitting and crafting, but the timing had always been off. Now, about a year or so since the war had ended, your grandmother surprised you with the capital to make your dreams come true.

The gesture was extra special because she was the one who first taught you how to knit. Many summers were spent in her cottage, sitting side by side and working on personal projects together.

Outside, your sign read ‘Stitching Together: Grand Opening’. There were a few flyers posted right on the door and on the window advertising the different classes and crafting groups you were offering, as well as the different products that could be found in your store.

It was as if your heart could burst at the sight of your fully furnished shop and you could wait no longer. With a flick of your wand, the sign on the door flipped to say open and that was that.

–

“Hey Freddie, have you seen that new shop that’s opened down the street?” George yelled from the bottom of the stairs once the last customer of the day made their leave.

“Haven’t gone in, but it’s gotten a lot of customers from what I can tell!” the disembodied voice of his twin replied from somewhere above.

As he began the process of cleaning up and reshelving, products floating in midair or zooming towards their proper shelves, he called out once more, “What type of store is it d’you reckon?”

“Arts and crafts? Something like that.”

George’s eyes drifted towards the shop window, where he could just barely see the outline of the new store. Dusk had begun to set in London, so the sky was filled with brilliant hues of purple and orange. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided that he would go welcome the new shop owner to Diagon Alley.

With a shout to let his twin know where he was off to, George strode out of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and into the brisk weather. Luckily for him, Stitching Together was still open. He could see you bustling around inside, fixing displays and swishing your wand to tidy everything up.

It had only been around a month since your shop had opened, but the local wizard folk of London seemed to be very keen on buying the different things you sold. Many came around to purchase the instructional books and the different kinds of wool and yarn, and some of your regulars had even taken an interest in the classes you held weekly. It was a great way for you to get to know the community and to establish friendships.

You had always taken note of the joke shop a few shops down from you, but with the hustle and bustle of just opening, you hadn’t had a chance to visit or introduce yourself to the owners. It was just your luck that one half of them pushed open the door to your shop, the little bell at the top of it ringing to indicate his presence.

“Oh, hello!” you smiled, turning to face the redheaded man, “Welcome to Stitching Together, what could I help you with?”

Unbeknownst to George, your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest. How could a man be so positively handsome you didn’t know, but at the sight of him standing by the door, all you could think about was how gorgeous he was. And he hadn’t even uttered a single word yet!

The charming smile he sent your way did not help the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “Just popping by to say hello and welcome to Diagon Alley! My twin and I run Wheezes just down the street,” he said.

Your smile grew as he stuck his hand out for you to shake, “Oh I was just thinking about how I’ve been wanting to pay your shop a visit! I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“George Weasley at your service,” his hand was firm and warm as he shook yours, eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite name. “Nice to meet you!”

“So tell me about your shop!”

Somehow, after that evening, George Weasley snuck his way into becoming a part of your daily routine.

Every morning he would show up with two cups of coffee in hand right before your shop was set to open. After realizing that you depended on caffeine to function throughout your day, he made it a point to bring you one everyday. As you sipped on your coffees, the two of you would spend a few minutes chatting about your plans for the day before going to work.

Whenever you would offer to pay for your own cup or even try to insinuate that you could get your own coffee in the morning, just so that he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble, he would stop you in your tracks.

“But George–”

“Nope!” he would say in a voice louder than yours. “I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I really feel for your customers who have to deal with a Y/N that hasn’t had her coffee fix. Could you imagine the grumpiness? Not on my watch!”

You would roll your eyes, but secretly it warmed your heart how sweet this boy could be. He was slowly inching his way into your life and becoming a great friend.

–

“So,” said Fred one day as George had gotten back from delivering your daily coffee, “The bird from the knitting shop, huh?”

His twin only rolled his eyes in response, used to the teasing that came with being brothers (and twins) with Fred Weasley. Instead of engaging, George went instead to do the routine last check over their store before they officially opened their doors. Still, Fred couldn’t resist the temptation to continue provoking him.

“Oi! C’mon, you bring her coffee everyday even if you don’t like the stuff. If I don’t remind you that you have a store to run, you would spend the whole day staring out the window just to catch a glimpse of the girl! Tell me you’re not whipped for her,” he teased, following George through the shop.

From their position at the till and on the second floor, both Verity and Lee tried to hide their smirks. This was too good a story to not eavesdrop on.

“Come off it, Fred.” George rolled his eyes. “I’m just being a good friend, that’s all!”

“Yeah but you wouldn’t mind being more than friends.”

The cheeky wink Fred sent George was not appreciated, as the prior soon found out, having to duck away from a stinging hex. Still, Fred’s laugh rang through the semi-empty store as he ran away from his brother.

Later in the day, as the lunch crowd tapered off, the four of them were left to mull around a bit. Lee and Verity were off taking stock in the back room, Fred was doing some accounting (because his twin couldn’t be trusted with any sort of math), and George was reshelving some Skiving Snackboxes.

The bell above the door to the shop rang, but he couldn’t quite tell who came in from his position towards the back of the shop.

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” he yelled, rushing to get all the boxes in order before he could help the new customer, “I’ll be with you in just a second!”

Just as he admired his handiwork, eyes scanning the display to make sure nothing was out of place, a familiar voice called from behind him, “It’s alright, take your time. I’m not looking for anything in particular.”

George almost jumped out of his skin as he heard your voice. He was so surprised that as he turned to meet you, his elbow caught on the edge of one of the Snackboxes and the whole thing toppled over.

You watched as the tower of boxes crumbled around him, and your hand automatically covered your mouth as you tried to contain your laughter. It didn’t work, though, and soon the whole store could hear your guffaws.

Thankfully, George was a wizard, and what would’ve taken a muggle quite some time to fix, only took a quick flick of his wand.

“Oops,” you smiled at him bashfully as he finished, “Didn’t mean to startle you, Weasley.”

“Erm, it-it’s alright,” he blushed, “I just didn’t expect you to come ‘round today.”

In truth, the reason why George was so flustered at your appearance at his shop was because he had just spent most of the afternoon thinking about you. He often did that, getting lost in his thoughts about the many little things that made you, well, you. The deep breath you took before that first sip of coffee in the morning, revelling in the aroma. How your face lit up when you spoke about the different people you met in your classes. Your hands and how skillfully they worked whatever project you were creating at the moment.

He wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but what his twin had said earlier in the day was accurate. He was absolutely smitten over you.

“Well you’ve been a regular over at mine for the last couple of weeks, I’m just returning the favor and visiting my favorite redhead at his place of work!”

“I-I,” he stuttered, his brain refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was your favorite anything.

Fred, who had heard the commotion and had gone down to check if everything was okay, nearly face palmed as he watched George fumble through his words. The man was whipped for you, no doubt about it, and as a good twin, he decided to save his brother from further humiliation.

“I think what my lovely twin here is trying to say, is that you just haven’t met enough redheads to make your decision about your favorite one,” he said, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation. “Fred Weasley, at your service!”

Your smile immediately brightened at the sight of George’s twin holding out his hand for you to shake, “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N, George’s told me loads about you!”

“Has he?” Fred raised his eyebrow, turning to look at George who was still a little dumbstruck at the sight of you in his shop. “Well, that just means it’s my turn to spend some time with such a lovely lady. C’mon, I’ll give you a tour of the shop!”

“Oh I’d love that.”

With a small glance and wave at George, you took the arm that Fred was holding out for you, and so began his (largely amusing) tour of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

“What in Merlin’s name was that!” yelled Fred the moment you left the shop.

George groaned into his hands, embarrassment creeping back into him. He had acted a fool, unable to even mutter a single sentence to you the whole time you were around.

“Mate, I have never seen you so flustered around a girl,” his twin muttered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Just tell her you’ve got feelings for her! Ask her on a date, do something! From what I could tell, you’re not the only one who’s caught feelings.”

“It’s not like that between us,” he said, “I doubt she even notices how much I fancy her.”

–

Somehow, George wound up taking Fred’s advice. Though, in typical-George fashion, he never explicitly mentioned to you anything about the way he felt.

Instead, he would stay around your shop longer in the mornings, taking slower than usual sips of his coffee (which he still couldn’t say he preferred over a good cup of tea). Other days, he would come around closing time and help put everything back in order and if he was lucky, the two of you would go out to dinner. Of course, he would also never let you pay a sickle for your meal, no matter how much you insisted.

Weekends were usually spent together as well.

Saturdays were for brunch and muggle films on the telly. It was one of the rare occasions he would drink a beverage in front of you that wasn’t that (god forsaken) coffee.

Sundays were more for crafting together. He would floo into your flat after having lunch with his family and the two of you would continue working on his little project.

“My mum loves to knit,” he mentioned one day, while he observed your quick hands skillfully moving the thread through your needles. “She knits us all sweaters for Christmas. It’s become a tradition of sorts.”

“That’s lovely,” you smiled up at him.

“Yeah, anyone who’s practically family gets one too. Like Harry and Hermione,” he mused.

“I could teach you how to knit her something, if you wanted,” you offered. “It’d be something pretty simple though, especially if you’ve never knitted anything before.”

The smile he sent you was so dazzling, you had to take a moment. You were practically melting under his tender gaze and you swallowed thickly, trying to gain your composure.

“That’d be bloody brilliant, Y/N!”

You only hoped he didn’t notice how your face got hot and how your hands couldn’t move the needles to do what you wanted, too flustered to be precise with your movements.

Since then, the two of you spent most of Sunday afternoons making sure George had the correct strings of yarn on the correct needle. You would keep a close eye on him and his progress, but most of the time he was alright on his own. Sometimes, he would purposely sit closer to you on your couch and you could practically feel the warmth radiating from him.

In between knits, your eyes would drift towards his focused face and you would smile. George had a habit of poking the tip of his tongue out when he was knitting. Something about the gesture helped him concentrate, and you found it absolutely adorable.

The more time you spent together, though, the more confused George got. It was getting to a point where in his head, it was impossible to miss what he was trying to say with his actions. You had to have caught on by now. And, since you hadn’t acknowledged what was going on between the two of you, he had assumed that this was your polite way of rejecting him.

On a chilly morning, he clutched the warm cups of coffee in his hands as he pushed the door to Stitching Together open with his back.

“Morning, Y/N!” he greeted.

You grinned in his direction as he made his way towards you. The moment he placed the warm drink in your hands and you took your first sip, a small moan of gratefulness escaped your lips.

“Merlin, I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled to your cup.

“Sorry?” George asked, brows furrowed slightly.

“Oh nothing!” you quickly said, “I’m just really glad you’re my friend, Georgie.”

Friend.

The word seemed to make his heart sink down to his stomach and ignite something in him at the same time. It was time that he told you how he felt, no matter what would happen afterwards. He couldn’t keep going on pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you.

“Erm, about that Y/N,” he began, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his work uniform, “I’ve got to tell you something.”

It was now or never.

You smiled up at him encouragingly, almost oblivious to the bundle of nerves that were most definitely visible in his expression.

“I-I don’t want to be just friends, Y/N,” he said, lips pursed in anticipation.

“What do you want then?” you still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

In a burst of confidence, George took your hands in his and gripped them tightly, “I want to be with you. I fancy you loads, I think I might even be in love with you, Y/N. Honestly, I might’ve been in love with you from the moment I first walked into your shop.”

Your lack of an immediate response left him to back track, “But I understand completely if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted to get it out there.”

For a moment, the two of you were silent. George eyed you nervously, wondering what was going on through your head, bracing himself for the rejection that he thought was on the tip of your tongue.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, “Y/N? Do you want me to go?”

Instead of answering, you flung your arms around his neck. He was so startled at your sudden gesture that he almost didn’t notice your lips on his. Almost.

As suddenly as you had kissed him, all of his apprehensions melted away. Almost automatically, his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer to him. Your lips melted together seamlessly. It was as if this was where the two of you were meant to be, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

Sooner than you had liked, George pulled away from you slightly. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but dip his head down to peck your lips again. Once, twice, three times. This left you a giggly mess, your nose scrunching up in a way that was practically begging him to kiss it as well.

“Does that mean you fancy me too?” he murmured against your lips.

“Absolutely, head over heels,” you smiled in return.

The pair of you spent a brief moment with your foreheads pressed together, giddy smiles on your faces. That was until a knock on the door of your shop sounded. Immediately, you sprung apart, a blush coating tip of George’s ears and cheeks.

A few people stood outside, eyeing you amusedly.

“Oh shit,” you said, hurrying to flip the sign on the door to say ‘open’ and to unlock the door with a flick of your wand. “I completely forgot I had a class today.”

As the small group of people began to file inside, they sent knowing glances your way to which you only groaned softly and looked up at George.

“I’ll see you tonight?” you asked hopefully.

With a kiss to your cheek and a mischievous grin he said, “You can count on it, love.”

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @sarcasticallywitty15 @lumos-barnes

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @Mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy

crossed out means i couldn’t tag you for some reason, sorry!

#george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley fics #george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george wealsey x y/n #tw meal mention #tw drink mention

539 notes · View notes

lastbluetardis · 3 years ago

Text

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

41 notes · View notes

tcm · 4 years ago

Text

In Memory of Brian, Fred and Jerry by Susan King

I mourn the loss of Hollywood legends, especially those I have interviewed over the years. I broke into tears when Debbie Reynolds died four years ago, recalling our last chat together in 2016 when we did a duet of “Moses Supposes.” And I still haven’t watched TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (’62) since Gregory Peck died in 2003. I had the opportunity to interview the handsome Oscar-winner at his now torn down home in 1997 and 1999. He was everything you’d hope he would be – sweet, intelligent and funny. He also loved Bob Dylan. His last words to me as he walked me to my car were: “You are a most interesting young lady.”

In 2020 alone, I lost over 20 former interviewees including Kirk Douglas, whom I interviewed eight times between 1986-2017, and my beloved Olivia de Havilland, who I found to be delightful and a bit ribald in the two interviews I did with her. I got more than a little misty when Brian Dennehy, Fred Willard and Jerry Stiller died this year. They were supremely talented and made our lives a little brighter with their performances. And, they all were great guys and fun interviews.

Brian Dennehy

I interviewed Brian Dennehy, who died in April at the age of 81, several times in the early 1990s when I was at the L.A. Times. The former U.S. Marine and football player was intimidating at first sight. He was tall, burly and barrel-chested. He had a no-nonsense quality about him, and he spoke his mind. But he also was funny.

In 1991, discussing how hard it was for some actors to land parts after starring in a TV series, he noted “coming off a TV series is a tough deal, and you go into limbo land for a while, if not forever. Most actors go immediately to the ‘Island of Lost Actors’ and stay there. Troy Donahue is the mayor.” Dennehy never went to that island. Not with the complex and often memorable performances he gave in such films as FIRST BLOOD (’82), SILVERADO (’85), COCOON (’85), PRESUMED INNOCENT (’90) and as Big Tom in the comedy TOMMY BOY (’95).

He was nominated for five Emmys, including one for his chilling turn as serial killer John Wayne Gacy in the miniseries To Catch a Killer (’92).

I had one of the most extraordinary evenings at the theater in 2000 when Dennehy reprised his Tony Award-winning role as the tragic Willy Loman at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles in the lauded revival of Arthur Miller’s masterpiece Death of a Salesman. It was a gut-wrenching performance that left me emotionally exhausted. He earned another Tony in 2003 as James Tyrone in the revival of Eugene O’Neill’s superb Long Day’s Journey into Night. And he never stopped working.

Shortly after his death, the drama DRIVEWAYS (2020) was released on streaming platforms. And it could be Dennehy’s greatest performance. He plays Del, an elderly widower and Korean War vet who sparks a warm friendship with Cody, the young boy next door. The reviews for the film (it’s at 100% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes) and Dennehy have been glowing. The L.A. Times’ Justin Chang wrote that Dennehy’s Del is as “forceful and tender a creation as any in this great actor’s body of work.” And Jeannette Catsoulis of The New York Times stated: “What we might remember most, perhaps appropriately, are Dennehy’s warm, weary features and rich line readings. In a lovely final monologue, Del advises Cody to avoid rushing past the experiences in life that matter, as they pass so quickly on their own. Much like the careers of beloved actors.”

Fred Willard

I first encountered Fred Willard as the clueless sidekick of sleazy talk show host Barth Gimble (Martin Mull) in the late 1970s on the syndicated comedy series Fernwood Tonight and its continuation America 2-Night. I quickly became a fan, and that admiration grew when he became a member of Christopher Guest’s stock company of zanies in such comedies as WAITING FOR GUFFMAN (’96) and BEST IN SHOW (2000). In the latter, he played the equally clueless dog show announcer Buck Laughlin who quipped in his color commentary, “And to think that in some counties these dogs are eaten.”

Willard told me in a 2012 L.A. Times interview that he didn’t think he was funny until he was an adult. “I always loved comedy growing up – Bob Hope, Red Skelton and Danny Kaye,” said Willard, who died in May at the age of 86.

Willard got a serious part in Tennessee Williams’ one-act in a summer theater group when he was in his 20s. “I was getting laughs on all the lines,” he noted. “The director got upset because the audiences were always laughing. I didn’t try to do it deliberately. Then I realized I would say things around people, and they would laugh. I didn’t mean to be funny. I have always been relaxed around comedy.”

Just as Dennehy, Willard kept working. In fact, he received an Emmy nomination posthumously for his hilarious turn as Ty Burrell’s goofball dad on ABC’s Modern Family. He told me he wished he could try to do more dramatic fare like in Clint Eastwood’s World War II drama Flags of Our Fathers (2006). Willard even called his agent to see if he could get a role in the movie. “Clint Eastwood’s people called back and said, ‘We love Fred, but we are afraid if he appeared on the screen, they might start to laugh.’’’

Jerry Stiller

Jerry Stiller was a real sweetie and also very thoughtful. He sent me a lovely thank you note when I interviewed him and his wife, Anne Meara, in the early 1990s. When I talked to him for his son Ben Stiller’s remake of THE HEARTBREAK KID (2007), Stiller sent me a lovely bouquet of flowers. Ditto in 2010 when I interviewed the couple for a Yahoo! Web series Stiller & Meara: A Show About Everything. I also received Christmas cards until Meara died in 2015.

Baby boomers remember Stiller, who died at 92 in May, and Meara for their smart and sophisticated comedy act, in which the majority of the humor came from the fact that he was Jewish and she was born Irish Catholic. They recorded albums, were popular on the nightclub circuit and did The Ed Sullivan Show three dozen times. They split up their act when musical variety series went away.

Both were terrific dramatic actors. In fact, I saw Stiller in the 1984 Broadway production of Hurlyburly, David Rabe’s scathing look at Hollywood, and he did a 1997 production of Chekhov’s The Three Sisters. Of course, Stiller garnered even more success in his Emmy-nominated role as Frank Costanza, the caustic father of George (Jason Alexander) on NBC’s Seinfeld (1993-98) and was the best reason to watch CBS’ sitcom The King of Queens (1998-2007) as Kevin James’ acerbic father-in-law

But I most remember that 2010 interview where Stiller and Meara bantered back and forth much to my enjoyment. Here they talk about Ed Sullivan:

Anne: I never liked him.

Jerry: You are out of your mind. You never liked him?

Anne: He scared stuff out of me. I am talking about Mr. Sullivan himself. I wasn’t the only one. There were international favorites throwing up in the wings—singers and tenors and guys who spin plates. It was live. We were scared.

Jerry: Ed Sullivan brought us up to the level that we knew we never could get to – him standing there on the right side of the wings laughing, tears coming out of his eyes and then calling us over and saying, ��You know, we got a lot of mail on that last show you did.’ I said, ‘From Catholic or Jewish people?’ He said, ‘The Lutherans.’”

#Jerry Stiller #brian dennehy #in memoriam #Fred Williard #Ben Stiller #TCM Classic Film Festival #LA Times #Susan King #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #comedians #actors

137 notes · View notes

joyfulsongbird · 3 years ago

Text

broken not shattered

in the year following Vecna's defeat, Percy starts to notice that Cassandra is displaying the same attributes that he had in himself in his darkest time. Percy helps pull her through her anger and darkness, knowing what it is like, and makes sure she doesn't spiral the same way he did.

the cassandra-centric self indulgent fic i was born to write <3

ao3 link!! (content warnings listed in the notes)

***

You learn things, when you get to a place where your mind is no longer your own, let alone your body. You learn how to survive, when there is nothing you can do but save yourself.

You learn more than how to hold a blade, more important skills than how to dress yourself in armor, or tie your hair back by yourself because mother was still doing it for you when she died. Vesper always said it was ridiculous how much her little sister depended on their mother. “I was braiding my own hair before I even got to the double digits!” she’d say indignantly, but Cassandra never listened. She refused to learn. Being the youngest didn’t mean as much as many think. She was not doted upon as much as the twins were, she was the smallest, the least interesting, and being left in the dust made her starve for attention. No one could blame her, she was a child. A child who would not regret the minutes in the early morning when Lady de Rolo would braid her youngest daughter's hair into a neat plait. She did not regret the fuss she had made, not when it gave her just a few more minutes with her mother. So she taught herself how to braid her hair.

When she got older, maybe 15 or so, she was braiding her hair every morning. She’d spent two years with the Briarwoods, growing more and more numb every day. She had doomed one rebellion already, and she did not know that she would doom another yet. There was very little she could do that would make any sort of lasting impression, besides string herself up on the Sun Tree in the same place they had hung her family's corpses. Despite herself, she could not bring herself to. There was still a self preservative spirit inside her that she could not quell. The only rebellions she got at that time were silent, not even rebellions. Lady Delilah did not know that the way she wore her hair was in honor of her mother. Honoring her deceased family was strictly forbidden and Cassandra was quite sure the De Rolo name had not been uttered in the Briarwoods presence, maybe at all, in well over a year. She still did it. She wore the stockings gifted to her by her father even though they had been meant for 12 year old feet and had been darned and patched many times over. She wore her mothers braid; and when her fingers wound her hair tightly into the simple braid, she could feel the ghost of her mothers hands in their place.

She honored the De Rolos. Her mind was broken, her body did not belong to her anymore. But she honored them by existing. In the mirror she looked into the eyes of the dead. That’s the thing about big families, they all look at least a tad bit similar. You could look up at the portrait that used to sit in the grand hall. The dark hair, the strong jaw, the striking eyes, even the freckles. On some they showed more than others, but they were there. She remembered how in the summer, when they vacationed South where the sun was so much brighter and stronger, they’d come back sunburned and freckled. She’d laugh at Percy, who hated how his skin got so dotted and peeling from lying in the sun. Cassandra rarely wandered outside the castle walls, her freckles were non-existent. Still, she was comforted by the fact that if she did wander the gardens more often, her nose would soon look just like her grandmothers. She, too, was long gone and Cass barely remembered her, but in the few memories she had, her freckles stood out.

Cassandra learned to brave the cold. Even when it meant giving up her honorances. Lord and Lady Briarwood were not dumb, they were quite the opposite. There was a reason they had made it this far, a reason they had managed to convince so many that the murder of her family was just an awful tragedy. Her socks were burned. Her mind picked apart until she confessed to every thought she had of her family, every death wish to those who hurt them, every inkling of rebellion. She learned to brave the cold even when it meant forsaking the ones she loved. They were not here to see her betrayal, the guilt persisted anyways. Her mind did not belong to her. She was never alone. She forgot what her family looked like. How was it possible, some might ask, that she forgot what they looked like when she saw them every time she looked in the mirror? Maybe it was that she did not recognize herself, either.

She was 13 when the Briarwoods came. She was 14 when she was tortured until she told Anna Ripley everything about the first rebellion. 15 when her mind started to wane. 16 when she wasn’t sure how to breathe anymore. How do you breathe when there is no air to consume inside of the castle? On the outside, she was perfect. Perfect, lovely brown curls. Bright, alive, attentive eyes that shone like sapphires. She grew into a beautiful young lady. That’s what they all said. The little girl who had run through the halls and caused a riot grew into a lady who would fetch a fine husband someday.

The years passed slowly, the second rebellion came and passed. She didn’t even try to resist the questions when they came. They asked “where are they planning to meet?” She told them everything. “What is their plan?” She told them everything. She bore the scars from the last one, the white in her hair was proof enough, how could she even attempt to put herself through that ordeal again? She could not bring herself to pray, she didn’t even think to ask for any kind of holy assistance until late one night and pushed the idea away quickly. If a god wanted to help her, they would’ve already. It was too late for her, she had supposed long ago, no god could destroy her when there was nothing she felt was worth destroying.

She learned there was nothing she could do, but go along with the plans placed in front of her. She was their puppet. She was their little doll they played dress up with, they stole not just blood from but her soul itself. It was not a quick realization, that she was without hope or future. It came slowly, when she was maybe 17 it entered her mind, fully formed.

She was a Briarwood now.

The De Rolos were no more.

Years and years later, she will lie awake in the late hours of the night, wondering how much of that realization was mind control and how much of it was sheer, unadulterated mental exhaustion on her part. She was so tired. Tired of getting flashes of her brother's bloodied body every time she glanced at the doorway leading down to the dungeon. Tired of seeing her parents mangled corpses’ every time she met Dr. Ripley’s eye. Tired of sharp slaps when she let the wrong thing slip off her tongue. Tired, tired, tired. Better to leave it all behind. Better to let it fade away. She was a Briarwood. That was the reality.

She learned much, in those five years in that dark, bloody castle. How could she not? Every day was a lesson, every day was a test. Failing meant dying. She would not fail.

Maybe if Percy had come any later than not too long after that realization, she would have been too far gone to be saved. He came months later, but what were months when she had spent years in the dark? He had failed to pull her from the snow once, this time he dragged her from the cold and she was almost warm again.

It was strange to have been stuck in the dark recesses of the castle, something more than lonely, something more than lost, and then to suddenly be shoved into the light. Be faced with a brightness that hurt her eyes and left her feeling blinded and stumbling for something to grab hold of. But she was strong, and she was resilient, and she was her mothers daughter. She would not succumb to this darkness inside of her, this persistent voice that sounded like some odd mix of her own and the whispered, sultry tone of Delilah Briarwood. It crooned, it cried, it begged for a bone to be thrown its way. If she paid it no mind, it would slowly wither and die. She held her head high, lifted her chin even when she faced her captors, refused to cry when the nightmares came after years of silent nights. There was nothing she could do about the pain that continued to rack through her body now that she was coming to.

She was essentially a child leader. She saw the looks from other council members, the sideways glances of even her own citizens. She was barely grown. It showed in her face. She’d always had full cheeks, but as a child that was normal. Now, when she’d gotten older and lost her baby fat, she’d held the youth of her face. She looked like a child, felt like a child especially when she was surrounded by so many politicians with years of experience, but she refused to let her intimidation show. She was firm, strong in a way that brought others comfort. Whitestone was in her hands and her knees were shaking under its weight. But she had yet to crumple, even through all of her pain, and this weight would not break her. She gained respect every day that passed by and when Percy returned for good, she had grown from a step below a child queen to a ruler who knew how to hold her shoulders just so, how to shake a hand the correct way, how to smile while appearing confident but not overbearing. She learned many things, after the Briarwoods.

You learn things, when you are trapped and have been trapped for a long, long time. You learn or you break. Cassandra was lost, and lonely, and yes, quite a bit broken, but Pelor help her, she refused to shatter.

He surprised her with a hug, when he arrived. She had been resting in her room after the ordeal with Vecna and being… well, you know, killed . She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little shook but surprisingly, she was very calm. Her body was tired but her mind was alert. The only reason she was in bed at all was because her maid, Margie, had taken one look at Cassandra upon her return and said she looked like absolute hell and needed to be taken care of at once. Cass relented and let herself be bathed and fed and dressed in her night clothes despite the early hour. She sat upright in her bed, flipping absently through some book about the history of taxation in Tal’dorei which had been recommended to her by a council member. It was incredibly boring and her eyes only took in every other word or so. It was a welcome intrusion, then, when there was a knock on the door and she could gratefully dogear the page.

“Come in!” she called, grabbing her blankets in preparation to cover herself if need be. But when her brother cracked the door open, she let the blanket fall and stood immediately. She hovered there for a moment, halfway between sitting and standing, as she stared at her brother. He looked more shaken than her, dirt caked and bone tired. He looked wrecked and like he had just arrived back home moments ago.

Nobody spoke for a moment. Then he made several long strides (he was quite tall, with long gangly legs that she remembered Julius had teased him about) to meet her at the edge of her bed. He did not speak, barely met her eye before tugging her into a messy but not unwelcome hug. A little shocked, for Percival was not one to veer on the side of physical affection, it took her a moment to reciprocate. But when she finally came to her senses, she wrapped her arms around his neck, placed a comforting hand on the back of his neck and felt him shaking just a little under her palm.

It did not last long, even when he was in a particularly touchy feely mood, it didn’t seem like it stayed around for very long. He pulled back, looking at her with eyes that mirrored hers to the point where it was uncanny. How she’d forgotten how similar the De Rolo children were. Beautiful children, all lined up prim and proper. Each ball they went to, they were praised. The seven of them were the bright stars of Whitestone, though some were brighter than others. Now, just two remaining, she found herself looking into his eyes and seeing herself reflected back. Pained. Afraid. Lonely, but learning to love again.

“I…” he licked his lips. “I’m glad you’re alright, sister.”

She nodded. “And I you.”

He let go of her shoulders which he had been holding tightly. “I have to go to Vex. I’ll be back to discuss. Have a well needed talk. Maybe over tea. I swear.”

She smiled and voiced her assent. Of course, they would. Of course, they needed to catch up. Wonderful idea, Percival. Looking forward to it, Percival.

The next day came. She saw him over breakfast and she put on her practiced smile for her overwhelmed brother and a grieving Vex’ahlia. She was good at this; putting on a facade, knowing what people wanted to see and adjusting based on their reactions. It was easy. She had done it for years, shoved down her fears so that she wouldn’t be questioned, disguised her thoughts and covered her emotions in layers of small talk and politeness.

They did not have that discussion over tea that day. Nor the next. Nor the next week.

They talked, of course they talked. But it was always in surface level ways. She knew that he wanted to see deeper, to look at her and be able to understand her. But she didn’t even understand herself. Days, then weeks passed and she was spending more and more time absorbed by her work. This was what she had to do. Spent hours in her office, locked away until she barely saw the sun anymore. Give her a project, she got it done in a day. Give her something to do, she finished it in record time. For the first time, she was good at something that didn’t hurt anybody.

The bliss of finally being of use lasted maybe two months into the year after the defeat of Vecna. Percy and Vex were busy as usual, but now more than ever because of the baby. Their child wasn’t due for many months but the couple was determined to get everything done as soon as possible, to prepare and plan every instance. The nursery was ready and waiting for the child not long after Vex began to show. Cass was one of the first to know, as the only other family member who lived with them. She was happy for them, she really was, but there was a twinge in her heart when they came to her with grins on their faces and brightness in their eyes. This child would continue the line of the De Rolos, this child would honor them. For years, Cassandra had lived out of the belief that she was the last of her kind. That she was the last of her family and therefore needed to survive. She was not the last. The line would continue without her.

The bliss of being constantly busy ended over breakfast. Vex was rambling about the gift that Pike had sent over, some baby rattle that Cassandra had yet to see, and Percival was nodding along, listening intently. Her brother’s wife was still obviously in mourning, there were bags under her eyes and more often than not, Cassandra saw her looking in the mirror and cringing away. She empathized; there is nothing more difficult than being unable to look at yourself without remembering all that you have lost. But she had Percival, and she had all of her family, that was enough to keep her going. She still smiled and laughed daily, that consoled them all.

The door to the dining hall opened with a creak, the three of them looked up from their food. Vex’s words were cut off immediately as a guard entered the room and left the door ajar before opening his mouth to speak.

“We've captured somebody on the outskirts of the forest, a man who we suspect assisted the Briarwoods in the coup against the De Rolos.” Cassandra's eyes immediately found Percival’s, they were wide and blue and determined. She and him stood at the same time, pushing their chairs back and starting towards the guard. Cassandra glanced over her shoulder and saw Vex, standing as well and grabbing Percy’s hand. He gave her a glance, pressed a kiss to their entwined fingers as they walked to meet Cassandra at the door. He did not reach for Cassandra, he had that expression on his face, one that she only saw every once in a while when a memory resurfaced. She couldn’t do anything to make it go away, the memory would still exist. They would always exist.

They followed the guard down the hall, silence filling their chests. It was pressing, suffocating but Cass was good at miming the act of breathing. She kept her eyes forward, ignoring the memories that appeared in her peripheral vision. The 13 year old with dark hair curling behind an old set of armor and sobbing into her skirts. The maid tried to clean up the blood that was smeared on the floor with a mop. It had stained the carpet. She’s pretty sure the Briarwoods burned it. This castle was filled with ghosts and in her day to day, she was usually able to ignore them or avoid them entirely. But this short walk to the dungeons was the worst it had been in years. Hearing the name “Briarwood” out loud had made it so the halls had awakened again, the memories that had faded somewhat into the background reappearing with a fervor.

They walked through the castle, making their way to the stairs that lead to the dungeons. As they descended the stairs, she heard Percy let out a tiny, almost imperceptible shaky breath. Yes, this was where he had spent most of his time between the attack and his escape. She tried not to remember in detail what she had found when she’d come to break them free. She wanted to turn around and comfort him but Percy was often not one to openly accept comfort, maybe just from Vex. Maybe he’d accept some from her but not when they were in front of a guard. It would feel too intimate to him, and to Cassandra as well if she was being honest.

The guard led them to the small series of cells until they were standing in front of a small, shadowed cell. Whoever was inside was shrouded in darkness and none of them (except perhaps Vex'ahlia, with her elven blood) could make out the prisoner. The guard lit a torch and suddenly they were all flooded in golden light. Cassandra blinked at it, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at the figure that was curled against the stone wall. He was stripped to his basic layers, ragged looking tunic and pants, bare socks riddled with holes. His hair was long, blonde, matted and unkempt. He looked like one of the poor civilians she used to see all over the place years ago, before Whitestone rose again. She almost let pity bloom in her chest before she remembered why he was in this cell. No pity would be born on this day.

Moments passed, and she was close to saying something to get his attention, before he lifted his head. His face appeared out of the shadows and was flooded with light.

And suddenly, she was a child again.

She was 8 years old and laughing because one of the guards was playing with her, holding her doll high above her head and she was jumping to try and get it back. He was tall and smiled at her.

You see, the De Rolos were a powerful family, yes, but they were a family nonetheless. They valued every member of their staff, they were as close as family with many of them. And most of them loved the family right back. Cassandra had a few vague memories of being held on a maid’s hip and walked around the castle, her thumb in her mouth. Of playing tag with the cook’s children. And of this. Of a relatively young guard teasing her.

There was more. As there always was.

She was 11 and the guard was still around. He worked for them for as long as she could remember. He helped her with her studies when she became frustrated. He pointed out her mistakes and worked through them with her. He was kind to the spaz of a girl that she was.

He gave her candy. Snuck them from the kitchens and slipped them to her when no one was looking.

She was 13. She was crying. Screaming. Begging for her father. And he was… looking at her. The man who had been kind to her since she was small. He was looking at her and she realized, probably for the first time, that there was nobody left to save her. His eyes were brown, and they were empty, and he stared at her for many moments. He opened his mouth, and for a second, for one beautiful second, Cassandra thought he was going to call for the people holding her down to let her go. Her friend. Almost a member of their family; he had been loyal to them for years . But when he spoke, it was nothing. He turned to Lord Briarwood and asked what his next order was. She could hear them clearly as anything.

“Dr. Ripley needs assistance. Go to the dungeons and see what she needs.” And he left without sparing her another glance.

He was there. For the first three of those five years, he was there. There were a few times, in the beginning, when she had tried to get him to help her. She learned quickly there was, and to her it seemed like there had never been, no affection for her or her family. He left, after a few years, and she can’t quite remember how, maybe from the snooping into Ripley’s journals she often did, or just from an overheard conversation, that he was the one who slaughtered Whitney. That he was the one who assisted Ripley in the torture of her siblings. She had no affection for him after that. The memories from her childhood tasted like bile, and to her chagrin, the faint flavor of lemon candies.

“Luther.”

She took a few steps forward, her hand coming to rest on one of the bars of the cage. She could look through them easier this way, see his face and every angle in it. Every line and wrinkle, every twist in his expression.

He tilted his head to the side, recognition flooding his eyes after a few moments of tense silence. His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Cassandra.”

She stood there, clenching her hands around the bars to keep them from visibly shaking. She had never experienced anything like the pounding in her mind, the undeniable flood of feeling that coursed through her entire body. She did not like it; didn’t like the way she no longer had control over her limbs. She knew that her voice would shake if she tried to speak at this moment, so she kept her lips pressed together and body stiff.

Percy stepped forward next to her. The last of the De Rolos, side by side.

Luther did smile now. “Ah- Percival. I barely recognize you. Though I heard a few stories about you… thought they were false, of course. Why would that boy I knew be traveling with- what was it- Vox Machina ?”

His tone felt too casual, as if they were three acquaintances just getting caught up on each other's lives after years of separation. Percy was frowning, his eyebrows furrowed. “I remember you. I remember what you did.”

Luther’s smile falters. “Yes. The Briarwoods were quite the villains, weren’t they?”

Percy shifted his weight from foot to foot. “‘Villains’? That’s quite a perspective change, sir.”

He shook his head. “They had control of me. They had control of us all. I wish I could’ve done more, but alas, I-”

“Liar .” Cassandra found her voice without meaning to. The word came out strangled and snarling, like a wild animal fighting against its captor.

His eyes turned to hers again, he blinked slowly, so docile, so calm. It only made her rage even more. “I remember you so well. I desperately wish I could’ve saved you.”

“You’re a liar.” she breathed, her voice coming out a whisper but it felt like a shout. She took a step back from the bars and turned to the guard. “Let him out, keep him in chains but lead him out with us. I want to see him up close.”

“Cass-” Percy’s voice came from behind her, she held up a hand to stop him. It was enough to silence him, and he did not speak or protest as the guards fiddled with his keys and opened the door to the cell. Luther was unchained from the wall, but the cuffs keeping his wrists behind him stayed on. Cassandra pointed to the ground in front of her silently, and he was led there, standing before her.

“On your knees.” she ordered, using the same tone she’d use in a meeting with politicians. Luther looked at all the while, he stumbled a little as he dropped to his knees in front of her. She stared at him. He was older now, many years had passed since she had last seen him, but so many that she couldn’t take his face now and warp it into the expressions of the man she knew back then. He had broken his nose since leaving Whitestone, and his hair was thinner than it had been.

“Do you remember,” she began, her voice unshaken now. “The day you buried Whitney?”

He shook his head. She clenched her fist.

“No?” he shook his head again. “Let me paint you a picture.”

She took a step forward until she was just a few inches away from him. In the last moment before speaking, she reached forward and took a fistful of his hair, yanking it back so that he was looking right up at her. She might be small but from this angle, he needed to crane his neck to look directly at her. She made sure he was staring into her blue, De Rolo eyes. She wanted to make him see them all, make him see the children who once ran through the halls, the leaders who ruled so peacefully; see the people he helped to slaughter.

“There’s a reason you don’t remember.” she said a little too sharply and a little too loudly, so that when the words came out it sounded a little unhinged in her anger. “You took her down from the tree, I’m sure you remember this. You took them all down from the tree, you can say more than I can what you did with the rest of them, but Whit, she was still in one piece. Remember? Remember how you killed her? And what did you do with that little girl’s body, long after she was gone? Bury her respectfully? Burn her and spread her ashes in the garden? I know how the Briarwoods worked, Luther, they don’t control you all the time. I watched you do it.”

He swallowed under her gaze, trying to turn his eyes away from her eyes but she ripped hard at his hair so that he winced and his eyes watered. But he looked at her again.

“What did you do?” she asked, not really asking. She was ordering again.

“I-I don’t remember.”

“I know you do. I broke a lot of rules to try to reach you, to try and get your attention outside the castle, but instead I watched you. What did you do?”

His eyes were watering more now but it was something else besides the pain making him do it. His whole body shook. “Cut her hair. Took her clothes. Sold it.”

None of the others had salvageable clothes or hair, Cassandra had realized back then. They had been covered in blood, ripped apart, unclean and unprofitable. But Whitney, she had been killed the most cleanly. Not the most mercifully, of course not, none of them were capable of mercy. But Whit still looked most like herself and that was dainty, pretty, clean. They took even that away from her. Cut off her long curls until she had shorter hair than father’s. Took her clothes so that she had no dignity, even in death. And then, only then, could her sister be taken back to where the rest of her deceased family was. It had stuck with Cassandra, for the rest of her life. The way the men had talked and even laughed as they did this to a child. She couldn’t hear a lot from her hiding spot but she could see their faces and that was enough. It was mind control. And she still didn’t know why they were so horrible. She had more nightmares about that memory than any other.

“Why did you do it?” She knew her voice sounded more hysterical than she would like it to but the image of her sister’s white corse floated over her vision. “Why? Why us?”

He did not answer for a long time. “Gold lined our pockets for what we did.”

“No.” she bit out. “Why did you hate us?”

He looked at her with dull eyes, his eyes were still half full with tears but his eyes held hers with no emotion in them. “No ruler is well loved by all. We did what we wanted, for the first time in years. The children were just in the crossfire… we got carried away.”

She leaned back, letting go of his hair. Carried away. Carried away .

She didn’t even try to stop herself. Her punch was filled with a power she didn’t know she had. She swung hard and hit him square in the jaw, the momentum carrying his body to the ground as he was unprepared for the hit. When she saw the blood on his cheek she realized that she had hit him with the hand that she wore her ring with the Whitestone crest on it. Poetic in an odd way. She did not regret the gash that she had left on his face. She hoped it scarred, hoped it would stay there forever.

There was a ringing silence as she shook out her fingers that buzzed with the impact.

“Give me a reason not to slit your throat.” she let her left hand rest on the blade that hung on her belt. “Because there has not been a word out of your mouth that has convinced me you are deserving of another minute of life.”

“I wasn’t in control-”

She wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword.

“I could’ve killed you, I could’ve-”

Pulling the blade out, she watched the torch light glint off the blade. Metal is oddly beautiful, especially when the promise of vengeance sits on its tip.

“I’ll do anything, I’ve become a better man!”

Cassandra placed the tip of the blade on his throat. Over the past few years she had gotten to be far more skilled with a blade. Thanks to Vex’s tutelage and her own determination to defend herself against any sort of danger, by now she could join Vox Machina and hold her own. But this was not a test of skill by any means, he was directly in front of her, chained and shaking out of fear. It felt good that he was so afraid that tears started rolling down his cheeks, that she held power over him. It felt good to be powerful. Never in her life had she been this strong in the face of somebody she used to fear.

“Cassandra!” Percy’s voice was the only barrier between her and slicing this man’s body in two.

“Brother, shut up.” she bit out. She felt a hand on her shoulder and tried to shrug it off but he stayed firm.

“I know what you are feeling. I truly do. And if I were myself at any other time in my life, I would be right next to you. But I can’t let you do this, Cass.” His voice was the most sincere she had heard him in a long time. The softest he had ever been in her direction since they had defeated Vecna.

“Yes, you can.” she said, pressing the blade in a little harder so that a dot of blood appeared right between his collarbones. “You can step back and be silent for once.”

“He can’t and neither will I.” Cassandra let out a half sigh, half laugh, as Vex’s voice joined alongside Percy’s. “Darling, you need to give me the sword.”

“You can’t take this away from me.” she snapped. “Just let me have this one thing.”

In her peripheral, Percy was standing there, hand on her shoulder and face dead serious. But on her other side, she could see his younger, crumpled, bloodied body. The body she had seen and thought he was gone like the rest of them until she saw his rising and falling chest.

“I can’t.” he said softly.

“You can. You can . He let them destroy us, Percy. He killed Whitney. He helped Ripley. He’s one of them. Why do you get to kill them all and I get nothing? Let me have something for once in my life!” she let her voice rise, finally, shouting at him even though he was right by her. She wanted to scream. To cry. To beg for her family even though her only family was right here.

“I wish I could.” His voice was so eerily calm, so sad in a way that made her want to shove him away even harder. “I need you to put the sword down, Cass. Or I’ll have to do something I don’t want to.”

“I hate you.” she said, staring directly at Luther but not sure who exactly she was saying it at. She knew that she sounded like a petulant child who wasn’t getting what they wanted and was throwing a fit but her whole body trembled with need . She needed to destroy this physical manifestation of everything the Briarwoods did to her. She needed to hurt him in a way she couldn’t hurt them. Killing Delilah wasn’t enough to quell this need in her soul. She needed more.

“He deserves it.” she argued, her hand that held the word trembling.

“He does.” Percy agreed. “But I will not let you become what I was on the path to. I swear to all the gods, I know what you’re feeling intimately. Killing this man will not make things better. Give Vex the sword.”

She felt tears sliding down her cheeks. “I can still see them.”

“I know.”

A hand that wasn’t Percy’s gently pried her fingers off of the hilt of the sword. She let it happen.

“I’m so tired, Percy.”

“I know.”

And then the sword was out of her grip, and she let out a strangled sob as she shoved Luther hard in the chest. It sent him tumbling back to the ground, onto his back, his hands still behind his back. Leaving him completely vulnerable. But her hands were empty, and the world wasn’t fair, and she could barely see him through the wall of tears obscuring her vision.

She placed a knee on his sternum, leaning into it enough to hurt. Tears dripped off her chin and landed on his face. She wanted to kill almost more than she had ever wanted anything.

“This world will be brighter when you are gone.” She spoke impressively clearly considering all that she was feeling. “And I will be that much happier.”

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. She did not let him speak, when he opened his mouth to say something, she pressed harder onto his chest and shortened his breath. He simply let out a pained squeak and she let herself smirk in satisfaction. She straightened back up, adjusting her blouse before turning back to the guard that had led them to the dungeons in the first place. Her cheeks were still soaked with tears, she didn’t bother to wipe them away. They would dry eventually.

“I want him chained, hands and legs, and gagged until his trial date. Thank you.” the guard nodded his head in confirmation, his eyes just a little wide. No doubt in shock at the display from his ruler he had just witnessed. She knew that she should care that he had just seen her at her weakest but she couldn’t be bothered to. All she could do was watch as she made sure he was bound correctly back in his cage before turning on her heel and climbing the steps back up into the corridors. Her body felt hollow, each movement felt like a ghost inhabiting her body.

She made it maybe fifteen paces before Percy caught up to her, grabbing her upper arm and turning her to look at him. She didn’t speak first, her face spoke enough for her. For the first time, Percy really saw her. It was like he hadn’t truly looked at her in months. She looked wrecked, cheeks splotched and wet. But more than that. There were dark bags under her eyes, a hollowness in those eyes and she looked exactly as she had said. Tired. Just exhausted to a point where anyone else would be dead on their feet.

“It’s alright.” it was all he could think to say. What was he supposed to console her with? There was nothing good about the situation they had found themselves in. He tugged her into a messy, awkward hug. “It’s alright, Cassie.”

She buried her face into his chest, breathing in the scent of her brother. Black powder and the hint of Vex’s perfume and smoke. He was so much taller than her, all legs and arms. Her body didn’t fit quite right into his like it felt like it should. In all books, when people were family or close to family, they fit together like puzzle pieces. Their hugs felt just right. This didn’t feel perfect, it wasn’t “just” right but it was definitely right. There would be an indent on her face from pressing her face into a button on his vest but she was caring less and less about dignity. It had been so long since she’d properly hugged Percy and he hadn’t had to rush away for whatever reason. He held her for a long, long time. She got the impression that he had decided in his mind that he would not be the first to pull away.

Eventually, one of them had to and Cassandra pushed off him with a sigh. She saw Vex hovering a little ways away, trying to look like she wasn’t watching but glancing over every once in a while. Percy was looking at her fondly but with worry in his eyes. She reached up and brushed hair off of his forehead, distracted by the hair that had almost fallen into his eyes. He needed a haircut.

“I’ll be alright, Percival.” she murmured. “I promise. You don’t need to worry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. You have to let me help you now. Let us help you.”

“My darkness is not your darkness.” she told him. “We are not the same.”

“I know,” he said earnestly. “But you’re my sister. And I will not be able to go on if I don’t help you now.”

She pursed her lips, looking away. “I know.”

“Cassandra?” She lifted her eyes back up to his. “I care about you. Very much.”

“And I you.” she said, the response she always said in response to intimate speeches.

“What he’s trying to say is that he loves you dearly.” Vex had walked up to them now, standing beside Percy and looking at Cassandra with a knowing look in her eye. “Right, Percy?”

Percy tucked his chin against his chest for a second, smiling. “Right. Love you, sister.”

She hadn’t heard that in a long time either. “I-I love you too.”

It almost felt wrong on her tongue. And she hated that it felt wrong. Hated that she was so unpracticed in love that she didn’t know the correct way to say it. That the cadence of her words was all wrong. That her tone wasn’t sincere enough.

“You look a mess, dear.” Vex was the first to speak after a bit of a silence, she wrapped an arm around Cassandra’s shoulders and started walking them down the hall. “Come. Let’s go for a walk, hm?”

So Cassandra let herself be led through the halls and into the gardens. With her sister-in-law on one arm and her brother on the other, she felt fully secure. Each step forward brought her closer to herself and though she was still shaking with anger, her hands itching for the hilt of the sword Vex had left behind, her mind scrambling to cope with all that happened in the last twenty minutes. She let herself be led around by her loved ones, Vex at one point pressing a kiss to her cheek and smiling before turning forwards again and continuing on with some story about Trinket. She did feel loved and was surprised to find that after months of being holed up in her office, it was nice to step out into the sun and breathe.

That night, when she lay in her bed wide awake, she wondered what exactly the darkness in her chest was. Percy had Orthax in him whispering desires of vengeance into his ear, urging him to do horrible things. But she had no monster inside her. She had no odd dreams and no voice in her ear telling to cut that man’s head off. She had wanted that, herself, her mind. It had been her own desires and need to quell that need inside her, not some outside force. Did that make her worse than him? She did not think herself a terrible person for having the desire to hurt those who had hurt her worse. But even Percy had let his revenge empty from his body when Orthax had left.

She pulled herself out of bed, walked barefoot down the hall, down all the steps until she reached the door that led into Percy’s workshop. At this time of night, it was a toss up on where he would be. Sometimes Vex was able to drag him to bed at a decent time but still, even with the pressure from her and Cassandra, more often than not Percy could be found bent over some contraption he was spending far too many hours perfecting. She knocked on the door and when she didn’t hear an answer, gently turned the doorknob and peaked inside.

He was there, so absorbed in his work that he didn’t hear her knock. She stepped inside, and it was only when she closed the door that he lifted his head and turned around. Confusion immediately knitted his eyebrows together. Seeing her in her nightgown, hair completely down and loose around her face, no shoes on her feet, was probably the oddest thing he had seen in awhile. Cassandra almost never let her appearances slip on purpose, and the few times she did were either accidental or something forced her to. Her skirts always had no wrinkles in them, her sleeves always buttoned, her hair made just so. But she had come to him, vulnerable and looking so very not-Cassandra.

“Cassandra.” he said, meeting her gaze. “What can I do for you?”

“Might I just sit and watch for a bit?” she asked.

He blinked, taken aback before rushing to answer. “Uh- yes. Yes, of course.”

He grabbed a stool and placed it next to his work table, patting it awkwardly. “Come sit.”

She did. Lifted herself up and watched him work on some clock-like machinery. She was fascinated by his work, even if she didn’t completely understand. Sitting here with the heat of the furnace close and only Percy’s soft humming, she felt more calm than she had in a while. Especially not after how emotionally taxing the day had been. She wanted to ask about what he was doing but didn’t want to break the silence, and anyways, she was too caught up in her own thoughts to be able to follow any complicated explanation at the moment.

“Percy?” she said after a long time of just silent working. He hummed in response, a confirmation that he had heard and was listening. “Did you still… want to hurt people, after Orthax? Want to kill those who forced us to lose everyone?”

His hands stopped moving and he let them rest on the table, completely still. He stayed that way for an uncomfortably long amount of time, letting the silence stretch and stretch until she felt it was going to snap. Instead of breaking it with a word, he let out a heavy sigh. Leaning his head back so that he could look up at the ceiling.

“It’s a good question.” He finally said. “The thing about Orthax, about the darkness, is that it didn’t create the want in my mind. He didn’t make me want to murder those people, Cass, I wanted to. I want to. He gave me the tools and then it was just a matter of me saying yes. In the state I was in… of course, I said yes.”

She nodded along, listening intently. “But after. What about after he was gone?” He tapped his fingers on the table, chewing on his bottom lip. “I think… I think by that point I had gone so far for my revenge, I had experienced it to the point where I was both satisfied and hungry. I knew I had done what I set out to do, but part of me still wanted more. I knew then, and it was only thanks to my friends that I was able to, that revenge was not what would fix me. As much as they deserve it. As much as I wanted to make them hurt for what they did. It was not what would bring me joy.”

He looked over at her then, her pale skin golden from the small lamps that were littered around the room and the fiery furnace. He considered her for a few moments, taking in his baby sister who he had had no idea how to approach all of these months. He had been so afraid that she would realize that she hated him for leaving her behind, that she had grown so far away from him that there was no closing that gap. He looked at her, and the white streaks in her hair that would always remind them of what she had gone through, and saw himself reflected back. It was too hard to explain, even to himself. But in her eyes, if he looked deep enough he could see that hunger that had drawn him to Orthax in the first place. In the set of her frown, in the clench of her fist. His sister was strong, she had always been that way. Her darkness would not overcome her.

“I truly wish I could let you kill him,” he said with a humorless chuckle when she did not respond right away. “But this world doesn’t need another De Rolo on a destructive streak.”

She cracked a smile at that. “Yes, from what I hear, that would not be the brightest idea.”

She was breaking inside, a little. Cassandra De Rolo, strong, fearless, always held her head up high, had cracks spreading through her chest. She was afraid they would show on her face. She wanted nothing more than to burn and burn and burn until she felt happy or she was gone completely. She wanted so much. So much she couldn’t have. But one thing she could have, she wanted. So she did it.

She reached for Percy, placing her open palm on the table as an invitation. He reached and took it with both of his, holding it tightly. She whispered to him, even though there was no one else around, “I hate that it’s just us. I hate the quiet.”

He nodded. “I do too.”

“It was awful, when you were gone after the Briarwoods.” she told him, for the first time. Admitting something she knew he didn’t want to hear. “I was… lonely. So lonely, Percy. In this cursed castle, having to remember-”

He squeezed her hand tightly when her voice started to have an edge again. She had lived her entire life in this castle, she had known it in its prime, she had known it in its darkest hour, and she would know it for the rest of her life. It was the hardest thing, every morning, to get up and face the rooms where she faced horrors for five years. And when it was over, it was still as if she had to face them every day. She hated it, seeing their faces, seeing the bodies hanging from the Sun Tree. There was nothing from her to do but move through each day and ignore the painful chasm in her chest.

“I’m here now. Vex is here now. We’re not going away.” he told her. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

She wanted to cry again but instead she half smiled. Lovely to hear him say that, lovely to hear his voice at all. She needed to treasure that more often. For years, she had thought she was alone, the last of the De Rolos. And finally, her brother sat before her once again, he was at her disposal all of the time and yet she didn't hold him tightly everyday, she didn’t treasure his every word. But maybe that was a good thing. It meant they were healing. It meant that they had become a normal part of each other's routine again. She didn’t need to hold every moment with him dear because they had years to find happy moments with each other. It brought her some peace, to remember they had so much time. The clock did not feel as if it was ticking down every second anymore, and they could breathe in these minutes of silence.

“I’m very tired.” she told him finally. He slackened his grip on her hand, but still held it loosely with one of his.

“Let’s get you to bed, mother would be so unhappy with the hour.” Despite the pang of sadness the mention of their mother brought her, she laughed.

“She would, wouldn’t she?” she replied. She made him turn off the furnace and put all his things away before they walked out of the workshop, in the hopes that would force him into bed. They walked through the dark hallways, Cassandra’s arm looped through Percy’s. He brought her back to her room, opening the door and leading her inside. She hadn’t known Percy to ever be the most affectionate person but over the last few months it was like he was practicing for his child. Giving more hugs, giving more kind words, going out of his way to make his intent clear. It made her proud, made her happy, that her brother was healing alongside all of his friends. She felt left behind sometimes, that he was making strides in his journey to happiness and she had inherited his gloom. But it still made her happier, when he sat down on the bed next to her and pinched her cheek playfully, the way he used to when she was a child. He’d been only a few years older than her, but old enough to tease her and remind her he was the elder of the two.

“Goodnight, Cassandra.” he said as he got up. “Sleep well.”

“Sleep well.” she repeated as he left and closed the door softly. The room felt fuller now than it had when she had left to find Percy. Warmer.

After she blew out all her candles, she laid in the dark, staring up into the expanse of her ceiling. The darkness felt heavy after all the discussion from the day. It was closing in on her and she closed her eyes to fight against it, now looking at the back of eyelids instead of her pitch black room. Maybe it was her subconscious or maybe it was her tired mind beginning to descend into dreams or maybe those are the same things but regardless, moments passed and then, clear as day, she heard the woman who had ruined it all.

“You could’ve been my daughter.” Lady Briarwood crooned in a sing-song voice. That voice that had been used against Cassandra for so many years, that voice that had haunted her dreams, and her waking hours, and never seemed to leave even when she was alone.

She was a De Rolo. She tried to scream it but her throat wouldn’t work, her mouth wouldn’t work.

I am a De Rolo .

She would wake up tomorrow and she would still be a De Rolo. She had always been. Even when there was nothing to keep her chained to her family, she had this castle, she had their memories, and she would not let them go. She planned on living a long life, one that honored her family in every decision she made. She wanted to make them proud, make her living family proud, and make her home a home for the continuation of their line. There was so much to do and every day she had to remind herself she had time. Beautiful, sweet time. And when Delilah’s voice grew stronger in her head sometimes, she would turn her head and Percy would be there. If the ghosts got a little too strong, she’d turn her cheek. The visions didn’t go away, how could they, after all of these years of persisting and festering in her head? But she lived with them.

She hurt. She’d always hurt, she supposed.

She was broken but not shattered. She refused to shatter. That would have to be enough until she was whole again.

#hilariously. I wrote a fic very very few people care about and I LOVE IT SO MUCH PLS VALIDATE ME #calling all cassandra lovers/gay people!!#anyways #there's a lot more notes and sentiments on ao3 that's a much better place to read this!!#critical role #critical role c1 #critical role campaign 1 #briarwood arc #cassandra de rolo #percival de rolo #vex’ahlia de rolo #the de rolos #delilah briarwood #sylas briarwood #critical role fic #cr percy #cr cassandra #cr vex #AHHHHHHHHHHHH

35 notes · View notes

amyrlin-of-starlight · 3 years ago

Text

Rain was beautiful. Rain was fast. Rain was gone. Rain was never coming back.

If you asked someone- anyone, really, maybe even a random person you caught a glimpse of in Kohl’s with Christmas tree ornaments at half the price or a cable-knit sweater with a V-neck that you could tell was meant to show off the crevice of a cleavage, and grabbed them by the arm, asked them the question you always hoped that they would answer differently- about Rain Wood, a look would wash over their face. The gaze that their eyes emanated would soften, melt with sympathy, and their lips would part without a word for a moment, and then they would say Rain was... Rain was a nice girl. Rain was a pretty girl. Rain was a missing girl. And then maybe they would notice the slope of my nose, the color of my eyes, the shape of my lips, and realize that Rain Wood was not just a missing girl to me, not just a nice girl, not just a pretty girl. That she was a girl who left something-someone-behind with the slope of her nose, the color of her eyes, and the shape of her lips to always remind her of someone who was never coming home. Her Christmas stocking, red and white, was getting dusty and smelled like old wood from so many years trapped in the attic, and there were unopened gifts hidden in the closet underneath the hems of winter coats and tucked behind the worn boots my father wore to trudge through the snow or the mittens tossed aside, flung from frozen fingers, and her favorite cereal was still in the cupboard, having expired three years ago, but my mother would have never let anyone eat it anyway.

That cereal was Rain’s.

Rain was a girl with fiery red hair that she twisted into messily done braids with wisps of her tresses curling around her ears that seemed to be caught on fire underneath the gleam of the sun, and Rain was a girl with bright, green eyes that resembled the leaves of a walnut tree in the summer. I had those bright, green, walnut tree-esque eyes too but they never looked as good on me as they did Rain. Rain had eyes that twinkled, that glimmered, and that sparkled. Maybe my eyes did that too but then Rain was gone and my eyes became dull, unpolished, and murky. Rain was a girl with a boisterous laugh, one that giggled, one that made you laugh too. Rain was a girl who sang country songs in the passenger seat of our mother’s car, her bare feet propped up on the dashboard, her chipped, baby blue nail polish seeming to look beautiful on her delicate toenails, and her voice had a southern drawl to it when she sang that my mother never understood, the origin unknown and a mystery.

Rain was perfect.

And Rain was gone.

Rain was.

The word “is” just never accompanied her name anymore.

Because.

Rain was gone.

It was Christmas Eve when she disappeared, when she went from Rain Is to Rain Was, and she was with me, her fingers clad with gloves wrapped around the laces of her ice skates with blades that glinted underneath the rays of the sun and clinked together as she walked, her footsteps crunching in the white, glittering snow, and she was smiling at me, telling me how beautiful everything looked in winter. She was oblivious. I was smiling, agreeing with her. I was oblivious.

I had my own pair of ice skates and I was holding them by the heels, rubbing the leathery material in between my cold fingers, and sticking out my tongue to feel the cool droplet of a snowflake falling on my tongue. I dropped my ice skates onto the snow, flurries emanating from around the blades and the sides of the shoe, and the tip of one of the laces had buried into the snow, as if it were hiding, as if it knew. I was peeling off my boots, tossing them in random directions, and I heard the humph of a man grunting behind me as my boot whacked against his shin. I heard Rain apologizing to him, I heard Rain telling him that I was just excited, I heard Rain wishing him a Merry Christmas.

I heard him ask her if she knew which direction our local Wal-Mart was.

I heard him ask her if she would mind showing him on his map in his car.

I heard her say yes.

I never heard Rain say anything after that.

I waited for her to come back, my ice skates tied tightly around my feet, and the tips of my fingers beginning to develop what felt like frostbite, and I even stepped out onto the ice alone, a small little pond with snowflakes collecting on the glass-like surface, scratched with the treads of past ice skates, and I waited. I waited for her to show him which way the local Wal-Mart was on his map in his car. I waited for her to come running back, smiling and laughing, joking about out-of-towners, and then for her to yank down the zipper of her boots that almost reached her knee and lace her ice skates.

I waited for the blades of her ice skates to graze the ice of the pond with mine. And then, after the sun had begun to dip behind the forest of pine trees behind me, I got off of the solid pond and walked on the blades of my ice skates to the parking lot of the park, wobbling and grabbing onto bird baths and light-posts when I could, and I searched for a car with a man and Rain hunched over a map, her finger tracing the roads and gliding over the rivers, and his furrowed brow, confused. He had to be really confused if he still did not know the way. But there was no car, there was no map, there was no confused, out-of-towner with a furrowed brow.

And there was no Rain.

I nearly tripped on the pavement of the parking lot as I searched for her, stepping in brown slush with the blades of my ice skates, and I called out her name. There was no Rain. I asked a woman with her children who wore matching knit hats if she saw a teenage girl with an older man, and she said no. She asked me if I was lost, and I said no. My sister, Rain, was lost, I told her. I told her about the man who wanted directions to the local Wal-Mart and how my sister was going to help him. She had just gotten her learner’s permit that year. The woman’s faced drained and wrinkled with something that looked a lot like fear as she asked if I knew the man, if he was a friend. She told me to play with her children with the matching knit hats when I told her no. He was a stranger.

And Rain was gone.

Red and blue lights flickered and gleamed off of the dark pavement of the park parking lot after the woman brought her cell phone out of her purse and pressed her thumb down on three numbers. She said that there was a missing minor, and I remembered thinking that I didn’t know what that meant. Rain, not minor, was missing, and she was just lost. She was trying to help an out-of-towner find our local Wal-Mart. I remembered a man dressed in navy blue with badges decorating his chest and a walkie-talkie strapped to his shoulder crouching down in front of me, asking me about Rain, about the man she was trying to help. He held out a pair of ice skates he found in the parking lot. He asked me if they were hers. I said yes. I said that she was going to be upset that she lost her ice skates. He smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes and took out a notepad with a leather cover and a pen, clicking the top, and asked me if I knew my parents’ phone number. I did. I told him. He told him that they would try really hard to find Rain, my sister, and I just nodded.

I was oblivious.

I was in the dark.

I was unaware of the Amber Alert. I was unaware of the search parties composed of neighbors, of church-goers, of people I never met, that combed the forests. I was unaware of the reason for my mother’s hysterical tears. I was unaware of what the term foul play meant. I was unaware when they asked for my sister’s hairbrush, placing it in a plastic bag that zipped. I thought they were going to brush her hair. I was unaware that my sister’s face was on the news. I was unaware that people were already buying candles for the vigil. I was unaware of the missing posters that were being plastered over my hometown.

And I was unaware that somewhere, my sister, Rain was gone.

I always thought she would come back.

Until I heard a man who said he was an FBI agent in a blazer with a stripped red and green tie telling my mom that Rain was presumed dead, and how loudly my mother sobbed in the living room as she tried to take down the Christmas tree ornaments. Foul play, presumed dead, predators, they all felt like they were words too big for our living room to handle. My mother said that Rain was alive. My father said my mother’s name. My mother shouted and I heard something crashing. It was the Christmas tree. And then she ran for her computer and brought the document for Rain’s missing person’s poster and kept clicking the PRINT button over and over again, her breath coming out in gasps and her eyes trickling teardrops onto the keyboard.

I asked the FBI agent as he left if Rain was coming home.

His face softened.

His head tilted.

And his lips said the words, no. Rain probably would not come home.

When I was thirteen, just after May and the flowers began to grow in the flower beds that were pushed against the exterior bricks of houses in the Cul-De-Sac neighborhoods, and Rain has been gone for four years and her black and white pictures that store owners let my mother tape to their windows had been torn down and crumpled, tossed thoughtlessly into trashcans because she was gone- totally gone, completely gone, utterly gone, with nothing even to bury because she was totally, completely, and utterly gone- the police called us and told us that they had a man in custody. His name was Jerrod F. Norris and he had mean eyes that were murky blue and perfectly straight teeth and dark stubble adorning his cheeks in his mug shot photograph. He looked normal and terrifying at once. I thought about my sister seeing those mean, murky blue eyes, staring into them before she slipped away, and I thought about her heart fluttering. She said your heart flutters, jumps, when you look at a certain boy. I thought about her heart fluttering and jumping as he took away. I tried to turn off of the television as his face illuminated the pixels and my fingers were fumbling, unable to press the buttons of the remote control, and then I just threw it against the screen. It cracked and went black. My parents weren’t even mad. My mother actually thanked me as she choked on her tears. My father curled his fingers around the edge of the couch cushions.

They say he admitted to taking her, to seeing her that Christmas Eve in front of the frozen pond with the laces of her ice skates pressing into the folds of her fingers, and to lying about the directions of our local Wal-Mart. He lived only five miles away. He had receipt for duct tape and a curling iron from our Wal-Mart an hour before he said he took Rain away from me. I didn’t want to know why he had bought a curling iron but they said he was single and he had short hair. He said he took her away, covered her mouth, and taped her hands and feet together and drove. He took her to the woods, he said.

He molested her, he said. He murdered her, he said. He left her there, he said.

And when they asked for him to draw a map to find her, he said he could not.

Because he did not leave her in just one spot.

I remembered how my mother screamed, wept, when the detectives told her about the interview, about his confession, about what he said he had done to her little girl. She was on the ground, clutching a pillow to her chest, and her face was red and wet. The detective looked uncomfortable, distraught, and a little alarmed. I was too. I thought women only shouted in the movies but my mother was shouting, not even words but sounds, and my father was crying too, and kept saying, “Oh, my little girl. Oh, my little girl.” The detective tried to say that there wasn’t a body, or body parts, yet, but it didn’t matter.

Someone had said that they took our Rain away from us, kept her silent, hurt her, slayed her, and tore her apart, left her in the woods all alone on Christmas Eve, with her little sister waiting for her, teetering on the silver blades of her ice skates in the parking lot as she looked for her, calling out her name.

Rain was gone.

Rain was nowhere.

Rain was everywhere.

The day I met Franklin was Christmas Eve, but December 24th stopped feeling like Christmas Eve nine years ago when Rain went from “is” to “was” in that single moment in front of the frozen pond, the blades of her ice skates clinking together and her footsteps coinciding with his crunching on the thick snow. I was there, in front of the pond that was crisscrossed with the scratches and grazes of the blades of ice skates and dusted with a light layer of snowflakes. It looked like that day nine years ago; when I last saw her, Rain, when I last saw her smile. I brought my ice skates but they were too small now, fit for a nine year girl with a sister who was alive- gloriously alive and so in love with life, not an eighteen year old girl without a sister who was dead. I didn’t want to skate until she was found. Eventually, I just thought that I would never skate again.

But now I was back- because a couple of hunters stumbled upon a bone in the woods during the hunting season, and the DNA tests proved that it belonged to Rain, that it was Rain’s bone. It was a leg, they said. It looked broken, they said, maybe before she died or after. They thought she was dead when it happened, when her leg stopped being a part of her, but I was not sure if they were just trying to spare us the awful thoughts we were already thinking.

And now I was going to skate again.

But my skates were too small.

And Rain was gone.

“You will need bigger ice skates than that.” I heard his voice before I saw him and I flinched as I heard his playful, light voice bouncing against the barren trees and the glimmering snow-topped grounds as he walked, his large footsteps crunching and breaking the smooth, pristine assemblage of snowflakes on the ground. My footprints were barely visible- I had been standing there so long. He wore a thick, black parka that swished as he walked and held a black pair of hockey skates underneath his arm and the tips of his ears and nose were red from the cold. His breath came out in clouds as he grinned at me. I thought about Jerrod F. Norris and his grin I am sure he showed my sister before he took her away.

I backed away from him without even realizing as he stepped toward the pond-crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch-and he looked at me for a moment, as if he were puzzled, and titled his head to the side.

He dropped his ice skates onto the snow, the little flurries of white snowflakes drifting through the air as they plopped reminding me of my own ice skates and how I just dropped them that day.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice sounding that kind of breathless that came from the cold, and he still smiled at me. “I was not meaning to insult your foot size or anything. They just look kind of small.”

He shrugged and then lifted a gloved hand to wave at me, friendly, as if I were standing feet away from him. “I am Franklin, by the way. I practice here on Wednesdays. I am going to try out for the hockey team next semester but I doubt it will happen because I suck, horribly. I accidentally did a split a few weeks ago. Only time will tell if I am still able to have children.”

You talk a lot, I thought to myself as I stared at him, almost in bewilderment, as if somewhere during his rushed, awkward words. I wondered if Jerrod F. Norris spoke a lot, if on the way to his car that he chewed her ear about his job, about the imaginary family he pretended he was visiting, about whether or not he thought his hockey abilities were proficient or not.

“I was just leaving,” I told him, gripping the laces of my ice skates tightly.

They were too small.

And Rain was gone.

“You don’t have to. I mean, the pond is pretty big. And I promise I would not intentionally injure you and if I do, I will apologize profusely.”

“That is quite alright.” I wanted to leave. I felt suffocated by his words that felt as if they should have been friendly; but to me, they felt double edged, they felt like a façade.

They felt as if they were concealing twisted and malevolent objectives that took place underneath the shelter of the pine trees in the snowy woods.

He stared at me for a moment. “Um, okay, then. Merry Christmas.”

I felt something strange in that moment as I heard him say that. I felt a twinge of something that pinched the nerves in my chests and in my eyes, and I felt my lips beginning to quiver. It barely felt like Christmas, not the Merry Christmas he was wishing me. He was wishing me something that was wrapped with golden paper and a dark, green bow and curled ribbon and peppermint candy canes hooked around the pine-scented branches of a Christmas tree. He wasn’t wishing me the Christmas I had of remembering the posters plastered on the storefront windows and the news talking about my sister so distantly and the fading image of her smile beaming at me.

“I do not really celebrate Christmas… er, Franklin.”

“Oh, you are Jewish? Sorry. Happy belated Hanukah, then.”

I shook my head. “I am not Jewish.” I felt my finger along the sharp blade of my ice skates, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the rectangular blade. I looked horrible. I looked broken.

“I am just... I really miss someone. She, uh… she is dead. Or at least, that is what they say, but I do not know even though they found her- or a piece of her- in the woods but I just…” I felt a burning tear glide down my frozen cheek. “I just do not really celebrate Christmas anymore.”

He blinked. He looked sad. His grin was gone. “You are Aer Wood.”

I nodded. “I am.” My voice was choked.

“I am really, really sorry.”

“Thanks, but that does not really matter. People think it does matter but it does not. The one person I want to be sorry is the one person who took her away. But he is not sorry. He says he is but he is not because a month after he stole Rain from me, he stole someone else and then he stole someone else. They caught him because he was trying to hide her. A little fragment of her, anyway. A hunter saw him, saw what he had. He actually shot him in the knee.”

“I heard.”

I swallowed, pressing my index finger deeper into the blade of my right ice skate. “He said he wanted to stop him because he has three daughters at home. He said good men do not bury pieces of little girls so he shot him.”

I looked up at the sky. It was gray and bleak, as if it were mourning too. “She was fourteen. Rain was older than that. She was seventeen. People acted as if it was worse that a fourteen year was murdered than a seventeen year old. It is horrible no matter. It does not matter how old you are.” I choked on my words. “She was supposed to rest in peace, not in pieces.”

“I am sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“I feel like I need to say it again.” He cleared his throat, and then unstrapped the Velcro from his gloves and ripped them off, dropped them onto the ground beside his large and bulky hockey skates, and tore off his beanie hat. He ran a hand through his black hair that matched his olive, Hispanic skin tone. “What was she like? Rain, I mean.”

I turned to look at him, away from the gray and bleak sky that felt so ominous, so looming, and so sad that I felt my heartstrings beginning to burst just looking at it. I almost felt glad that it was a bright and sunny day that she was taken. That when she was pressed on the ground that she had a warm, blue sky to look toward. “Rain was beautiful. Rain was fast.”

Rain was.

“Did she like the color blue?”

“No. She thought it was too generic. Everyone’s favorite is blue, she said. She loved purple.”

“The color of royalty.”

“That’s what she said.” I almost felt like smiling. I think Franklin noticed.

“Did she eat apples?”

“She loved apples, especially the green ones.”

“Granny Smiths.”

“They’re so sour, she loved it.” Then I did smile. Then he definitely did notice. “She liked the faces a really, really sour one made her make, how it would purse her lips and wrinkle her nose. But I think she just exaggerated it to make me laugh.”

“Did she read books?”

“She loved reading, sometimes she would read me to sleep.”

“Did she put marshmallows in her hot chocolate?”

“Yeah, but never the ones from those packages with the ones already in them. She hated those. They weren’t real marshmallows she said. Dehydrated memories of a marshmallow, she called them.”

He kept asking me questions like that, about her, about Rain. Which Muppet was her favorite, if she liked spicy food, if she wore socks when she slept, if she was an early bird or a night owl. I never would have admitted it to him as he asked various enquiries about the kind of person Rain was, asking me to imitate her laugh, and if her smile was kind of crooked like mine, but it felt almost okay to talk about her. My mother never could without crying, without swallowing back tears she had cried so many times before, and my father got angry when she was mentioned. I think if he remembered her then he remembered him and his mean, murky blue eyes so he tried never to think about her.

It felt almost okay to talk about Rain and not about the fact that she was gone, not that she was not whole, not that she was alone and afraid on Christmas Eve but that she liked Granny Smith apples, that her favorite Muppet was Beaker, that she slept barefoot. That Rain was not just a name on a list of short lives that were stolen by a man with mean, murky blue eyes. That Rain had more than just her last moments.

“I could come back tomorrow,” Franklin offered as the sun slipped away into the pine trees of the distant woods my sister supposedly was buried in and he picked up the hockey skates he never touched. He dusted the snowflakes from them. “I could ask you if she liked extra butter on her popcorn or diet drinks instead of regular ones.”

“No and no,” I replied.

I thought his face fell for a moment. I was confused. I replayed my last sentence in my mind. And then I felt my eyes instinctively widen and my mouth drop, my head shaking from side to side. “No, that is not what I meant! I meant that she, um, did not like extra butter on her popcorn or diet drinks. Not that you should not come back tomorrow but it is Christmas tomorrow so you will probably be busy and I might be too. My mother does try to pretend that Christmas is a normal holiday. She is not very good at it, but she tries.”

He smiled at me. “I could come here to practice around noon tomorrow. And if you are here then ... well, you will be here. We will probably exchange a word or two or something and ... ”

“I thought you only practiced on Wednesdays.”

“Well, I do suck so maybe adding Thursday practices to my day planner would be a good idea.”

I smiled down at the glimmering snowflakes beneath me. They looked like sparkling, fragile pieces of crystal accumulating on the ground. “Yeah,” I murmured, softly. “Maybe it would be.”

He grinned at me.

I felt the flutter my sister told me I would feel when I looked at a certain boy.

Rain was gone.

Rain was not whole.

Rain was not coming back.

But I think Rain was proud.

I think Rain is proud.

@fluffybunsss @thegreatsaiyaman3 @keenu-loves-to-talk-talkytalky @thelastdream @the-living-typo @quoted-text @nerdyfuntheorist @obsessedwithparkjimin @user-with-a-name @carmen-riddle @tookoool @kritiwritesss

#fiction #thegreatsaiyaman3 #fluffy bunny #Aer-o-bitch #you are loved #tw death mention #tw #tw death #tw molestation #tw murder #tw serial killers

23 notes · View notes

ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

Text

His Mistress - Series Finale

Warning: 18+ smut, mentions of cheating, coarse language, mature themes.

Author’s Note: I am terrible at ending stories because I never want them to end. The ending I initially wrote wasn’t good enough, so I started again until I felt it was right. I’ll keep it brief, but I want to thank all the readers who fueled this crazy fire and inspired me to flesh out a dark love story that I’m proud to say I wrote. I’ll miss Mr. Deaver and all the smutty, angsty, drama of his life with his mistress. Thanks for tolerating the never-ending POV shifts and filling my inbox with love and support for the story and for me. You guys are the BEST. I’m forever grateful!

I hope you enjoy the 9K series finale. It’s been a slice!

Henry X Mistress Masterpost [x]

Henry's company held an office party to bid farewell the building that had brought them growth and success over the last few years. Once again expanding, the company added a brand new customer-relations department, a slew of employees fresh out of university and interns to fill in the gaps. The celebration took place on the evening of their last workday and boasted live entertainment and enough luxurious fare for each employee and their loved ones. They rented a bouncy castle and ball pit for the kids and set up an open bar next to two seminar tables' worth of catering.

It wasn't only a farewell party for the company, but the first time Henry showed off his girlfriend in front of his colleagues and employees. Word of Henry's divorce had already made its rounds, his colleagues begging for gory details after the documents were signed and filed. Rumours fluttered in and out of ears and mouths, but never while Henry was in the room—Henry had cheated on his wife with a coworker, Henry screwed the cleaning lady and his wife caught him in the act, Henry picked up a venereal disease, and poor Mary. The speculation rose tensions, but like all rumours, faded into irrelevancy once news of the company move surfaced. People forgot all about Henry's ugly divorce for the next round of gossip. Word of his mistress died down.

Although the tension had mostly evaporated, she felt eyes crawling on her when she showed up on Henry's arm. Of course, everyone recognized her—she was the secretary for a time, the only line to get an opening with Mr. Deaver. She had spent months parked next to his office, taking his appointments, booking his days, answering his phone. They remembered, and they leaned into the nearest ear to whisper, "I knew it all along."

If Henry noticed the curiosity, he chose to ignore it, but she couldn't. She felt every woman in the place wringing her silently, scrutinizing her moves, her hand in Henry's. People who knew Mary tended to side with the older woman, and the nattering reinstated in hushed exchanges. She was alone at the party save for Henry, but he could only guard her for so long before his colleagues whisked him into conversations littered with business jargon that lost her attention.

Still, she clung to his hand, and once in a while, Henry would break from stock discussions to turn in for a kiss. He surrounded her ears with his fingers, tilting her face up so he need not crouch just to show some affection. When he buried her mouth with his, she savoured the taste of wine, the power in becoming the first lady, the stares from Henry's subordinates.

Henry pulled back an inch, staring drunkenly, though he'd only had one glass of pinot noir, and nipped her bottom lip. "Having a good time, sweetheart?"

"Sure. I love catching all the cattiest office workers glaring."

Henry smirked as though he too tasted a dollop of satisfaction from the envy. "You know what I say to that?"

"What?"

"Fuck them," Henry whispered.

She feigned a gasp, swatted his shoulder, and he pulled her even closer. "Gosh, you look beautiful. I want to undress you later and do all the things they're thinking about me doing to you."

"My, my, Henry. You better take it easy on the vino."

"I'm not tipsy. I'm excited."

She checked his pockets for bulges, hoping Henry's intentions weren't to propose in front of all these near-strangers. The lines of his suit were smooth, and when she hugged him, she only felt his cellphone, wallet and keys, no ring box. She sighed with relief and sweltered under another one of his long kisses. He moaned against her, stroked her neck and back until she interrupted him to say, "Jesus, Henry. What's with the PDA?"

"I'm sorry. I just don't care anymore. Let 'em look."

"Easy, tiger. You're the star of the show. People want to talk to you without lipstick all over your face."

"Mm, I'd fuck you right now if I could," said Henry.

She squeezed his shoulders, holding him off for a moment before he swooped in for another peck. "Okay, okay, I'm done. For now."

"Don't make me spank you when we get home," she warned, mouth curved in jest.

"I'll behave," he assured.

With children running about, the catering service making rounds in the nearly empty office space, more employees and their significant others piling in by the minute, it was easy to get lost in the bustle. Henry's colleagues whisked him away into a conversation she had no business understanding, leaving her stranded, drink in hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in her blouse to distract herself from her friendless reality. None of Henry's employees came to talk to her. She stood alone, a flag on a pole reminding everyone that Henry had upgraded in every way. Some people went by, nodding respectfully, while others bypassed her like a piece of furniture.

Just when she felt the pressure behind her eyes saying she was tired, Frank stepped out of the elevator with his wife and two boys. The children bolted for the bounce house, leaving their bickering parents in their dust. Frank travelled through the crowd rolling his eyes and sneering at his wife, who looked upset about something, but retracted her frown as soon as a colleague's wife greeted her. The loud businessman honed in on Henry, and she watched her helpless boyfriend go limp when the man slung his meaty arm around his shoulders, thumping his back with a ham hock fist.

She mused over Henry's embarrassment as Frank launched into a story designed specifically to draw attention to him in the worst way. Frank's baritone floated above the music, and soon, others gathered to listen to the man tell the story of how Henry got too wasted on sake on a business trip to Japan because he didn't want to seem rude to the host and didn't know how to decline.

"This fuckin' guy—pardon my French—is rolling on the floor in his hotel room, has ten minutes to get dressed and downstairs for the conference, but can't even hold his head up straight. How many did you have, Henry, seven? Eight?"

Henry blanched, shaking his head. "Eight, yeah, I think that's about right."

"You've never seen a guy so drunk in your life! He did the conference, slurring the entire time, stumbling over his shoes, but the folks loved it! Didn't they, Deaver? You really got their attention when you started hiccoughing between every word."

"Different times. We were younger. We were boys."

"Ah, yeah. Young and dumb. Now, look at you! Much older now and just as dumb, eh?"

The gaggle surrounding Henry burst into laughter and carried on as Frank surrendered his grip. She tried to picture Henry staggering, too drunk to string together a sentence, but couldn't imagine him as anything less than poised. The image reminded her of the conversation she had with Mary in the parking garage. Before the divorce had been finalized, Mary told her Henry had done questionable things abroad with his colleagues. Frank's story, although comical and meant as a harmless jab, filled her with suspicion.

Henry had denied the accusation that he cheated before that night he invited her up to his hotel room. With desperation on his face, he vowed on his love for her that he was never unfaithful, barring their affair. She believed him, with reluctance, and stowed it away in her mind with the rest of Mary's dubious claims. Now that stories of shenanigans and unprofessional conduct were in circulation, she tried not to let her suspicions gain traction.

The night played on, and as more of the families left to put their hyper children to bed, the heads of business brought out the top-shelf Scotch and sat around picking at sandwich trays and hors d'oeuvres. Frank caught Henry's assistant-turned-girlfriend in his cross-hairs and approached her with a drink in hand. Red-faced and loud as ever, Frank asked her why she wasn't enjoying herself.

She cleared her throat and offered her best smile. "I am having fun. I just don't have a rich enough history with the company to offer any entertaining stories."

"Oh, come now. You were Henry's assistant for months! You don't have anything to share about banging the boss?"

Frank's announcement only fell on her ears, but it was enough to make her blush and want to escape. He apologized and sidled up to her, clinking his whiskey tumbler with her wine glass.

"Gotta get you a refill, Whaddaya say, toots?"

"I'm fine for now," she said. "I offered to drive home."

"That's right. You two live together now in that little condo."

She blinked, unsure of how anyone might think of the condo as little, then realized she was standing among wealthy men whose homes spanned acres, who owned Summer cottages bigger than the average townhouse.

"I gotta say, Deaver's got that colour back in his face since he started on with you, doll. What do I gotta do to get me a woman like that? He's a whole new man. Is that all it takes is a nice, young honey to roll back the decades? I bet the old bastard gets it up just fine. Just fine."

"Thank you, Frank. I'll try to sift through that to find a compliment," she scoffed and sipped her wine.

"Aw, I mean it with love, darlin', you know that. Ol' Franky just talks, right? I don't mean any harm. Maybe I come from a place of envy, who knows? Not every day a dry old fella gets his hands on something pretty as you. I can see you're good for him. He sure smiles a helluva lot more! Christ, can't chisel the grin off that face. Loopy as a damn circus clown since you came around."

"Really?" She tittered.

"I'm serious. Shit, when Henry was with Mary, you couldn't pay the guy to crack a joke. Now, he's nothing like the shlub I met all those years ago."

She ran her finger along the glass rim as Frank droned on, her eyes on Henry across the room. He had been having a good time, his cheeks aglow with cheeriness. She'd never seen Henry interact with his coworkers for more than a quick trip in and out of the conference room to deliver him a printout or progress report. Tonight, Henry hadn't complained about people talking his ear off. Even after Frank's unflattering account of one of his rare blunders, he hadn't whined or wished they could sneak out unseen. Henry was at ease.

"He's planning on proposing to me soon," she said.

Frank cocked his head and rose his glass. "Here's to hoping he makes the right decision, and quick, before you realize you can do better!"

She clinked glasses with Frank once more, and while he drained his whiskey, she set her glass down on a table nearby.

"I was wondering what his coworkers might say about him remarrying."

"Anything to get him away from that soul-sucking ice queen of an ex-wife."

"Frank? Can I ask you something and get a sincere answer?"

Frank read her serious tone, shifted his brows and angled in, unaware of his alcohol-laden breath fanning over her face. "Anything, love. Franky tells no lies. That's what they say. With me, it's pure honesty."

"I heard a rumour about Henry in Thailand. Somebody said he cheated on Mary. Do you know anything about this? I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into, being young and all. I don't want to end up wasting my best years with a man who might cheat on me down the road."

Frank scoffed, slapped his leg and howled. She waited for him to wipe an invisible tear from his eye, hoping nobody asked what was so funny.

"Oh, doll. You can't believe all the rumours you hear in this place. Thailand... Shit, that was so long ago. I can hardly remember what happened. It's true, we did some partying, but when in Rome, right?"

She grimaced as Frank went on, "Ol' Deaver never left his hotel room on that trip. Me 'n a couple of our work buddies cruised around, got ourselves into a little trouble, but not Henry. He spent the whole week hunched over his laptop, putting last minute touches on some PowerPoint crap—never was good with computers, myself. And don't get me wrong, there were offers made during dinners—generous offers. You know the type. They like to show their hospitality. But Henry was the professional. We call him Dad since he's always keeping us in line. Even us old guys, eh? No, no... Company is rock solid 'cause of him. We told Deaver a million times to drop the ball 'n chain, but the kid stuck it out, he really did."

"Am I stupid to marry him?"

"Doll, I think if you want someone to treat you right, it's my man, Henry Deaver. The Kid can't contain himself. And who could? He's a lucky man, really fortunate to have a dish like you."

"Oh, stop," she gestured at the opposite corner of the cleared out office space where the wives gathered. "You know, if I marry Henry, I'll have to join the wives' club and stand over there with Phyllis and Dorothy."

Frank beamed at her. She decided not to loathe the man for his praise, both for her and Henry. He was a bumbling idiot at times and unfiltered, but she had seen much worse. Before the corporate job with all the nice clothes and gadgets she used to pine for while browsing fashion websites, she worked her food service job. With every type of asshole and gentleman coming through the hotel bar, Frank was the loudmouth who'd changed her mind on Henry Deaver.

"You're a different kind, ain'tcha? I bet Deaver has his hands full with you."

Warm, wine-drunk confidence slid off her tongue, "Oh, I keep him busy."

"I'll kill him if he doesn't marry you, kid."

"I'm sure you will."

"That's Frank's Guarantee."

She tipped glasses with him once more and excused herself to use the washroom. The night was drawing to a close, and she enjoyed the quiet of the bathroom and its 3 stalls. Many times she had retreated to the washroom to text Henry while he was in his office. She couldn't risk getting caught exchanging dirty messages with the boss, so when she wanted to make him blush, she snuck off to the lady's room. Many nude photoshoots happened in the safety of the last stall on the right, and all of them fed to Henry's phone at inopportune times—mostly during meetings or video calls with clients across the world. Now, she laid her head against the cool metal and thought of marrying Henry.

Back then, falling in love with him was forbidden, tingly, like a shot of alcohol at an inappropriate hour that she hoped nobody could smell on her breath. Now, it was pure. There were no more walls, no need to hide in the stall to talk to him. Henry was hers, and everyone knew it.

Henry waited for her by a stack of chairs. Behind him, the catering company was clearing away serving trays, stacking cups and folding tablecloths. The band had long since packed up, and anyone with children had taken them downstairs to the shuttles the company had arranged to drive them home.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey, indeed. How're you doing? I thought I saw you getting along with Frank." Henry chuckled. "What was up with that? I thought you hated him."

"I don't hate him. Maybe I wasn't keen on him hitting on me back at the hotel, but I think he's smartened up. As uncouth as he may be... He has your back and cares about the company."

"He's the drunk uncle of the business."

"You'll have to teach him some manners, though. One day, you'll have a female big-wig to schmooze, and she might not take kindly to pet names."

Henry's eyes bugged as he nodded. "Frank doesn't get to talk to the women in the industry, and don't worry, I'll whip him into shape."

"Hm, is that why they call you the company dad?" She asked, tracing one finger down Henry's lapel. "You just keep everyone in line, don't you? Lay down the law. Tell all those silly men how to act."

Henry shivered as her hand travelled lower, coasted over the front of his pants while nobody was looking. He puffed his chest, a crafty look taking over his visage. He snatched her wandering hand and stepped closer, eclipsing her as he slouched over to whisper in her ear.

"Yeah, I'm the Daddy around here."

"Is Daddy ready to head home soon?"

"Let's say our goodbyes, then we'll get out of here. Come on."

Henry gave her directions that took them in the opposite direction of home. When she questioned him, he patted her thigh, assuring there was a surprise waiting at the end of the line. She tried to pry it from him while they cruised the highway in the dark. The radio played low while Henry tried changing the subject.

"Where am I going?" She asked.

Henry pointed ahead. "Get off at the next exit."

The roads narrowed, and the street lamps spread farther apart outside of the city. She slowed the car, flipped on the high beams and guided Henry's BMW over gravel hills. There were houses along the quiet strip of country line, but they were hidden behind spruce and maple trees.

"Henry, we're so far from home. I'm tired. Please tell me what we're doing."

He pointed at a driveway tucked behind a line of birch and a dented metal mailbox standing crookedly on the side of the road. "Down there. It's close now, don't worry."

They curved through a loose gathering of evergreens and pulled up to a sprawling ranch house with a double garage and topiaries along the sides. The place was dark, but a motion light illuminated the paved driveway as she pulled up and parked. Henry pulled a set of keys from his pocket and exited the vehicle. He waited for her to catch up, breath turning to vapour in the crisp night air.

"Care to explain what we're doing at some random house?" She asked.

Henry took her hand and guided her toward the front door. In the dark, she sailed by the realtor's sign and stepped onto the first stone slab leading to the front door. She watched Henry fiddle with a key, shove it into the lock and turn the handle. The door opened with a whoosh, the scent of fresh paint and lacquered wood spilling out of the massive wooden door. Henry hit a switch, and fractals of light exploded from a chandelier on high in the foyer.

"Check this out. It's so open in the center, you could drive a truck through to the backyard. And the kitchen! Oh, you gotta see the kitchen. It's lovely," Henry said as he grabbed her hand and led her through the house. "All stainless steel and marble. The island is bigger than our bed! And come this way, down here."

They journeyed down an echoing hall, footsteps casting off the hardwood floors and glass light fixtures. Henry threw open a door and ushered her inside a furnished bedroom. A sleigh bed domineered the far end of the room, all dark wood, plush duvet and pillows.

"I know you're not keen on beige, which is fine. We'll paint it. But, look at this bed! And this window overlooks the backyard—Well, I wouldn't say 'yard.' It's more of a...field. Look, look, look!"

"Henry, what is this?" She asked, peering out the window at the blackness beyond the dim orange halo of the bedroom light.

When she turned back around, Henry placed his hands on her hips, excitement simmering. He smiled, wry and lustful, and bent down to kiss her.

"Isn't it obvious? This is our house."

"What are you saying?" She gasped. "You bought this place?"

"Mhm. I've had my eye on it for a long time."

"And just how long exactly were you planning on keeping this a secret?"

"Only until I bought it."

"Henry!"

He jingled the keys in his pocket. "Well, you can't just walk into a place that's not yours."

Suddenly, she realized Henry had put this in motion weeks before, masked it under the search for a new office building. Realtors had rung Henry's phone off the hook, and she had answered them all, oblivious to his underlying motive. When it clicked, she dropped her jaw and swatted him playfully.

"I can't believe you. Right under my nose!"

"It was good timing."

"But...why? What's wrong with the condo?"

Henry guided her to the room's centre beneath the carnival glass light fixture that had to go, along with the drab paint job. "Nothing is wrong with the condo. It's just not ours. There are too many memories preventing me from letting go of the past. I want to let it all go, but I can't when I look around and remember where I was just a year and a half ago. It served me well as a place to escape, but now, I don't need to hide. I want new memories. I want to walk outside with my coffee and see you in the backyard, doing whatever you want—gardening, reading, lounging. I want to pull up after a long day at work, see this place, and know that you're inside, all of our things, our memories, our smells."

"And what if I hate it?" She asked, stifling a giggle.

"Then I'll sell it, and we'll find a new place."

"I don't hate it, Henry, but...This was such a risk."

"It paid off. I knew you'd like it. It's the perfect combination of vintage and modern. The structure is old and strong, but the renovations give it that modern class. It's like that chalet we stayed at in Sweden. Remember?"

"Of course, I remember. We didn't leave bed for two days."

Henry smiled fondly at the memory and stroked her hair back, smiling with her in his arms. She laid her cheek on his chest and breathed in a contented sigh.

"There are two offices, one for me and one for you. Two other bedrooms. One for guests and one for a kid."

She looked up at him, and all the playfulness fled from his eyes. He kissed her to avoid the inevitable questions. When will we see a doctor? What is the plan if we can't conceive? They didn't need answers, only trust that whatever battles stretched on, they would meet them hand-in-hand.

"I can't wait," she whispered. "I love you. And I love this house."

"There's one more thing," Henry cleared his throat and stepped away from her. "It's kind of important."

"What is it?"

"I'm old, babe."

"Henry, you're not that old."

"I'm an old man. I'm head of a multi-national company, y'know. I wear suits and talk to people who hemorrhage money day in and day out. I like to style myself as a professional."

She cocked her head, wondering where Henry was going with his monologue.

"It's awkward when people ask me about you, and I have to refer to you as my girlfriend. Guys like me aren't supposed to have girlfriends. It just sounds creepy. Plus, you're so much more to me than that. You're not my girlfriend; you're the love of my life. My soulmate. My queen. I want you to be my partner."

"Henry—"

He cut her off and fetched something from the table next to the bed. When he rejoined her in the middle of the room, he bent at the knee and presented her with the ring box she had already seen, yet she fluttered as though it was the first time.

"Baby... I could have flown you to a tropical island or put this in a glass of champagne. I could have done this in front of everyone at the party tonight, but all of that seemed silly. Don't get me wrong, I still want to take you to every corner of the world and give you all the nicest things, but I wanted to propose to you in our house, just you and me. So... Will you quit being my girlfriend and become my wife instead?"

Henry separated her ring finger from the rest and slid the band down to the knuckle as she blotted her sobs with the other hand, nodding and fighting joyful tears.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" She asked as he rose to his feet and clamped her in a bone-cracking hug.

"I know I'm clever! You thought I would propose to you in front of all those people? No way."

"You hate being the center of attention."

"That's right. And although I want to shout it from the rooftops, I thought you'd prefer me asking you to marry me someplace quiet."

She gazed at the stone glittering on her finger, and a fresh wash of tears wet her cheeks. "I'm marrying you... You're going to be my husband."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to skip fiance altogether and get right to the wife thing."

"You're my husband."

"You're my wife!"

"We're getting married!"

"That's right," Henry beamed. "And we move in next month."

Breathless, she ripped her eyes off the ring and looked up at the man who gave it to her. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed her face into the column of his throat and breathed in the scent of old hotels, of pastry and coffee and drying ink on newspaper. She had a vision of him seated at a table across the room, smiling in her direction, tapping his silver pen on the spine of his planner. Two eyes, one green and one brown, drinking her in like fine wine, full of secrets and passion, indulgence and guilt. Her good Christian boy who was anything but pure or chaste.

"I'll worship you until I die, you know that, right?"

"Henry, I can't. You're making me cry. There's probably mascara all over my face!"

"I don't care," he pressed the words to her temple, swaying in languid step. "You'll never be rid of me. Think about that."

"I believe you, Henry."

His eyes flooded and no amount of squeezing suffocated the tears. The streams met the cuff of his suit jacket. He questioned why he still wore the suit and slipped out of it as her hand tugged his tie. Leash in hand, she pulled his face to her level and touched the tears coasting his cheeks, brushed her thumb over the scar two inches from the lips she kissed.

"Are you sure you want to marry me?"

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"And I'm telling you to shut up, Henry. Don't ask those kinds of questions."

"I just can't believe you're mine."

"That's right. So stop wondering if I'll change my mind. I've had many opportunities to reconsider. I stuck it out through times I should have walked out, and now we're standing in this gigantic house, and there's a ring on my finger... And you still think I'll back out?"

"I hope not. You're everything I've wanted my whole life. I have it all. Now I can spend the rest of it happy."

"I love you," she whispered against his bottom lip.

Henry crouched, circled her hips with his arms and carried her to the bed, murmuring, "I love you, too, baby. So much."

"Are we gonna fuck right here?"

"Right here, right now," said Henry, perching her on the bed so he could work open the buttons of his dress shirt. She lifted her legs, slipped off her heels, then wrestled her blouse off. The struggle to undress ended with their tops off, Henry standing with his knees pressed into the plush mattress, between her legs. He ran his hands up and down her thighs, nylon sighing between skin as he stroked.

"I didn't think I'd make it out of the office without fucking you. Gosh, you looked so good in that outfit. All those guys were looking at you... Especially when you dropped your phone and bent over to pick it up. That fabric stretching over your ass. You should've seen 'em staring."

"You think they're jealous of you?" She asked as Henry bunched her skirt around her hips, revealing satin and lace panties pasted to her crotch with arousal. His palm traversed her thigh, paused at the edge of the panties. He sent out two fingers to stroke the stitching along her groin, satin running like water across the tips. Henry wanted to take his time, but she was restless. He subdued her with a kiss.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm in control tonight, and I want to feel and lick and taste every inch of your body before I even get my pants off, understand?"

She returned his sly look and rolled onto her stomach, parting her legs so he could admire the shiny material ruched between her cheeks.

"To answer your question... Yes. Of course, they're jealous."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

Henry snickered, like a bully cornering his prey. "Those old bastards can't keep their mouths shut. Even when you were my employee, they'd hound me for details... Ask if you were single, if I was tapping you, if I'd thought about it. I'm not one to boast, but they all knew. Henry Deaver doesn't kiss and tell, but then you'd come in and smile at me like just an hour before I was balls-deep in your pussy... Like my cum was still dripping down your thigh. They knew. We weren't as covert as we thought."

"It's that naughty little smile of yours that gives it away. You flashed me that same smile a few times at the hotel, and I just thought maybe you didn't realize how seductive you looked. But you know, don't you? You know what you do to me. How hard you can make me with just one look."

Henry lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed her ankle as he squeezed the sole of her foot, admiring the coloured polish on her toenails peeking out of the semi-opaque stockings.

"I do enjoy getting you worked up, sir."

"Let's not tonight. I'm supposed to make love to you, not treat you like my office pet. I'm marrying you, for fuck's sake."

"Then make love to your future wife. That doesn't mean I can't be your slut anymore."

"Oh, my God," Henry growled.

"Look at what I'm wearing for you. I know how much you love the way my pussy looks wearing this fabric. Thigh-high stockings aren't practical, but I figured you might fuck me in your office one last time, and I wanted to torment you."

"Not so predictable now, huh?"

She simpered and ran her toe in a line down his chest and didn't stop until she grazed his belt buckle. "Yeah, and you've been thinking about filling me up all night."

Henry grasped her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed to meet his groin. He gathered her up in his arms, pressing his entire weight on her frame as he kissed her desperately. When her legs grew weak, he clamped them around his hips and undulated. Hardness strained against her crotch, pulsing from the heat between her legs.

"You're right. I've been aching to fuck you. How long has it been? Gosh, this week has been so busy, I've hardly had any time alone with you. And you've been occupied with your new job. It's been a while since I've come."

She made a coo of sympathy. "Aw, my poor baby. You're probably so sensitive."

"I want you to do something for me," Henry muttered, adjusting his crotch, then giving up and undoing his belt and pants altogether. "I'd love it if you sucked my cock."

"Oh, Mr. Deaver asking for a blowjob? A rare sound to my ears."

He shook his head, grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed to kneel on the floor. With feet spread wide, his fingers tangled in her hair, Henry waited for her to make the first move. His view of her from on high was angelic. In the prismatic light, her eyes twinkled, and he thought of whiskey in a glass, poured by a dangerous woman he'd grown to admire. She always wore a smile, but for the right person, that smile turned luscious and dim. Her eyes would relax on him, soothe him, delight if he made small conversation instead of only demands.

Henry did not demand, but as her smiling lips tightened around the midway-point of his cock and sank, he couldn't help aiding the way to her throat with one firm thrust. "Oh... Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," he droned.

"You can use my mouth, sir."

"Just suck that dick like a good girl. Do your magic on me, baby."

With free reign, she slathered his shaft with her tongue, side-to-side, up and down. She met his eyes and smiled, the tip nestled between her puckered lips. Her grasp on the base sent waves of hot blood pumping through the veins, filling him out entirely.

"I can't wait to feel this big cock pumping my pussy full of cum."

"Oh, I know, baby. We'll get there. For now, I need your mouth. All over me, please. Balls too. Come on... Eat that cock, you hungry little slut."

She chased Henry up on the bed where she could kneel between his legs in comfort. Henry enjoyed the position, too—back against a mound of pillows, his long legs spread to the lower corners of the bed, her crumpled form nestled between his thighs while her lips and tongue worked in a circuit on his length. He leaned his head back, arms thrown over the pillows. In this position, Henry bucked his hips a few times to touch his tip to her tonsils. Each time she brought up a wave of saliva that coated him and made it easier for her to slide down.

"What about that ass, big boy?" She asked after popping up from a harsh series of head-bobbing. "I know how much you love it when I play with that pretty hole of yours."

Henry sucked air in through his teeth, chin dimpling and lashes fluttering. "Mmph, not tonight. I want that pussy. Yeah, I wanna taste you."

They flipped positions. Henry pulled her onto her back away and snatched one of the pillows to wedge under her tailbone. With both hands, he hooked the back of her knees and spread her thighs wide, elevating her pelvis until his breath stroked the front of her panties. Henry nipped the fabric, pulled it into a tent and let it snap back against her lips. He nuzzled it, faint stubble scratching the delicate fabric. She let out a gentle sigh, a whimper of lust. Henry kissed the satin once, twice harder, then a third time like he'd met her mouth in a fevered touch.

She watched his long fingers sneak the fabric away, how he made shapes with his mouth like he wanted to say something but lost his voice. Henry bit his lip, kissed where he knew her clit was hiding, then prodded her folds with a long lick. He repeated the motion on the right side, along her labia, and again on he left side.

For a while, he would only meet the crest of her entrance with light kisses and whispered promises.

"Do you like it when I tease your pussy? Giving you just enough to make you wet, but not as much as you need?"

"Henry, please," she begged.

"Please, what?"

"Please give me more!"

"More of this?" Henry asked, ghosting his breath over her clit.

"No more teasing."

"You sure?"

She clutched some of his hair and pouted. He chuckled, laid his cheek on her thigh and brought his hand up between her legs. "What if I'm not done teasing? What if I want to torment you a little longer?"

He spread open her lips, applying pressure on both sides. She could almost grind against his fingers if he didn't have her at his mercy, arched over a pillow, thighs splayed wide and vulnerable. Henry tapped her clit with three fingers, stippling with gooseflesh from the wet noises the pads made on her vulva. "Oh, I love that sound," he sang. "You're so wet for me."

"Please, sir. I need your mouth."

"Is that right? Well, you've been so good and helpful. I'm sure I can give you what you want... but you have to promise me something."

"Yes, yes, I will. Anything."

"Promise you'll tell me before you come?"

"Uh-huh. I promise."

"Okay, I trust you. Don't get too close. I have other plans for your pussy."

She groaned out loud, relieved when he finally licked her clit. His tongue was a warm blanket, weighted and placed perfectly on top. He undulated the muscle, coaxing out the sensitive parts for adoration. That's how she described his attention in her mind. When Henry ate her out, it was like he'd infiltrated her head and knew the precise amount of pressure, the proper motions, when to flicker his tongue and when to envelope her clit between his lips. He kissed, sucked, lapped and moaned like a symphony, only opening his eyes once in a while to catch her staring in awe between her legs.

"Mm, baby," Henry moaned against her slit. "I can feel you getting close already. Don't go over the edge."

"I'm sorry, you just look so good eating my pussy."

Henry pulled off her, smirking, letting her glimpse his full lips shining in their glory. She couldn't stop herself from lunging for him. The taste of her own fluid on his mouth set off a carnal urge to feel his cock too. She told him to fuck her hard, to spank her ass and make her squeal like a knifed animal. She wanted that deepness, the full stretch as his thighs bounced her up and down. They laid on their sides, and Henry entered her from behind, arm hooking her leg up so he could gaze over at her exposed breasts, her glistening clit forgotten for a moment too long. In his clutches, she was helpless, and Henry used his advantage to squeeze and rub her until more of her liquid soaked between their groins.

"Can you come like this?" Henry puffed next to her ear. "If I rub your clit like that and keep fucking you, can you come?"

"Yes," she peeped. "Yes, keep going."

"Yeah? Gonna come like a good girl all over this dick?"

Again, she nodded, biting down on her lip in concentration.

"'Cause I'm gonna shoot so much fucking cum inside you, but only after you get all tight around me."

She begged him not to stop, to never stop being hers. Henry rushed his movements until she bucked once, legs fighting to fold inward.

"Is that it? That spot right there?" Henry asked. "Keep rubbing you just like this?"

He didn't need an answer; it was written all over her flushed face, denting her lip where her teeth bore down. Henry exerted every inch of stamina he had in his body until her muscles seized hard enough to snap. Mewling as she came, Henry didn't stop pestering her clit with his fingertips or pull out after he emptied as deep inside as he could fit. He gathered her up in his arms, locking fingers and lips, breathing each other's air. Pieces of his hair clung to his sweat-dampened forehead while he pulsed and shivered.

"I need you to get your panties on right away. We can't leave a mess behind."

"Are you serious?"

Henry nodded his head, unperturbed by the alarm in her tone. "Well, it's not our stuff. It's staging furniture. I just convinced the realtor to let me surprise you tonight. She probably didn't think I'd be fucking you in any of the bedrooms."

"Henry! I'm not sure where you slung my underwear."

He pushed into her one last time and grunted. "Aw, honey, mm. That's where my cum belongs."

"You're such a bad man," she giggled.

"I know I'm dirty."

"Come on, husband. Help me find my clothes. We should get back before we both fall asleep and someone finds us like this."

They gathered themselves, sighing and stretching the tension from their muscles as they dressed and took one more look around the property. She saw the house in a warm light now, as a place they could fill with memories, starting in the master bedroom where Henry proposed. He held her hand as they drove to the condo and flung themselves into bed, drained from the night's givings but wrapped in each other's arms.

The next morning, she woke to the smell of pancakes cooking on a griddle. Henry was up, two coffees deep, and buzzing from cupboard to cabinet, humming under his breath. He lit up when he caught her motion in the corner of his eye and went in for a long hug.

"Good morning, wife."

"Morning, husband," she replied, cheeks and chest prickling.

"Pancake buffet?" Henry gestured at the kitchen island.

"It's not even Christmas!"

Henry scoffed. "Who needs a special occasion to have a pancake buffet?

"I suppose I can't complain," she said.

She sat at the island, studying the foreign object around her ring finger every once in a while. When she made a fist or spread her hand, the rock sparkled and delighted her eyes. Henry caught her staring at the ring and smiling as he launched into the day's trajectory, his plan falling on deafened ears.

"Hello?" Henry waved the spatula. "Are you home?"

She sat up straight and folded her hands. "Yes. Sorry. I was distracted."

"I was saying I have to go into the office today, but only for an hour or two. Are you okay with hanging around here by yourself while I take the car? Can you believe the Beamer is still in the shop? They say take the damn thing into the dealership, we'll fix it up for free, but we'll keep it for half the week."

"Oh, well, I was supposed to pick up groceries, but I can wait."

Henry's eyebrows popped up. "Oh, no. No, no, honey. That's all right. I'll find another way there."

"Why don't I drive you to the office? Unless...You're not actually going to the office?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henry asked.

"I don't know...You could be exacting another one of your famous covert plans and covering it up by saying you're going to the office. How do I know?'

Henry tipped his head back and laughed as he tended the food sizzling on the stovetop. "Oh, sweetheart. No. I promise, no more tricks for a while."

"Sure," she said with a sly edge on her tongue.

"You can drop me off and take the car. It's nothing secretive, I swear."

Henry piled the last pancakes onto a plate, turned off the griddle and wiped the counter clear of flour and coconut flakes. They put together an extravagant array of dressed-up breakfast food, dousing their plates in maple syrup, chocolate chips and heart-shaped strawberries as they talked and sipped coffee. Henry sat across the island holding his hand out for her to touch every once in a while. He didn't need her to hold his hand, though, subconsciously, he always reached out for her in case she wanted to feel his skin.

The morning melted seamlessly into early afternoon, and the couple ventured from the condo after a quick round of energizing couch sex. Henry thumbed the ring on her finger as they walked onto the main floor from the elevator.

"Mr. Deaver and Madame, good morning!" Johnny, the concierge, greeted them.

Henry held up their conjoined hands. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Deaver from now on, Johnny."

The tall man behind the desk made a small gasp and bowed. "Apologies, Mr. and Mrs... Might I say congratulations to the happy couple?"

"You're the first to hear, officially," Henry said.

Johnny touched his enormous hand to his chest. "What an honour, sir. This position never loses its magic."

Henry twisted his mouth. "I have some other news, Johnny. My wife and I will be moving soon. We won't be seeing you every morning."

"Ah, that's all right, Mr. Deaver. Moving up and up, I hope?"

"Yes. It's a ranch house in the country. No neighbours."

"Beautiful. Well, I wish you both the very best and look forward to helping you out until moving day comes."

"Thanks, Johnny," she said with a smile.

Johnny rose his finger as they meant to leave. "One more thing. A package arrived for you, Mr. Deaver."

The concierge ducked under the desk with a set of keys and opened the security box dedicated to the Deaver property. He pulled out a bulging manila envelope and turned it over with a dutiful grin. When her eyes glanced at the writing on the front, a knot formed in her throat. Henry's name adorned the front in practiced, sweeping hand. Henry. Not Henry Deaver or Mr. Deaver. Just his name written in black ink with flourishes on the capital H and a hand-drawn filigree beneath. She watched his shoulders stiffen as he nodded to Johnny.

"Thank you, Johnny. We'll see you later."

She followed Henry to the parking garage, staring at the envelope in his hands. Henry looked ahead, his bright demeanour trampled upon by the object he carried. When they got into the vehicle, they looked at each other, then down at the package.

"What is that?" She asked.

"I think it's from Mary. That's her handwriting."

She swallowed the knot in her throat, but it had doubled in size and refused to budge. "What now? She's not supposed to bother us anymore."

"I know," Henry breathed. "I can't... You open it."

She tore into the envelope and pulled out a letter accompanied by a DVD in a flat jewel case and photocopies of ruled paper scrawled with notes. Henry nodded at the letter, signalling her to read it aloud.

"Dear Henry... I know there's little chance of getting a private audience with you now that we're legally separated, and the company is in the process of moving. You probably have your hands full and do not wish to hear from me either way. I understand your need to stay away, hence the letter and no phone call. What needs to be said cannot be summed up in a brief call, so I will try to keep this to a few pages.

I wanted to start off by apologizing. It's too late for apologies, and you must think I'm off my rocker to have even considered coming to you with this. Still, I'm not looking for acceptance, sympathy or anything but the need to fill you in on the blank spaces that must have driven you crazy over the last couple of years. The way I scorned you was wrong. A wife should respect her husband in all forms, and answer to him when he calls. I ignored you and purposely drove a wedge between us in order to distance myself from you and our collective failure.

By now, I'm sure your new girlfriend told you what I told her. It should come as no surprise that when I say "failure," I mean our inability to have a child.

When I received the news, and you were nowhere to be found, I felt the clutches of the Devil himself reaching for me. God does not make mistakes, which is how I know we were being punished for our sins, and since the results indicated you were the weaker factor, I can only assume the punishment was meant for you, and by extension, me. I know you have berated me in the past for my strong beliefs, but I cannot compromise my relationship with God for anyone's comfort. I know in my heart, his word is law, and if we couldn't produce a child, lying together would be straying down the path of temptation.

There were things you wanted me to do that I could not, in good conscience, provide for you—sex acts no married couple should have an interest in performing. If I'd have known of your devious tastes early on in our relationship, perhaps I wouldn't have married you. You resisted His word and acted on selfish impulse, spoke of wicked things with your colleagues, and Lord knows what other things I didn't catch wind of. I had to escape your sin yet remain your wife through the bad and the worse, as I pledged before God until death.

I do not judge you, as you are no longer my husband, and I know God will assess your choices in his divine eye. I don't have to worry about the unclean thoughts that live inside of you—they have no power over me; they aren't a reflection of my heavenly worth. If anything, I hope you are happy and have all the freedom one who strays from God can expect to have in this world. I pray for your soul each night and hope you do not meet the eternal fires.

I should have told you, but I was stricken with unbearable grief. I hated you. I fell out of love. I can't describe how, but I felt if I touched you, knowing what I knew then, God would punish me. Please understand everything I did, I did in the name of the Lord and with concern for my immortal soul. Call me selfish. I was and am, to this day, a selfish woman. But you were good to me, up until a certain point.

I cannot forgive your infidelity and can only pray you to seek repentance for your sin, though I will admit I did not care to make it right at the time. My silence was meant as punishment, but only God can dole penance, and in shutting you out, I acted in his name when I shouldn't have. I will spend the rest of my days begging His forgiveness and praying for you, Henry.

This package includes the evidence I've compiled of your cheating. You should know now I no longer seek vengeance. I simply want to scrub my life of all traces of you, and figured you might want to gaze upon your transgressions. Or throw them out. It's up to you now. Sincerely, Mary."

Henry was quiet for several minutes as he digested the contents of the letter. She found a pamphlet for the Evangelist Church of God among the pages and scowled.

"Wow, religion really makes people say some crazy stuff," she muttered, hoping to get a sound out of her fiance. Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He motioned for the letter and gave it a half-hearted scan before crumpling it in his fist.

"Fuck that woman. Fuck that life."

"Sounds like a story."

He puffed, scoffed, burned a hole into the letter written in Mary's graceful hand.

"But you don't have to tell me."

"She's right," Henry said. "I was different back then."

"I know you were."

"How come you've never asked?"

His question nipped the skin on the back of her arms. "The same reason I don't ask other people about their religion. That's their business. You were raised a certain way, but you changed. I know you were put in a cage, Henry. You made a mistake, but it's not the eternal damnation Mary says. Your marriage was practically over. Unless... You cheated before us?"

Henry whipped a look at her, gaping and wordless. She shrugged as a platitude and coughed over a laugh. "Well? How can I not suspect? Mary says you cheated, Frank says you didn't, but I don't trust either of them as far as I can throw them, Henry!"

"Look, I know!" Henry barked, and she pressed her back to the door. "You've gotta believe me, sweetheart. I'm trying to prove to you every day that I'm not this monster she wants me to be!"

"What's on these discs? They don't have labels. Am I going to watch this and find out something you don't want me to?"

His jaw set like he was about to explode. Air escaped his nostrils, and he glared forth at the wet cement wall beyond the hood of her car. Above, the building's pressure crushed out all sound, and Henry became aware of his breath, the tension in his windpipe.

"No. I don't know. I have no idea what's on those DVDs. If she got her private investigator to film me, it's probably just you and I making out in the car. What would be incriminating about that?"

"Did you lie to me that night in Paris?"

A dissonant, heavy silence fell over the man in the driver's seat. His skin turned sallow, and her eyes eclipsed to see the sickly guilt on his face.

"That night, you told me you left her. You said you asked for the divorce, and she just gave up. Was that a lie? Did you say that just to get me to go?"

Condemned by another bout of silence, Henry hid the colour of his ears behind hunched shoulders. "Baby, I was in love. I am in love with you. It's only ever been you! I needed you with me so bad. She knew we were done. She knew it. Divorce was not a foreign word."

"Just tell me straight. Did you put it in stone that night? When you flew me ten hours to Paris to be with you?"

"No. I didn't. I went home, said goodbye to her, she gave me the cold shoulder, I cursed, and she got angry with me. I told her I was finished, and then I left. Maybe I didn't flat out say I want a divorce, but it was implied."

"I'm curious to see what's on these discs," she said.

"Sweetheart, I will watch them with you, totally confident there's no evidence of me with any other woman."

"Good," she nodded. "Because you're mine. Maybe I'm the bad one for not caring. If you're bad, I'm worse. I don't give a fuck about you cheating on her, and this is the first time I've ever admitted it out loud. You're mine, Henry. You belong to me. She knew what she had and uses faith as an excuse for hiding a horrible secret from you!"

"Good Lord, I don't want to cry about this again," said Henry.

"Fuck it, Henry, just like you said. Fuck her and fuck the life you had. Your ass is mine now," she stuck her ring finger in the air. "Like, forever."

Henry pouted and melted into her lap. She quickly ran her hands through his hair as he moaned against her knee. "But what about our family?"

"We'll figure it out, babe. I promise. Until then, just keep shooting loads inside of me, and we'll see what happens."

He burst with laughter and lifted his rosy face to kiss her. "That's such a you thing to say in a time of crisis."

"I told you last night and back at the hotel... I'm with you. I'll back you in everything you do and make sure not a day goes by you wish you were somewhere else."

"I have absolutely no doubt of that, sweetheart. Goddamn it, I love you... Wifey," he giggled.

"But how hot would it be to have sex while watching DVDs of us hooking up in the Beamer and touching on patios and shit?"

"So hot. I've been thinking about it, and I've concluded it is very fucking hot."

"All right, hubby. Let's put this shit behind us forever and get busy getting married and having babies. We have places to go!"

"Yeah," Henry grabbed her hand and nodded. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

#henry deaver x mistress #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #castle rock fanfiction #henry deaver

115 notes · View notes

colormeyondublue · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 4: First Date

Chapter 3 Here - Chapter 5 Here

The next morning came and you went about your business as usual, making sure everything was in top shape in your office. If your work was coming in slow without much needing done, you often just checked to see if anyone needed help with anything, played games, or jammed out to whatever music was on. This time, you found yourself getting lost in your thoughts. It had been a long time since you were home. You found yourself not thinking much about your family or old friends recently. But somehow, it didn’t bother you. You felt like you were home. You couldn’t tell if you should feel guilty for feeling that way…but it was the truth. Although you definitely missed your family at times, this whole journey seemed to change who you were as a person.

Meanwhile, Yondu was pacing in his cabin. He asked you on a date, and he had no idea what to do. He hasn’t really dated, or courted, in years. Besides that, he’s never taken a terran out before! He decided to call someone for help. The last thing he wanted to do was get anyone else involved, but Tullk was someone he could trust. He picked up his communicator and pressed a few buttons. The comm beeped and he heard Tullk’s voice. “Yeah, Cap’n? What canneh dae fer ya?” “Uhh, this might sound strange, but could ya come to ma quarters? I need your help with somethin’.” He could hear Tullk hesitate. But then he said, “Ya, sure boss. I’ll be up in just a bit.” The comm clicked off, and Yondu walked to his desk chair and sat down with a huff. He was asking for help. This was unbelievable. “I can’t believe this girl has gotten into my head already.” He muttered to himself. A little while later, there was a loud knock at his door. ��Get in here Tullk!” Tullk walked in the room and closed the door behind him. “What did ya need, sir?” He asked nonchalantly. “Well, this ain't easy to ask but, ya got any datin’ advice?” “Datin’ advice? Ya got a lass yer interested in?” “Well, yeah! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked!” “Well…its been quite a while since I took a nice lass out. She’s nice is she?” Tulk asked. “Of course she’s nice! She’s damn near perfect. She’s sweet and funny…and smart, and I just wanna show her a good time.” Tullk was surprised to hear his Captain use words like that. He was typically crass, rude, and a straight forward kind of guy. But everyone deserves to be loved, or at least have a chance at love, right? “So you wanna know what to do? On this date? Well…I only know about terran dates. I’m not sure what other races might do fer that kinda’ thing.” The Captain glared at him. “She IS terran ya idiot. That’s why I asked for yer help!” “Yer goin out with a terran lass? But, how? Where did ya meet a -… OH!” A devious grin appeared on Tullk’s face at the realization. “Choose yer next words carefully.” Yondu growled. Tullk let out a boisterous laugh. “You’re takin y/n out on a date? I can’t believe it!” Yondu began to grow an odd mixture of embarrassed and angry. “Yeah! I’m takin y/n out. Ya got a problem with that?!” “No, no, sir. I just honestly didn’t think she’d go for any of us. I’m not laughin’ atcha. I’m just…surprised – is all.” Tullk said with a shrug. “Well, believe it. So shut up and tell me what I need to do fer this to go right.” “Well, it’s pretty simple really. What I always keep in mind, as a Terran man, is to just be maself. Don’t try to be something you’re not, because them Terran lasses will see right through it. Trust me. Terran girls like to go out and just have a nice time. Food, drink, and good company. Don’t be lookin’ or flirtin’ with other women, or she’ll walk right outta there. Think ya can handle that?” He asked with one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, yeah, I figured that much. Is that all?” “That’s about all the advice I have. Just relax and have a nice time.” Tullk stands upright from where he was leaning on the wall by the door. “Need anything else Cap’n? He asks. “Nah, just don’t say a word to the crew!”

"Ah never do!" Tullk shouted back toward the door as he walked away.

___ The ship begins to near it’s destination, Johpar. Yondu is dressed in relaxed black leather pants, with his usual maroon long coat. The handkerchief tucked in his collar is a dark black, to match his matte black boots. The boots are adorned with a narrow gold metal strip at the edge of his toe. The gold matches his belt buckle and ravager badge. He made sure to trim and shape his beard nicely before heading down to the docking bay to meet you. As he comes in, he looks around to see if you had arrived yet. To his surprise, you weren’t there. “She’s probably just gettin’ dolled up is all.” He mutters to himself. The thought of you getting all dressed up for him makes his heart do a little backflip. “The hell?” He whispers as he lifts a hand to his chest. “That’s new.” Just as the words left his lips, he sees you. You cautiously walk into the docking bay. You were wearing a casual tan and black patterned dress, quarter sleeves, that tapers at your waist, and comes down mid thigh. You’re also wearing knee high lace up high heel boots with some black laced stockings just barely visible between the bottom of your dress and the tops of your boots. Your hair is done in a half updo. You’re holding a black leather jacket over your shoulder and glance around the room. The last thing you want is a bunch of grimy ravagers sneering at you. To your relief, there was no one around – but Yondu. You lock eyes with him and your step falters. Wow, as if I wasn’t nervous before. You try to keep your composure as you approach him. He looks you up and down and visibly swallows. “Ya look real nice.” He said. “Thank you.” You answered with a slight blush. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.” “Well thanks, sweetheart. If yer ready, we’ll head out.” and jabs a thumb toward the bay door. The two of you walk together off the ship and quietly chit chat until you reach the rows of shops and bars. You both walk into the bar and notice it isn’t particularly busy. Yondu offers to get you a drink. “What’ll ya have darlin’”? You think about it for a moment, and realize you have no idea. Last time you ordered a drink was back on Earth. Sure, there was always beer and whiskey on the ship, but that was getting old. You decide to play it safe with a glass of wine. “Any kind of sweet wine. I’m not picky.” You smile up at him and he gives you a polite nod. “Go have a seat there in that booth, and I’ll meet you over there.”

“Okay!” You respond with a sweet smile.

He watches you make your way to the booth, noting the way your hips move as you walk. His mind goes blank for a few seconds, your legs and ass are hypnotizing. You turn to seat yourself in the booth and notice that he’s staring. You blush and smile at him. With a small wave of your hand, he snaps out his trance, and heads to the bar. His cheeks are flushed.

Upon getting drinks for the two of you, Yondu plops down in the booth across the table from you. He slides your wine to you, and you take it from him with a gentle, “Thank you.”

“So,” Yondu begins. “You been on my ship for a couple a month’s now, how’s Ravager life treatin’ ya? Better than you thought I hope?”

You take a sip of your wine and shrug timidly, “It’s definitely better than where I came from. But, my story is pretty much the same as any terran or human that ends up way out here.” “Traffickers?” Yondu says with what looks like a little sadness in his eyes. “Yeah, traffickers.” “How old were ya?” He asks. “Honestly, it wasn’t too long ago. Few years maybe? I was on a camping trip with my family. We were way out in the Ozarks when they took me. We were camped in the mountains, a fairly thick wooded place surrounded by rivers and glens. My family used to camp there every summer and I always got up with the sun when we would camp. I’ll never forget it…I got up that morning, put on a tank top, shorts, and my hiking boots and went down to the river just to breathe in the morning. I thought I was completely alone until I heard some gravel on the bank crunch behind me. I turned and expected to see a deer or another hiker or something. But I saw a strange figure. Next thing I know, everything is black. I woke up on a strange ship hearing voices that didn’t make sense. Eventually I put two and two together.” “I’m sorry.” Is all Yondu could say. He understood how horrible that might have been. He recalls his years aboard slave ships. “It’s okay. I think I was on that ship for about 6 months before they sold me to someone else. The ones who gave me a translator implant had green skin and pointed ears. Skrull maybe? I don’t know. Then they stopped on Krylor one day. I saw it as a window of opportunity, so I took it. The Skrull were a bit more flexible or lenient than the ones who took me, so I had a chance to run. I hid for 3 days before coming across that pawn shop. Worked there as cheap labor for a few years. Then I met you.” You smile at the memory of first seeing Yondu at your old job. “And then you met me.” Yondu returned your smile. Although he hasn’t mentioned it, he thinks you have the most adorable smile. The way it makes your eyes sparkle and come to life is something he’s never seen in any other woman. He continued, “Well, I’m sure glad yer here…despite what ya been through.” “Honestly, me too. I mean sure, I miss my family. I hate to think that they’re heartbroken over me. I’m sure they are. Especially my mom and sister. I don’t even want to imagine how they felt when I disappeared.” Your face turned solemn. “What about yer daddy?” Yondy asked quietly. "Oh, he died. He passed away about a year before I was taken. It makes me sick to think to think about how much my family has lost. Dad…then me. Problem is, they know what happened to dad. He got cancer...but I just vanished.” You dropped your gaze to the table. The date started to take a really depressing turn. Yondu thought quickly to change the subject. He wanted you to have a good time, after all. Yondu reached out across the table and gently placed a couple fingers under your chin. He lifts your gaze to meet his and said, “You ain’t alone. Most of us on this crew have a similar story. We been stolen, sold, lost people, seen death…we got each other though. You’re in good company.” His gentle and genuine smile spreads to your face and you simply nod without another word. “You hungry? We could get somethin’ here or we could swing by another place.” “Honestly, unless you are….I’m really not that hungry. But I would like to take a walk and look around this place a little bit?” “Sure thing darlin’. Anything you want.” As you get up and leave the bar, Yondu leaves a stack of units at the table. You walk out of the bar with your Captain in toe behind you. “Besides, I can’t really eat much when I’m nervous anyway.” Nervous? Yondu thought. Why is she nervous? She ain’t scared of me is she? “Nervous?” He asked warily. “Well, not like a bad nervous. Like a good nervous.” You assure him. “There such a thing as ‘good nervous’”? He laughs. “Well, yeah.” You said shyly. “There’s good nervous and bad nervous. Bad nervous is self-explanatory. But good nervous is…well…” You trailed off as you walked through the brightly lit streets with Yondu. There were colorful shops everywhere. Stores were selling various items like clothing, food, jewelry and gifts from various planets. “Oh, I got it! Okay, there is a creature on my planet called a butterfly. They’re hard to describe unless I could draw you a picture of one, but they have wings. They’re very gentle and delicate. Good nervous feels like having butterflies in your stomach. It’s like a fluttery feeling. It’s a good thing!” You smile at him. Yondu just smiles to himself and looks down toward his boots while shaking his head. This girl is somethin’ else. The rest of your evening is spent wandering around the shops looking at interesting items and relishing in sights you’ve never seen before. Eventually, you end up in a part of the district that is pretty quiet. You find a bench near a fountain and sit together looking out at Krylor. “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never been on a moon before…this really is amazing. I never thought all this could be on a moon. Our moon back home is small and desolate. My people have visited it a few times, but there’s nothing up there.” “Ya know, yer really pretty when yer face lights up like that. I been a lotta places and met a lotta different people, and nobody cares about stuff like you do. I hafta say, I really like that about ya.” He says quietly. You smile, and blush lightly at his comment. You both continue talking about nothing in particular for a while. Yondu loves listening to you talk about your home, or anything you find interesting. You’re so bright and happy when you speak. You carry a light with you wherever you go. A light that, he now realizes, he would follow anywhere. As you arrive back to the ship later that night, Yondu walks you back to your cabin with your jacket slung over his shoulder. As you tell him goodnight and thank him for a wonderful evening, he says he had a great time too. He takes your hand and leans in to gently kiss the top of it. “Goodnight, y/n.” He hands you your jacket, smiles at you one last time, and casually swaggers toward his quarters.

You’ve kept your composure until now. You scurry into your cabin, slam the door shut behind you and lean up against it – breathing heavily. “Ohh my gosh. Ohh my gosh okay. OOHkay. Wow…that just happened.” You can’t stop smiling and get ready for bed. Finally, you throw yourself into your bed with a long sigh. You fall asleep almost immediately, only to find your Captain in your dreams. Yondu enters his quarters and just stands there, staring off into space. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, his breathing is heavy. After what feels like ages, he finally begins to undress himself for bed. He can’t get you off his mind. Your smile, that dress, your voice, your eyes…all flicker through his mind. “So, this is love. Huh. Ain’t so bad.” He smiles and snuggles down into his furs and blankets and drifts into a peaceful sleep.

46 notes · View notes

eyeofthedrgn · 3 years ago

Text

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 8

Catch up here >> AHBS Masterlist

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1739

Notes: This chapter is slightly graphic on the physical abuse. It's only like two lines, but I wanted to make it known.

Chapter 8 - Sorry for Now

After a while you may forget

But just in case the memories cross your mind

You couldn't know this when I left

Under the fire of your angry eyes

I never wanted to say goodbye

Four months, thirteen days, and ten hours, not that he was counting, since he left. Since the dark haired boy had walked away, leaving Rowan standing on the sidewalk. Since his mind spiraled out of control, and it felt like part of him died.

Rowan had been seeing a therapist for the last three months. It had helped, somewhat. At least he could function as a relatively normal human being again, when he was around people anyway. Most of the time. He almost didn't graduate. Thankfully, his mom, his friend group, and his therapist had helped him get through it.

But all in all, Rowan felt empty. Somehow his heart was broken. He hadn't realized someone could get so attached to someone so fast even though they never really talked or hung out. Maybe it was because they shared such vulnerabilities with each other that day in the park or there really was such a thing as a soulmate and his just left him. Either way, he was broken inside. Yet, he still went to parties with his friends, hung out, but he wasn't always present. Everyone noticed the vacant stares, but they usually left it alone. They all knew the general gist of what happened that day, but they could never understand the emotional gravity well that that day had caused. No one knew that Rowan had fallen for the other boy.

Except the ever observant Elide. She noticed everything. The way Rowan spoke about Lorcan, the way his eyes lit up when he saw the other boy walking down the hall, and the small looks they both shared on cast signing day.

But nobody had seen Lorcan after he had walked away. He never came back to school. No one knew what to think. Most assumed they moved again and they left it at that. Rowan assumed the worst after seeing Lorcan's bruises and him basically saying this was a usual occurrence.

Rowan was brought back to the present when a beach ball hit him in the head. He was sitting on the edge of Aelin's pool, sulking, feet dangling in the water. Aelin was throwing one of her parties, it was nearly the end of summer and soon most of them would head off to college. The noises from his friends finally filtering back into his head, it was suddenly too loud, too bright, and too hot. He ran a hand down his face.

Fenrys had been the beach ball throwing culprit, Rowan just glared at him.

"Come on, Ro. Try and have some fun?" Fen had swam over to Rowan and crossed his arms over the edge of the pool. The roguish blond just wanted him to be happy.

“I’m sorry.” He said that a lot now. Fenrys just raised an eyebrow at the boy… man.

He was eighteen now and he wasn't that scrawny, nerdy looking boy anymore. Rowan supposed that was one good thing that came out of Lorcan leaving, he got addicted to working out. There was a punching bag set up in the garage with some weights. He was fit now, muscles defined, but not bulky.

Elide walked up and mussed up his hair. "Come help me get some drinks." She didn't leave any room for argument.

In the kitchen, Elide just leaned forward on the island and looked at Rowan.

"I thought we were getting drinks."

"Yeah, we will. But-"

"But what?" He really didn't mean to say that with such an attitude, but he was hot and emotionally exhausted. Honestly, he just wanted to go home.

Elide was on her phone, waiting for him to chill. Taking a deep breath he said, "I'm sorry. What did you want to talk about?" Rowan was trying, he really was. She just slid her phone over the counter towards him. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the article on the screen.

Consultants for Erawan Enterprises arrested on counts of fraud, child abuse, human trafficking, and other illicit activities

"What's this?" He had no idea what this was about. Why would he care about Erawan Enterprises?

He picked up the phone and kept reading since Elide clearly wasn’t going to answer. It was short and there was a photo of a devastatingly beautiful woman with dark as night hair, that reminded him of Lorcan, and alabaster skin in handcuffs being pushed into a cop car and a very angry man shoved against the hood of the same car.

Maeve Valgerian and James Perrington were arrested Wednesday night. After some anonymous tips to the Morath Police.

"Who are these people?" Rowan didn't understand.

"Pretty sure she's Lorcan's aunt."

Oh.

Rowan had searched for Lorcan online after he disappeared, but there was literally nothing. Absolutely zero results. It was like he was a ghost.

They were consultants for Erawan Enterprises and moved all over the world for the very powerful man. Erawan Enterprises is under investigation for fraud, money laundering, and human trafficking.

After Valgerian and Perrington were arrested, MPD searched their residence and found incriminating evidence against them.

There was also a teenager held captive in the basement. They were taken to the nearest hospital with severely critical injuries. The name and gender of this individual will not be released for their safety.

The article was published nearly two months ago.

Human trafficking…

Held captive...

Severely critical injuries...

"Please, don't break my phone." He was squeezing the device and didn't realize it. Quickly handing it back to her, his hand went straight to his hair.

“Are you sure this is his aunt?”

“Well, not 100%, but they have physical similarities and their hair…” she trailed off. “And Lorcan had mentioned his aunt’s boyfriend living with them one day in class.”

"Fuck!" He felt like he wanted to rip his hair out.

"Ro." Elide's voice was quiet.

"FUCK!"

After a couple deep breaths, he ran his hands down his face, and then turned to face his friend. "Is he dead?" His voice cracked.

"I don't know. All of the other articles I could find are just about them and Erawan Enterprises. No mentions of Lorcan. Anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

Elide pulled him into a hug and he broke.

---

Lorcan had been through shit show after shit show since he left the Whitethorn house. As soon as he returned to the apartment, it was packed up into a moving van and they were gone.

They were in Fenharrow for a couple months. Maeve didn't enroll him in school. He was locked in the basement of the small house they rented, it felt like he had gone crazy. He hadn't seen the sun until they moved again. His skin turned a sickly gray. By the time they moved again, he could feel every one of his ribs, and his hips stuck out, his fingers overlapping when wrapped around his wrist.

Next move was to Morath. Lorcan didn't know if he would survive. He didn’t have a good feeling about this place. The basement became his home yet again. It was filthy. There were thick iron hooks in opposite walls and chains hanging from them. This was where he was going to die. He closed his eyes as Perrington latched the shackles around his wrists.

---

One day, Lorcan heard sirens intermittently. He kept passing out. He wasn't even sure he was hearing sirens or if it was just a ringing in his ears. They were always ringing nowadays. A punch to his face made his vision flicker. Blood and saliva leaked from his mouth as his head rolled down to his chest.

The ringing in his ears got louder. There definitely weren't sirens. No one was going to save him. He was going to die here. He knew it. It was what he deserved. The bastard born half-breed that no one cared about, left to die in his own filth in a disgusting basement. The world slowly faded to black.

---

Beep.

He was in Hel. He had to be.

Beep.

The incessant beeping was there to drive him insane. And the smell of bleach was there to make him sick.

Beep.

---

Lorcan startled awake. How could he be awake? He was supposed to be dead. Right?

The nightmare he was having felt so real. Probably because he had lived it before. He assumed that was just what Hel was supposed to be, reliving the worst parts of your life.

But instead, he was in a bed, a hospital bed. Why did they save him? Lorcan wasn't worth saving. Yet, here he was covered in wires, tubes, a needle stuck in his hand, a device on his finger. It was dark outside and the lights were dim in the room.

Deciding he wasn’t actually dead, he took stock of his body, he was certain he had some broken ribs, but nothing else seemed to be broken which was surprising. He was definitely sore and stiff. And exhausted. So exhausted.

---

After… Lorcan didn't know how long he was discharged. He had put on some weight, though not a lot. The staff made sure he ate. They were all nice and cared for him. But now, he stood outside the main entrance of the hospital in some scrubs they gave him. Now, he had nothing. Nobody. He may as well have been lost at sea.

Why had they saved him? He still couldn’t figure that out.

Somehow, he managed to find the small house that he had been stuck in for who knows how long. There was police tape over the door. The door was open.

He pushed through the tape. The house was a mess. It seemed the cops had ransacked the place. But he finally found his things, they were strewn about the floor. Thank Hellas, his journal was still there. After changing, he packed up his books and journal, some clothes, and a few other other necessities.

He needed money or something he could sell. Maeve's jewelry would help. He could pawn it.

Lorcan asked the pawnshop owner for directions to the bus station, and then he set out to see if there was still one person who cared about him. Hopefully this wasn’t a bad idea.

____

Thanks for reading. Things will get better, I promise! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Edit- oops! I forgot to actually put in tags... My bad. Sorry!

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #rowcan fanfic #lorcan salvaterre #linkin park #heavy battle symphony #crackship #throne of glass

9 notes · View notes

yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 3 years ago

Text

Magic and Miracles and BEYOND Chapter 14

Ya'll, when I say, that the writer's block for this story practically parked it's 18 wheeler sized ass in front of me, like a boulder on a mountain road AND THERE WAS NO WAY AROUND IT, to the point that I didn't know if I ever would get to write it again and I had to take a break for...way too fucking long. Also- for the record, all of this still happens in my head in 2018, you know, when I started writing this story, because BY GOD, all these characters should have had their weddings and a small piece of happily ever after BEFORE COVID comes to fuck everyone over. But Hazel's dress, that's still 2022 Pnina Tornay, it's a fantasy story, I'm fudging the timeline, a little. Also Hazel's engagement ring? Chocolate diamond. She's a foodie. It made sense.

Also, Yes, I do realize that I am face casting Alex Pettyfer twice. The first was as modern Ravus Nox Flueret, and then...as Dash Parr in my modern Incredibles AU Why So Jaded. Look, I just adore the guy ok? He's...incredibly good looking and talented, and HOT. They don't happen in the same alternate universe, it's fine, it's fine.

Anyway, so back to the road block, sorry, detour, anyway, so then, tragedy struck in my personal life, ok several tragedies kind of piled up all at once it felt like and shook me to my core, and suddenly those earthquakes, knocked that boulder off the road and opened up the creative roadway to this story again, then I wrote something truly horrific for this particular story. AND IT'S AWESOME, like it's brutal, will reach inside and grab your heart, put it into a blender before handing it back to you as you cry and say thank you, kind of awesome, so angsty.

But, I couldn't just...post it and not keep wrapping up other character's story lines because this was still "everyone needs to find their happily ever after" foundations laid. So. What that did, was give me a "if you want this- angsty thing to happen, how do you get the story from here to there, now that you don't have this fucking boulder in the way." and my brain finally went "I got it! TREDD IS AN ASSHOLE" and boom, problem solved. See I had- most of the components to this particular chapter, already written and mentally mapped out and planned out but the "go juice" to write it was empty.

But Tredd, lovable, asshole Tredd, gave me what I needed. I don't even know if I should tag who I used to tag...however long ago I used to post chapters to this story or if they have all changed their usernames and stuff or if any of them are still interested. But you know what? I'm gonna post it anyway. So enjoy.

Also, @the-immortal-marshal, thanks for sticking with me and hanging in there, THE PAIN IS COMMING NEXT CHAP. ENJOY the last moment of "peace and happiness where everything is perfect and nothing hurts" while it lasts.

Magic and Miracles and BEYOND

Chapter 14

“Hello Behbehs!” Selena cooed when she came home from school to her dogs and Duchess who eagerly greeted her before she got all the packages from the little stylish boxes she built out of pallets to create a little place for packages to be stored on her front porch before she and Ravus could get home and get them in their apartment.

“Ah thank goodness.” Selena breathed in relief when a couple of them were those pre prepared meal kits. Because with both her and Ravus being in school and both of them working too, they rarely had a chance to go grocery shopping anymore and the meal kits were a healthy alternative to fast food and surprisingly less expensive than take out and right now they were still in their “try everything once to find our favorites” stage. But Selena barely had them all unpacked and put away by the time her phone chimed.

‘Hope you had a good day today Darling’ Ravus texted when his phone chimed that she had made it home.

‘It’s been fine, busy, how about yours?’ Selena texted back.

‘Not great, I’ll be happy to call it a day soon.’ Ravus texted back as Selena frowned at her phone before she got an idea and raced up the stairs to get dressed in more business formal attire that was clearly flirtatious that covered up some ridiculously sexy lingerie and some really good ‘fuck me’ heels and put on some makeup and put her hair up in a quick bun then quickly left their apartment to go to Miracles Hospital where she parked next to Ravus’ car and purposefully strutted into the offices, using the badge keycard Sylva had made for her to get in before she made a B-Line for Ravus’ temperoary office while his was under construction before she checked in with Kathryn to make sure he was alone in his office before she opened his office door and struck a pose in his door frame with a smoldering look and a mischevious smirk on her lips that had Ravus’ jaw dropping to the floor at the vision she was.

“Hey. What are you doing here? Is there a problem with…?” Ravus began to ask as she closed the door, locked it then sauntered up to him and straddled his lap before she kissed him passionately as he eagerly held her and pulled her to himself as he kissed her back with equal passion that had Ravus thanking God that he put such an amazing, wonderful and sexy as hell woman in his life that could give him the one thing he wanted that he knew money could never buy- her love, priceless and perfect as it was. And with her love came devotion, loyalty, honesty, faithfulness and right now- desire and it was his life’s goal to make himself as desirable to her as he could possibly be because being the object of her affection was all he could ever want and he wanted her to feel as lucky that she had him for a partner- that he felt about her.

“How’s your day now?” Selena purred when they broke for air.

“Ah-amazing, I can’t, can’t complain.” Ravus answered truthfully, his mind desperate in it’s grasping for coherent thought as he was completely blown away and delighted by her little surprise visit as his hands traveled down her body, appreciating every nuance and curve she had.

“Good, now do you want to fuck me here or in the sleep studies wing, in the car or at home?” Selena asked and watched as he swallowed thickly as his own eyes grew a dark stormy gray with lust.

“Is there an ‘all of them’ option?” Ravus returned which made Selena smile brighter as he quickly hiked up her skirt the rest of the way to reveal that she had not been wearing underwear but was wearing thigh highs attached to a matching green silk garter belt ,which were his favorite kind of stockings as his cock tried to break through his pants trying to get into her as he gasped and ‘oohed’ in surprise and delight as she made quick work of his pants and underwear before she managed to seat herself onto him as he let his chair lean back and rest on a filing cabinet so they wouldn’t crash backwards and also so that Selena could ride him as hard as she wanted to without hurting anything as she opened up his silk dress shirt so that his chest and neck were bared to her before he yanked down her shirt and undid her bra so that her breasts, which had been pushed up to show her amazing cleavage before- were now bared to him in turn as he suckled as his hands went to her hips to guide her over him and when his other hand reached down to stroke her clit with practiced ease as he whispered some absolutely filthy things to her in French which he had discovered could get Selena all riled up and to hear and see and feel that was like a drug to him.

Selena could feel her orgasm approaching as her body and mind were in absolute bliss and to hear Ravus whisper, moan and growl in her ear in between kissing and licking and playfully biting every inch of skin he could reach as he drove up into her as hard as he could and rub her clit just right. Not too hard, not too fast, but as if he was delicately conjuring her soul through her pussy was the greatest pleasure she had ever known and she didn’t care what he was saying to her in French, but the way he said it, the way it rolled off of his very gifted tongue and the way he could enrapture her mind, body and soul so easily, as easy as he breathed and leave her so desperate for him, desperate for more. Just one more touch, one more kiss, one more thrust, one more profession of love, of promise, of adoration, everything. How she was his everything and how he was going to love her and cherish her for as long as he lived and she had the utmost faith in every word. And she knew that she was going to love him for the rest of hers. She didn’t care if he lost his fortune or the hospital or anything. She would keep him and he would keep her. And that would be all that mattered.

In rapid succession Selena came, her shuddering cry of bliss was the most perfect sound in Ravus’ ears as he smiled victoriously that he was able to give her the greatest pleasure possible before Ravus’ own face scrunched up as he came himself, a grunting, hissing moan. His cock throbbing but since his injections, there were no loads, other than an extra load of precum before they both collapsed in the chair as they held each other as Selena let her head rest on his shoulder as they recovered.

Selena traced random designs on his skin around his chest hair that was starting to fill in nicely along with more muscle mass that had started to build just in the last few months since he graduated highschool and gotten back from the most epic summer vacation. It was as if he was a late bloomer. All the bulky muscle he had always wanted was finally filling in the way he wanted it to and he was having to buy new suits and shirts because his old ones no longer fit him the way he wanted them to, but thankfully that glorious cock of his stayed the same, much to Selena’s utter and complete delight.

The only thing that hadn’t grown was thankfully his feet so that meant the man didn’t need to buy new shoes. Which was his own guilty pleasure and obsession, especially dress shoes. While they had gone cross country all summer, he and Luche would hit up all the thrift stores and speciality shops looking for old shoes to restore and when they had been in L.A. They had hit the mother load. All these places that had all the shoes from the old stars of hollywood, whether they became famous or infamous or never even made it on the map. But their very expensive and very good quality shoes were left behind. One shop in particular was run by a couple of older gentlemen that were so happy to see some younger guys were into this kind of thing that they gave them the deals of a lifetime and even Tredd and of course Ignis came along and between Ravus and Ignis, Luche and Tredd got quite the crash course education on shoes, in particular old dress shoes as the four of them practically bought the store out and had to ship out most of them back home because they wouldn't fit with their former travel plans. Ravus and Ignis were the way about shoes the same way some women were about fashion and purses.

Of course that wasn't the only "obsession" Ravus and Ignis had shared with Luche and Tredd, Ravus' mother and of course his grandparents were avid fountain pen collectors and when Sylva's parents had passed, they went over her parent's very, very extensive fountain pen collection that was in the thousands of pens large, Ravus insisted that about two dozen of them go directly to Selena so she could "impress" her more "financially affluent" clients she was starting to get as Sylva happily let those precious few go to Selena, then the rest were picked through by Sylva, Lunafreya who was also an avid fountain pen enthusiast as well as Ravus and Ignis who then coached Luche and Tredd of all people who showed an interest in what he called "rich people shit", just like jewels, yahts, jets, shoes and the like, which amused Sylva who humored him enough to go through what made a good fountain pen and what made different pens valuable and what the more "famous" or well known "name brands" were and what inks were best for which pens and corralating inks to the pens themselves as Luna did the same thing with Selena so that Ravus could coach Luche through the same thing too as the rest were divided evenly and "put away" so that they could become an "inheritance" for the next generation.

Meanwhile Ravus wasn’t the only one who had gone through some changes over the course of the summer and now fall, Selena too seemed to fill in quite nicely, she had gained some weight over the summer, her hips had filled out and her derriere had plumped out and her breasts had grown, filled in and rounded out and while she had gone up a few dress sizes, Ravus couldn’t be happier about the developments. Like she had transformed from lithe teen to full blown woman and he was all too happy to replace every piece of clothing in her wardrobe so that she was comfortable and could embrace her current body.

And with Selena landing what in her opinion was the dream job at Fosters as a junior designer and was currently designing all her friend’s houses as Oak Creek Estates under the supervision of a woman named Samantha Leeds, who had taken Selena under her wing and was showing her the ropes and helping get all the classes at the local college. Selena had had the hardest time understanding CAD but when she finally figured it out. She quickly excelled.

“So what’s going on?” Selena asked after they seemed to recover but were in no need to change their positions or state of partial undress.

“Something stupid in office politics.” Ravus huffed.

“Ok…” Selena urged.

“Some of the board members are getting greedy, in particular Mr. Greed, they look at how much Project Recovery is making them and they’re seeing dollar signs at the other pharma we produce.” Ravus revealed.

“But I thought your mom had a pretty good stance that when it came to life saving drugs like insulin and other medications like it- that you put a cap on all those so they’re affordable to everyone.” Selena frowned.

“She did, but the other board members see Luche and I coming onto the board and think they can get to us and pit us against mother or pit us against each other- thinking their greed is going to be contagious or something or that we’re too young to know what we’re talking about and too inexperienced to have valid opinions.” Ravus grumped before he kissed her forehead sweetly, grateful he could bare his heart and soul like this to her so freely.

“Well that’s not going to work right?” Selena said as she raised her head to fix him with a look.

"No, it's just frustrating to deal with until they retire, although I can’t imagine dealing with Roman or Ainsley is going to get any better, all I hear is ‘chip off the old block’ when Rob talks about them." Ravus shook his head.

"Is there any way we can get Mr. Greed to retire early? Get some peace before Roman and Ainsley come on board or is it not just Mr. Greed that’s giving you all the headaches?" Selena hoped.

"I wish it was just him. But it’s not. It just...comes with the territory. Besides if there was a way to make Mr. Greed and the others to retire early, I'm pretty sure my mother would have done it already. They've been thorns in her sides most of her life and they’re proving to be thorns in ours as well." Ravus mused as Selena frowned deeper.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your problem to fix, but thank you for listening.” Ravus thanked her gratefully as he held her comfortably in his arms. “And thank you for this, this was the best surprise.” He smiled appreciatively as he nuzzled her face with his.

“You’re welcome.” Selena smiled happily.

“Hey you wanna go out to dinner?” Ravus asked hopefully. “We could see if Lu and Ada wanted to join us?” He asked.

“Sure,” Selena nodded as she and Ravus worked on getting straightened up as Selena pulled her dress down a bit more so it was a bit more modest and pinned the top up to a much more modest height and by the time they got squared away and unlocked the door they saw Ada coming out of Luche’s office dressed similarly to Selena and Luche himself had the same love drunk smile Ravus was wearing.

“Hey,” Selena greeted as both Selena and Ada blushed before they looked pointedly at each other’s shoes then back up to each other before they both tried to stifle their giggles because they both knew exactly why the other was wearing those heels as they beamed knowingly at each other.

“Dinner?” Ravus asked as he self consciously smoothed his hair as Luche did the same as Luche gave Ada a questioning look and smiled when she eagerly nodded her head.

“Oh yeah.” Luche agreed before they all hopped into Ravus’ new Land Rover and drove to the restaurant that piqued their interest and hunger.

“So how’s the wedding planning going?” Ravus asked Luche while they looked at the menus.

“Good, still deciding on invitations, although we've narrowed it down to three different choices.” Luche answered.

“We did agree to use the same venue Sylva used when she got married.” Ada revealed.

“Yeah, that’s the same venue we decided on too.” Selena smiled happily.

“Do you have any ideas what dress you’d want?” Selena asked.

“Actually yeah.” Ada nodded as she scooted closer to Selena in the booth to show her the dresses she had found on Pintrist.

“Oooh, I like that one.” Selena agreed.

“It’s just going to be a challenge to find one that doesn’t drown me out. Because I’m so short and petite, but I don’t want to walk down the aisle in like 7 inch heels just to not trip over the dress.” Ada confessed as Ravus nearly lost it Luche’s grin as he had that ‘I wouldn’t mind’ kind of expression.

“Are you excited to go back to Kleinfelds?” Selena asked.

“Very much so, I’m already packed.” Ada confessed.

That weekend, the whole crew went back to Klinefelds for Ada to do her dress shopping. As Sylva made sure that Ada’s parents and Luche’s parents were in the middle couch while the boys made sure to keep Luche preoccupied while all the girls happily rallied around Ada as they all had their own ideas of what Ada should wear while Morgan got Sylva’s picks and other dresses into the room.

“Ok, this is Crowe’s pick.” Morgan said as she brought Ada out in the first dress.

“Aww,” they all awwed.

“You’re drowning in it though Love.” Ada’s mother noted as others kind of grimaced and nodded in agreement.

“So what do you love about this dress?”

“I love the bling, I love the tiered layers, it’s just a little too poofy.” Ada offered Morgan.

“Ok, so let’s try again, we’ll be right back.” Morgan offered the crew.

“Ok, so this is a mermaid, fit and flare,” Morgan announced as she brought Ada back out.

“It looks amazing, I just can’t really move because it’s so restrictive.” Ada realized as the rest of her family put in their 2 cents about it before she was back and tried even more, trying on her mom’s picks, Linda’s picks then finally getting to Sylva’s picks but Sylva made sure that Morgan didn’t tell Ada that they were her pick’s and instead urged Morgan to introduce them as her picks before sneaking one into Morgan’s hands that was brand new that had not been there when they had been there last.

Ada softly gasped when she saw it, it was perfect, it had the tiered layers but it also had lace and glitter and just a little bit of everything. It was perfect and when she put it on, she couldn’t help but cry. It was a soft, blushed ivory. It complemented her red hair and her skin tone gorgeously. She felt like a proper bride in this and she could see in her mind- so clearly- how Luche would probably cry tears of happiness if he saw her in this. This was it, this was the one.

“There’s that smile.” Morgan grinned victoriously as she looked at Ada in the mirror after she cinched the corset back closed and got it looking like Ada was born into this dress.

“This is it, even if all of them hate it, this is it.” Ada insisted.

“Well then let’s show them.” Morgan insisted.

Everyone could tell that Ada’s smile practically came from her toes, she was practically glowing with happiness as Sylva got choked up which caused Linda and Ada’s mom Amelia to start crying as all the girls started gasping and cooing before Morgan happily snagged an appropriate veil and put it on her and that’s when they were all practically sobbing.

“It’s perfect Love, absolutely perfect. It has those tiers that you love and the lace is so romantic.” Amelia cried as she squeezed her husband- Richard’s hand who was also getting choked up as they passed a box of tissues down the line.

“You look stunning Ada, really, just perfectly beautiful.” Linda praised as she had already made her peace with Ada being a daughter in law.

“And it still has enough sparkle and glitter to it, that even in low light, you’ll glitter like the jewel you are.” Sylva added.

“So, are you saying yes to the dress?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, I’m saying yes to this dress.” Ada confirmed happily before Amelia got up off the couch and hugged her daughter tightly before her dad hugged her tightly too along with her brother who had also been flown in for the event with his fiance.

A week later, Hazel and Sylva returned to Klinefelds as Sylva had flown out Hazel’s sister Mei and her mother Huan and her dad Tommy along with Titus' mother Helen and Titus’ sister Jenny in for the appointment. Helen and the rest of her family had been all too happy to welcome Hazel into the fold. Once Titus was thirty and then almost 40, Helen gave up on the idea that Titus would ever get married and settle down, especially when the rest of her children were giving her grandchildren at this point but it seemed she was too hasty when Titus finally met Hazel and seemed to get with the program and settle down “properly”.

Meanwhile Huan and Tommy were also over the moon that Hazel was finally settling down and even though Billy wasn’t wild about the age difference at first, the more he and Titus got to know each other, the better they got along, Tommy was happy that Titus made Hazel happy in addition to Titus’ character and stability and profession and Huan was so happy to learn that Titus was a good man, who had a house and was planning on building another with Hazel and when Titus and Hazel adopted Brutus who was Kona, Kahlua and Sasha’s sibling, while Tredd and Stella adopted Brutus’ brother King. To Huan- a grand-dog was close enough to a grandchild, for now. While she was always proud of Hazel for earning her own way though the world and earning enough to take care of them in their retirement, she had been on Hazel since she was in her twenties to have someone take care of her. And it seems Titus had finally come along and to do just that.

“So what are you looking for?” Meredith asked Hazel after everyone had been introduced.

“I’m looking for a very simple, not too many embellishments, comfortable, light weight wedding dress. Titus and I are getting married at the beach next May, right after school lets out, because he is highschool football coach. It’s going to be a very small, intimate wedding with just family and really close friends.” Hazel answered.

“Aww, that’s awesome, is there a price point we’re comfortable with?”

“Ten thousand.” Hazel answered.

“Ooh, more than enough to work with, well let’s go.” Meredith urged as she brought Hazel back into a dressing room to get changed before she went hunting for the perfect dress.

“Simple, light, comfortable.” Meredith echoed over and over again as she combed through the back room, her almost encyclopedic knowledge of the backroom to her aid as she went through all the dresses before she found several that would fit those criteria.

Charlotte came into the bridal shop, a giddy grin on her face as she came and “snuck up” on her family as Sylva turned her head and smiled at the newcomer.

“Surprise!” Charlotte announced to her family.

“Charlie?!” Tommy smiled happily as he got up and gathered up his daughter into his large arms. She may have been a wanted criminal and fugitive, but he was always happy to see her and to him, she would always be his "little Charlie".

“I thought you were overseas?” Tommy asked.

“And miss this? Nah, it’s Hazel’s first big day before the big big day, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Charlotte happily murmured into her dad’s chest before Tommy put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and introduced her to Titus’ family who were completely oblivious as to Charlotte’s true identity as Charlotte sat next to Sylva.

“It’s nice to see you again. Different kind of exciting this time,” Sylva offered with a mischievous grin that Charlotte mirrored.

“I take it you didn’t get any kind of trouble from the last time we were in each other’s company.” Charlotte offered.

“Nope, not a peep, thank you.” Sylva reassured her.

“You’re welcome, this was wonderful, thanks for letting me know, when you get to know their wedding arrangements, forward them to this number, I doubt the groom would be comfortable with Gil and I coming but I want to send them a proper wedding gift that won't be on any kind of gift registry, at least domestically.” Charlotte nodded as she handed Sylva a slip of paper written in Mandarin as Sylva read it quickly, nodded and put it into her billfold just as Hazel came out in her first dress and stopped when she saw Charlotte.

“Charlie?” Hazel gasped in excitement as she saw her sister.

“Hey you, don’t you look beautiful.” Charlie greeted as she set her large, heavy purse on the seat and came over and embraced her sister.

“I didn’t think I would see you again.” Hazel admitted as she hugged her sister tight.

“Sylva invited me, hope you don’t mind.” Charlotte explained.

“Nope, not at all.” Hazel readily assured her sister.

“Is Gil here too?” Hazel asked.

“He’s doing business, as usual, plus I don’t think Dad would be cool and I know your fiance wouldn't be cool if Gil and I showed up to the wedding itself, so this is the best I can do and this is exposed enough without making things difficult or uncomfortable or "unsafe".” Charlotte excused.

“I get it, I'm still really happy to see you and that you're here. It means a lot, especially to Mom and Dad, and of course me as well.” Hazel nodded as Charlotte nodded in unison.

“So is this your dress?” Charlotte asked, changing the subject.

“This is just the first one, you came just in time.” Hazel answered.

“Well then let’s get to it.” Charlotte insisted as she returned to her seat.

“So this is dress number one. What do we think?” Meredith asked.

“It’s nice, I’m not in love with it, but it’s nice.” Hazel answered honestly.

“It makes you look like you’re wearing a tent.” Huan criticized as Helen and Jenny nearly choked on their spit and looked at Huan in alarm as Charlotte akept her snickering quiet enough to pass it off as a cough as Mei just rolled her eyes and complained to her mom in Mandarin that she was being too harsh.

“You don’t look like you’re wearing a tent, but the cut isn’t quite right. You need a more flattering shape to the fabric.” Charlotte offered.

“Agreed.” Sylva nodded.

“Well, that’s what first dresses are all about, finding what elements can work and what elements won’t.” Meredith explained before they tried on a few different picks as Charlotte looked around as did Sylva at the other dresses on display at the other dresses in the store.

“That one,” Charlotte and Sylva said at the same time once they both locked eyes on it and pointed to it.

“Well go get it then, bring it to her, it will mean more to her if you do.” Sylva encouraged before Charlotte got up and strutted across the floor to get the dress in question before she asked to see which room her sister was in before she came to the appropriate dressing room, a security guard shadowing her.

“Try this one.” Charlotte suggested as she handed the dress over to her sister as Hazel gasped softly when she saw it before Charlotte saw her way out and went back to the group and waived the security guard back a little farther so his presence was not felt by everyone else.

“And?” Sylva prodded.

“She had the gasp and the smile.” Charlotte answered as she checked her phone.

“Please let this be the one, I’m running out of time.” Charlotte whispered as she looked at the time on her phone and read the messages her henchmen were sending her as they stood guard a short distance away as her driver himself was scanning the police channels as Gil’s other men were monitoring the area.

Hazel came out a short time later, wearing a smile that shamed the sun, moon and stars as everyone else gasped and oohed and awed.

“Now that’s the dress, you look exquisite Hazel.” Huan finally complimented as Charlotte and Sylva gave each other a meaningful smile as Hazel nearly burst into tears as Jenny and Helen were already crying too.

“It’s perfect, but still incomplete.” Hazel began as she stood up and pulled a special box from her bag and took out a set of jade jewelry and put it on Hazel as Huan and Mei cooed and practically giggled as they put it on her as Charlotte gave Hazel a special sachet as well before Charlotte’s phone chimed.

“Do you have to go?” Hazel asked as Charlotte’s eyes watered as she tried to put on a brave, happy smile but nodded yes.

“Thank you for coming and for all of this. Thank you for being my sister. I love you so much.” Hazel thanked her as the two hugged before Charlotte got to hug every member of her family as Sylva got to get a quick picture of them all together, both with Charlotte’s phone as well as other members of her family so that each one would have a picture of this moment to treasure forever before the Henchmen came over and cleared their throats to get Charlotte’s attention as Charlotte hugged her parents, specifically her dad one last time.

“I have to go, I love you.” Charlotte bid her family before she used her handkerchief to dry her eyes and left with the henchmen as her driver was already anxiously out front, waiting to take his Empress back to a safer, less ‘exposed’ space.

“How come she couldn’t stay?” Helen asked.

“She’s a very busy woman. She lives half a world away and she probably had to fly back pretty soon, and security at the airports is a nightmare.” Sylva delicately excused as she waived it off.

“But now that we found the dress and the veil and obviously the jewelry. Let’s get settled up and get dinner shall we?” Sylva encouraged with a bright happy smile.

When Sylva came back home from flying and taking care of all the other guests, she came home to see all of her kids and their fiances and their friends as they had made a really nice dinner for everyone as Pelna and Yasmine, Gladio and Pashmina, Prompto and Cindy, Luche and Ada, Libertus and Crowe and Craig and Iris were on their way as well as Luche’s family and Ada’s family.

“Hey! So how did it go?” Luna asked as she gave her mom a big hug.

“Good, Charlotte came and surprised Hazel and the family.” Sylva revealed which caused everyone to freeze and look at each other worriedly.

“Charlotte Stevens?” Luna asked, taken aback by the news.

“Oh don’t look so surprised, when Charlotte and Gil used the jet they left a single phone number for the pilot to give to me and said I get to use it once. And I knew Charlotte wouldn’t want to miss the milestone in Hazel’s life because Charlotte knows she probably won't be welcome at the wedding since Cor is one of Titus' groomsmen, so I used it and told Charlotte the plan and she was very grateful for the invitation since no one else in her family knew how to get a hold of her to tell her. Besides, Titus’ family was blissfully ignorant of who she really was and Hazel’s family got to have a nice little reunion within the realitive safety confine of a public space and Charlotte got to see Hazel in her wedding dress as a good sister should. It was fine, I mean she had to be carrying four guns on her and who knows how many knives on her person, she had to have two guns in her outfit and at least another two in her purse and her four henchmen were armed to the teeth as well and she could only stay for about an hour but Hazel found the dress and everyone gave it their stamp of approval and Charlotte gifted Hazel some really pretty jade jewelry which is customary for a Chinese bride to receive which honored that part of her heritage and traditions, which was really nice, it was a lovely time.” Sylva waived off as she got the picture and showed everyone the family picture she took.

“She has got to have the biggest balls in the world.” Tredd noted, impressed when he saw the picture.

“She’s got you beat, that’s for sure.” Stella teased.

“She’s got everyone beat.” Sylva laughed.

“So is this everyone or are more coming?” Sylva asked.

“More are coming.” Luna reported.

“How many more?” Sylva asked before her doorbell rang and slowly then all at once, everyone came as everyone started pulling all the components at the table, setting it up for a large extended friends and family meal before Luche and Ada came in last, both of them having anxious smiles on their faces.

“Is everything ok?” Sylva asked Luche as she tried to keep her knowing smile to a minimum.

“Yeah, yeah, everythings great.” Luche reassured her.

“You sure?” Sylva asked as she looked from Luche to Ada who had the same anxious smile on her face.

“Ok, so we have some news and we wanted everyone to be around to make the announcement and we don’t exactly know how it’s going to be received.” Luche hinted.

“If it’s what I think it is, I will do my best to lead the way in accepting the announcement with all the happiness and joy that such an announcement garners. But I also want to be the first to offer my congratulations.” Sylva reassured them both.

“Thank you.” Luche and Ada breathed in relief.

“Come on, dinner is getting cold.” Sylva encouraged them before they all came into the kitchen where everyone was getting something to drink with their dinner.

“So Luche and I chose wedding invitations!” Ada happily announced as she handed every couple an invitation as well as one to her parents and one to Luche’s parents as well.

“Wait, I thought we agreed on May 18th, this is in December..only three months, it’s the weekend before Nyx and Luna’s wedding?” Linda pointed out.

“Well that brings us to announcement number two. We’re pregnant, or rather Ada is.” Luche announced as there was just a hint of nervousness to his excitement as Sylva was the first to squeal, almost an excited scream in delight, only half a second before Crowe did which got everyone else to cheer joyfully as Sylva came over and hugged them both and offered her first “official” congratulations which got Linda and Ada’s mother Amelia and Linda to get over their initial shock and plaster on happy smiles and congratulate them before Ada was swarmed by the girls with hugs and congrats as the first ultrasound pictures were passed around that she had gotten the day before.

“So how far along are you?” Sylva asked.

“Ten weeks.” Ada announced as Tredd, Nyx and Ravus shared a rather knowing smile, but no money was passed between the three because Tredd and Ravus had “seen it” when Sylva had as well. Crowe especially was super happy because she wasn’t the only one pregnant anymore as her own little baby bump had seemed to pop out since her own wedding.

“Baby bump!” Crowe happily cheered as she gently bumped her little baby bump into Ada’s belly which got Ada to giggle as the two hugged tightly and couldn’t stop laughing.

“Congratulations man!” Libertus congratulated Luche as he hugged him super tightly.

“Thanks.” Luche laughed into the hug before he got more congratulations from everyone else as even Tredd was, for once, gracious.

“So what are you hoping for?” Tredd asked.

“A healthy baby and a non complicated delivery.” Luche answered honestly.

“Good. Ok, everyone listen up! Taking bets on due dates and gender, where’s a white board?” Tredd suddenly turned, raising his voice to shout over everyone as he received a mixture of laughter and groans from some of the adults as Sylva laughed the hardest as Tredd took the whiteboard off the fridge and the little marker and erased all the important reminders after taking a pic of what was on it so none of it would be lost.

“Ok so that technically puts Crowe five months ahead of Ada so if gestation is 40 weeks, that’s basically ten months and Ada is already ten of those 38-40 weeks in- that puts us at...holy shit you’re due on your original wedding date- May 18th. OK, So, taking bets on three day spreads May 18th, 19th and 20th? Any takers?” Tredd continued undeterred.

“You asshole, I announce my fiance is pregnant and you immediately turn it into a bet?” Luche laughed, not surprised by his friend’s behavior, but was hoping he would have at least five minutes before Tredd turned into “The Lovable Douche Asshole”, the lovable part was questionable though most of the time.

“May 12th through the 15th, and a boy and the winner gets bragging rights but all the money and proceeds go to Luche and Ada.” Sylva said as she fished several hundred dollar bills out of her wallet and handed them to Ada before discretely handing Tredd another one too.

“Sweet, first better, Sylva Caelum, May 12th through the 15th and a boy.” Tredd repeated as he wrote that down and put a note in his phone.

“Oh what the hell. Twenty quid on the 16th-19th and I want a granddaughter so I’m betting on a girl.” Amelia offered as she handed Luche and Ada the money with a laugh of her own.

“May 9th-12th, a boy.” Ignis said as he handed Luche a few hundred dollars as well.

“May 19 through the 21st and a boy as well.” Luna giggled as she handed the couple a few hundred dollars too.

“May 14th through the 17th, boy as well.” Ravus added as he gave Luche most of the money in his wallet.

“Amelia it looks like if it is a girl, you’re getting amazing odds, five to one, that’s pretty awesome.” Tredd grinned at Amelia.

“Oh hell, I say May 21st through the 24th, also a girl.” Linda added as she gave Luche and Ada some money too as soon Luche and Ada were holding wads of cash and laughing as their friends were giving them money as Tredd was taking “bets” from everyone as everyone joined in on this impromptu gamble.

“Ok, so this isn’t so bad.” Ada had to confess to Luche as they tried to organize their “winnings” into a “gift bag” that Sylva had on hand before they all sat down to eat dinner as Luche nodded his agreement to that. That had gone way better than he was fearing as Selena, Stella and Luna all looked at their fiances with thinly veiled suspicion as they were looking at each other knowingly as they also noticed that Sylva also seemed particularly smug as they all happily enjoyed a very nice friends and family dinner as they discussed baby shower ideas as well as when to plan all the bridal showers and such and made a new, accelerated timeline.

16 notes · View notes

caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma · 4 years ago

Text

Rejuvenation

For @jamaisjoons ‘The Summer Bucketlist: BTS Edition Collab’

Pairing(s): Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok (featuring Jungkook & Jimin w/ mentions of the others)

Genre: non-idol AU; Spa Owners/Workers, fluff, smut, dash of angst

Prompt: Treat Yourself to a Spa Day

Word Count: 12.5k+

Summary: You finally get a break from work and you decide to indulge in a little pampering and self-care. During lunch, your friend slips a card into your hand for an exclusive spa with a special referral discount. How can you resist? Let’s hope the Bangtan Blossoms Spa provides the relaxation & rejuvenation experience you desperately seek.

Warnings: cursing & vulgar language, sexual innuendos, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (female/male receiving), protected sex, body worship, praise kink, butt plug, nipple play, nipple clamps, hair pulling, choking, sex toy play, exhibitionism, triple penetration, anal play, pussy slapping, spanking

------------

The quaint stone building in front of you was the quintessential facade for a spa. The cobblestone walkway, the rocky texture on the outside walls, and the elaborate fountain surrounded by perfectly manicured foliage all perpetuated the illusion of escape from reality.

You looked at the matte black card in your hand and noted the embossed logo on the front. The mirrored geometric shapes were reminiscent of doors opening. You turned the card over and read the golden script scrawled across it.

Bangtan Blossoms Spa Member Referral Code: STAYGOLD 613 Journey Road Appointment: 9:00 AM

Your friend Danae could not stop talking about this place and when she’d handed over this referral card, you had half a mind to refuse it, but the appeal of a free relaxing spa day was too great to pass up. So you took the card and tucked it away, promising to call and make your appointment as soon as your lunch date was over.

Once you entered the lobby, the comforting scent of lavender enveloped your senses. The diffusers near the entrance were emitting wisps of scented fog, and your mind was immediately eased.

“Welcome to Bangtan Blossoms Spa,” announced the tall drink of water behind the reception desk. “I’m Jungkook, how can I help you today?”

You took a second to drink up the sleek raven hair tinged with blue, the tight black shirt clinging to a perfectly sculpted chest, and the unbuttoned modern hanbok hanging from his shoulders. His delicate pink lips were pulled into an eager smile and you couldn’t help returning it in kind.

He’s way too sweet and too young to be a spa worker. Maybe’s he’s an intern?

“Hi,” you smiled while handing over your appointment card. “I have a 9:00 am appointment.”

“Ok, let me get you signed in,” Jungkook exclaimed while typing in your information. “Oh, wow, you got one of the 2 for 1 specials? That’s awesome!”

“Really?” you asked Jungkook while peering over at the screen. “Where does it say that?”

“It says right here that you got the [Stay Gold Sope Summer Package],” Jungkook confirmed with a jubilant smile. “That means that Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung will be your specialists. You’re in for a real treat today.”

“Jungkook!” called out a sharp silvery voice. “You are supposed to use their professional names when we’re at work.”

Jungkook visibly wilted and you noticed his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. From behind a set of thick curtains emerged a perfectly coiffed head of platinum blonde, and you were momentarily stunned by his sumptuous rosy lips collected into an adorable pout. His sharp eyes flickered across Jungkook’s sheepish figure and he shook his head in disappointment.

“Seriously,” the blonde vision sighed airily. “This is why I don’t like leaving you alone at reception. You’re always breaking the rules.”

“I’m sorry, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook groaned before panicking and correcting himself. “I mean, I’m sorry, Jimin.”

Jimin stepped past the curtain and smoothed out the smoky silk shirt draped across his delicate physique. Jungkook reluctantly relinquished his position in front of the computer and he pouted as Jimin shook his head at him in disapproval.

“It’s ok, Jungkook,” Jimin insisted in his mellifluous tone. “Just try to remember how we’re supposed to behave while we’re here. We want our clients to think of us as professionals, ok?”

“I know,” Jungkook replied. “I just forget sometimes, that’s all. Anyway, she’s here for her treatment. She has the [Stay Gold Sope Summer Package].”

“Ah, yes,” Jimin grinned while turning to address you directly. “Your specialists today will be Suga and J-Hope, or as we like to call the pair, Sope. My name is Jimin and you’ve already met Jungkook. Here at Bangtan Blossoms Spa, we make sure that our clients are given the very best that we have to offer. I hope you will enjoy your experience with us today.”

“Thank you,” you smiled at Jimin. “Jungkook was very welcoming and he was very helpful. Don’t be too hard on him.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jungkook smirked. “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

Your face flushed with heat at his words and Jimin giggled at Jungkook’s slip of the tongue.

“Jungkook, why don’t you let Suga and J-Hope know that their client is here,” Jimin suggested. “I will show her to her room so she can get ready for them.”

Jungkook nodded and smiled sweetly at you. He reached over to lift your hand to his lips, and you gawked at the assortment of tattoos peeking out beneath his hanbok sleeve. Jungkook released your hand and bowed slightly to you before lifting his brilliant cocoa colored eyes to meet your gaze.

“Have fun today,” Jungkook murmured cutely. “Maybe next time, you can choose me as your specialist? Satisfaction guaranteed.”

His lips pulled into a seductive smirk and he winked playfully before dashing behind the curtains out of sight. You felt a rush of heat creep across your body and Jimin giggled at Jungkook’s little flirtatious display before turning his attention back to you.

Ok, there was no preparing for that. That boy has trouble written all over him. Literally.

“Cheeky, isn’t he?” Jimin mused. “He’s our youngest specialist, but don’t let that fool you. He’s highly qualified and has outstanding client reviews, just like the rest of us here at Bangtan Blossoms Spa.”

“Good to know,” you smirked. “So, now what?”

‘Now, my lovely client,” Jimin continued while he stepped behind the reception desk and lifted a large canvas tote with the spa’s logo printed on it. “We take you to get ready for your spa treatment. This summer special entitles you to our finest combination of treatments and it will take some time. I promise that you will leave here feeling like a new woman.”

Jimin handed over the tote, and you gasped at the fluffy white robe embroidered in purple with the spa’s logo. There were also various items tucked beneath the robe, but there was no time to look at them. Jimin offered his arm to you and gently escorted you behind the curtain and into a long hallway with numerous doors. He stopped in front of the room number “7” and handed over an elaborate golden key.

“This is your private room for today,” Jimin announced. “You will have the only key to the room, so feel free to leave your personal possessions within. You may also enjoy the complimentary refreshments, and please don’t hesitate to use the intercom to call me at the front desk. I will be more than happy to assist you with whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” you smiled. “I’ll remember that.”

“Please do,” Jimin quirked lasciviously. “I would love to be of service to you.”

He lifted your free hand and planted a lingering kiss on the inside of your wrist. After giving you a smile full of insinuation, Jimin turned and walked down the hall toward the curtained entrance. He paused and ran his fingers through his blonde locks before shooting one last smoldering look at you then disappearing into the reception area. You released the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Is everyone here just insanely attractive and fueled by desire? My brain is getting flooded by naughty thoughts.

Still flustered, you fumbled with the golden key in your hand, but once you were inside, you couldn’t help but gawk at the plush interior. There was an overstuffed purple lounger, a small walk-in closet, a full bathroom, a vanity table complete with LED bulbs along the edge, and a fully stocked wet bar. The side shelf displayed a variety of snacks and drinks, as well as various bath products infused with various essential oils. You noted the plethora of labels with bright green leaf stickers announcing the presence of either THC or CBD hemp oils.

Well isn’t that interesting? This place just keeps getting better and better.

You were no stranger to the wonders of cannabis and hemp; in fact, you and your girlfriends kept CBD and THC products in stock for medical and recreational purposes. You lifted a glittering bath bomb labeled Mikrokosmos and ran your thumb across the CBD sticker reverently.

“I bet you feel amazing,” you whispered to the tightly packed purple granules. “A nice hot bubble bath with you to soothe my aching muscles? Yes, please.”

A soft knock resounded behind you and you dropped your things on the lounger before walking back to open the door. The two men who greeted you were unbelievably attractive, and you were awestruck by the bright shining smile on one face and the mysteriously stoic face of the other.

“Hello,” chirped the ball of sunshine. “My name is J-Hope and this is my partner, Suga. We’re here to give you the ultimate Sope spa treatment.”

‘That was not the introduction we agreed on,” grumbled his partner. “Why did you make me practice that intro if you were just going to commandeer the entire thing?”

“Whoops,” giggled Mr. Sunshine. “Sorry about that. We can do it again, if you want.”

Mr. Grumblecakes pouted and shook his head slightly. You almost cooed at his knitted brow and puckered lips, but then he spoke again.

“What’s the point? The moment’s lost now,” Suga responded in pout. “Besides, we have more important matters to attend to, don’t we?”

His feline eyes lifted to meet your own and his pouty lips pulled up into a flirtatious smirk. You were taken aback at the duality between his previous cuteness and the unmistakable swagger that now greeted you.

“So, are you going to invite us in, beautiful?” he quipped. “Or should we wait for you in the hallway?”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologized quickly, while ushering them into your room. “Jimin didn’t tell me when to expect you.”

“Ah, Jimin,” J-Hope chuckled while nudging Suga’s arm. “We’re going to have to give him hell later. RM already talked to him about staying focused while on the job.”

“I know,” Suga grinned. “We should’ve just left Jin or V in charge of reception. They’re consistently attentive to the clients.”

“Yeah, but they’re both in high demand right now,” J-Hope guffawed. “Tall, dark, and handsome are hard to resist in this business, aren’t they, sweetheart?”

You glanced at him before sweeping your sharp eyes across their lean frames. Whatever they thought they were lacking in physical appearance was diminished by their larger than life personalities. J-Hope’s infectious aura perfectly balanced the sultry stylings of Suga, and together, you could tell that you would have your hands full.

In more ways than one...oh, if only…

“Actually,” you replied. “I don’t focus too much on physical appearances. I’m attracted to what’s underneath.”

“Oh really?” mused Suga while tugging at his waistband. “Is that an invitation to take off our clothes?”

“What?” you sputtered. “I didn’t mean-”

“Relax, princess,” J-Hope giggled, coming to your rescue. “Suga is just a big flirt. I see Jimin remembered to give you the complimentary spa tote. Why don’t you take it into the bathroom and read the enclosed card? We’ll wait for you here and then take you for your first treatment of the day. How does that sound?”

You took one last look at the smug look on Suga’s face before he wrinkled his nose at you and you couldn’t help smiling at the cute facial expression. His face bloomed into a full gummy smile at your reaction and you blushed in response.

These guys are adorable and deadly. This is going to be a long day.

J-Hope chuckled as he handed you the spa tote and gestured toward the bathroom door. You took one last glance at the charming pair and closed the door before your mind started wandering further.

You reached into the tote and found a creamy envelope nestled in the fluffy robe. The thick ivory card inside was inked in deep purple and read:

Welcome to Bangtan Blossoms Spa! Please undress to your level of comfort and feel free to use the complimentary robe during your stay with us. We’ve also included an assortment of special spa items that you can use to enhance your spa experience. Please be assured that every experience at Bangtan Blossoms Spa is based on your consent, so don’t feel pressured to indulge in any spa experience that makes you uncomfortable. Just give your specialists your comfort level based on the scale below. Your satisfaction is our ultimate goal, so please don’t hesitate to speak yourself and we promise to comply. Enjoy your stay with us today, and we look forward to your visits in the future!

~ Bangtan Blossoms Spa

COMFORT LEVEL INDICATOR

(Very Uncomfortable) 1 to 7 (Absolutely Comfortable)

You read the card twice and the words “consent” and “comfort” piqued your interest. Typical spa experiences were pretty standard: massages, mani-pedi packages, facials, etc. Your imagination wandered down a path that was completely inappropriate as you tried to conjure up a spa experience that would be concerned with your comfort and consent, especially if it involved a particular pair of specialists.

I could definitely think of a few things I would consent to with them.

You set the card aside and pulled out the robe. As you were unfolding it, you glanced at the bottom of the tote and saw a pair of spongy sandals as well as several boxes and bottles. You pulled out each item and laid them on the counter, marveling at the variety of lubricants, lotions, oils, and adult toys in the collection.

What the fuck? Are they serious? Am I really allowed to use this stuff at the spa?

You quickly read the card again and giggled slightly. With one more look at your newly acquired playtime items, your curiosity reached epic proportions.

Oh, hell yeah. My comfort level just shot up to 7.

With a whirlwind of possibilities circling your brain, you undressed and covered your bare body with the fluffy bathrobe. The luscious fabric felt incredible on your bare skin and the sandals were already doing wonders for your feet.

I don’t know where they get their spa swag, but the quality is amazing.

You unpacked the various toys from their packages and slipped them into your tote along with the other items. You took one last look at your reflection in the mirror and took a deep breath.

Let’s see what these guys have in store for me today.

--------------

“Go ahead and have a seat, princess,” J-Hope instructed. “Suga and I need to get a few things ready before we start this treatment. Go ahead and put your hair up with this before we get started.”

He handed you a scrunchie and you pulled your hair into a tucked ponytail. The small room was outfitted with a padded table on one side and a set of cabinets on the other. Suga and J-Hope were busy mixing various oils and minerals into a large bowl with their gloved hands.

“I’m guessing this is some kind of salt scrub?” you predicted aloud. “You guys going to scrub the evil out of me?”

“Not exactly,” J-Hope replied. “This is a mix of coarse salt and raw sugar. The different sizes of granules polish off any dead skin or imperfections on your body. We’re also adding extracts of ginseng and cayenne to stimulate your pores and get some of those toxins out of your body.”

“So you can keep the evil, beautiful,” Suga quirked. “Keeps things interesting.”

“You guys aren’t like other spa specialists I’ve encountered,” you commented. “Most are so reserved and formal.”

“Ah, yeah, we’ve met some of those people,” J-Hope chuckled. “So uptight.’

“Our company policy is to make the customer as comfortable and satisfied as possible,” Suga continued. “Happy customers are repeat customers. We’ve discovered that we can spread more happiness by just being ourselves and by offering customers a more immersive experience.”

“How immersive?” you probed, thinking of the items in your tote.

J-Hope grinned and looked up at Suga, who smirked before winking at you.

“As immersive as you want, beautiful,” Suga replied. “J-Hope and I are yours for the day. Just let us know what we can do to make your stay with us as pleasurable as possible.

Your eyebrow quirked at his mention of “pleasurable” and you leaned over to open your tote and pull out the wireless vibrating egg and a bottle of lube. Suga’s gummy smile made another appearance and J-Hope’s grin increased in wattage as you fiddled with the buttons on the sleek black toy.

“Want me to help you with that, princess?” J-Hope offered sweetly. “There are some functions on that toy that I think you’d be very interested in.”

You smiled at his offer and held the toy out to him. He lifted his hands out of the bowl to discard the gloves and walked over to the side sink to wash his hands. You glanced over at Suga to gauge his reaction.

“Go ahead, beautiful,” Suga murmured. “I’ll finish getting this ready while J-Hope preps you.”

“Did you bring your phone with you, princess?” J-Hope queried. “We have a wireless charging station over here if you’d like to charge it.”

“Ummm, sure,” you replied, standing up with your phone in hand and the egg in the other. “Does this also need to be charged?”

“No, we make sure they are all fully charged before we give them to the clients,” J-Hope assured you. “What’s a toy if you can’t play with it right away? Here, let me show you how to use it, yeah?”

J-Hope put on a new set of gloves and helped you download an app to control the functions of your new toy and even showed you how to sync it to a music playlist which would match the vibrations to the rhythms of each song.

“So pick out your music and you’re good to go,” J-Hope remarked. “Would like me to get you started, princess? I think Suga is ready to start your treatment.”

You glanced over at Suga with questioning eyes and his lips quirked into a small smile.

“It’s ok, beautiful,” Suga cooed. “You and I can play later, I promise. Why don’t you get that robe off for us and lie on the table, huh?”

You giggled at his adorable response and handed over your phone and toy to J-Hope before stepping away to disrobe. You unabashedly slid the robe down your body and tossed it on the chair before laying facedown on the table. You shifted your gaze to Suga to catch his eyes roving over your naked form in appreciation. You both shared a wicked smile as J-Hope turned on the toy and filled the room with a soft buzzing sound. He made sure the velvety egg was properly synced to your phone and then walked over to the table.

“Now, princess,” he began. “Do you have a preference on where I put this little toy?”

“Specialist’s choice,” you challenged. “I trust you.”

A large slender hand wrapped around your calf causing you to jolt slightly. Your elevated heart rate slowed as J-Hope massaged your calf lightly.

“Comfort level, princess?” J-Hope asked. “I need to know before I continue.”

“7,” you hummed. “Definitely a 7.”

“You’re so eager,” Suga chuckled. “I like that. Are you ready for your scrubdown, beautiful?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed out as J-Hope continued to massage your legs. “Whatever is in that bowl smells heavenly.”

“We added some essential oils to relax you as we scrub,” he informed you while grabbing a handful of the mixture. “I have to warn you, this treatment is a little intense. The ginseng is going to energize you, but the cayenne is going to make your skin feel heated. If it’s too much, you need to let us know.”

“I will,” you promised. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Ok, then I’m going to start,” Suga announced. “J-Hope will join me as soon as he gets that toy of yours situated.”

“Oh yeah?” you mused. “And when is he-”

Soothing instrumental music filled the room as J-Hope started your playlist. You yelped as you felt the pulsating vibrations on the back of your thigh. J-Hope began simultaneously massaging your lower limbs while trailing the vibrating egg along your skin.

“Ah, J-Hope,” you preened. “Don’t tease me.”

“No?” he giggled. “You seem to like it? Just look at how aroused you are right now.”

J-Hope slipped the egg between your legs and gathered the arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubbed the tip across your glistening slit and relished the subtle undulations he was causing.

“Hold still for a moment, princess,” J-Hope instructed. “I need to get this inside of you so I can help Suga.”

The vibrations left your body as Suga stood at the front of the table just in front of your face. He leaned forward and spread two handfuls of the scrub mixture across your back and began lightly massaging it into your upper back and shoulders. The rough texture paired with the soothing scent felt magnificent and the slight pressure he was using caused you to moan out softly.

“That feels so good, Suga,” you gasped. “Your hands are magical.”

“Magical, huh?” Suga smirked. “Just wait until later, beautiful. My hands can do so much more.”

He continued to scrub your shoulders and arms while you noticed the buzzing sound approaching the table once again. Before you could ask any questions, you felt a hand grip the back of your thigh. J-Hope’s thumb rubbed small circles while getting closer to your dripping center. The now lubricated egg made another appearance at your entrance and he slowly worked it inside while reaching underneath you to stimulate your hardened clit.

Once the egg was fully inside, you could feel it grazing just below your G-spot and your hips writhed slightly trying to reach that one spot. You tried to arch your back, but both Suga and J-Hope braced your body to hold you still.

“Try not to move too much, sweetheart,” Suga suggested. “This treatment works best if you hold still. Let us move your body for you.”

“But it feels so good,” you whimpered as the vibrations to the beat of your selected playlist.

“I know it does,” chuckled J-Hope. “Be a good girl and let us take care of you, yeah?”

You took a deep breath and resisted the urge to squirm on the table. Four hands began scrubbing your skin with the oiled salt-sugar mixture and you couldn’t decide what was more distracting: their skilled hands or the little bundle of pleasure edging you with every down beat. Each sweeping motion tingled and the added bonus of exfoliation intensified the overall sensations you were experiencing. You started to find a manageable position to endure both their ministrations and the stimulation down below, but then Suga tapped you on the shoulder and asked you to turn over.

As soon as you got onto your back, you realized that you were in trouble. Your nipples were standing fully erect and both J-Hope and Suga now had a clear view of the copious arousal leaking out of your hypersensitive sex. In addition, the ginseng and cayenne were at war on your skin, spreading a soothing warmth and also inciting a surge of energy that only facilitated more stimulation. You moaned out at the simultaneous stimuli and your specialists grinned.

“Problems, princess?” Suga teased. “What’s your comfort level?”

“U-ummm,” you stuttered. “A 6, but only because I’m a little frustrated.”

“Frustrated, huh?” J-Hope giggled. “Can you hold out a little longer, princess? Suga and I promise to take care of that as soon as we’re done with this treatment. These materials can irritate your sensitive areas, so we need to be careful.”

“O-ok,” you pouted while shifting slightly on the table. “I’ll be good.”

“That’s right, beautiful,” Suga expressed while scrubbing your arms. “Who’s our good girl?”

“I am,” you sighed while closing your eyes. “I’m your good girl.”

Suga leaned down and brushed his lips across your cheek before sliding his hands down your chest and onto your breasts. You gasped as his fingers pulled on your hardened peaks, but then you felt another set of hands join him and you involuntarily moaned out.

“Oh, she liked that,” J-Hope affirmed. “Your tits are amazing, princess. So full and plump.”

“Are you really that surprised, J-Hope?” Suga chuckled. You felt how firm and luscious her ass was. She’s fucking perfect.”

You squealed inwardly at their laudatory statements, you couldn’t help smiling as they continued to shower you with compliments about your body. J-Hope and Suga began alternating their hands across your body while scrubbing into every possible crevice, spreading the lovely tingling warmth to all of your extremities.

“Ok, princess,” J-Hope announced. “It’s time to rinse. Let Suga help you off the table. I’ll get the shower ready.”

Suga took your hand and helped you sit up on the table. Once you stepped down, he led you behind a wall of glass bricks which hid a small shower area. J-Hope adjusted the temperature of the water before turning on the spray nozzles mounted on top of the wall.

Once Suga removed your hair tie, he maneuvered you under the nozzles, and he and J-Hope began sweeping their hands across your body to remove the excess granules and oils lingering on your body. Each caress caused jolts of pleasure which were intensified by the ceaseless pulsations between your legs. You shifted your weight back and forth trying to build up some friction, but their actions didn’t allow enough stimulation and you were left whining slightly as your gratification drifted away time and time again.

On the plus side, both J-Hope and Suga were showing more of themselves than before. The white linen was clinging to their skin as more and more of their clothing soaked up the sudsy water. The two of them seemed completely unconcerned about the fact that their clothes were getting completely drenched. You licked your lips as lean muscle and hard lines were revealed bit by bit.

Not that I’m complaining. These two are a sight to see, especially when they’re dripping wet.

Once they were satisfied that your skin was clear of the scrub mix, they grabbed a couple of loofahs and began lathering your skin with a spicy scented body wash. You wanted to argue that you could wash your own body, but the lingering touches and gentle gropes quickly put that idea to bed. You didn’t fail to notice that their fingertips paid extra special attention to your breasts, ass, and inner thighs.

These fucking teases!

J-Hope pulled back to wring out his loofah and place it back in the basket and Suga did the same. You squirmed in exasperation as their hands left your body and another whine escaped your lips as a heavy bass line started up on your playlist. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the vibrations while rubbing your thighs together slightly.

“Still feeling frustrated, princess?” J-Hope murmured into your ear. “Would you like a reward for being such a good girl?”

“Yes, please,” you groaned lightly. “Thank you.”

“So polite,” Suga chuckled. “I like her.”

J-Hope reached down and dipped his middle finger into your slippery folds. The soft squelches caused him to hum with delight.

“You hear that, princess?” he asked sweetly. “You’re soaking wet down here. Is this all for us? Did we get you this excited?”

“Mmmm, yes,” you moaned while gripping his shoulder tightly. “I couldn’t concentrate on anything else while you were touching me.”

Suga placed one hand on your lower back and reached up with the other to roll one of your nipples between his fingers. You yelped as he pinched it slightly and pulled, but it quickly morphed into a moan as J-Hope tugged on the egg and pulled it out of your drenched pussy. He circled your swollen clit with the vibrating toy and pulled moan after moan out of your mouth. You were so distracted by his actions that you didn’t realize Suga’s hand was dipping further south.

You squealed with pleasure as his deft fingers slipped into your aching core from behind and your hips rocked back against them impatiently. You were desperately trying to reach your climax, but it just kept building higher and higher.

“Come on, beautiful,” Suga gruffed into your ear seductively. “Just let go.”

His raspy voice snapped your synapses into place and the orgasm you’d been chasing exploded like dynamite. You nearly screamed as wave after wave of ecstasy erupted across your nerve endings, and they held you in place and helped you ride it out like true gentlemen. Once the pleasure shifted into overstimulation, you tugged at their wrists.

“3, guys,” you groaned fretfully. “Give me some time to recover.”

They immediately ceased their actions and allowed you some time to gather your composure. You stepped back into the stream of water and quickly swept away any excess arousal from between your legs and let out a large satisfied sigh. Once you were done, they turned off the water and began putting things back in their place.

“That was incredible,” you proclaimed. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it was our pleasure, beautiful,” Suga drawled. “Did you enjoy your first treatment?”

“Enjoy it?” you blurted out. “If all of the treatments are that good, I may never leave this spa. How many treatments am I getting anyway?”

“7, actually,” J-Hope smiled. “The scrub was your first, and the second is some time in the steam room. Let me get you a few towels and show you to the sauna. Suga and I will get changed while you enjoy your steam.”

“You’re not joining me?” you asked. “I’ll be all alone?”

They exchanged a look and grinned at your pouty face. J-Hope tossed a fluffy towel over to Suga and they began to dry off your body and hair. J-Hope wrapped your torso in an oversized towel while Suga began to pat your hair dry.

“If you want us to join you, we certainly can,” Suga responded while meticulously squeezing the excess water out of your hair. “Just give us a sec to get changed. We can’t go in there soaking wet.”

��You could just take your clothes off, y’know,” you joked. “I mean, I’m just going to be wearing a towel. You guys could do the same.”

“Let’s listen to the gorgeous client, J-Hope,” Suga argued. “She makes some very valid points.”

“Ok, ok,” J-Hope snickered. “If princess wants us naked, then naked we will be. You can’t hold us responsible for any shenanigans that may occur while we’re naked though.”

“Deal,” you confirmed with a smirk. “Who knows what might happen when we’re all hot and sweaty?”

The two specialists laughed at your insinuation and they lifted their linen shirts over their heads. The fabric landed in a soggy heap on the floor, and your eyes roved over the glistening skin revealed to you. J-Hope’s honeyed skin was rippling with lean sinewy muscle, while Suga’s alabaster skin gleamed under the lights like fresh cream. You didn’t even realize you were biting your lip until Suga reached up to pull it out from between your teeth.

“Hungry, beautiful?” he mused. “I could get you a snack, if you want.”

“I’m good on snacks,” you countered with a wink. “But I am a little thirsty.”

J-Hope shook his head and chuckled at your words. Most clients took a while to let loose, but you jumped right in and he was loving it. He noticed Suga’s tongue poking out the corner of his mouth and he decided to let the two of you have a little fun. It was only fair since he got to play with you first.

“Since our princess is so thirsty, let me go get her something to drink,” J-Hope proposed. “Suga, will you show her to the steam room?”

“With pleasure,” Suga agreed. “Come along, beautiful. Let’s get you comfortable.”

Suga led you across the room to a frosted glass door with the word “Sauna” scrawled across the front in swirling letters. As soon as he opened the door, a wave of humidity assaulted your senses and your skin prickled with goose pimples at the shift in temperature.

“Your skin may be a little sensitive after the scrub,” Suga explained as he felt you shudder. “Give the steam a minute or two to regulate your body temperature and you will start to feel better. Have a seat inside, beautiful. I’m going to get myself into a towel and then I will join you, yeah?”

“Ok,” you pouted. “Don’t be gone too long.”

You took a seat on the corner of the L-shaped bench and stretched your legs out. True to his word, the discomfort you’d felt upon entry was slowly dissipating with every drop of perspiration that left your pores. Somehow, the scrub invigorated your skin and the steam was now bringing it back down to a state of complete relaxation.

They really plan these treatments out well.

The door opened to reveal both Suga and J-Hope with towels wrapped around their waists. J-Hope was carrying three large bottles of water, and he handed one over to you and one to Suga. They sat on either side of you, with Suga pulling your legs over his lap and J-Hope wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Ok, princess,” J-Hope began. “You get a 15 minute steam, and then we’ll take you to your next treatment. How does that sound?”

“Only 15 minutes?” you whined. “Why so little?”

“The steam is going to dehydrate your body, beautiful,” Suga explained while rubbing your feet. “After scrubbing you down, your body needs to sweat out the excess. The shower only does so much.”

“Drink your water, princess,” J-Hope reminded you. “We can’t have our lovely client thirsty, now can we?”

You nodded and took a long drink of water, not realizing how thirsty you actually were. Suga’s hands continued trailing across your skin and you were mesmerized by the prominent veins gleaming under the surface. You didn’t even realize that you were breathing heavily until J-Hope’s delicate fingers caught your towel just as it became untucked from your heaving breasts.

“Someone is a little excited,” J-Hope teased while moving your hair away from your neck. “Aren’t Suga’s hands pretty on your skin, princess?”

“Y-yeah,” you gulped. “They really are.”

“Would you like to see what else they can do, beautiful?” Suga challenged while licking his lips. “I only gave you a little taste earlier.”

“I mean I’m not gonna say no,” you giggled. “But I’m also wondering about that tongue of yours.”

Suga grinned a big gummy smile at you before pulling your leg up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to your ankle and your breath hitched. He suckled lightly at your skin before you saw a flash of pink sneak out and trace a long stripe across the top of your foot. J-Hope’s fingers tugged lightly at your towel, and on the next lick Suga’s tongue inflicted on your skin, the towel fell open to expose your heated skin heaving in anticipation.

“So pretty,” J-Hope commented while kissing your bare shoulder. “You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you, princess?”

“She really doesn’t” Suga chuckled in a dulcet tone while nipping at your toe with his lips. “She just sits there looking like some kind of goddess, tempting us over and over again.”

Suga slotted himself between your legs and licked his way up to your center. With one fluid motion, his tongue swirled the arousal nestled around your clit and he groaned as he swallowed.

“Holy fuck, that’s good,” he hissed. “We gotta get you out of here, beautiful. We might break the sauna if we turn the heat up any more.”

“Don’t stop,” you whined. “I want more of that tongue of yours.”

“You’ll get more, princess,” J-Hope promised. “We just need to get out of the sauna. We can’t risk getting too physical in here, it’s not safe. Come on.”

He helped you stand while Suga wrapped the towel around your body, making sure to tuck in the end so it wouldn’t fall. Suga walked over to the door of the sauna and held it open as you and J-Hope walked out, grabbing your tote as you exited. Suga held your robe open while J-Hope removed your towel and tossed it in a laundry bin. Once you were wrapped up in the cozy terry cloth, J-Hope and Suga traded their towels for a clean set of linen clothes.

They led you down the hall and into a large room with a wide in-ground pond full of steaming purple water. There were sprigs of white and purple flowers floating on the surface and a lovely sweet scent filling your nostrils.

“That smells amazing,” you sighed. “What is that?”

“That is the soaking pool,” Suga explained. “After your mud bath, you get a 20 minute soak in the pool. We had it prepared with lavender and vanilla blossoms just for you, beautiful.”

“A mud bath?” you queried. “Didn’t you just get me all cleaned up? You’re going to get me dirty again?”

“In more ways than one, princess,” J-Hope teased. “Let’s just say that your spa treatments today will alternate between dirty and clean.”

“So what’s next?” you purred. “I hope it’s dirty.”

“Oh, it’s very dirty, beautiful,” Suga murmured behind you. “You’re gonna love it.”

J-Hope pulled you over to the other end of the room next to a massive Japanese soaking tub filled with sludgy gray liquid. You stood on the thick padded mats surrounding the tub while the two specialists gathered an assortment of bottles and glass containers and then spread them out on a shelf by the tub.

“Ok, princess, it’s time to choose,” J-Hope informed you. “The mud is already mixed with crushed volcanic rock to help with exfoliation, but we do have additives that can make the experience even more satisfying.”

“Really?” you wondered aloud. “Like what?”

“Well, there’s the usual things like flowers or plants,” Suga explained. “We have a lot of combinations that can soothe your skin or create a scent while you bathe. However, there are some infused oils we can add that can give you a different kind of experience.”

“You had me at different,” you smiled. “Tell me about these oils.”

“We have a few cannabis infused oils here that we harvest from our farm,” J-Hope pointed out. “There are THC oils and CBD oils, so depending on whether you’re looking for relaxation or recreation, you can choose what to mix into your mud bath.”

You perused the collection and picked out a CBD oil called Otsukare and you noted the amount of CBD infused into the oil. Considering the insanity of the school year you just finished, you needed a nice deep relaxing experience. You handed the oil over to Suga and he nodded once before pour the oil into the tub. He hit a button on the side and a small motor started up, filling the room with a soft buzz.

“The oil needs to be mixed in completely before you can get in, beautiful,” Suga explained. “We will just have to find something to occupy our time until it’s ready.”

J-Hope stepped behind you and ran his hands up and down your arms, his nose nuzzling against your hair as you released an enthusiastic hum.

“What did you have in mind?” you breathed out.

Suga stepped in front of you and parted your robe before reaching down to feel the slickness between your thighs. Your breath stuttered as he delved into your folds with his skilled digits.

“You’re still so wet, beautiful,” Suga groaned. “I love how responsive you are.”

You stifled your moans by biting on your bottom lip, embarrassed by the loud echoes bouncing off the walls. J-Hope chuckled at your display of restraint and tilted your head back so he could point to the silvery globe in the corner of the room.

“Why hold back, princess?” J-Hope whispered. “Jimin can see everything going on in every inch of this place. I guarantee he’s been watching us this entire time.”

“Oh, definitely,” Suga agreed. “If not him, then it’s probably Jungkook. So let go of that lip, sweetheart. Let us hear how good we’re making you feel.”

Your eyes widened at the thought of someone watching this lewd display and the shock loosened your tongue completely. Your wails reverberated across the walls as Suga’s fingers began pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. J-Hope slipped your robe off completely and cupped your breasts with his large hands as he nibbled on your earlobe.

You closed your eyes as you imagined either Jimin or Jungkook witnessing the debauchery unfolding. Just the thought of those delicious specimens caused you to clench around Suga’s fingers and he groaned at the sensation.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Suga mused. “I think she likes that the boys are probably watching us ravage her, J-Hope.”

“I think you’re right,” J-Hope snickered while pulling gently on your nipples. “Let’s give the boys a real show, yeah? What’s your comfort level, princess?”

“It’s a 7, fuck,” you croaked out as Suga curled his fingers along your G-spot. “Yeah, it’s totally a 7.”

“Would you like to play with some more of those toys you have in your tote?” Suga asked. “We’d love to help you give them a test run.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” you mewled as he pulled out his fingers and ran the excess arousal around your swollen clit. “Pick something out. I’m ok with everything in that bag.”

Suga lifted his fingers and sucked on them while smiling. He took his shirt off and dried off the excess before walking over to retrieve an item from your tote. J-Hope spun you around and kneeled so his tongue could dive into the mess Suga left between your legs. You ran your fingers through his light brown tresses as he bestowed your pussy with a neverending onslaught of French kisses. You were so enthralled by his fancy tongue work that you didn’t realize Suga was behind you until you felt his fingers sneaking between your ass cheeks to spread a slippery liquid that warmed as he probed at your puckered rim.

“Guess what I found, beautiful,” Suga teased. “J-Hope and I are going to make sure you release some more of that tension before we put you in that mud bath. Let’s get you prepped first, yeah?”

His skilled finger worked its way into your well lubricated asshole and one finger quickly became two as he scissored your back entrance open. The dual stimulation from both Suga and J-Hope tingled across your nerve endings as your body was finely tuned with pleasure. Your moans went up an octave as you felt something smooth and blunt vibrate against your lubricated hole.

“Comfort level, beautiful,” Suga said in a raspy voice dripping with lust. “Tell me before I put this in.”

“7!” you wailed. “Please, 7!”

“You heard her,” J-Hope groaned as he stood up, wiping his glistening face. “Go ahead, put it in.”

You braced yourself against J-Hope’s chest as you felt Suga’s slowly push the vibrating toy in. You whimpered at the stretch, and J-Hope stroked your hair and kissed your temple until you felt the toy taper off and then nestle snugly just inside your ass.

“I guess you found the butt plug, Suga?” you gritted out. “Not what I thought you’d choose.”

“You did say we could choose anything, beautiful,” Suga shrugged before laying his hand heavily across your right ass cheek. “And this ass is too perfect not to play with.”

“Where’s the remote?” J-Hope asked. “I want to play with it.”

“I set it to alternate patterns every 3 minutes,” Suga informed him. “We have other things we can play with.”

J-Hope’s wolfish grin sent a chill down your spine as the vibrations changed from a steady buzz to a series of sharp pulses. You yelped at the transition and then nearly purred when you saw both specialists shedding their clothes once again to reveal their fully erect penises. While J-Hope’s cock was a dusky pink, Suga’s was a shade lighter. What they had in common was impressive girth and a turgid length that made your mouth water.

“Hungry again, beautiful?” Suga teased. “Do you want a little taste before we wrap them up for playtime?”

Suga began languidly stroking his dick while J-Hope slipped his fingers into your hair and pulled your face toward him. The fire dancing around his dilated pupils made you tremble with anticipation, and his voice dropped an octave when he finally spoke.

“Comfort level, princess.” J-Hope gritted out. “Things are about to get a little intense, and we need to know that you’re ok with it.”

“Still a 7,” you whined. “You’d be surprised how much I can take.”

J-Hope chuckled and leaned in to nip at your earlobe as Suga stepped in to do the same. You sighed at their lavish treatment and started running your hands along the hard planes of their bodies. A harsh pull from J-Hope’s hand stopped your exploration and you sucked in a deep breath.

“On your knees, princess,” J-Hope instructed. “Make sure we’re good and ready for you.”

Your knees hit the mat the instant that J-Hope released your hair and you gazed up at your pair of pleasure specialists. Suga tossed a condom over to J-Hope and they looked down and smiled at your acquiescence.

“Such a good girl, isn’t she?” Suga cooed. “Look at how pretty she looks on her knees, just waiting for us to wreck her.”

You smiled widely at his words and pulled your lip between your teeth before reaching out to take both of their cocks into your hands. They both reached down to stroke your hair as you began sinking onto each of their lengths, dragging and swirling your tongue to collect every drop of precum that presented itself. They each had a unique flavor and mixing the two together proved to be an intoxicating combination.

He and Suga were alternating soft moans as you continued to stroke, lick, and suck at them hungrily. You started rocking your hips back forth, desperate for some kind of friction down below. The butt plug was still sending jolts of pleasure in alternating rhythms, but it simply wasn’t enough.

“Easy, princess,” J-Hope groaned. “We don’t want you tiring yourself out before we get a chance to play with you.”

Suga gently pulled you off his dick by your hair, but you refused to have your new toy taken away from you, so he pulled a little harder to get your attention. You whined in protest as they both helped you to your feet, but you were quickly silenced by Suga’s magnificent tongue diving into your open mouth. You were so distracted by his hypnotic kisses that you almost missed the sound of a condom wrapper being opened behind you. Suga pulled back and pressed one last lingering kiss to your mouth before spinning you around to face J-Hope.

“I hope you’re ready for me, princess,” J-Hope announced. “Because I’m going in.”

J-Hope pulled you into his arms and picked you up bridal style. As he was kneeling onto the mats, you latched onto his lips and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. As your ass hit the mat, you immediately spread your legs to accommodate his svelte frame. You only released his lips to moan when you felt him teasing your clit with the head of his cock. A copious amount of arousal collected onto his throbbing length and he groaned as you rolled your hips against him.

“Be patient, princess,” J-Hope begged. “There’s no need to rush.”

“Yeah,” Suga smirked while rolling on a condom. “We’re not going anywhere.”

You felt J-Hope breach past your glistening folds as he sheathed his cock inside your velvety walls in one thrust. You were so aroused that he slid right in, stretching you out so nicely that you mewled in ecstasy. The vibrations from the butt plug caused you both to groan as they shifted yet again to a different rhythm. You clenched tightly around his shaft in response and he moaned deliciously above you.

“Oh my gods,” J-Hope murmured. “You’re squeezing me so tightly, princess.”

“Well, that’s great for you,” Suga mused. “But how am I going to fit if she doesn’t relax a little?”

Your lust-addled brain flickered into clarity briefly to consider what Suga just uttered.

Fit? What does he mean fit?

J-Hope’s shallow thrusts increased in pace until you were writhing against his hips to multiply the amount of friction. You were losing yourself to the wondrous sensation of J-Hope’s dick plunging into your depths and the shifting vibrations of the butt plug, so you dismissed Suga’s odd comment.

“Hold on, princess,” J-Hope muttered. “I want to see you ride me.”

With amazing coordination, he rolled onto his back while keeping you both connected. Now that you had control of the situation, you planted your palms on his golden chest and started bouncing away on his stiff cock, loving the erotic sight of his hair splayed on the mat and his half-lidded eyes watching your tits as they defied gravity over and over again. You were well on your way to a blazing orgasm when you felt Suga wrap his long fingers around your neck.

“That’s it, beautiful,” Suga murmured in an impassioned voice. “Get that pussy nice and wet for me.”

His fingers tightened slightly around your throat and you gasped slightly as your vision became a little fuzzy. You felt him kneel behind you and then wrap his other arm around your waist. J-Hope’s hands gripped your hips and rocked you back and forth on his dick while Suga’s fingers quickly found your clit. With both of them working in tandem, you soared into a blinding orgasm that left you shaking and lifeless on J-Hope’s chest.

You were just about to try and lift up your head when you felt Suga pushing the blunt head of his cock against your quivering entrance.

“Come on, gorgeous,” Suga prompted. “Relax a little and let me inside. I want to feel this glorious cunt that J-Hope keeps whining about.”

J-Hope lifted your head and gently licked his way inside of your mouth. With your mind focused on his magnificent kissing skills, your body released the tension you were unconsciously holding onto and you squeaked as you felt Suga’s engorged mushroom tip glide its way into your yielding pussy alongside J-Hope. The burning stretch was slightly overwhelming, but with both men soothing you and the vibrations in your ass stimulating you, more and more of your golden ichor leaked from your pussy to accommodate both cocks as they began to grind their hips against you.

“Holy fuck, beautiful,” Suga grunted. “J-Hope wasn’t lying. Your pussy feels fucking amazing. Oh man, I think I live here now.”

“Told you, dude,” J-Hope groaned. “This precious little doll can take both of us and still feel tight as hell.”

The tightness in your clit was growing exponentially and as their thrusts grew more forceful, the overwhelming amount of stimulation started to push you over the edge once again. Suga started fiddling with the controls on the bottom of the butt plug and switched to a full blown consistent vibration which threw all three of you into a moaning mess.

Both men pounded into your pussy as a deluge of arousal gushed forth, and before you could try to form a coherent thought, your body seized up and white light flashed across your vision. Your body went completely still as wave after wave of pleasure crashed throughout your body. The orgasm was so intense that you squirted all over the place, which caused both Suga and J-Hope to lose control and empty themselves into their condoms.

Suga slowly pulled out and sat back onto his heels and J-Hope rolled you onto your side so he could withdraw as well. You whined at the overstimulation caused by the butt plug still vibrating at full speed and Suga quickly found the remote control to turn it off. Once the buzzing ceased, you truly relaxed into the mats and breathed out a small giggle.

“That was fucking intense, guys,” you admitted. “But I”m still at fucking 7.”

J-Hope’s eyes widened and so did Suga’s gummy smile. They were afraid that they’d pushed you too far on your first visit, but it seemed like they still had a lot to learn about your limits. Suga got up and walked over to the tub and checked the consistency of the mud.

“Your bath is ready, gorgeous,” Suga announced. “Let’s get you into the tub, yeah?”

“But I’m all dirty,” you protested. “Should I rinse first?”

“Princess, you’re about to get into a tub of mud,” J-Hope reminded you. “I think dirty is the only thing you can be right now.”

You all laughed at the absurdity of his words and you simply nodded in agreement as they helped you off the mats and into the warm mud. Once you were submerged in the slick liquid, rested your head against the wall and breathed out a sigh of relief. The warmth was doing wonders for your aching muscles and the gentle exfoliation of the crushed volcanic rock felt marvelous. You were just about to ask about the CBD additive when you started to feel a slight tingle creep over your skin. The tingle grew into a gentle buzz that sent your body into a languid stupor of relaxation.

“Oh my,” you sighed. “You guys weren’t kidding about that oil. It feels amazing in here.”

The two specialists chuckled and started cleaning up the mess around the tub while checking on the soaking pool. You were just about to drift off into a light nap when Suga tapped on your shoulder.

“Ok, beautiful,” he called out. “It’s time to get out.”

“What?” you asked incredulously. “No, it feels so good in here. Let me stay in a little longer, please?”

“Nope, sorry,” J-Hope called out. “That volcanic rock may feel good now, but it will start to burn if you stay in too long. Come on, get up, princess.”

Reluctantly, you stood up in the tub and pulled yourself onto the mats. Suga turned off the motor for the tub and led you over to J-Hope who had a nozzled water hose with lukewarm water streaming out. Suga was quick to remind you that you needed to remove your butt plug before entering the pool, so you leaned onto J-Hope for support as he gently pulled it out and cleaned it before setting it back into your tote.

After they hosed you down, they led you over to the soaking pool and helped you step into the hot sweet water. With the flowers floating around you and the wisps of scented steam enveloping your senses, you felt like royalty with your servants walking around doing your bidding. Your twenty minutes in the tub passed sooner than you expected, and you were soon being hoisted out of the pool, dried off, and wrapped up in your robe once again. Once Suga and J-Hope were dressed in yet another set of linen clothes, you grabbed your tote and left down the hall for yet another room with a padded table.

This room was different though. There were diffusers releasing curls of peppermint mist around the room and the table had a hole on one end. You tossed your tote into a basket by the door and walked over to the table to await your instructions.

“Time for your massage, beautiful,” Suga informed you. “Take off your robe and get on the table. J-Hope and I need to get ready.”

“You’re both going to massage me?” you asked. “How does that even work?”

“Just like it did before, princess,” J-Hope smirked. “One on each side.”

You blushed slightly, remembering your previous activities, and disrobed before climbing onto the table face down. You listened as they wandered around the room gathering sundry items before stationing themselves on either side of the table.

“This is a carefully coordinated massage, princess,” J-Hope stated. “So please hold still, or we will have to punish you, is that understood?”

“Punish, huh?” you snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, gorgeous,” Suga remarked cooly. “That tongue of yours will get you into a lot of trouble one day.”

“That may be today,” J-Hope muttered. “Let’s see if she can behave, hmm?”

Instrumental music started up from the speaker in the corner and you felt a drizzle of warm liquid trail across your back from top to bottom. You shivered as it trickled down your sides and into any available crevice. Suga and J-Hope placed their wide palms on your back and spread the oil in small concentric circles until your entire back was covered.

You heard J-Hope count off and then the gentle pressure transformed into an intricate choreography of their fingertips wringing out every possible knot and ounce of tension left in your body. The only response you could give was a series of whimpers and groans when you felt a particularly stubborn knot refuse to budge or if their fingers dipped into sensitive areas. They reached a stopping point and removed their hands from your body.

“Ok, princess,” J-Hope said casually. “We need you to flip over. It’s time to massage your front.”

You whined loudly and huffed out an exhale of protest. Suga smacked your ass lightly and you lifted your head to pout at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” he reprimanded playfully. “Are you misbehaving? Do we need to punish you?”

“No,” you muttered while turning onto your side to face him. “I’m moving, I’m moving, geez.”

“So sassy,” J-Hope chuckled. “I think we should punish her a little anyway, just to work that sass out of her system. What do you think, Suga?”

Instead of replying, Suga simply smirked and walked over to the cabinet and started digging around for something. You turned onto your back and closed your eyes, feeling the stress of the past year just seep out onto the padded table.

I don’t know how much more relaxed I can get. These guys just chased all of those stress annoyances away with their magical hands.

A metallic jingle rang out in the room and you turned your head to see Suga holding up a length of fine chain connected to two small black clamps. The seven golden bells hanging along the chain jingled as he walked toward you.

“Since this is the Stay Gold Summer Special, let’s add a little more gold to your treatments,” Suga mused. “Every time you move and cause these bells to jingle, you will earn a spanking from us.”

“And don’t try to argue that we’re to blame,” J-Hope countered. “We will know when it’s our fault and when it’s not.”

You considered Suga’s words and decided that you were up to the challenge. You’d never tried nipple clamps before, but what the hell? A little spanking wasn’t going to scare you away from trying something new.

“Go ahead,” you prompted arrogantly. “A little pain never scared me.”

Suga chuckled at your response and leaned down to lavish your nipple with his tongue and J-Hope mirrored his actions on the other. Once both nipples were sufficiently erect, they each took a clamp and gently affixed it onto your hardened nubs. The pressure was sharp, but not unbearable. You took a deep breath and were pleased to see that your breath wouldn’t trigger a bell to go off accidentally. You were just about to close your eyes when a palm trailed across your thigh, causing your entire body to twitch involuntarily.

Ring, ring…

The seven bells jingled as your body twitched and you huffed out in frustration and glared at the offending hand belonging to J-Hope.

“What happened, princess?” he quirked. “Are we a little ticklish?”

“Just a little,” you admitted. “I can usually hold it in if I know it’s-”

SMACK!

You yelped in surprise as Suga’s heavy palm slammed down onto your exposed sex. The force of his slap left a harsh prickles along your clit and the telltale jingling sound that followed left you gritting your teeth. You snapped your eyes over to the smug smirk on Suga’s face and you narrowed your eyelids at him.

“What?” Suga shrugged. “We already told you. You move, you get spanked. I never specified where or when, did I?”

You pouted at him and his cool demeanor thawed just a bit. He leaned over you and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Was that too much for you, beautiful?” Suga asked sweetly. “What’s your comfort level?”

“Still a 7,” you muttered petulantly. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“If you say so, baby,” J-Hope snickered. “Now hold still while we finish your massage, ok?”

You nodded slightly as both he and Suga began their intricate hand choreography on your supine form. With the tension collecting at the tips of your breasts, you found it difficult to anticipate their fingers brushing along your ticklish zones. Much to your dismay, on more than one occasion, the bells rang out because you could suppress the urge to jerk and jostle your body away from them.

J-Hope took it upon himself to count each offense as they collected exponentially. Suga would periodically deliver a sharp slap to your thigh or even a lingering smack to your drenched center. Each lick of pain increased your arousal and you silently cursed the metallic traitors attached to your tits.

“Alright, princess,” Suga piped up. “We’re all done with your massage. J-Hope, what was the last count?”

“We still owe her 7,” J-Hope giggled. “Let’s switch hit.”

“You heard him, gorgeous,” Suga pointed out. “Time to take your punishment like a good girl. If you count them down, then I’ll give you a prize, yeah?”

They helped you to your feet and bent you over the table gently. Your stiff peaks hovered over the table and you rolled your eyes at the glint of silver and gold in the warm light. Two palms began rubbing circles onto your plump ass cheeks and you braced yourself for the impact. You didn’t know who was going to go first, but you were ready to take your licks like a champ.

SMACK!

Both palms landed across your ass without warning and they rubbed both hits in gently as your body jerked forward against the table. The shock and subsequent jingling wore off quickly, and you remembered Suga’s promise and the bells ceased their taunting tinkling.

“One,” you gasped. “Two.”

“Good girl,” Suga replied. “Keep it up. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

They alternated spanks across both of your cheeks until the count reached seven. You spoke out the last count and slumped on the table trying to catch your breath. The combination of the spanks and the tension on your nipples was dizzying and you needed some sort of relief.

As though he could hear your silent prayer, J-Hope reached over and began rubbing a soothing cream over your reddened flesh. He murmured sweet nothings to you while he diligently chased away any lingering pain remaining from your punishment and you beamed at each uttered phrase from his lips.

“You’ve been such a good girl, beautiful,” Suga remarked. “Turn around, baby, and I’ll give you that prize I mentioned.”

You didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t Suga falling to his knees in front of you. He kissed across your hips and all the way to your center and you spread your legs further to accommodate his slim frame. He meticulously licked his way to your sweet spot and lavished your dripping folds with unparalleled affection. Your delicious moans mixed in with the successive jingles from the nipple clamps and you entertained the notion that you’d become an instrument for Suga to play. His diligent tongue technique was befuddling your senses and you submitted yourself to the symphony he was orchestrating between your thighs.

J-Hope made his way behind the table and he hopped onto it so he could straddle your body from behind. He brushed your hair away from your face so he could get a better look at the erotic facial expressions you were making. The tears forming at the corners of your eyes spoke volumes about how worked up you were getting.

“That’s it, baby,” J-Hope coaxed you along salaciously. “Don’t hold anything back. Let it all out.”

Suga’s slipped two fingers into your creamy pussy as his tongue began rigorously concentrating on your throbbing clitoris. As if anticipating your impending climax, J-Hope abandoned your hair and began gently tugging at the clamps still firmly attached to your nipples. As your body locked up to process your orgasm, he pulled the clamps from your tits completely, leaving a sweet blinding sting behind that he quickly soothed with his warm fingers. Suga stood up and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his face clean and his gummy smile at your satiated state brightened the room substantially.

“Feel better, princess?” J-Hope whispered against your tear stained cheeks. “Did you like Suga’s prize?”

“It was incredible,” you sighed. “You guys are so attentive, I don’t know what to say. I wish everyday could be like this.”

The two specialists laughed at your wishful thinking and helped you back into your luxurious robe. You retrieved your tote from the basket and let them lead you down the hall to a small room with a pedicure chair. Suga took your tote and set it aside while J-Hope helped you into the chair. While J-Hope fiddled with the foot soaking tub controls, Suga grabbed a brush and began gently brushing the tangles out of your still damp hair.

“Ok, princess,” J-Hope said as the tub began bubbling. “Put your feet in the tub. Suga will apply your hair mask and face mask while I work on your pedicure. While the masks are doing their thing, he will also do your manicure. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like heaven,” you admitted. “I’m feeling so pampered today. Two gorgeous men attending to my every need? A girl could get used to this.”

They hummed in agreement as they worked tirelessly to get you all set up with multitudinous spa treatments at once. The hair mask was thick and fluffy golden cloud on top of your head and the face mask was jet black with flecks of gold peeking through. Suga briefly explained the various elements of each mask, but you were too caught up in J-Hope’s foot massage to retain any of that information. By the time they were both done completing their tasks, you were floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

“Ok, beautiful, feet up,” J-Hope instructed. “Suga is going to help you rinse off those masks while I clean this up.”

Suga led you over to a large sink where he got your hair and face rinsed completely before dabbing them dry with a large towel. You felt a little wobbly from the rollercoaster of activities throughout the day, and you were hoping for a break in the schedule.

“So what’s next, guys?” you piped up. “What other adventure do you have in store for me?”

“Oh, it’s a good one, beautiful,” Suga professed. “You’re going to love it.”

“Oh yeah?” you quipped. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” J-Hope proclaimed. “We’re taking you back to your room for your last treatment of the day.”

Suga handed over your tote and the three of you wandered back down the hall to Room 7. You located your golden key within your tote and unlocked the door. Once the three of you were inside, Suga walked over to the closet and pulled out a stack of satin pajamas.

“Ready for your last treatment, baby?” J-Hope asked.

You looked at both of them and were perplexed. Nothing in the room suggested any form of debauchery or pampering, so what were you supposed to be looking at?

“What kind of treatment is it?” you asked. “I’m a little confused.”

“It’s a nap,” Suga beamed. “I know we put you through a lot of ups and downs today, but what better way to relax after all that than to take a nap?”

“What? How?” you sputtered. “The only place to nap is that lounger and we don’t all fit.”

J-Hope stepped forward and lifted the bottom of the lounger cushion to reveal a fold out bed. The mattress was topped with a thick memory foam topper and covered in luscious purple sheets. Suga nudged your shoulder and nodded at the pajamas in his hand.

“So which ones do you want, beautiful?” he murmured. “Pants, shorts, nightie, nothing?”

“I’ll take the shorts,” you giggled. “I think I need a break from sexual activity for a while. You guys wore me out today, but in the best possible way.”

Everyone changed into the soft pajamas and cuddled up on the bed. There was just enough room for all three of you to stretch out and snuggle into one another. You nuzzled into J-Hope’s chest and Suga curled around your frame as the big spoon. With a simple voice command, the room plunged into darkness and you felt the day slowly vanishing as you slipped into sweet oblivion in between your phenomenal new playmates. --------- “Wake up, angel,” a soft tinkling voice called out to you. “Wake up.”

You groaned slightly and stretched out on the bed like some kind of cat. When you opened your eyes, the room was dimly lit and both J-Hope and Suga were gone. Jimin’s angelic face smiled sweetly at you from across the bed. He was laid out beside you and obviously amused by your sleepy heavy face.

“Where did Suga and J-Hope go?” you pouted. “I thought we were taking a nap together.”

“You were, cutie,” Jimin confirmed. “But they had to leave a while ago to go prepare for tomorrow’s client. They didn’t want to wake you before you were ready. I came to check on you since we’re closing up soon.”

You sat up in bed and tried to shake the slumber out of your eyes. Jimin giggled softly and helped you stand up. You glanced around the room, wondering where to start.

“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and change into your regular clothes?” Jimin suggested. “I will gather up your things and prepare a little to-go basket for you. Does that sound good?”

You nodded and smiled at Jimin and you sighed at his adorable half moon eye smile.

Now that is something I don’t mind waking up to. The Universe blessed this boy with the most endearing features. I just want to squish his adorable face.

You changed into your clothes and walked out with the pajamas you’d worn. Before you could ask Jimin where to put them, he folded them and placed them in your tote. A loud knock boomed from the door and you could swear you could feel the annoyance seeping out of Jimin’s face. He opened the door to reveal an enthusiastic Jungkook carrying an empty basket lined with purple satin.

“Do you have to be so loud, Jungkook?” Jimin snapped. “Have some respect for our lovely guest.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook deflated. “Can I help make her basket, Jimin?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Jimin waved him off. “Make sure you aren’t just putting in things that you like. Remember when we discussed the meaning of the word variety?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook scoffed. “I know.”

While Jungkook began piling snacks and other sundry items into the basket, Jimin stepped forward and offered to help you fix your hair. It was sticking up all over the place after your nap, and he quickly smoothed out the tangles and styled it into a twist. He produced a decorative hair stick from a drawer and secured the twist in place and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Perfect,” he breathed out. “Absolutely perfect.”

“The basket is ready,” Jungkook announced. “Can I carry it out for her?”

“Yes, of course,” Jimin agreed. “Let’s get her over to reception so I can get her all checked out for the day.”

After returning your key and signing a few forms, Jimin handed over the receipt for the day’s activities along with a folder filled with information about the spa and an application for membership.

“All Bangtan Blossoms members are allowed to give out a spa day treatment like the one you experienced today,” Jimin explained. “If you decided that you’d like to take advantage of that special offer, just give me a call, cutie. I’ll hook you up with some fantastic spa swag and maybe even a little extra.”

You considered his offer as you tracked his tongue poking out to lick his lips seductively. The twinkle of mischief was dancing across his pupils again and you memorized the look in his eyes to get you through the next couple of nights.

Oh, I’m definitely going to be thinking about that.

“Thank you, Jimin,” you replied. “I will absolutely keep that in mind.”

He walked you and Jungkook to the door and sent you off with another suggestive kiss on the inside of your wrist.

“See you soon,” Jimin whispered with yearning. “I hope.”

Jimin licked his lips and cocked an eyebrow at you before sauntering back behind the reception desk. Jungkook glanced back and forth between the two of you with a predatory look in his eyes and you shook off the fleeting tingle of passion Jimin incited.

“Let me see you out to your car, sweetheart,” Jungkook offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

Jungkook held the door open for you as you exited the spa and headed for the parking lot. The sun was just dipping down to the horizon, and you gawked at the realization that you’d spent an entire day at the spa.

Worth. Every. Second.

Jungkook placed your gift basket and tote in your backseat before opening your car door for you like a gentleman.

“I hope you had a good time with us today,” Jungkook said. “If you did, that means you’ll probably come back. From what we saw today, I definitely want you to come back.”

“From what you saw?” you choked out. “What do you mean?”

The guilty smile creeping across his face said it all, but the wink he gave you only confirmed your suspicions. They’d been watching you all day. He lifted your hand to give it another kiss and spun around to walk back to the spa. You were left in the parking lot trying to clear the rush of blood that was dusting your cheeks pink.

These guys will be the death of me. I swear.

The only thought running through your mind as you drive home was figuring out when you’d be able to visit them again.

Soon, I hope.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed this little visit to the Bangtan Blossoms Spa. I know I did. If the Muse strikes again, maybe we can visit some of the other specialists? We’ll see ^-^

@caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma‘s MASTERLIST

#rejuvenation #bts au fic #jamaisjoons summer collab #tsb 2020 collab #bts sope #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #sope smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #park jimin #jeon jungkook #bts bangtan sonyeondan #spa day #jhope #suga bts

189 notes · View notes

redmaneroster · 4 years ago

Text

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [2] [3] [x-x] [6] [7] [8-9] [10]

PART 4 – Coping

Qrow isn't exactly the intimidating uncle so much as he is the nervous older friend. Sure, he comes in with cheek and swagger, but he hesitates sometimes and watches what he says. Things are uncomfortable for a while.

Jaune and Qrow are sitting alone on the sofa, eyes passed the TV and out the window. Jaune breaks the silence and asks him how he knew. Qrow, surprisingly, explains that he turned into a bird and followed them home. He fully intended to leave when they got into the door but then he overheard the bit about Ruby going missing so he sat by the window and waited for updates.

He fell asleep on the windowsill.

Yang's moaning woke him up.

Both men don't even dare look each other in the eye. They both agree not to bring that up with her for as long as they live.

It's minutes later after they've both taken a swig from their flasks that Qrow asks, "So what are you two?"

"I don't know," he answers; almost apologetic. Almost fearful, but not of Qrow. "We're close and trying to… forget things."

"Yeah, I can see that." Qrow takes another swig. "Tell me, is this about Tai and Rae?"

"More than a little, yeah."

"Those two idiots aren't the least bit careful anymore… I'm sorry she's lumping it onto you. If I'd done better, none of this would have happened."

"I don't mind just listening to her."

"I know. It's the fact that she has to go through it at all… She's still in school. Distractions are dangerous when you're still fresh on the hunt."

Jaune laughs. "She's been doing this for years. If anything, I'm the one that's still green."

"You runts don't get to be proper huntsmen unless you've faced a real, proper threat or graduated. To a licensed huntsman, there's a reason why you're all still in-training. All the glory and shit is the stuff you gotta revel in while you're still in the safety of these halls instead of roughing it in the wilds day after day, facing odds stacked against you."

Qrow is amicable, asking only that he doesn't also seduce Ruby. Jaune's confusion is answer enough. He's no Casanova. He isn't Taiyang. Qrow has it that he believes men like him are unprepared as partners and fathers. Jaune disagrees, saying that his own father was like Tai. To him, any man can work their way into being a proper partner.

They talk about it for long enough that Yang stumbles back into the apartment. She hopes Qrow hasn't spilled any embarrassing stories about her.

They're deftly quiet at that.

-0-

Yang doesn't stay long (it isn't like she spends every weekend with him after all), but she lingers at the door. She hears their muffled voices through the gaps but she doesn't strain her ears to decipher them. She isn't here to eavesdrop.

She hears them laugh. Briefly, she wonders if even Qrow knows Jaune more than she does.

Breathing evenly, she calms the fiery doubts and walks off.

-0-

"What are your intentions?" Qrow asks an hour later, once he's sure Yang is long gone because of course he knows when she's there.

"We didn't sleep together."

Qrow winces at the thought of them. Then it's so deeply uncomfortable that his whole body shudders. "Ah, god, fuck! Damn it, kid, I don't want to think about you two naked! How would you feel if I shared my stories with you!"

Jaune, similarly, melts down at the thought.

Yang actually comes back because she forgot Ember Celica. She hears them freaking out through the door and pivots into the other direction. Blake asks about her bracelets. Yang says it isn't important right now.

-0-

Jaune and Qrow sip their flasks at the same time. They joke about it.

When it's quieter, Qrow can see in his eyes that he wants to ask something so he encourages him to.

Jaune, with an uneasy breath, asks what Qrow is always drinking to forget.

Turns out, he doesn't drink to forget. Drinking is when he does the most thinking, actually.

Drinking is a hobby. Less a recreational drug and more a medicinal one. "Confused? Let me explain…" He doesn't recommend it but he's built up such a tolerance for it before he even went to be Beacon as a kid that it's all basically like water to him. Alcohol isn't his coping mechanism, but he confesses that he does technically have one if it can be called that.

He lost an old friend a long time ago and he isn't sure if his semblance is to blame. The thought has haunted him since. Grief mixed so deeply with poisoned guilt has made him obsessed with loneliness.

He enjoys the quiet nights sitting alone at home, eying the moon, dreaming of what ifs. He enjoys sitting in meadows, letting Summer heat hold him like a familiar embrace. He enjoys hunting solo and coming out on top, all in her name. It's proof that, even in death, she's still the best partner he ever had.

Alcohol is normalcy. It's where he thinks the most clearly, acts the most boldly, acts like himself. Being sober unsettles his mind, makes him act irrationally.

Somehow it makes sense. He always did seem the more sober man when he's got a flask in his hand. Even subconsciously, Jaune realizes that he's made that his gospel.

Qrow warns that it certainly isn't the same way with Jaune. (Jaune knows, of course. His tolerance is likely as weak Ruby's might be.) But Qrow confesses to being more worried about what he might do if he drinks too much. He saw all the whiskey in the fridge.

"I'm not going to hurt Yang. I stop myself from going too far."

"I don't mean Yang. She can handle herself around you, I'm sure." Qrow shows him a photo on his scroll. "This is what I'm worried about."

Jaune reels. He feels a few things. Mostly anguish, discomfort. Saphron and Terra are in Vale.

"When was this?"

"This morning. I thought they'd show up today and that I could be your convenient alibi for having an occupied guest room once they dropped in, but it looks they're busy doing whatever it is they're actually supposed to be doing in the city."

"They're going to come by eventually. Even if not today then…"

"I can't stay, kid," Qrow says, cautiously, quietly. "You facing them is just as inevitable as their visit. I'm no good at this stuff but... my advice: Don't run."

-0-

Yang comes back to Jaune sat at the sofa, staring at a movie he isn't watching. Yang turns it off and when the screen buzzes into silence, Jaune finally realizes she's in the room.

He doesn't notice the many bags she brought with her.

When she asks what's going on, he tells her that Terra is in town.

Yang asks if Saphron is with her.

He realizes that he forgot to mention his own sister.

Yang takes his hand and leans into his side. "It's that bad, huh?"

His free hand pulls out the now empty flask. "I might need more than the watered down whiskey."

She sits on his lap and pushes his flask away. "Get drunk on me." Her eyes are half-lidded and pleading, a promise etched into the wetness of her lips and heat rolling off her breath.

He does what she asks.

They press together so closely that he feels another one of inhibitions snap.

That night he decides – without really thinking about why – to steal a kiss while she sleeps. He realizes that the gesture is far too affectionate than it should be but can't bring himself to regret it.

She was awake the whole time.

-0-

PART 5 – Accommodation

Yang fixates on the kiss. Not that it's changed how she feels or how she's going to feel, only that she wonders what's changed for him with her. She finds herself lingering on his silhouette in bed, paying attention to subtleties in his tone, the way he moves around her or if he catches himself saying anything he wants to say but can't.

And all she's found in mapping him out is that he's no different from before.

Blake tells her that it could mean any number of things. Weiss maintains that it has to be burgeoning love. Ruby, much to their surprise, tells them that it was probably a moment of weakness and that he probably still doesn't know what it means.

The girls – Pyrrha included – suggest that Ruby is probably right. But Yang finds herself unwilling to accept it. She isn't one for sitting still. So instead of deferring to their wisdom… she hatches a plan.

It falls apart immediately.

-0-

Lingerie is her first idea, a vibrant red with thin enough material to tear off with ease. Scented candles to fill the spaces, lighting the bed and the nightstands while drowning the rest in dark. A nice ambient drone off the speakers in another room just to fill any silence. And makeup, the kind that layers thick and she feels physically on her face but comes recommended from Coco's article on a magazine.

She calls up Pyrrha to coach her on it, but the girl only blinks at her beyond the digital lense and asks, "Do you want him to sleep with you or fall in love?"

At first, Yang is confused until she takes a good hard look at herself in the mirror and… doesn't recognize who's looking back at her.

"I don't know," she says honestly. She smiles placatively and hangs up. Pyrrha knows she'll figure it out, but Yang has to first get rid of the mess she's made in his bedroom. Everything else will follow after.

She tosses the heels in the bin (they were cheap anyway), rips off her stockings, and covers up the rest in a bath robe. She tries to wash off the makeup but it smears and will take longer than she has time for. She tries too frantically to get the candles out and accidentally sets fire to one of his chairs – she ends up violently launching it into the tiled shower wall and leaves the shower running.

Finally was the music wafting in from the living room, playing off her scroll. She's already halfway into the living room when the front door opens. She freezes in place just as Jaune is letting in his guests, Saphron and Terra.

Yang doesn't know Saphron, not really, but there's a mutual trust between them when the older girl runs over to her, takes her by the wrist, and drags her back into Jaune's room.

Minutes later, Saphron is dabbing some solution on her cheeks. The makeup comes off in clumps – some semblance of relief comes with them.

"I'm Yang," she says suddenly.

Saphron's bemused smile banishes any tension she has left. Yang already embarrassed herself and not much could make it worse at this point when your first impression is half naked in the living room. She'd also spied the lingerie but she'd thankfully neglected to mention the familiar strap peeking off her shoulder.

"Saphron," she says but says no more. She focuses on the task at hand and Yang quiets with her. Then Saphron starts humming. It's familiar, as if carved out of a chapter in her life that she can hardly remember. Suddenly it's clear that this woman is a mother.

"My brother mention me a lot?" Saphron asks.

"He tries not to but can't help it. You always manage to come up in his stories to curb his nonsense. You'd be a punchline if the stories were supposed to be funny."

"Tends to happen." Saphron winks. "Us older sisters have to butt in all the time."

"He told you about me and Ruby?" She wasn't expecting to come up in conversation.

"No… I can just tell." Another smile. More secretly knowing. And she is briefly afraid that all her secrets have already been laid bare. "He told me you were his roommate."

"Ah." A safe descriptor. She'd been expecting a cover story like being his live-in girlfriend. She'd even prepared the lines and a backstory. It's a small a comfort that doesn't have to go through that.

Saphron pouts for a moment before her eyes turn devilish. "He also mentioned that you two share a bed and make out." Yang blinks at her. Her confusion also confuses Saphron. Isn't that supposed to be embarrassing? "Is… was he wrong?"

"Uh… no. That's exactly it. I guess I just wasn't expecting the truth."

"And you really aren't sleeping together?" Saphron peels the gown off her shoulder and tugs at the bra strap. Yang yelps when it snaps back into place. "With an outfit like this?"

"It was a lapse in judgement." She gestures to herself. "I swear this isn't how I normally am. I don't think I'll ever put on something like this ever again."

"Hm… a honeymoon might change your mind, but let's not dwell on that. You've got scented candles in the corner and I can smell…" – she sniffs the air – "burnt wood from the bathroom? What led to all this?"

"I'm… not sure I should say."

Saphron takes Yang's hands in hers. "You don't have to tell me, but it feels like you're struggling with something all on your own."

"I'm not, actually," she admits sheepishly. "I just didn't take anyone's advice. I don't like the idea of waiting for something to happen when I can already do something about it."

"There is value in patience."

"I don't think waiting is my problem. I think I'm just too proactive to do nothing."

"My brother leave you hanging or something?"

"Kind of? … I've said too much already."

"Or not enough." She smiles in that way again. As if knowing. "But I won't pry. I know that sometimes it's better to wait and come to your own conclusions. Right or wrong, a decision you make yourself stays with you and sometimes that's more valuable than being handed the keys to the castle."

"You really think highly of Jaune, don't you?"

"Hm? What makes you say that?"

"I've never heard someone describe the way to someone's heart as 'keys to a castle'."

Saphron gives her a catty cheek. "Oh, so you are in love with him." But she is surprised again when Yang doesn't blush.

She shrugs instead, looking away. Not out of embarrassment but to eye her own fragmentary reflection on the corner of the vanity's mirror. "I wouldn't know. I've never been in love before."

"But… you're so pretty."

"So is Jaune. So is my sister. And all but one of my roommates have never even kissed anyone before coming to Beacon. It isn't like we don't have time to fall in love, it's just not always our biggest concern. They drill it in you early that staying alive out there should be your priority." She eyes the bra strap on her shoulder in the mirror, hates what it represents, what it almost made her do. She pulls up the sleeve again, hiding it away, and she almost looks like herself. "I think that's why I like being around him. He doesn't pass judgement on whether not my problems are big or small. He just knows they're important to me and lets me be heard."

"Is being a good listener what you look for in a partner?"

"It might." She laughs. "It's hardly an extensive list, though, isn't it?"

Saphron huffs, settling herself comfortably beside her and dusting off her skirt. "Lists are overrated. Not that you shouldn't have standards, but if you want to extensively checklist every potential partner, you'll end up with a growing criteria less and less people will be able to fill. And trust me, I've lived a storied life – been dating people since I was fifteen – and I've found that it's easier to talk to people and let things click. Hell, I wasn't even trying to flirt with Terra when we first met. She was the wingwoman to the girl I was actually trying to get with and we just happened to get along better."

"Sounds like quite the story."

"Why don't I tell you over dinner? It'd be a nice little preamble to me and Terra. I suspect we'll be meeting quite often in the near future."

"I guess I will be tagging along with Jaune if you really want me to."

"If I really want you to? You sound a little meek there," Saphron teases. "Jaune described you as the kind of girl with confidence to rival a peacock. Was my brother wrong or are you just starting to sound like him?"

"Hey, I don't…! Oh shit, you're right."

"Fair tradeoff, I suppose. Jaune's got peacock confidence now and I guess you're to blame."

"Ha! No, I can't take credit for that. Pyrrha – his ex – I'm sure she's your culprit."

"We've met. Jaune brought her over last year before they started dating. Wasn't even going to take her to the dance, the little dunce."

"Oh, but they hooked up that night! After they both showed up stag and he tore up the dance floor in a dress."

"A DRESS!?" Saphron screamed, her eyes lighting up with mischief Yang realizes she's just armed her with.

A knock at the door. "Everything alright in there?" Jaune asks, muffled through the mahogany.

"We're fine!" Yang says.

"Peachy, little brother," Saphron adds with a flare of sarcasm, "but you're going to regret keeping secrets from me."

"Yang!" Jaune screeches, panicked. "What did you tell her?"

Yang laughs, hearty and comfortable with Saphron snickering beside her. It almost feels right, like it's something that always should have been, and she wonders why she was ever so afraid. "What you should have told her! You know you can't keep secrets from big sisters!"

"Oh really? I can promise you that there are secrets Ruby hasn't told you."

Yang shot up from her seat. "What!?"

Saphron sits back. "Aren't you two lively…" she whispers.

"I'm no snitch, Xiao Long!" Jaune shouts, snark clear in his voice.

"You'll fess up one way or another!" Yang, in her excitement, marches to the door.

Saphron bolts out of her place and grabs her arm. "You're still underdressed," she says calmly, belying the panic quickened in her chest.

Yang looks down at herself. She's showing a little cleavage too with the loosened bath robe. She takes an extra step back for good measure and clutches the lapels closed.

"C'mon. You're looking a little too comfortable now. Let's find you something modest." Saphron tugs her towards the closet.

"Backing down already?" Jaune said in what – to him – was a moment of silence.

"I'll get you yet, Vomit Boy!" Yang jeers.

Saphron perks up. "Vomit Boy?"

Jaune groans behind the door. "Yang!"

Yang, despite the grin tugging at her cheeks, silently promises to make it up to him later.

-0-

Jaune stands in the center of his living room, staring at his shut door. Saphron has just dragged Yang into it, and his mind has been reeling with what he'd seen. Barely dressed, slow music off her scroll, and with smeared makeup on? He doesn't want to come to any conclusions, not without talking to her first, but the obvious ones come to mind.

He isn't certain he can reckon with the inevitable outcome.

Behind him, Terra sensibly cuts off Yang's music playing off her scroll. Jaune nearly jumps when he's brought out of his stupor and into her beautiful, suffocating presence. Terra is still as captivating as he remembers, tinted with the gloss of a boyhood crush that refuses to die. At least with Saphron around he could suffuse it, but not alone in the heavy quiet of his apartment.

Terra gives him a bemused smile. Ever sympathetic. She pats the seat cushion beside her and Jaune joins her, plopping on the cushion with a held breath he eases out of himself.

"You seem surprised," Terra says. "And here I thought you'd already seen her in less."

"I did say we've only made out… and snuggled." He can't decide which one is more scandalous. Perhaps neither. Or both, given that they aren't even dating.

"Yeah, despite that being unusual enough to be true, I still had my doubts."

"Have any still?"

"No. You definitely don't look like the kind of couple that's seen each other naked."

Jaune's eyes narrow. "We're not a couple."

"I believe you," she says with a smile. She's so dangerously close to him that he can smell her perfume. A glance shows him that she's eying him expectantly. He's tense, uncertain, and it's clear that she can see that. She pulls away, giving him room to breathe. "Guessing you've still got a crush on me then?"

His spine gets stiffer, spotting her at the corner of his eye because he refuses to look directly at her. She's smiling still. Being cheeky. "Terra…" he groans.

She scooches a little closer again (taking a chance that his nerves might not erupt), and lets his heat wash over her and lets him feel hers. The affection is platonic, he knows that. He and his sisters huddle together for comfort often, and Terra has just learned to follow suit. But he can't help but revel in it, letting it sink into his pores till it leaves a familiar tingle.

A small part of him hates it but mostly hates himself for indulging.

"If I asked you why, would you tell me?" Her tone is quiet, almost a whisper. She's trying to ease him.

"Because you cared about me."

She chuckles because it's naïve and honest and oh so very like him that it's almost nostalgic. "Was that really all?"

"When you're young and naïve, that's all it takes."

"I didn't know you were lonely."

It was his turn to chuckle. "I wasn't. I was never some lonely little kid who didn't have any friends. I had enough love from my sisters alone to fill my heart a hundred times over."

"Then why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Do I need to have been missing something in my life to want to fall in love?"

Her feet shuffles in place. "I guess I haven't seen it that way. After I was old enough to date, I'd not gone a year without someone I wanted to be with or was already with. I always felt like love completed me, like it does now with Saph… Is that not how you feel?"

"I'm… I'm not saying love doesn't make me happy or anything. It's just that I don't feel like I need it to feel whole. I don't think it'd complete me, just that it might be nice to have too. Is that not how you feel?"

She chuckles again, a nervous uncertainty tinting her quiet, teahouse melody. "I don't know. Never been without it, really. At least not for long."

He looks at her – examines her, really – because her cheek is gone, as is her confidence, and it feels like she's revealing her artifice in a vulnerable moment. She's digging gaps into her own thoughts and he can see her pick apart her own internal logic and she seems more and less somehow. Like she's less the perfect cut gem he thought she was and sees the girl underneath it.

He's less tense all of a sudden.

And for a moment he feels like he can come to grips with everything that she is. Who she was to him, who she wasn't, and who she's become. A boyhood crush, flightful fantasy, and… he can't bring himself to think of the last. Fist clenching and unclenching, a slow motion that tries to hide the trembling in his digits.

He swallows and he worries if she can hear it. She doesn't, but she can see something's troubling him.

"How's Adrian?" he asks.

"Oh, he's –"

"A DRESS!?" Saphron screams from beyond the locked bedroom door.

Jaune jolts up from his seat and nearly bumps into Terra who'd stood along with him. She steps aside and he hurries to the door, asking after them. Terra tries not to pay attention (she can barely hear what they say beyond the door anyhow) but then he mentions Yang's sister, Ruby – the girl Terra thought he actually has a crush on – and Yang audibly shouts, "What!?" passed the door at him.

"Aren't you two lively…" Terra whispers.

-0-

Dinner is a largely pleasant affair until the alcohol gets introduced. The hills of drink they stack onto the table to peruse intimidates Jaune and he cautions that he cannot – will not – drink anything that isn't at least on the rocks. He'll shoulder tomorrow's regret but he doesn't want to sleep through the sun burning through the morning and afternoon.

Saphron and Terra share a glance before pulling something out of Terra's bag. Diadem, a vintage Vacuan drink stronger than everything else on the table. They only ask that he a takes a shot. It'll buzz him through the evening.

It's too strong and he nearly hurls.

Yang half remembers all the stories they tell. Saphron regales them with tales of how she met Terra, the proposal, the wedding, and even the honeymoon off the coast of Menagerie. Jaune spouts on about his team and a misadventure with his twin on an old farm and a horse, and Yang, somehow, talks about a food fight twice. It's funnier the second time around.

There's a gap in her memory of whatever story Terra was telling because she fixates on one part and can't focus on anything else. "…she's little Adrian's babysitter," she mentions briefly but doesn't have the faculties to ask about.

When Saph and Terra leave for their hotel, things wind down and Yang's sitting on the sofa in Jaune's hoodie. Yang returns the shirt and shorts she borrowed but she feels like wearing something that's his might help with tonight.

Jaune joins her, easing down slowly as his head rides the waves of a dying Vacuan storm.

"Who's Adrian?" she asks.

He's quiet for a moment, perhaps from the drink. "He's Terra's son."

Yang can see it. Saphron isn't mentioned deliberately. He doesn't just forget this time. "Oh! From a previous marriage?"

He shakes his head. "No, nothing like that," he says, sobering up.

"A previous partner then?"

Jaune says nothing. He's sitting upright. Rigid and awake. There's something there. Maybe Terra had a previous partner he didn't like, but then things click into place. Realization sets in like headlights through the fog, suddenly and violently.

"Oh my god…" she whispers, "…he's yours."

He doesn't answer. Doesn't need to. She grabs onto his arm and pulls him into a hug. She's hit a nail on the head and panic sets in when she thinks she's opened up an old wound. It's precisely the kind of thing they're supposed to help each other forget. Only, Yang doesn't realize that Jaune is so caught off-guard by her sudden burst of affection that he's at first startled and – when she goes in for a kiss and ends up headbutting him instead – he ends up laughing it off.

His mirth is almost strange until it makes complete sense somehow. She's done her job, kept her end of the bargain, and now she's laughing with him too.

When he's calmed down, he lies back on the sofa when she goes to get a drink. She comes back to find him lying across the sofa and she makes the executive decision to just fall on top of him. She crashes into his stomach with a hefty oof from him and she makes no apologies for retaliating.

"Sofa hog," she jeers from her perch on his chest, chin resting on her arms.

"I bought it," he shoots back playfully, eying her down from the arm rest.

"Still pay half the rent. And I never asked you to pay me back when I foot the bill for refurbishing them."

"Wouldn't have needed to if Zwei didn't tear them up."

"It was a joint decision that we took him in for the week. You're as much to blame."

He sighs. "I guess I am."

It isn't actually an issue. They've basically already had this discussion and Yang had insisted on covering for it at the time. They're only stalling. Even Yang isn't quite sure she wants to go on.

She doesn't know how long it takes her to summon the courage to speak again. All she knows is that he's willing to answer, even if it would be easier for both of them to stay ignorant. To let these problems solve themselves and never to bear your heart until it is absolutely necessary.

But she speaks anyway. "I thought it was the wedding that got to you."

And so does he. "No, it… it just happened at the wedding. Saph had to go talk to an old classmate and so she left Terra with me. I was already holding Adrian and with Joan running off somewhere, we were alone. Just me, Terra… and our son. It hit me then. Slowly, like when you stare at yourself in the mirror at the night of a recital. You think, 'This is it. This is where things fall apart… or meet in the middle.' I knew I had to make peace with it before it got worse."

"And your answer was watered-down whiskey the minute you got back home?"

He shrugs. "Qrow gives good advice."

"Hm… maybe. I still think mine is better."

"Oh? And what's that?"

She pushes herself up over him, arms at either side of his head till her silhouette is against the dim glow of the incandescent bulb, warm light pooling through her hair till it looks like it's on fire. "Get drunk on me," she says, her breath tickling his nose and burning his lips.

But he doesn't kiss her. She sees the way his lips quiver, almost wanting to, but he doesn't even try.

She retreats instead, nestling back onto his chest but his cheeks are still burning and she swears hers are too. The room feels like it's boiling.

"When we kiss, do you think of her?"

"Never," he says honestly, and that seems to be the part that stings the most to him. "That's the most dangerous thing about you. You don't taste, feel, or smell like anyone else." He looks at her and only her, and she shrinks away as she gets up and off of him because she feels like a moon in a sea of stars, and as he straightens up and sits parallel to her, his eyes never leave, like a captive witness.

He leans in, and she doesn't know if it's to kiss her or just her sheer pull on him. She ultimately doesn't decide. Their foreheads meet – her eyes are downward but locked to his lips – and she breathes quietly as she asks, "Jaune? Are you in love with me?"

"Yang, are you even sure you are?"

"I… don't know yet."

He pulls away just an inch as something unsettling furrows his brow.

He gets up. "Gimme a minute," he says, and he's gone for just long enough for her to notice that the familiar heat she had pressed against her is missing.

She doesn't know what to expect when he comes back with his hand clutching a small object, but she would have never guessed a ring. It's nestled in a velvety box that he sits on the coffee table and he leaves it open as he sits down and watches it with her like it's some alien thing. He doesn't speak but he gives her a glance and…

It's then that she realizes that she's afraid. The look on her is uncertain – she can feel it, and she feels it freeze on her features.

"Did you pick this out for me?"

He shakes his head. "It was supposed to be Pyrrha's."

She blinks. "Is… is this what scared Pyrrha off?"

"No… it's what scared me off." He leans back against the sofa and she takes that as an invitation to do the same. They're huddled close, shoulder-to-shoulder. "Our breakup was only supposed to be temporary. Some tournament rival tried to pin her to a scandal when they found out she slept with me."

"What? Why would that be a problem?"

He snorts. "I was too young." Out loud, it sounds absurd.

"You were seventeen," she reasons.

"And Pyrrha was eighteen. As far as the law is concerned, Pyrrha slept with a minor."

Yang can feel herself coil up like a loaded spring. "Well, that's fucked! You're barely three months apart!"

"Didn't matter to them. Tabloids would have pinned it on her for the rest of her career. The context doesn't matter to the public."

"Okay…" she says slowly, stifling her frustrations for later. "So, what changed then? Why did you set her up with Sun?"

"Because I went to the wedding and found myself thinking about Terra again. It gave me some unhealthy doubts. I loved Pyrrha, I really did, but it felt wrong when I danced with Terra that night, holding our son in our arms… It felt like I'd betrayed Pyrrha somehow, even in my own mind, by feeling those things. It didn't matter that I didn't actually do anything about it."

"That's not how feelings work though," she says. "You're supposed to have doubts sometimes because people aren't perfect or consistent. Life isn't fiction, Jaune."

"I know that now." He shrugs, resigned in a way. "I found out a little too late though."

"How did you even get Pyrrha to agree to this?"

"She's not very honest about her feelings. Doesn't have the courage to be. When she heard that I'd pushed Sun to ask her out because Nora can't keep a secret, she thought that I might have given up on her. By the time we got the chance to be honest about it, she'd already gotten to know Sun enough to start taking him seriously."

Yang glances back at the ring. Not quite as alien as it was earlier. It just seems strange now, like it's out of place. There's a small comfort in that. "So where does the ring come in?"

"I got it as a sort of celebration when would get back together, but then people started asking about what it meant and… it felt like I'd stumbled onto some finality between us. Like I'd somehow found 'the one' over a year of friendship, a few dates, and showing up to the dance in a dress."

Yang smiles. Not because he seemed silly at the time, but because he's smiling. Because, in spite of his somber reflections, he can't help but feel like what he'd done turned out to be a triumph.

Her arm loops into his and his head leans on hers in response. "Doesn't sound like a bad set up to me," Yang says, shrugging against his arm. "If anything, it sounds like the stars aligned for you two." She speaks honestly. Forgets herself and sees him as Pyrrha's too-perfect other half to a too-perfect couple. If things hadn't turned out the way they did, she might have cheered them on for the rest of their lives. But that isn't how it turned out.

"That's what everyone was saying. It's like we'd ripped ourselves out of a fairytale, only I was a dense, blind princess and she was some stoic, stubborn prince. But it put a lot of pressure on us, living up to that story, and it felt like I wasn't as ready as I should have been. I came to Beacon unprepared for a lot of things. Might have hurt the people depending on me by not being ready. I was lucky my shield arm was always sturdy, but my heart wasn't. I naively worried that my inexperience would hurt us irreversibly." He rolls a hand over his knuckles. Contemplatively, regretfully. "I thought I was leaving her in good hands, but even if that's true, should I still have stayed instead? Did I have any right to decide if we should have stayed together or not?"

Her fingers slide off his arm and weave into his. She's huddling closer now, feet off the ground and knees tucked up to her chest. "I think, when we fall in love, we have to decide for ourselves if we want to keep going. We don't choose for the other in that. We choose for ourselves cause we are who we're supposed to look out for. You have to protect yourself first." Yang clutches tighter, and somehow Jaune can tell that her mother is involved. "That's the beautiful thing about a love that works. We decide for ourselves and it all just happens to fall into place with someone else. It doesn't always magically align – sometimes you don't agree with what they want or how they take it – but real love compromises just as much as it just… clicks." Like her and her dad. And Ruby. And maybe – if things turn out alright – her mom.

He wants to believe her. Even if he and Pyrrha didn't pan out, they still love each other as friends and things ultimately haven't changed between them. They were always bound to work out their issues and it's clear now that they've compromised without needing to sacrifice the friendship they'd fostered together.

He wants to thank her, but her eyes are away and she's chewing her lip. Yang is thinking of something else. Her sigh cuts through the silence and she's too shy to look at him.

"Jaune, why did you kiss me?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Last night. In bed. While I was sleeping."

His eyes widen. He's been caught. "Is it really so unusual?"

"It is when you aren't thinking of Terra or Adrian. When you do it just because you wanted to."

"How… how could you tell?"

She can hear the panic in his voice. Caught and cornered, it makes her a little happy to know he's unable to hide it. But it's the speed of which he accepts his fate that gets her grinning, because it's as if a part of him is tired of hiding it. "Because you weren't trying to forget something. You weren't trying to tease me and I certainly can't flirt back when I'm asleep…" She shoots him a knowing look and he gulps through a feeble foundation of defiance. "It was none of that. You did it hoping I wouldn't notice. You did it because you were hiding something you wanted."

He crumbles under her teasing. "Y-Yang, I… I can't –"

"Shh, it's okay," she says evenly, defusing his tension and giving him a moment to breathe and look into her eyes. "Don't jump to a conclusion you aren't ready to make." Her tone is slow and deliberate, fingers gliding along the skin of his arm like a soothing, gentle caress. "I get it, Jaune. Like me, you're still trying to figure it out."

He pulls away but fixes her with a stern, serious look. She doesn't realize he's holding her hand till he's squeezing it. He's composed, certain, and so deftly drunk on her that Yang remembers Jaune telling her that drowning in drink gives him clarity. "That's just it, Yang. I know I feel something. I've been feeling a lot of things when I'm with you…" His confidence wanes before he admits that, "It's just that I haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do about it."

Yang blinks twice and tries to speak but can't. And suddenly she can't stop the curl of her cheeks when she feels a growing smile coming.

He's almost afraid. "Yang?"

"Sorry. I'm still… you know you just confessed, right?"

"Ha!" he laughs, heart squeezing his chest. Relief in many ways settling into his skin. "Were you expecting me to say 'I love you'?"

"…"

He chuckles. "Oh my god, Yang."

"Is it weird that I'm a little giddy about that total cliché? Say it again."

He thinks it a little much but the words are easy, flowing freely from his lips. "I love you."

"Agh! You're a serious cheat. Why is it so easy for you to say?'

"Cause I already made peace with it. You stood there in a white dress and I could see you tearing Terra out of that place in my mind and putting yourself there in her stead. I already knew. You've been nothing but a tidal wave to my emotions, just swallowing everything up and leaving little traces of yourself everywhere."

He settles back into the cushions, sinking comfortably into it. "I used to sit on this couch and scream curses at the moon through the window," he says. "Nowadays my eyes are glued to the screen watching a movie with you. I used to be careful about what I threw into the sink because I was afraid I'd have to call in a mechanic to fix the shredder again, and now I don't even give it a second thought."

"And you used to lie in bed thinking about her…" Yang teases.

"Actually, no. I was at peace when I went to bed. Pyrrha trained me to shut down once I got under the sheets. Nowadays it feels like the sandman keeps missing my eyes with the way you move me around in bed."

"I don't think your tongue's been doing much complaining."

"Seems you were willing to use more than just your tongue earlier," he says, teasing her. She shrinks a little, embarrassed. "What were you doing anyway?"

"I was, uh, trying to seduce you."

"Oh… What changed?"

She groans. "I guess my wires got crossed. I thought that if I got you to sleep with me, this" – she gestures between them – "would suddenly clear up. But I'm not that kind of girl. I don't put on lingerie all the time expecting you to see it. Not even sure I'm the kind of girl who wants her clothes ripped off when I get you riled up."

"Yeah, your outfits look expensive. Custom fit and embroidered."

"I wouldn't hit you if you tried, FYI. I'd maybe cry or get upset."

"I'll try not to ravage you through your clothes if that ever happens."

"If? Still don't think we're gonna end up doing the dirty tango after all we've been through? Seems inevitable at this point."

"I think we'll either do it when it makes sense or decide we aren't meant for each other."

"I don't know. I'm pretty snug right where I am." She gives him cheek, brimming with certainty. Confidence. "Still," she says more seriously, "are you really so ready to give up what we have? I don't see it happening, but it looks like you think we're just as likely to stay together as splitting up."

He looks away. Yang is surprised to find him embarrassed, not concerned.

"You don't actually feel that way," Yang says gleefully. "You're as sure as I am."

"I'm not ready to take that risk just yet," he confesses.

She moves to straddle him and loops her arms around his neck. "I can wait."

His hands grip her waist through the thickness of the hoodie. "I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. I told you that love was about deciding for yourself and settling into compromises if our choices don't align. I'm choosing to stay. And – I hope – we agree to compromise."

He takes a moment to look away before locking eyes with her. He leans in and pecks her lips so briefly that she doesn't get the chance to kiss back.

"Wh-what?"

"It's how I'm supposed to say yes, aren't I?"

She laughs and so does he. Yang was expecting to cap off the night with a kiss, pressing bodily into the sheets as their hands roam their bodies, but none of that happens. They clean the dinner the table, take separate baths, and settle into bed together.

She does kiss him on the neck for good measure but he realizes that he can still feel the kiss and it isn't because there's a tingle there. Cracking an eye open, he notices the gloss on her lips. "Are you wearing lipstick?"

"The light kind," she says. "Told myself I'd leave a mark on you during my little lapse earlier. I've decided not to give you a hickey. Consider it an act of mercy."

He shuts his eyes and tries to ignore it but can't. He's painfully aware of it and he just knows he's gonna smudge that on something. It'd be funny if it's Yang's face but he'd hate to get it on his sheets. He sits up. "Yeah, nope. I'm washing this off."

"What? C'mon!" She grabs onto him, anchoring him back into bed.

"Nope. Not doing it," he says defiantly.

"Have it your way, Arc. Hickey it is!"

"Wait, Yang! Yang!"

-0-

Jaune is reminded everyday that he showed up to brunch that following morning with a hickey his scarf couldn't hide. Yang makes it up to him by buying dessert.

The get-togethers go on and Yang is less and less embarrassed about openly teasing Jaune and showing her affections publicly. Jaune retaliates, of course, and they even get hot and bothered in the hallway of a movie theater. They spend the rest of the movie in a stall. Terra finds them and is honestly just surprised they haven't taken each other's clothes off… ever.

Jaune and Yang don't tell them that neither of them and ready to go that far yet. Jaune takes the brunt of the blame and says that if he doesn't hold back, they'll end up doing something stupid. Saphron slips Jaune a condom and he regrets everything for the rest of the night.

Two weeks pass with much the same. Sometimes they introduce Saphron and Terra to some of their other friends, and they even manage a weekend together in a cottage near the coast. They're excited about reuniting with Pyrrha and they even meet Sun on her scroll.

Yang finds out that Saphron is every bit a mother as she is a big sister, and Jaune reminds her that she is practically no different herself.

Jaune learns that Qrow and Terra are old classmates and that they had more in common than they thought.

And after Joan is caught scheming with Nora and getting her and Ren back together, after Blake engorges the shrimp platter on a Schnee-sponsored dinner, after Weiss tames a friendly rivalry between Winter and Saphron about who has the cuter sibling, after Ruby gets her cheeks pinched till they go red cause she lost a bet and showed up in an adorable beowulf costume, and after Penny freaks out and her head pops off at dinner (her severed head still tries to chew on a salad)… their two weeks together are up and they're standing at the train station, ready to see them off.

It's been raining for the last few days and everything is damp and cold. Even the air is still thick with the smell of misty rain water and the sky hasn't seen the sun even peek through the cloud cover. It's almost a somber way to say goodbye.

Saphron is introducing Yang to her babysitter and little Adrian over a video call. Jaune stands aside, unwilling to let the last few weeks burn away at the sight of his biological son gurgling through the screen.

Terra nudges into his side. "Can we talk?"

He nods and she pulls them away beside a pillar. Saphron notices and winks at her wife.

"Is there something wrong?" Jaune asks.

"Nothing, actually. I might even say our impromptu vacation here might as well have been perfect."

"Impromptu?"

"I guess it never came up but… we were only supposed to be here for a few days."

"Why did you stick around then? Wouldn't that have been imposing on your babysitter?"

"Oh, Taffy was plenty happy to be at the house with Adrian. She's an orphan and she takes every excuse to come over." She leans in to whisper. "We might even adopt her once I get a raise at the office so look forward to a niece! And, really, is it such a surprise that we enjoy spending time with you and your friends?"

"After the bonfire? I guess not."

"Good. Now that isn't why I needed to talk."

"Oh…" He glances at Yang a few feet away. He can barely hear her and Saphron through the rancor of the station.

"I know you've been holding back."

"Did Yang tell you that?"

"Call it a big sister's intuition."

"You're an only child."

"Not anymore, I'm not. Now I've got six little sisters and a not-so-little brother." She pats his chest then busies her hands with straightening his collar. "A little brother who is too afraid to take a chance and would much rather play it safe than play at all."

"Terra…"

"I know you're afraid that you aren't ready. I wasn't either. Hell, sometimes I worry I'll mess up and ruin a perfectly good marriage. These are all normal things to be afraid of, and for some people, these fears don't go away. We just learn to live with them."

She slides her hands to his arms and down to fingers till she's holding them softly and looking up at him. There's a quiet concern in her sad little smile that he isn't sure how to respond to.

"I think you've driven yourself to be so careful with your feelings that you've forgotten to just take things as they come," she says. "I know you have to be careful with your heart but the thing isn't made of glass. Even if it hurts, even if it hurts easily, the fact that you're still in one piece should be more than enough proof that you aren't as fragile as you think you are. Maybe take a risk. Maybe love will hurt, but so few of us get better at it without giving it a shot first. Like a lot of things, Jaune, it takes a lot of trial and error."

"I've been down this road before already…"

She squeezes his hands. "And you'll go down it again and again. Sometimes people find love once and that's all it takes. But for the rest of us? For most of us? We gotta keep trying."

With a kiss on the cheek and a whispered 'good luck', Saphron and Terra disappear into accelerating train until even it vanishes into the horizon.

Jaune stares into the middle distance and Yang, much like Terra, nudges into his side. "What did you talk about?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Stuff."

"Oh, well that's lame. Should've had more to say to someone you really care about." It's clear she doesn't buy it.

He knows she doesn't. "Yeah, real shame I wasn't more profound and emotional."

She rolls her eyes because she'll let it be and won't pry for his sake. "C'mon, it's getting chilly out here and it might rain again with the wind picking up." She makes to walk off.

"Hey, Yang?"

She stops. "Yeah?"

For a moment he doesn't speak, his eyes are uncertain and elsewhere but then his fists clench as if he's just convinced himself to do something. "Wanna get dinner?" he asks, reaching out to take her by the hand. "We can put on something nice and there's a real fancy place with the best lobster in town."

Yang isn't sure how to take it. She doesn't resist when his thumb brushes over her knuckles, but she summons a bit of bravery herself, stepping closer and resting a fist against her beating chest. "Is… this a date?"

She yelps when he pulls her in. He kisses her, drowns her tongue and melts their bodies together till she's flush against him and tugging at his hair. There's still fear in his eyes when they pull away, but there's a determination in there she's happy to see. "Is that answer enough?"

She giggles through the haze of her burning cheeks. "Plenty."

Then she's on him this time and tilting him backwards with her lips alone until he's just as hazy. Still, he doesn't expect it when she clambers onto his back and slips into a piggyback ride before she starts laughing uncontrollably.

"Hiya, noble steed! To the bike!" she cheers from her perch atop his head.

He's laughing too, even if he's huffing a little from the jog to Bumblebee. "What's gotten into you?"

"I can't help it…" she whispers into his hair, excitement mixing into a bubbling cocktail with a giddiness she can't stop. "I'm happy."

#Jaune Arc #yang xiao long #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #rwby dragonslayer

50 notes · View notes

kookie-doughs · 4 years ago

Text

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 6: WE HAVE BATHROOM INCIDENT

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn Percy was carrying. Another said, "That's him."

Anxious if all the attention, I scooted closer to Percy holding onto his arm. Most of the campers were older than us. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. The way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. Though I am aware the attention was on Percy. I still felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something.

I looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than I'd realized—four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.

"What's up there?" Percy asked Chiron.

He looked where I was pointing, and his smile faded. "Just the attic."

"Somebody lives there?"

"No," he said with finality. "Not a single living thing."

I got the feeling he was being truthful. But I was also sure something had moved that curtain.

"Come along, you two," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see."

We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.. . . . . . . . . .

Chiron told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses," he explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort."

He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

I watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire. I wondered if Grover could work that kind of magic with music. I wondered if he was still inside the farmhouse, getting chewed out by Mr. D.

"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" I asked Chiron.

"Yeah, I mean... he was a good protector. Really." Percy added.

Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horses back like a saddle. "Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill."

"But he did that! He brought two!"

"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there's the unfortunate... ah... fate of your mother and Y/N's parents. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you two dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."

"He'll get a second chance, won't he?"

Chiron winced. "I'm afraid that was Grover's second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He's still so small for his age... ."

"How old is he?"

"Oh, twenty-eight."

"What! And he's in sixth grade?"

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."

"That's horrible."

"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career... ."

"That's not fair," I said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?"

But I wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop. Something had occurred to me when Chiron talked about Percy's and I's parents' fate, as if he were intentionally avoiding the word death.

"Chiron," Percy said. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real..."

"Yes, child?"

"Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

Chiron's expression darkened.

"Yes, child." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now... until we know more... I would urge you to put that out of your mind."

"What do you mean, 'until we know more'?"

"Come, Percy. Let's see the woods.". . ..

As we got closer, I realized how huge the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

Chiron said, "The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed."

"Stocked with what?" Percy asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?"

"My own—?"

"No," Chiron said. "I don't suppose either of you do. I think a size five will do you both. I'll visit the armory later."

I wanted to ask what kind of summer camp had an armory, but there was too much else to think about, so the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't seem to like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Chiron said they held sword and spear fights.

"Sword and spear fights?" I asked.

"Cabin challenges and all that," he explained. "Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there's the mess hall."

Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

"What do you do when it rains?" Percy asked.

Chiron looked at me as if I'd gone a little weird. "We still have to eat, don't we?"

Finally, he showed me the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings I'd ever seen.

Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" I guessed.

"Correct," Chiron said.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."

Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot. Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians. But why would some be empty?

I stopped when Percy stopped.

"Percy?"

He stood in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.

It wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor.

I held his hand and we got closer to the cabin. We peeked inside the open doorway and Chiron said, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"

Before he could pull us back, I caught a glimpse of the interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. "Come along, you two."

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red—a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on me and gave me an evil sneer. She reminded me of Nancy Bobofit, though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, and her hair was long and stringy, and brown instead of red.

I kept walking, trying to stay as close as I could to Percy. "We haven't seen any other centaurs," Percy observed.

"No," said Chiron sadly. "My kinsmen are a wild and barbaric folk, I'm afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won't see any here."

"You said your name was Chiron. Are you really..."

He smiled down at me. "The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am."

"But, shouldn't you be dead?"

Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him. "I honestly don't know about should be. The truth is, I can't be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish... and I gave up much. But I'm still here, so I can only assume I'm still needed."

I thought about being a teacher for three thousand years. It wouldn't have made my Top Ten Things to Wish For list.

"Doesn't it ever get boring?"

"No, no," he said. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring."

"Why depressing?"

Chiron seemed to turn hard of hearing again.

"Oh, look," he said. "Annabeth is waiting for us."

* * *

The blond girl I'd met at the Big House was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven.

When we reached her, she looked us critically.

I tried to see what she was reading, but I couldn't make out the title. I thought my dyslexia was acting up. Then I realized the title wasn't even English. The letters looked Greek to me. I mean, literally Greek. There were pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy and Y/N from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin eleven," Chiron told me, gesturing toward the doorway. "Make yourself at home."

Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on old. The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway was one of those doctor's symbols, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. What did they call it... ? A caduceus.

Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over on the floor. It looked like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center.

Chiron didn't go in. The door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him they all stood and bowed respectfully.

"Well, then," Chiron said. "Good luck, Percy, Y/N. I'll see you at dinner."

He galloped away toward the archery range.

I stood in the doorway, looking at the kids. They weren't bowing anymore. They were staring at us. I knew this routine. I'd gone through it at enough schools.

"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on."

So naturally Percy tripped coming in the door and made a total fool of himself, almost taking me with him but I had let go of him as he fell. There were some snickers from the campers, but none of them said anything.

Annabeth announced, "Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N, meet cabin eleven."

"Regular or undetermined?" somebody familiar asked.

I didn't know what to say, but Annabeth said, "Undetermined."

Everybody groaned.

"Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy and Y/N. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there. Y/N can have the bed over there."

"Luke." I smiled. He replied with a grin and ruffled my hair.

"Uh?"

"This is Luke," Annabeth said, and her voice sounded different somehow. I glanced over and could've sworn she was blushing. She saw me looking, and her expression hardened again. "He's your counselor for now."

"For now?" Percy asked.

"You're undetermined," Luke explained patiently. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."

I looked at the tiny section of floor they'd given Percy. He was a few spots away from mine.

I looked around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing me as if they were waiting for a chance to pick my pockets.

"How long will we be here?" Percy asked.

"Good question," Luke said. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?"

The campers all laughed.

"Come on," Annabeth told us. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"I've already seen it."

"Come on." She grabbed Percy's wrist and dragged him outside. Percy took my hand to come with him, I could hear the kids of cabin eleven laughing behind us.

"See you at dinner." Luke waved.

When we were a few feet away, Annabeth said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one. Maybe it was Y/N."

"What's your problem?" Percy was getting angry now. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy—"

I gripped his shoulder trying to calm him.

"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth told me. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Hahah typo and originality go brrr

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #X Reader #Book 1 #Lightning thief #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Chapter 6 #Fanfiction #fanfictions

53 notes · View notes

p0gue420 · 4 years ago

Text

!Too Young To Feel Numb! (Kie x Reader)

ATTENTION!! There are a lot of trigger warnings in this one! Including: drinking, drugs, talks of feeling alone, depression.

Summary: Y/n started smoking weed at the age of 8, It’s all she’d known; She grew up around it so it was normal for her to start super young, she told herself that’s the farthest she’d go...only smoking weed..never any hard drugs. She thought she could learn from her parent's mistakes, guess not.

pairing: Kie x female!reader, Rafe x Platonic! reader, JJ x Sister figure! reader

Warnings: Substance abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, marijuana Underage drinking,(reader is 15),

A/N: Alot of grammar errors because i dont feel like checking it so sorry....not really,hehe

---------

I use to think people were crazy for even thinking about doing anything harder than weed. Yeah...I was like 7 so it doesn’t count.”Yo you gonna babysit that shit or pass it, I mean...I have all day but would love to do something besides wait for you to pass the blunt.” I rolled my eyes waiting for JJ to hand it to me.”Chill, what’s up your ass today?”

He finally passes it, after what felt like hours. I take a long hit before seeing he’s actually wanting me to answer his question.”Nothin. man, I’ve just got places to be.” I mumbled out hoping he wouldn’t start asking any further questions. He stares blankly awaiting me to pass it back, knowing I don’t share my feelings so he simply lays off. “Hey. You trynna go surfing today….whenever you’re done with your….things..?”

“Uhh, yeah text me and-” I’m cut off by the sound of my phone vibrating...Barry.

Barry:

Meet in twenty? I got extra today

I look up from my phone stuttering my words, and fumbling.“Uhm, I gotta go do something, but I’ll text you later to surf, yeah?” I say nodding towards JJ as I began walking out.”Uhm yea sure, hey-” I was already out the door.”-be safe.” he muttered to himself left wondering why I left so fast. On the way to my bike, I ran into Kie and Pope laughing about something before Kie began to make her way over towards me.

“Hey, Y/n! Heading out so fast, are we?”Kie pouted her lip out mimicking a whimpering sound.” heh, yeah sorry bub. I gotta go handle some things and I’ll be back later.” I peck her lips in a swift movement as well as pull up the front of her crop top, covering her exposed cleavage.”Those are my love,keep them covered” I wink at her. She laughs and heads inside after blowing me a kiss,that I catch and pretend to place in my heart..Wow im so whipped.

My thoughts cut off by a loud vibrating noise.

Barry:

You coming?

Read: 46 sec.ago

Me:

Omw now!

Read: just now

I hop on my bike heading over to Barry’s place knowing a shortcut I found a few days ago.

It only takes 10 minutes before i’m in front of his house walking up the steps of the porch.My clean oxygen is immediately replaced by the smell of cigarettes,weed,and...Is that burnt hair?I scrunch my face in disgust at the awful smells.”Aye look who it is!” Barry calls out after seeing my face, He’s standing beside..Rafe cameron.

Now...I’m not friends with Rafe but i also don’t exactly despise him.I babysat wheezie all summer last year,most the time he’d join..keep me company;I don’t think he knew i was with Kie but he’s not all bad.He’s helped me more times than I can count,only because i've done the same for him though.

“Yo waddup.I didn’t expect to see you here.” I share a short handshake with Barry and side hug Rafe,he seems unprepared for it so he stumbles a bit but eventually hugs back quickly.”uh yeah.just doing some..business” Rafe says avoiding eye contact,looking everywhere except my face.”anyway i'm gonna head out, i'll catch you guys later.” Rafe walks towards,im guessing his bike;I head inside following barry so i didn’t really catch what he drove in.

“So like I said I've got your usual ,and then I got a little extra something I thought you may like.”He continues on but I'm so wrapped up in the fact that I want to consume something soon,anything;I don’t know exactly what he's saying.”Sound good?” He asked “Uh what?sorry I zoned out a bit.”I shook my head pushing my long hair out of my eyes.”Look,Usually altogether this would be alot of money but considering I stole the pills,I'll spare you the oxy,wadda yuh say?”, “Yeah sure,80$?”

He nods his head holding his hand out as i hand him the money.He hands you a bag full of coke in a plastic baggy, along with the pills in its original container it was prescribed. “Ight,thanks man.Ill see you later next week!” I wave goodbye as I show myself out, shoving the ‘things’ I had bought into my bag and swinging it back on my back.

~Incoming call from:Bubbs<3

I instantly pick up not wanting to worry her.

I instantly hear the boys laughing and playing in the background,but wait for her to say something.”Hey baby, you heading back yet?” Kie questioned sounding bored of the childish boys we spend our time with.”Not yet,i promise im almost done,ask the boys if there's drinks at the chateau please.”She turns her head away from the boys asking what there is to drink besides sink water.

I hear a chorus of “We just stocked up”,”All good momma bird.” and other sayings coming from the overly hyper boys.”Did you hear that,or need me to repeat?” She hesitantly says, making sure I’m still listening ”Gotcha,I'm headed your way now,see you there” I say quickly hanging up without giving her time to respond.

I hop on my bike and drive towards…...the opposite of the chateau,instead deciding to go to the Camerons.I drive,stuck in thought of what ill do when i get there,not quite sure why i decided to come.I had been so lost in thought I didn’t realise I was suddenly at the Cameron residence. I park my bike and began walking up to the door,but before I can knock,Rafe walks up behind me.

“Y/n?” I swiftly turn around being scared for a minute before realizing who it was.”Oh!uhm. yeah...hey” I ‘smoothly’ say”what are you doing here?” he asks..The whole conversation was a blur and before I knew it I was walking up to his room to hang out.I sit on the bed laying back asking about what he wants to do.”I don't know,you came here,what'd you have in mind?” He asked curiously.”I'm not sure.” I snorted at my inability to maintain a conversation.

I dig into my bag as he starts up about how he broke his bed frame the other day, because he put too many boxes on the bed while getting rid of some old things. I finally found what I was looking for,the baggy of white powder.I lifted it up smiling widely.”Can I do this here or no?”I question,feeling my body begin to sweat at the thought of getting to snort the white powder.

“Uh,I mean.. yea sure,didn't know you did that kind of thing.. but I mean go ahead.” He rambles. He stares into space as I do a few lines, my eyes opening wide at the sensation of sudden adrenaline;I look over to see him trying not to stare.”Oh my bad,You want some?” I ask holding up the dollar folded into a cylinder shape , gesturing to the lines of coke spread on the dresser.

---

Hours go by,giggling,cracking jokes with rafe as well as doing oxy and maybe overdoing it with the coke seeing as the bag was almost gone.Rafe hasn't done much.I on the other hand was feeling VERY shaky and everything was just so hilarious..until it wasnt.My high started to get bad and overall scary.I must've did too much in such a limited amount of time.I look at my phone .

17 missed calls from Bubbs<3

8 missed calls from John B:)

9 missed calls from Popey boi

11 missed calls from JJ

Incoming call from Bubbs<3

“He-h-hello ,hi,hey.”

“DON'T ‘HI’ ME!” Kie instantly began screaming into the phone making me move my face away from it as Rafe looked at me with a worried expression on his face.

“Y/n,Where have you been! I’ve been so worried! I’ve-” I Blanked out again not in the mood to be yelled at.”Yeah,hey I nee-need,will-can youcomeandpickme up” I say jumbling all my words together. “Are you okay?Why are you talking like that?''She ask worried about my state of mind.

“Yeah am- I fine,Yes” I say yet again struggling to sound normal. I guess I was on speaker because JJ immediately began yelling into the phone asking about where I was.”Rafes house” Rafe sat silently waiting for them to break out into hysterics about me being with him.The phone went silent for a moment before the call ended.”So does that mean they not-....Vodka” was all i said before heading downstairs Rafe was sober enough to be able to notice what i was doing.I quickly went downstair searching through the freezer.

“Yessss.”I exclaimed before chugging the vodka.”Rafe continuously asking me to give him the bottle.I chugg at least half the pint bottle before having to give it up because Sarah comes down the stairs.”Y/n what're you doing here?” She asks excitedly until she saw me tripping over my own feet walking towards her,”Woah!” she caught me just before I hit the floor.

She turned to the door hearing someone pull up.Kie.”Rafe what did you do to her?” Sarah asked, holding me up scared of how out of it I was.”SHE BROUGHT COKE HERE,i did a bit with her, but she did A LOT. I legit did nothing this time I swear on everything!”He trailed back up the stairs not caring about the situation now that Sarah was there to take care of you.

I began to sweat, tears running down my face. scared of what's happening to me.John b and Kie rush through the front doors asking where I am.”IN HERE GUYS!” Sarah screamed for them to hear her.My eyes rolling to the back of my head as I went in and out of consciousness.

“BABYYYY!!!” i exclaimed making grabby hands at Kie as i started crying harder

Sarah helped me stand up shakingly as I tried to walk to my girlfriend,She came running towards me with a concerned look on her face. She grabs my face pecking my lips,”Bub. I need you to listen to me, okay?” I nodd in awe of the gorgeous girl in front of me.”John B is gonna take you to the van,we need you to tell us everything you took to get in this state, okay?” I drowsily nodded,growing tired.

Just as she said,the tall boy picked me up bridal style carrying me out to the twinkie.

I take notice to seating arrangement so i can close my eyes and know whos talking ,JJ being in the passenger seat,Pope watching From the bench behind the driver's seat.Kie stepped up into the van sitting on the floor of the vehicle waiting for John B to place me down beside her.As he did I sat up enough to lean my back against her chest.

JJ was surprisingly silent.Too silent.Pope looked so worried at my sweating body and dripping wet hair from sweat,tears,and vodka mixture.”Okay,Y/n,What did you take?” my girlfriend sits grabbing my face turning me to face her, my legs straddling her thighs on the floor as I nuzzle my head into the crook of her neck,but she pushes my head up making me pout but not being able to maintain due to the dizziness. “I took a few oxy,uhm when I -then i did a few lines of coke,and…..i chugged half a pint of vodka..” i said tears filling my eyes trying to not look into anyone's eyes,

Silent JJ was no more .”Are you fucking kidding me.Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.You’re not supposed to take oxy and drink alcohol together.much less do oxy or coke at all.ARE YOU DUMB!” JJ began turning around. A Quiet ‘im sorry’ came from my mouth.John B finally pulled into the chateau.

Kie carried me while my face stayed nuzzled in her neck still crying due to my,still,VERY high state.she sat me down on the couch out on the porch as everyone except her,went to get a few things.Pope came back with water and a wet rag to place on my head.JJ brought a blanket,John B came back empty handed because he only went inside to pee.

“Kie?” I whispered scared she was mad.”Yes baby?”

“Are you mad at me?” I questioned hiding my face in her shoulder due to the amount of dizziness being insured. She leaned her head on mine with an unknown amount of emotions,not quite sure of how to fully answer. “No I- I just don’t know what you were thinking I just- Well I figured you wouldn’t ever do anything like this considering what we talked about-and -and what you went through with your parents..”

“I know-I wanted to feel better tho..I just feel like i have no one-”

Shortly realising the guys were still in on the conversation as Pope cut in.

“Y/n, you have,and always will have us..” I lift my head from the girls shoulder before slowly looking at Pope in his sad worried eyes.

“I guess, I like-I dont know guys what you want me to say..Im trying to be better for myself for everybody,but nothing was working and i ran into barry one day and we talked and he offered a way to help,of course i was hesitant but its really not that bad...Im actually fine!” I said standing up as John b followed me.

“y/n, you were just saying you need help,so what the fuck are we supposed to do ,one minute you need help and having to be ushered here so you dont die! And-and-the next thing you’re yelling at us about how your fine,you’re not fine and you know it!” I stopped as I watched the long haired boy fight back tears trying to explain how all of them feel.

“Fuck you guys honestly,Im not a child i know how i feel,this is all just bullshit!” I yelled at them all, I ran to the spare bedroom covered in sweat,tears,and vodka; I slowly sink into the bed as tears fall down my face crying myself to sleep,what i didn’t know was that my bestfriend’s and girlfriend were all huddled up outside the door awaiting me to fall asleep so that they could come in and cuddle me to make me feel better.Sometimes things get better, but i dont think this is one of those times atleast for now anyway..

#outerbanks x reader #pogues x reader #pogues imagine #kie x reader #kie imagines #depression #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybanks smut #john b x reader #john b routledge #sarah cameron x reader #pope x reader #madison bailey #madison bailey x reader #rudy pancow x reader

79 notes · View notes

sweetwritertanya · 5 years ago

Text

Still mad?

Summary: You are extremely angry at Hoseok for ruining a special night. But Hoseok seems confident that he knows just what to do in order to calm you down.

Warnings: Filthy SMUT! Mainly: swearing, erotic body touching, fingering, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms (female receiving), dirty talking, angry sex, rough sex, reverse cowgirl position, missionary position, unprotected sex (what else is new, but don’t be stupid IRL!)

Word Count: 3587

You furiously swing the front door open, immediately stomping up the stairs after barging in your home, with little regard to the persistent words of apologies from your recent boyfriend. To say you were fuming was an understatement. If anything, Hoseok’s consistent voice following you from a few steps behind only made everything worse.

You close the bedroom door with a loud bang, hoping it would scare off the one who had stayed behind closing the main door you left open. You thought, him behind the scaredy-cat he usually was, he wouldn’t dare come after you when you were in such a state.

Removing your high heels first, you sigh in relief at the immediate comfortable sensation of slipping your aching feet on the fluffy slippers. You then sat in bed and started removing your stockings off your thick legs, only stopping for a second when you hear his voice from the other side of the door.

“Y/N, can I come in?” he asks with a honeyed voice.

“What do you think?” you bark back, obviously still very much annoyed at him.

“Sunflower, please, just let me explain” he begs, knocking softly on the wood of the door.

Throwing the black stockings to the corner of the room, you get up and rush to the door, fueled by your anger at him. You turn the nob and open the door so fast that the wind blows your hair back, away from your face and shoulders, as you stare crossly at Hoseok.

“Explain what, Hoseok? What is there to explain? I walk away for two seconds to go to the bathroom and when I come back you are dancing with another girl. To make matters worse, she’s grinding on you like her life depended on it!”

You realize you are yelling by the end of your speech. For the consideration of your neighbors, you turn away from him and walk back in to the room, folding your fluffy arms across your chest and taking deep breaths to calm down. It’s not like it hadn’t happened before, guys you dated showing interest in other slimmer and prettier girls. You just thought Hoseok was different.

“Baby, I was not dancing with her, she was dancing with me. She came up to me from nowhere, I think she recognized me and was trying to get my attention” he tried to explain in a small but serious voice. You look back at him over your shoulder, noticing his guilty expression as he entered the room after you, hands in his pockets.

“Well, she fucking got it, didn’t she? I didn’t see you backing away” you counter back, a bit of your hurt showing through when there was a crack in your voice.

“You got up to us and pushed her away before I could” he elucidates.

Feeling your anger was more controlled by now, Hoseok opens his arms and wraps them around your plushy waist, pulling you close until your back was flushed against his chest and he dipped his head down so he could drop a chaste kiss on the skin of your shoulder. He knew this relationship was fairly new and it was only the insecurities that come with it that were speaking, more so because he knew you compared yourself to the leaner girls he worked with.

“Let’s stop being angry, okay? This was supposed to be a special night.”

It surely was. You two had gone out to celebrate you moving in. Even though it had only been a few months, Hoseok asked you to stay with him and you agreed. You both liked each other so much and he was already told there would be a tour during summer, meaning you wouldn’t get to be together for at least two months. You wanted to make the most of the time you got to spend with one another before so. And yet, here you were.

“It sure was, until you screwed it up. Just let me be for a minute or two, I’m too angry to look at you right now” you say, struggling to get out of his hold.

But Hoseok’s arms only grow tighter around your soft flesh, trapping you in his embrace.

“Bet I can change that” he challenged, warm lips latching to the side of your neck as his hands start kneading at the plush of your stomach.

“I doubt it” you persist, trying to move his hands but he wasn’t budging.

“Humm, let’s see about that” he smirks against your skin.

His lips wrap around your earlobe at the same time one of his hands move up under your crossed arms to squeeze your breast, feeling the fulness of it over the tight dress and bra you were still wearing. You feel his thumb rub harshly over your nipple and you bite your bottom lip in order to not hiss. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Can’t help but notice you aren’t struggling anymore” he teases, elevating his face from the corner of your neck only to attach his mouth and leave hungry kisses on the other side as well.

You close your eyes as the familiar tingling sensation of him touching you arises, such touches still so new to you that even the smallest of brushes could leave you breathless. You never knew you had such a sensitive spot on your neck until Hoseok found it. He was taking full advantage of it now, finding it amusing how you still were furrowing your eyebrows from being mad with him, but your body was giving in, slowly melting into him.

You were so distracted by his butterfly kisses creating goosebumps at the nape of your neck that you didn’t notice how his hands had pulled down the straps of the dress you were wearing. Not until he pulled the fabric of the dress down your chest, revealing the nude bra you were wearing underneath.

“Stop it!” you say, slapping his hands away, but they come back and grip your tits tightly before you can stop them.

“Are you sure, sunflower?” he seductively asks against your ear, licking it lightly before continuing.

His right hand pulls the cup of your bra down and he feels the soft skin directly in his hands, groping the warm flesh and letting his fingers brush on the rose nipple until it puckers up, just enough for him to pinch and twist it between his thumb and index finger. You squirm a bit under his touch, muscles of your body tensing up and you try not to show the effect it had on you.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks, pulling on the other cup as well and playing with both your tits at once, teasing and pulling at the nubs constantly.

“N-No” you obstinately respond, lying. Each touch was sending sparks directly to your core.

“Really? Then why is your skin so flushed and your breath so shallow, baby?” The smugness in his voice irritated you to no end, but you had no response to that.

Suddenly, he turned you around in the spot and bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth before you had mustered the strength to pull him away and save face. But at the first lapping of his tongue against your sensitive warm globe had you holding on to his shoulders and a struggled moan left you.

He smiles against you, suctioning on your chest while his hands worked on pulling the dress off your body, the rolls and curves of your feminine frame getting in the way before he pulls hard on it and the fabric falls to the floor. His mouth releases your nipple with a pop only to give the same attention to the other one, left hand playing with the free wet nipple while his left hand his marveling at the roundness of your ass, groping and pinching it until he hears your yelp.

“Still mad at me?” he asks when he releases your tits, looking up at you with mischievous dark eyes.

You look away, trying to stay mad as if this was some kind of game and admitting your resolution had wavered down substantially meant you had somehow lost.

“Very much so” you lie yet again.

“I’ll have to do better, then” he simply states.

Index fingers hook around your panties and pull them off down your chunky legs. The cold air makes you shiver and you blush at the obvious wet stain they had, the fluids responsible glistening between your fluffy thighs.

Hoseok kneels down in front of you as you step out of your panties.

“Part your legs and spread wide open for me, sunflower” he says, locking eyes with you.

The part of you that wanted to rebel, the part that was still mad at him, was silenced by the serious stare and commanding tone of his voice. Sex with Hoseok had always been hot and fast up until now, little to no foreplay needed. But the way he looked now, it seemed different. So you obeyed him, although you turn your face away from him as if that gives you any power. Your right hand dives down to your puffy lower lips and spread them open for him to see.

“You’re so sexy, Y/N” he whispers in a low, rumbling voice. His full attention is on your sex, his fingers going up to feel up and down the satin flesh. “It’s already so wet. You are so sensitive. Are you going to tell me it doesn’t feel good right here?”

His fingers find your clitoris and start playing with it, your body shivering at the stinging pleasure you feel from it. You bite your tongue and muffle your moans. If you had the strengths, you would have responded just to spite him. But he seemed to read your mind.

“No? Really? Then why has it been quivering since the beginning? Well…” His fingers start running up and down your folds, gathering more and more of your juices as they move. “If I stick a finger in, won’t it feel much better?” Accompanying his words, his middle finger finds your entrance and easily slips in. “Oh, it’s already in. How’s that?”

Your right hand grips at the bedside table next to you as you feel your legs might buckle. His finger starts sliding in and out of you, slow and steady, reaching deep and not deep enough. He joins a second one and scissors them inside, stretching your fluttering walls around his fingers and you groan out of frustration.

“Just! Hurry up!” you mumble.

“Oh? My sunflower wants it faster? I forgot you like it fast and dirty, baby” he says.

One of his hands grips your plushy hip while he positions himself better in order to pick up the pace. You dare to look down at him as he does so and you almost lose it. His fingers start an insanely fast pace, getting knuckle deep each time they rapidly thrust in, Hoseok’s face completely focused on your pussy and the rhythm of his fingers.

Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head and you grip the table so hard your hands cramp up, the aching coil inside your womb just growing tighter and tighter with unbearable tension. The moans were no longer controllable, you were wailing loud and clear, breathing heavy as you were roughly fucked by Hoseok’s fingers. Your eyes water at how much you just wanted to cum, but were still unable to.

“Maybe you like licking more?” he suddenly proposes, to your confusion.

You almost smack him when he removes his fingers, but he pulls you closer and bends his back so that he can slurp on your overflowing cunt, warm tongue circling around until it finds you clit and he starts sucking on it. Your legs almost give in and you ground yourself by grabbing his shoulders, nails clawing at him as he continues abusing your throbbing nerve cluster.

“Does it feel good now?” he asks against your core, the vibrations electrifying all your nerve ends. “What if I slide my fingers at the same time.”

As his tongue continues to work restlessly at your clit, his fingers plunge into your hole and resume that maddening fast pace, as quick and deep as he could possibly get them. Both actions at the same time leave you overwhelmed and it takes no longer than ten or fifteen seconds for the aching coil to unfurl from within and the relief of the much-awaited orgasmic pleasure spread in waves through your body.

“F-Fuck! Ahh…!” you can’t help but exhale breathless.

Hoseok removed the fingers that helped you ride out your high and licked them clean as he got up into a standing position in front of you.

“Still mad?” he simply inquires.

You huff and cross your arms again, looking somewhere to your left. People always pointed out how stubborn you were, and this was a prime example of it. You weren’t even angry anymore, why would you be angry because a girl grinded on him when he came home with you and fucked you so good using only his fingers and mouth? But there was that sense that admitting so would make you the weak part, and you refused to be so.

“It’s okay if you are still mad at me. You don’t even have to look at me, but I do need you to help me with this, baby.”

You only turn your head back to him when you hear the zipper. While you were looking away, he had undressed his shirt and was undoing his jeans right now, pooling at his feet and leaving him only in his boxers, right hand palming the noticeable erection tenting the fabric.

“I wanna feel good too, sunflower. Make me feel real good, baby” he asked of you, taking the last piece of clothing off his body and laying back down in bed, waiting for you.

His hand was on the tall and proud length stiff against his lower abdomen, pumping himself in search of a bit of relief. His cock was angrily flushed and rigid, pink tip gushing out and begging to be buried in you. Just the thought of it had you clenching already.

You climbed to bed but were still defiant. You placed your squishy legs on either side of his waist, but with your back facing him instead. He wouldn’t get to see the look on your face as you ride him.

“This view is not half bad at all, baby” he conceded, hands coming down to grip your plentiful ass cheeks, smacking one and watching it jiggle.

“Shut u-” you were about to say, until his hips start moving and he rubs his cock against your folds, stealing any words from your mouth.

“Maybe you’ll feel better if I move like this? Hum? If not, why are you shivering?”

As much as Hoseok was enjoying seeing you struggle to keep being mad at him, the truth was he was driving himself mad with all of this, just wanting nothing more than to fuck your pretty cunt until it was overflowing with his seed already.

He didn’t have to wait long at all, for you were just as needy as him. Raising your hips up, you take him in hand and position him at your entrance, slowly taking all of his length in. A deep groan escapes Hoseok at the snug and warm wet feeling of your walls around him, while you mewl at the deep stretch he provides, his hard member feeling incredibly good inside.

Wasting no time, you start moving at a hurried pace, not having any cares in the world except chasing after your own sweet relief. This position is a bit different from the other and he seemed to be reaching places you didn’t know were there to reach, massaging spots eager to be touched. You couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore, you just moan and whimper with every bounce, hearing nothing but the loud drumming of your heart and the lewd noises of your bodies slapping together.

Hoseok shuts his eyes only for a moment, taking in all the pleasure you were giving in, but regretting missing the fantastic view of you bouncing on top of him. Looking down, he grabs your ass cheeks and pulls them apart just enough to see you pussy taking him in, seeing the way his cock disappeared inside your lips as he so easily slides in and out.

“You really like it like this, don’t you?”

“I-I… D-Don’t…!”

“So why are you moaning?” he chuckles.

Your moans turn to high pitched squeals when Hoseok claws at your meaty hips and takes charge, bucking his hips up as he drills himself in your sweet quim, the pace much faster than you could manage on your own. Your walls convulse and you contort on top of him as he keeps repeatedly hitting your g-spot again and again, something inside you snapping and liquid heat cascades over you, your release so strong you fall forward.

Hoseok sits up and sweetly starts kissing up your back, hands wandering up and down your lumpy sides and fleshy arms, still very much rigid inside of you.

“I’m getting tired, sunflower. Aren’t you? Let’s do this.”

He pulls you up the bed, sliding off of you as he helps you lean back into the pillows and he positions himself on top of you, missionary position. But he doesn’t get back in, not yet. First, he cradles your face in one of his hands as the other holds up his weight, loving eyes and an angelic smile on his lips as he regards you.

It makes your heart skip a beat and your breath gets caught in your throat every time he looks at you like that. When he leans down to capture your lips, fingers brushing your skin amorously, you realize you hadn’t even kissed him yet. Forgetting all about your anger, feeling incredibly guilty instead, you move your mouth under his with as much passion and love as you can muster, telling him all you denied up until now this night. You swallow his giggles before he leans his head back up, holding his weight on his forearms.

“You stopped being angry long ago, didn’t you? You don’t look at all angry right now” he teases.

“I was angry. And if it happens again, I will be damn furious. But right now, I just want you to fuck me, Hoseok. Fuck me real good” you finally admit, hands going down his muscular torso and pulling him close.

Listening to your wishes, he plunges himself forward until he is balls deep again, your back arching at the familiar pleasurable stretch on the still sensitive walls. Setting a steady pace, Hoseok takes advantage of the force of movement and gravity to thrust forward, every time hitting deep where he needed to make you squirm under him and gasp.

You were so overly sensitive and spent that you could feel another orgasm building up fairly quickly, closing your eyes in hopes the sweet relief would come sooner.

“Y/N, look at me” Hoseok calls. You open your eyes to find his staring back. “You’ve been cumming all this time, I want to cum to. I can only do that looking at you, seeing the look on your face. Keep your eyes on me, okay?”

And he leans back until he is kneeling between your legs, taking a hold of your waist and hurrying the speed of his hips. He keeps you in place as he pounces hard and fast into you, another set of pornographic wails escaping your lips as the build up makes your insides explode in ground shattering cosmic pleasure that makes your whole body tremble repeatedly, bones melting and dark spots impair your vision.

“S-Shit, like that! Like that!” Hoseok mutters between closed teeth.

Harsh pounces stretch out your orgasmic high before a particular deep thrust has Hoseok emptying himself inside you, stomach dropping and cock twisting as warm spurts of his essence fill your walls. The intense pleasure has him falling beside you, aware enough to move so as to not land on you and hurt you.

Both of you just lay down for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to regain a regular heartbeat before either of you move or speak again. It’s Hoseok who recovers first, dragging himself closer to you and resting his head against your shoulder and an arm possessively around your middle.

“Now I know what to do next time you get mad at me” he laughs.

“Idiot.” You smack his arm. He raised his head up at you with an innocent smile.

“But you love me.”

You smile back.

“But I love you.”

“Good. We should probably talk about our trust issues, though. Are you going to be mad every time a random girl comes up at me?” His tone is a bit more serious now, but his hands are still as reassuring.

“Not if you make it clear you have a girlfriend. Especially when I’m not around” you decide.

“Done. Promise, sunflower. Everyone and their mother will know I’m yours” he proudly claims. You smile at that and he kisses your lips chastely. “Should we take a shower? Clean my baby up?”

“Yes, please!”

The first of many showers you would share together at your new place.

#bts chubby reader #bts chubby!reader #chubby reader #chubby!reader #bts hoseok #jeon hoseok #j hope #j hope smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kpop chubby reader #kpop plus size #plus size reader #bts smut #kpop smut

304 notes · View notes