#I wonder if I could make that a suggestion or a prompt for the four loves challenge in February…

[allisonreader]

I just finished the third book in a series that mashes up different fairytales and retells them. This third book included at least four different (more like five at least hinted at) fairytales. Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, The Six Swans, The Nightingale, and a hint of Rapunzel. One of these stories gave me the vague idea of The Goose Girl and The Six Swans being mashed together.

The only image that really came to mind was the servant girl/lady-in-waiting taking the princess’s place and either cursing the princess (her brothers) herself or having a partner do so. And then the thought of the princess having her brothers as swans amongst her geese that she’s taking care of. While the princess is taking care of the geese and swans, working on the stinging nettle coats, and harvesting the nettle from the church graveyard at night. But also the prince that the princess was supposed to marry figuring that something's not right and eventually finding out the truth.

[onsomenewsht]

I feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years

About when your daughter takes a vow of silence and Alexia takes it better than you

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1.7k

》 babies cry with an accent [fun fact]: studies suggest that newborns cry with a certain "prosody", to imitate the prevailing intonation patterns of the language they heard while still in the womb

“Diana, go wash your hands, dinner is ready”

The little girl doesn’t dignify you with a verbal answer, her small chin set in a familiar, stubborn line – a clear declaration of intent.

The vow of silence stretches into its third day, the longest one so far in her short life.

The quiet atmosphere of the apartment, filled with the child-approved playlist you put on, is interrupted by the unexpected sound of the bell.

You barely see your daughter sprinting toward the bathroom as you go check the door, wondering who could be at this time of day, unannounced.

“Alexia?”, you can’t hide the surprise in your voice.

The footballer, your fuck buddy for the past couple of months, surely the last person you expected to find behind the door.

Her bright smile dims a little at your slightly panicked reaction, effectively blocking her view of your home’s entrance. The blonde’s gaze drops to the vibrant bouquet she’s tightly holding in her hand.

“Hi”

“What are you doing here?”

“I– ehm, I wanted to surprise you”, she admits shyly, her voice strained to reveal the underlying tension of the situation, “And I can see you’re surprised”

“Sorry, I just–”

The attempt to explain is cut short by a running kid crushing the back of your legs with all the force a four-year-old can manage.

A lot, apparently.

Your hand reaches for the head of your daughter, affectionately ruffling her dark hair as she hides her face behind you when she notices the stranger at the door.

The warmth of her small body pressing against you is grounding, familiar weight bringing you back to the present as the scent of a fruit-flavoured soap fills your senses and anchors you in the moment.

When you finally meet Alexia’s eyes again, she’s looking at you like she’s seeing you for the first time.

In a way, it’s true.

Meeting her in a club a couple of months ago was fun and thrilling, one of the best nights you had in a long time.

Not that you will tell your best friend that, since she had to drag you out to take advantage of Diana sleeping at your mom’s house.

One night with Alexia turns into two, and from there, you lose count pretty easily.

It starts without much thinking, for both of you, as a way to de-stress and drop the responsibilities and the weight you felt on your shoulders. A shared escape from the demands of two very different lives.

It starts as a fun time, but it turns a bit more serious as coffee dates and movie marathons added up to the late-night meetings.

Most of the time, you spend the night at her place, having a couple of days by yourself when Diana is with her father and you don’t have to worry about coming up with a new bedtime story.

Sometimes Alexia drops you off right outside of your apartment’s building, wondering, with a hint of doubt and maybe even disappointment, why you never invited her over.

The answer, small and still silent, peeks out from behind your legs with curious eyes.

“Ale–”

“Sorry, this was a bad idea”, she mutters when she notices Diana tugging at your shirt to get your attention.

“Diana, thank Alexia for the flowers”, you prompt hopefully.

The footballer takes a couple of steps away, stopping suddenly and turning around to hand you the bouquet.

The little girl snatches the flowers before you can even react, burying her nose in the blooms dramatically. A scene that makes both you and Alexia genuinely smile.

The silence vow still unbroken, but it gives you time to come up with a decision.

You shake your head, amused, as your daughter goes for a timid and quick hug, her dark curls brushing against the Catalan’s legs as she drops her short arms around them.

She’s retreating behind you just as fast.

Bending down with a smile, you make sure the kid understands what you ask is completely up to her, “Is it okay if Alexia joins us for dinner?”

Your daughter fixes her eyes on the blonde woman for what feels like the longest 10 seconds of your life, studying her with an intensity that makes you slightly nervous.

Under the pointed gaze, the footballer never looked this shy and unsure. As if your daughter can uncover her biggest secrets and deepest fears.

Diana simply nods, her vibrant eyes fixed on Alexia with a hit of curiosity.

“You have her blessing, I guess that’s all we can get from her since she’s on silent strike”

“What?”, the blonde asks, her head snapping up so quickly she almost gets whiplash.

You don’t miss the smile blooming on her face as she meets your eyes.

“Join us for dinner, I made lasagna”

At the reminder, Diana effectively drags you inside the house, one hand firmly holding your shirt and eagerly gesturing for your guest to come in while still clutching the flowers in the other.

You breathe out in relief when you hear the door closing and the blonde woman following you. The little girl is so impatient to eat that she has added a seat on the table even before you two enter the kitchen.

The dinner is filled with your daughter’s stories, told through rushed waves and expressive glances, even without her uttering a single word. Her small fingers move faster and messily, making you and Alexia try to guess what she’s saying, glaring at you both when you fail to understand her seemingly clear gestures.

The kid is usually really talkative, never backing down from an opportunity to fill your ears with her adventures and ideas. The silent vow had been a welcoming change for the first couple of hours, but it turned alarming after a full day.

At this point you’re just going with the flow.

You’re truly amused by Alexia, who quickly overcomes her initial shock and manages to become the girl’s favorite person in a confusing exchange of hand gestures.

She’s going with the flow too.

“It’s obvious, the green lime dog ate the cookies”

“I don’t know Ale, I think she did”

“Trust me, this definitely means the green lime dog stole the cookies”

They even high five right on your face, teaming up way too soon, as you pretend to fall for their lies.

You can’t hold back a laugh as you watch the usually composed Alexia, a two-time Ballon d’Or winner, throw her hands up in the air, exaggerating a dramatic gasp just as Diana had done, perfectly capturing the little girl’s theatrical story.

A compelling explanation to assure you she hadn't been the one to eat the chocolate treats from the jar she knows she’s not supposed to reach on her own.

After dinner, Diana convinces the captain to join her in the living room’s floor to play with her impressive collection of lion-shaped toys – without even that much of a fight from the older woman. Eager eyes constantly seeking Alexia’s, you sit with them a bit aside, to contribute to their playtime without really interfering.

You clearly notice the kid’s struggle to not speak, a visible effort in her tight lips and the way she holds her tongue, resorting to bursts of laughter and exaggerated lion roars.

She’s showcasing an impressive autocontrol, you have to admit.

“Let me just get her in bed and we can talk”

The Catalan simply nods, a soft smile on her lips as you guide a sleepy Diana toward the bathroom, her head already starting to droop on your shoulder. Your daughter insists on saying goodbye to her new friend, and you don’t fight back, watching as they share a warm hug and, you’re quite sure, some secret whispered words.

When you meet Alexia back in the living room, the kid tucked in without too much of a trouble, you notice she has meticulously put away the toys in the box they came from.

“She’s Diana, she’s four and she’s my daughter”, you state as you drop next to her on the couch.

“I could tell, she’s like a mini version of you”

She doesn’t look angry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before”, the words feel wrong, inadequate to really explain your decision.

She looks hurt, and that’s worse.

“It’s okay, I can understand you wanted to protect her”, she reaches for your hand, “It’s not like I can see you tell me about her as we are having casual sex”

“It hasn’t been casual for a while, for me”, you admit, your gaze softening.

“I came here to ask you out on a proper date”

Well, the night had taken an unexpected turn for both of you.

“She’s my priority, Alexia”, you begin, your voice soft but firm, squeezing her hand when her gaze drops, a shadow of uncertainty crossing your face.

“Of course, I–”

“She’s my priority, but I can’t and I don’t want to deny how much I’d like to go on a proper date with you”

“But you wanted to ask me out before you knew about Diana, I understand if you don’t–”

It’s not the first time Alexia’s laugh fills your home, but you’re pretty sure each one has been better than the previous.

Maybe you’re a bit too scared of the possibility of losing this, losing her already.

“Stop right there, I still want to go on a proper date with you”, she looks pretty frustrated, trying to explain herself while being considerate of your feelings and the situation, “I think I like you even more”

“Are you sure?”

“Diana is a wonderful kid, and I met her just a couple of hours ago during her silent strike”, the blonde says, and you both giggle at the little girl’s antics, the tension in the room easing.

“She’s everything for me, Ale”

“You want to protect her, I respect that”

You’re getting quite emotional, overwhelmed by Alexia’s understanding and your selfish desire to keep her in your life without hurting hers or your feelings in the process.

Or worse, your daughter’s.

“I’m willing to see what happens if you are too, no pressure”

“Alexia, I have a daughter you just find out about”

“Don’t worry, I will win her over too when the time comes”

[yuriartillery]

Agatha and Elizabeth

“Lady Agatha, I’ve brought you your tea.”

I set the platter down on the end table next to my mistress and pour out her tea. She doesn’t take it with milk or sugar, and she always insists that I oversteep the leaves in the pot. Bitter herbs sharpen the mind, she says.

Agatha is sprawled out on her reading chair in her chamber, still in her nightgown despite it nearly being noon. Lady Agatha purportedly drove away several governesses in her youth with her willful and unladylike attitude, and I have personally seen her drive out a fair score of potential suitors in much the same way. I admit that I almost admire her sharp tongue when it’s turned towards those above me, but all too often her disposition grates on me in the way that only a spoiled child can.

“Thank you, Liz. Would you draw the curtains? I have a bitch of a headache.”

Her delicately manicured left hand covers her porcelain face, as she regards me through spread fingers. My lady’s room has a western facing window, and there’s not a single stream of light flowing in at the moment. A catty remark crosses my mind briefly as I walk over to the curtains to draw them.

“Right away, my Lady.”

She’s not fond of sharp or sudden noises, so I carefully pull them together, taking far longer than I would prefer. Once the are curtains shut, I tidy up her room. The laundry maid has often complained that Agatha’s clothes seem to spend more time as makeshift rugs than on her body. She’s still watching me through her fingers, although she hasn’t yet deigned to honour me by turning her head.

“Lady Agatha, forgive me my presumption, but you seem not to be feeling well today. Shall I send word to that factory owner’s son that you won’t be able to entertain him for dinner?”

Exactly on cue, she lets out a put-upon sigh and slumps further into her chair. Mister John Harker has been quite dogged in his pursuit of Agatha, despite her repeated deflections of his various advances. By society’s estimation he’s a perfectly unobjectionable man, though the arrogance he displays by courting far above his station embitters him to me. Not that anyone of standing minds, her parents have been trying to marry her off to any man who will take her, both to finally rid the estate of her presence and to dispel the rumors that they’ve spawned an unmarriageable hellion.

“I’m afraid you didn’t respond clearly enough for me to answer Mr. Harker’s solicitations, my Lady, shall I return after you’ve had time for the tea to settle?”

My mistress is so predictable. As soon as I suggest that I’m about to leave, she immediately rights her posture, combs her hair out of her eyes, and clears her throat.

“Tell that parasitic bastard that I am indisposed in no uncertain terms, Liz.”

She pauses for a beat, her face twisting as venom decants behind her ruby lips, until her expression settles into a malicious grin barely veiled by an austere half-smile. Just as I’m about to prompt her, my Lady speaks.

“On second thought, I’m feeling much better. Your tea always does wonders for me, Elizabeth. Let him know that I would be honored to dine with him alone tonight.”

I know she’s not touched her tea yet, so Agatha must be plotting something. Typically she would hold a massive party so that she could publicly humiliate a suitor. A solo dinner is well outside of her usual mischief.

“Very good, my Lady. I’ll have a messenger send word to Mr. Harker immediately.”

“You must help me get dressed and prepared first, Liz. I can’t host anyone in this state, certainly not him. My hair’s a mess, as is my face.”

I can’t help but smile to myself. Agatha is always so petulant and exacting when she gets an idea like this into her head. Until the very moment her plans begin, she’ll find something wrong with her appearance or presentation and endlessly correct it such that everything is perfect. She’ll need to bathe, get dressed, do her hair, and have at least four hours to make sure that each room in her scheme is arranged to her need.

“Did you bathe last night, my Lady?”

Of course she didn’t, I was with her until I turned out her lights. My mistress never bathes unless I remind her too. She seems startled when I ask this, snapped out of her plots for a moment by the societal expectation of cleanliness. Honestly, she’s helpless.

“Oh! I, well, no…”

“I see, my Lady. I’ll go draw a bath for you now, and I’ll fetch you when it’s ready.”

“Thank you, Liz.”

“It’s no trouble at all, my Lady. Do you have an idea of what you’ll be wearing tonight?”

“…I don’t.”

“Well my Lady, I encourage you to think on it while I prepare your bath. Please excuse me.”

She’s not listening anymore, and I know it. I don��t particularly mind. The look of her perfectly focused face tells she can’t tell if I take a moment outside of her notice. Some time to alert the staff to the general outline of what will be occurring today. I quietly excuse myself from her chambers and look for Anthony, the estate’s coachman and messenger. He seems genuinely excited to be giving Mr. Harker substantial news for a change. I can’t blame the man, it must be exhausting to constantly rebuff the pesterings of a desperate lovelorn fool.

Lady Agatha didn’t outline any of her plans to me before I left, but they all more or less follow a rote routine, so providing advanced notice to the kitchen and cleaning staff has historically improved the odds of my mistress’s plans going off without a hitch.

The bath has always been simple, but unorthodox, to prepare. Agatha prefers her baths to be as hot as possible, so I nearly boil her bathwater. When she’s ready it’ll be the almost scalding temperature that she so adores. I gently knock at the door and let myself in. Agatha has spread a few different dresses out on her bed and the floor and is in deep deliberation as to which dress she should wear.

“I think the sky blue dress would be appropriate for today, my Lady.”

She starts up, like a cat that’s had its tail tread on. I suppress a giggle. She nods to me in agreement and begins to gather up her other dresses.

“Also, your bath is prepared. Leave the cleanup to me, my Lady.”

I reach down to help her upright and she takes my hand swiftly. She pulls herself to her feet in one sudden motion and walks to the bathroom faster than is necessary. Out of the corner of my eye I catch her alabaster cheeks flushing rose, cut off sharply by the slamming of a door. This is routine as well, a startled Agatha can’t bear to be seen by anyone else. I tidy up her room, returning all but the blue dress to her wardrobe. After all is set into its rightful place, I make up her bed and tidy the mess of romance novels on her desk.

A book titled Carmilla catches my eye as I clean, hidden away behind the headboard of Agatha’s bed. It’s in a horrid state, spine bent and broken, pages yellowed with several dog-eared to hold her place. My lady is still bathing, so I take a break from my chores to peruse a few pages. Within seconds I am absorbed so fully that I nearly miss my Lady crying out for my aid. I clear my throat and tuck the novel back where I found it.

“Liz! Elizabeth! I need your help! Now!”

It’s strange, she almost never requires assistance in the bath, but I open the door to the bath and a wave of heavy steam forces me back. I wipe the fog from my glasses and walk in.

“Liz, what took you so long?”

Agatha’s skin is entirely red from the hot bath, but she hasn’t yet wet her hair. I can’t help but sigh, she’s going to insist that I wash her hair. It’s nearly been two months since she last asked for this, I had almost hoped that she had forgotten that I said I’d be willing to. I move behind the bathtub and prepare the soaps.

“Forgive me, my Lady. I was engrossed in my work.”

She pouts, because she can’t help it. I keep my opinions to myself.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore! Now that you’re here, wash my hair! … please.”

I knew it.

“You’ll have to wet it yourself, my lady. I wouldn’t want to appear to be drowning my mistress on the off chance that someone stumbles into your bathroom.”

With a huff, Agatha sinks beneath the steaming water, giving me another opportunity to remove the fog from my glasses. She childishly breaches moments later, splattering both myself and the floor with her bathwater. Every day it grows harder to suppress my annoyance with my mistress. Each interaction is just another trial from God, sent to test my patience.

“Close your eyes, my Lady. We wouldn’t want it to get into your eyes.”

I lather her scalp and begin the laborious process of cleaning her unmanageable amount of hair. Agatha has been famously opposed to it ever being cut. Trimming it to remove the splitting ends has been a battle enough her entire life, the other maids have told me. She’s made a personal enemy of every salon’s proprietor and all of their employees within fifty miles, and now none will ever assent to seeing her.

My mistress sighs with contentment as I work on her. She purrs like a cat when my nails scratch her scalp and mewls pathetically when I move on to more of her hair. There’s some wordless protestation when I wipe my glasses for a third time, but it’s easily resolved with a bit of pointless fawning.

“Alright, it is finished, my Lady.”

She sinks back underneath the water. I have to wait for her to resurface before I leave, lest I provoke another outburst. It won’t be long, as she can hardly hold her breath above water, let alone below it. When she surfaces this time she doesn’t intentionally splash as a seal would.

“If that’s all, I’ll be taking my leave now, Lady Agatha.”

I’m struck by how wounded she looks as I move to leave. With a sigh I turn around and set my glasses on the vanity, as it seems I might be in this teakettle of a room for quite some time.

“Is there something wrong, my Lady?”

There’s a pause as she thinks over my question. She’s clearly troubled, it’s written all over her face.

“What do you think of that Harker bastard, Liz? And you have to answer honestly! Or else!”

It’s now my turn to spend a moment thinking. By all measures he’s an upstanding young gentleman, cordial and polite at every opportunity. He gets along well with all of the servants in our estate, myself excluded, and he’s absolutely filthy rich, so it wouldn’t be beyond him to provide the lavish lifestyle that Agatha insists on.

But despite knowing all of that, I simply cannot stand the man for more than five minutes at a time. His posture is stiff and bent all at the same time, he never knows when to stop joking about with people, and his tireless pursuit of Agatha, despite her obvious intolerance of his existence, makes me wretch. If I were her mother, I would make it clear in no uncertain terms that he is to leave my darling Agatha alone and never show his face in my house again.

“Hmm. Well, in all respects he’s a wonderful gentleman who any young woman would be delighted to marry.”

I can feel my mistress burning holes through me with her glare as I begin my evaluation of her suitor with the same uncritical praise that she’s doubtless heard dozens of times already.

“But, I personally would resign as my Lady’s personal maid if you were to accept his proposal. I cannot stand to share a room with the man, and were it not my duty to ensure he felt safe and welcomed in this estate, I would have denied him entry long ago.”

Agatha looks visibly relieved to hear such a scathing opinion of Mr. Harker. After I finish speaking, she steps out of the bath without warning and wrings out her hair. I nearly stumble as I go for a towel to give her so that she can cover up. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen her fully naked before, so I suppose she must not mind at anymore. I excuse myself to her chambers to help her dress and do her hair after she finishes drying herself.

She’s returned to her silent plotting once she exits the bath, and wordlessly allows me to dress her, not putting up nearly as much of a fight as I’m used to out of her. I prefer her like this, a nice pretty doll for me to dress and groom. I’m almost shocked not to hear any complaining as I do her hair up into a partial crown braid, but she’s within in her own internal world now. The Day of Judgment itself could not rouse her now.

Once she’s fully prepared for the day she gracefully dances out of her room, stopping to offer me a mumbled thanks for dressing her. She’s likely off to let the staff know her particular requirements for tonight’s dinner. I’ll be following her during the late afternoon, but time has flown, and I’m finally allowed one of my breaks, so I go off to the kitchen to have myself a meal.

The cooks are all abuzz about Lady Agatha’s meal request for tonight. Against her parent’s paltry resistance, she’s asked that they prepare all of the most expensive meat they had on hand, and that they were to make enough to feed the entire staff. Nobody is quite sure what awful prank she’s going to play on Mr. Harker, but they don’t care. Wine, bread, cheeses, all are fair game to the staff tonight, so Agatha likely has their entire support.

It’s already late afternoon when Anthony leads Mr. Harker into the foyer. He looks dazzled by the chandelier when I greet him on behalf of Agatha.

“Welcome to the Rosewood Estate, Mr. John Harker. At present, my Lady Agatha is preparing for your meal with her. Forgive her absence; she’ll be with us shortly. Until then, it would be my honor to entertain you.”

My voice breaks his fascination with the crystal chandelier and he laughs nervously.

“Uh, haha, yes, very good. You’re, wait, don’t tell me, I remember your face, uh, you’re Elizabeth! Right, yeah Lizzy, the uh, maid that’s always joined to Aggie’s hip. That’s splendid, I could use your advice.”

I wince when he calls my mistress ‘Aggie’ with such familiarity. Where does he get off thinking that he can use a pet name she despises when she’s done nothing but ignore his telegrams and letters for months? I offer a silent prayer that whatever Agatha has planned will rid us of this vermin for good.

“I’m flattered, Mr. Harker. Not only do you remember a humble servant like myself, but you think so highly of my opinion that you’d ask for my advice. If you would give Anthony your coat, I’ll guide you to the sitting room, where it’d be my utmost pleasure to answer any questions you may have.”

Mr. Harker’s face lights up with an awful juvenile smile as he hands off his filthy longcoat to the coachman. I lead him to the sitting room, opening the door for him and he immediately takes Agatha’s favored seat. His posture is positively uncouth as his miserable form seeps into the chair.

“Should I have a servant put on some tea, Mr. Harker?”

“Tea? No, can’t stand the stuff. I only drink coffee. Lizzy, you wouldn’t believe how rough the journey here from London is, but after months of silence, my beloved Aggie has finally seen sense! Everyone told me that she’d never respond, uh, that she’s always going to be unmarried but I sure showed-”

I can’t bear to hear anymore of his blathering, so I cut him off.

“I’m as pleased as anyone else is that my Lady has finally graced with you an invitation to our humble estate, Mr. Harker. If you would forgive me speaking above my station, what did you intend to ask me about?”

His surprised expression at my directness fills me with equal parts pride for silencing him and anxiety for speaking over a man.

“Uh… right, right, so you know Aggy better than anyone else right, Lizzy? I mean, uh, of course you do. I’ve never seen her without you by her side, uh, so, in your opinion how do you think it’d be best for me to uh, spring an engagement on her?”

Die. I want him to die right now.

“Lady Agatha has always hated surprises. I’m sure someone who cares for her as deeply, as you yourself do, would understand that instinctively. She’s also quite sharp, trying to trick her into saying yes would only put yourself in danger of one of her infamous rejections. Were I in your position, I would be upfro-”

“Ha! Upfront? You’ve got to be joking around with me, right Lizzy? I’ve always uh, been upfront with Aggie about my intentions and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Honestly, were I a more cynical man, I’d think she’s uh, preparing to embarrass me like she she did to Georgie, and Percy, and Willy, and…”

He trails off getting quieter and quieter as he lists a number of Agatha’s potential suitors that he personally knew. I take the moment to breathe, trying to quell the seething rage I feel after being so sharply cut off by a dimwitted half-common fool who asked for my advice, then decided he knew better instantly.

“Yes, my Lady has discerning taste. But not one of the unfortunate men you listed were ever personally invited to a private dinner with Lady Agatha.”

Mr. Harker looks up from the fingers he was counting his former rivals on, genuinely shocked at what I had just said.

“Wait, uh, really?”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re not pulling my leg, are you Lizzy?”

“This is not the proper time to make jokes, Mr, Harker.”

The smile that appears on his face on hearing this turns my stomach.

“Splendid! Right, uh, sorry for doubting you Lizzy. You’ve been so helpful. Uh, take this as a sign of my thanks.”

He shoves a crumpled wad of banknotes into my hand, then returns to Agatha’s chair, somehow spreading himself in a less dignified way than before.

“Sir, I can’t accept these, I haven’t done anything for you.”

I gently set the money onto an end table nearby Mr. Harker. It stinks like he does. I’ll have to wash my hands once I have some time to myself. When he speaks again, his voice is in a lower tone.

“Oh Lizzy, you’re so humble, I insist. And uh, just between you and me, uh, Percy said the reason why he stopped pursuing Aggie wasn’t because of all of the drinks she spilled on him or the kissing some other man while he was watching or any of that. Percy’s a good-natured chap after all. You could probably cut off his leg and he’d thank you.”

“Forgive me, I’m not sure I understand-”

“He said it was because uh, whenever you’d look at him, he’d uh, feel the chill of the grave. So, uh, if Agatha does become my fiancee, I’d like to have a good uh, you know, relationship with you, Lizzy.”

I notice that I’ve been clenching my fists in my lap during this entire conversation. I relax myself, and give him a halfhearted half-smile.

“Whatever my Lady desires, I will make so. If she truly does wish to marry you, Mr. Harker, I’ll gladly serve you with her.”

“Brilliant! We’ll be thick as thieves in no time, won’t we, Lizzy?”

As if Lady Agatha has any intention of spending one more moment of her precious time with this imbecile after tonight is through.

“I’d imagine we would be, sir.”

Another maid opens the door to let us know that dinner is ready to be served. Harker gets up right away, boundless energy pouring out of his every step. I follow behind and over his shoulders I see Lady Agatha. She’s done her own makeup for this dinner, and though it’s competent, I still wish she had given me the opportunity to do it for her. Even so, at this moment she is the pinnacle of grace and beauty, her dress flowing like water with each step she takes.

“John, it’s so very good to see you tonight. I trust that Liz was a satisfactory substitute hostess while I was making myself presentable?”

Her voice rings out clear and wonderful as church bells, contrasted to Mr. Harker’s boorish mumbling.

“Uh, yeah, Aggie, she was an uh, a great hostess. You uh, look pretty tonight. Uh, Lizzy said it would just be the uh, two of us dining?”

“Yes, I’ve had my staff prepare the meal beforehand so that it can just be the two of us alone, John. I’m quite proud of what my chefs have waiting for us tonight.”

Agatha offers her hand to Harker, which he takes, not even kneeling to kiss it, and then pulls her into the dining room. The doors close behind them and I rush to the washroom to scrub his scent from my hands.

It’s been nearly thirty minutes as I wait alone by the door, hands red and raw from the washing. The air stings. All I can here through the polished oak are polite murmurs as the two eat and chat, though try as I might, I can’t discern the direction the conversation is going.

Doubts begin to eat away at me while the minute hand crawls iota by iota across the clock face. Did Agatha actually have feelings for Mr. Harker that I simply hadn’t noticed? Was this not going to be a prank of hers? Without being able to hear, anything could be going on behind those closed doors. I fall to my knees and offer another prayer to whatever saint can be bothered. Ask God on my behalf to kill that man on the spot.

As I strain my ears I hear a glass shatter and a slight scuffle. I ignore it dutifully, if I am needed then she will come ask for me. Then a dull thump as something hits the floor hard. It is none of my concern, my imagination must be overactive. Then a strangled, gurgling scream. I disregard my station and throw open a door to see if my Lady is safe.

Within the dining hall I see my lovely Lady Agatha on top of a fallen John Harker, her face pressed against his neck and hand covering his mouth. He’s gripping the tablecloth with one hand and clawing desperately at the air with another. The red wine is all over the floor and my Lady’s dress. Harker’s eyes dart towards me and he forces out another gagged scream.

I begin to apologize for my intrusion and turn to leave, when I catch from the corner of my eye thick crimson pool oozing from Mr. Harker’s neck. There’s a tearing sound as she looks at me from atop the bleeding man. She looks up at me and spits out a chunk of his flesh. A jolt of envy courses through me.

“Oh Liz. Right outside my door. Ever my faithful dog. Did you hear that scream and get worried that John was attempting something improper with your master?”

Harker had sunk his teeth into Agatha’s hand, hard enough to make her bleed, but the light is already beginning to leave his eyes. I come to my senses enough to speak.

“What in God’s name are you doing, Agatha?”

She smiles far wider than she’s ever done before, showing off all of her perfectly straight bloodstained teeth. Her voice remains even and tempered, as if she were speaking to her parents or another noble. I’m beckoned over by her free hand and I approach warily.

“John was just blathering on and on and on about his life and how he’ll treat me if we were to get engaged and about his work in the city and all of his terribly boring friends and it was so mind-numbingly dull.”

Her voice is excited and lilting as she continues, but she isn’t talking past me. All of her attention is on me now.

“You know how I get when I’m bored, Liz. I started to look at his neck instead of his face. When he gets excited did you know one of his veins throbs just a little? I got to wondering what it would feel like if I were to sink my teeth into it and then before I knew it-”

She laughs clear and innocent as a church bell. It brings a smile to the corner of my face despite the circumstances.

“I was on top of him ripping out that throbbing vein with my teeth!”

Blood has started to seep into the edges of her dress, the floor is slick with Harker’s life. I get closer to her, and she wrenches her other hand out of his mouth. I kneel beside her and she rests her head on my shoulder.

“And it felt so good, Liz, the heat of his blood pouring into my mouth, the feel of my teeth cutting through skin and muscle alike, the terror in his eyes as he realized that I was going to kill him.”

Agatha lets out a dreamy sigh, running her uninjured hand over the chest of Harker’s corpse. I glare at it. It’s still too much affection for him, from her.

“And the struggle, he bit my hand, you know. How improper of him, he’s meant to be my suitor.”

She takes my cheek with her unbitten hand and turns my head to look her in the eyes. I ask instinctively.

“Is there something you require, my Lady?” My Lady Agatha kisses me on my lips, the bitter iron taste of Harker’s blood fills my mouth, my cheeks reddening from the directness, the impropriety of it. I feel my heart quicken when her tongue meets mine and at this moment I forget about the dead man beside me, the stains to my clothes, and every thought about what I should do now.

The kiss ends abruptly, and I’m still left reeling from the intensity of the situation. Agatha stands and present her injured hand to me. I wrap it with a napkin to staunch the flow of blood. The same smile is still on her face.

“Now Liz, I seem to have made a mess of my dinner. Could you clean up for me?”

[naughtyneganjdm]

Sneaking in a Quickie

Summary: Taking your niece to a haunted farm attraction turns out to be a fun night when you convince Joel to sneak off with you to enjoy one another.

Characters: Joel Miller & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59500783

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, public sex, rough sex, unprotected p in v, Halloween themed, no use of Y/N, female reader, little to no plot, mentions of Sarah, etc.

Notes: This is day 3 to go with this kinktober list. The prompt I chose was "public sex".

What you thought was going to be a boring night babysitting two kids was actually turning out to be a whole lot more interesting than you thought it would be. When your niece asked you to take her to a haunted farm with multiple attractions for Halloween, you happily accepted. You wanted to spend more time with her, but when you found out she just wanted you to go in order to be a guardian to watch over her and her friend because her parents didn’t want to take her, that’s when it seemed like it was going to be boring. It had been a long time since you had gone to a haunted house of any kind and you thought you were going to be a third wheel.

Instead, when you got to the place, you were pleasantly surprised that your niece’s friend, Sarah, had brought her father along with her. That way you wouldn’t be the only adult there. And it didn’t hurt that he was incredibly good looking.

Joel Miller was his name, and, at first, he was very shy. Soft spoken. Avoided eye contact. Before the event started, you were all sitting at a picnic table with the girls talking back and forth which left you trying to make conversation with him. It was hard, but eventually you got him talking. And once he did, you couldn’t get enough of his southern drawl. From his chocolate brown eyes to his dimples and dark messy hair, you found yourself swooning over this man.

If you were in other situations, you wouldn’t have had a hard time making a pass at him. Unfortunately you were in front of children and that wasn’t going to happen. So you could only flirt with him in the most innocent of ways.

Most of the haunted attractions didn’t start until sundown, so the four of you walked around a scare zone that they had for what appeared to be the younger children. There were mazes with paintings on the walls, a spinning tunnel, a corn maze and other odds and ends. Truthfully? You didn’t care what you were doing as long as you were close to Joel. You wanted to make a good impression on him and by the lack of a ring on his finger you knew that it’d be okay with you trying so hard.

Once the sun went down, you were enamored by how much he visibly loved his daughter, but also by his smartass attitude. When the girls asked you and Joel to go first into the haunted barn attraction that they had because they were scared, Joel reminded them that the actors often went after those in the back. And he was right. Multiple times the actors would work twice as hard to scare the girls and when they got out of line, Joel would make his presence known. So while the teens were happy to be there, they also had their bodyguard to keep them safe.

Together as a group, all of you had spent a lot of time together and the more time you spent with Joel, the hotter you were for him. And by the way he was looking at you toward the end of the night, you wondered if he felt the same.

Part of you was incredibly excited when a group of girls showed up that were friends with your niece and Sarah. They begged to go spend time with them since there was a mother with that group as well. Joel agreed but requested them to meet back at a certain time.

This was exactly what you wanted. Joel suggested the two of you take a walk through the corn maze which wasn’t incredibly busy. Walking side by side with Joel felt nice. It was a cold night and the warmth of his body radiated next to yours warming you right up.

“So…” you finally let the thing that you had been wondering all night escape you. “Are you dating anyone?”

“I don’t have time for that,” Joel admitted with a nervous breath, his brow line furrowing with him shoving his hands further into his jean pockets. “Between Sarah and work, not much time for anything else.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, giving him a small nod. You didn’t want to look too happy to hear that so you looked away. “So does that leave a lot of time for sex?”

“Wow,” Joel chuckled, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. “You just jump right in, don’t you?”

“I’m curious,” you felt a warmth flooding into your cheeks wondering if you had overstepped with the question. “Someone who looks like you…”

“What do you mean?” Joel question, his eyebrow arching in amusement.

“I mean you’re gorgeous,” you were blunt with your response. How else could you put it? “Look at you Joel.”

“Thank you,” Joel chuckled under his breath, his dimples becoming more visible. You couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or charmed by your comment. It was also somewhat dark so it didn’t allow you to see the full emotion in Joel’s dark eyes. “As are you.”

Hearing that sent a rush through your veins.

“And to answer your question,” Joel began, pulling his right hand from his pocket to reach up to brush his fingers through his messy hair. “Not really.”

“Not really?” you repeated, confused what question he was referring to. You were still focused on the idea that he thought you were gorgeous.

“Sex. I don’t have much of it,” Joel admitted, biting at his bottom lip when his dark eyes locked with yours.

“That’s a shame,” you frowned realizing that you had reached the end of the corn maze leading you back out into the open area of the scare zone again. Most of the crowd was at the haunted hayride or the haunted barn. And anyone else was really sitting at the tables talking or hanging out. The area you were walking around was more for the younger kids and since it was nighttime, the area was rather empty. “How brave are you?”

“That depends on what you’re asking,” Joel asserted, turning to face you with a confused expression. “Why do you ask?”

“I would happily take you behind the building and give you a blowjob,” you offered in a whisper having Joel release a long exhale of air from his throat. His shoulders slouched forward, his brow line rising before he looked over his shoulder to see if you were alone. “I noticed that anyone that leaves that building goes out the side. No one goes behind it.”

“Wow,” Joel muttered and it made you panic. Yeah, that was forward, but you were jumping on what you could, hoping that you could get something from this moment. You were heavily attracted to this man and you had the time to try. Looking back toward the building that you were referring to, Joel seemed to actually be considering what you said. “You know…” Joel paused, looking back toward the large group of people again, “A blowjob sounds nice, but I’d much rather fuck you.”

Hooking his fingers firmly around your wrist, Joel led you through the field. Your heart was hammering inside of your chest with the excitement flooding your veins. As you rounded the corner of the building to the maze, you made sure that no one was watching when Joel firmly pushed you against the wall eliciting a surprise gasp from you.

“Can you be quiet?” Joel wondered waiting for your answer before he did anything else. Giving him a nod, you couldn’t form words. Or maybe you were just trying to prove already that you could be quiet. Smirking, Joel bobbed his head about and looked around you to check to make sure you were alone. Once he was certain that you were, he stepped forward trapping you between him and the building. Caressing in over your hips, his large palms squeezed at them with the warmth of his breath lingering over your mouth. “You are wild, y’know that?”

“Only in the best of ways,” you whispered, your hand pressing in over the center of his firm chest. It was then that Joel stole a kiss from your lips. It was actually pretty sweet for a first kiss in a moment like this. It lingered and it felt good. Tipping back, his eyes gazed over you and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There was only a small amount of light that allowed you to see him from the flood lights the place had set up in the main area and the light from the moon. Palming up over his chest, you slid your fingers in underneath the jacket he was wearing to caress over his arms. Underneath you felt the firmness of his biceps and it took your breath away. “You are a fine specimen of a man Joel Miller.”

“Just you wait until you realize just how fine,” Joel growled, hammering his mouth down over yours. This time it was a very dominant, passionate kiss that had you tipping up on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Parting your lips allowed him to brush his tongue between your lips and you happily returned the gesture. Gasping out, you were surprised at Joel’s quickness when he turned you to face the wooden walls that someone had thrown up quickly in order to make this place. “We have to be quick, otherwise, I reckon I’d love to kiss you all night.”

Sucking in a sharp breath of air, your eyes slammed shut and you purred out at the feeling of Joel pressing in behind you. His hands caressed up over the sides of your body and then back again. Pushing his hips forward toward your bottom had your eyes coming to a tight close. God, you wanted this so bad. And it was super naughty considering you were in public, not far away from a large group of people.

Forcefully, Joel pushed up the material of your shirt and the light jacket that you were wearing. Finding the top of your pants, he hastily tugged the material getting it down to the bottom of your thighs along with your panties. The sudden coolness of the night air sent a shuddering chill throughout your body. What followed was the sound of Joel swiftly pulling open his belt and working his pants open.

“This is going to be hard and fast. We have to make it quick, but don’t make a sound or else we can get caught. D’you understand?” Joel grunted in your ear, pressing in closer to you and it took your breath away. “D’you?”

“Yes sir,” you panted, hissing out at the incredible amount of pressure that was put over your hips with Joel moving you where he wanted you. Bracing your hands against the wall of the building, you licked your lips and did your best to hold back the whine that you wanted to let out when you felt the tip of Joel’s cock tracing over the length of your sex. God, you wished you could have seen it, but all you could do was picture it when he teased it over your clit and back toward your entrance. A moment later, Joel’s hips bounced up toward yours filling you. “Fu…”

You had to bite down on your bottom lip to silence yourself, knowing the rules. The stretching feeling was immediate. Fuck he was big. Joel stepped forward, forcing you closer toward the building with your face pressing against the coolness of it. Once he got his footing, Joel’s thrusts were meticulous. They were hard and focused. Other than his breathing growing louder, Joel was doing a pretty good job at staying quiet.

You on the other hand were fighting to stay quiet. Every bounce forward of his hips had a smacking sound filling the air. Faint winces were falling from your lips and you started to eagerly bounce your hips back against Joel’s movements. You wanted to feel every part of him inside of you. It was an addictive feeling and you hadn’t even had it that long.

The smacking of his testicles against your clit with every forceful thrust forward was driving you crazy with desire. God, you wished this didn’t have to be a quickie, but still you were loving every second of it. Pressing his head further against the side of your neck, Joel’s breaths were more broken.

“You were a happy surprise,” Joel alerted you with a quiet voice, the warmth of his breath sending chills down your spine. Dropping your left hand down, you wrapped your arm around you to cup at Joel’s bottom. Beneath your fingertips, it flexed with every thrust forward he made. Soon with your urgings, he was pounding into you and you were having a hard time hiding the sounds. Curling his fingers around your mouth had you moaning out into his palm. An amused rumble fell from him with him angling his hips differently. “We have to keep you quiet now.”

Your legs felt like Jell-O. If he didn’t have you pressed up against the wall and he wasn’t keeping you up with his other arm wrapped around your waist, you were certain that you wouldn’t be able to stand on your own.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Joel slurred in your ear and it had your eyes closing shut tightly. The tip of Joel’s cock was hitting your g-spot with every forceful thrust that he made forward. Your thighs were tensing up with a fire building in the pit of your stomach. So badly you wanted to make a noise, but Joel’s hand was keeping you from doing so. With the way you were shaking, Joel must have picked up on it with his thrusts becoming more powerful. They slowed down, but the force of them had you bouncing up on your toes toward the building. And after a few more determined thrusts, it had Joel pulling his hips back and away from you when your body shuddered and a wet sound followed. With an amused rumble, Joel still kept his fingers wrapped around your lips with your body now slouched forward shaking. “I did not picture you squirting during this, but I like it…”

Joel’s free hand found it’s way between your legs to caress at your clitoris, his fingers having you bucking up toward his touch, “how do you want me to finish?”

Shakily dropping to your knees had Joel smiling when you turned to face him. Stepping forward, he allowed you to grab at his hips to pull him closer to you. Taking your time, you curled your fingers around Joel’s length, pumping his flesh in your grasp. And when he let out a shuddering breath, you took him into your mouth, working to bob your head over his cock at the same tempo you were caressing over the base of it with.

“That’s it,” Joel licked his lips, his fingers pressing in over the back of your head to help lead your movements over his erection. Wet sounds were falling from his parted lips with the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Thrusting toward your mouth, Joel was undoubtedly wanting to get that quick release so no one would catch the two of you. “Fuck…”

In that moment you felt Joel tensing up, his cock throbbing inside of your mouth. Bouncing his hips forward, Joel pressed you further down his length. The first line of his cum hit the back of your throat and you did your best to swallow it down. Continuing his release, Joel clung tightly to your head biting back the sounds that he wanted to make.

By the time he was done, he released you allowing you to pull back and away to rest on your knees. Joel’s cock twitched and you licked your lips, cherishing the taste of him that was still there. Reaching for his pants, Joel pulled them back over his hips. Working his softening cock back into his pants, Joel was quick to fix his clothes before helping you up.

“Come here,” Joel nuzzled his nose in against the side of your neck while he helped work your pants back up over your waist.

“So you’re a gentleman too?” you teased still feeling uneasy on your legs, thankful that Joel was holding onto you.

“Something like that,” Joel snorted, collecting your chin between his thumb and index finger. Gifting you with another kiss, Joel hummed against your flesh. You assumed he tasted himself against your flesh with him drawing his tongue out over his bottom lip. Looking to his watch, Joel huffed and shrugged his shoulders. “We need to get going.”

“That’s a shame,” you frowned hating how quickly something this amazing had to end.

“Nothing about tonight was a shame,” Joel corrected you, outstretching his hand to caress his thumb in over your bottom lip. “We’re just going to have to find a time where we can do this again and make it last all night.”  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sugar Cookie

Warnings: non/dubcon, allusions to abuse and neglect, oral sex, manipulation, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You try to learn some new traditions for your first Christmas with Tony.

Character: Tony Stark

Day Eleven of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - experiencing a new festive tradition 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stare at the floating screen and suck in your cheeks. It's only your first try but you're feeling overwhelmed. Just like always, you can't follow simple directions. You're a fuck up. 

It makes you wonder how you ever ended up here. In this immaculate kitchen with its shining marble counter tops, sparkling appliances, and many gadgets and accessories. Silver pans dangle from the rack hung over the island and knives are stuck to the magnet hold mounted on the wall. Yet you've made a mess of it all as flour dusts over the gold-veined surface and the smell of burnt dough tinges your nostrils. 

"Miss, is appears you've burnt the snickerdoodles," Friday says in her matter-of-fact way. 

"I did," you groan and plant your elbows on the counter, cup your chin in defeat. "I'm sorry." 

"You don't need to apologise to me," she assures. "You should start again at step one. 'Preheat the oven to 375 Farenheit...' 

"The oven's still on, you drone as you turn your face down. "I've ruined it all. I tried so hard but it's just all spoiled." 

"Miss, you can try again. I've already ordered more ingredients so that you can make everything," she insists. 

You puff. That dang computer. Of course, Tony insists that isn't what she is. She's a companion. She's more than code and she's a lot smarter than you, so you should listen. 

You push yourself up as you stick your lip out pathetically. You've never baked before. Tony knows this but it's a tradition. Not your tradition. You never even celebrated Christmas before. You watched it on the old VHS'. The films about daughters or sons or lovers trying to make it home for the holiday. Stuck between four walls, you always just assumed it was another fantasy. 

"Miss, you should dump the burnt cookies. They are not fit for consumption. And put a fresh sheet of parchment paper down." 

You nod and do as she says. Your hands are still fettered in the oven gloves as you take the tray and carry it to the bin. She opens it and you wince. You're still not used to that. 

You return to the counter and pull off the thick gloves. You tear off a new sheet of parchment and lay it on the pan. A frown tugs at your cheeks until they hurt. What if you can't do this? What if you disappoint Tony? He'd just be another person who you let down. There may not be many of those, but you can count everyone you've known on one hand. 

"Begin with the topping," Friday directs you. "Combine the granulated sugar and cinnamon together in a small bowl..." 

It's easier to let her tell you what to do. Almost like she's thinking for you. Tony does that too. He tells you what needs to be done so you're not so worried. Sometimes though, it's too much. All those expectations. Before, you were only ever expected to be quiet. 

You make three lines of four. The dough balls are perfectly arranged. Now you just need to not mess them up. 

"I would be happy to set a timer, miss." Friday offers. 

"Thanks," you say over your shoulder as you slide the pan into the oven. 

"You've made enough dough for three more batches. In the meantime, you could begin on the fruitcake," she suggests. 

"Uh, sure," you agree. 

"Mmm, smells like a fire," Tony's voice jars you before the companion-programmed interface can give her next command. "What're we workin' on, beautiful?" 

You face him and press your sweaty palms to the red apron with the frill edging. "Cookies. Or cake--" 

"There are a dozen snickerdoodles cooking with eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds left," Friday supplies. "And she was about to begin the fruitcake." 

You cringe and nod, "what she said." 

"What about the meringues? Peppermint? Just like I said?" He asks. 

"Sure, uh," you gulp, "you know, Mr. Stark, Tony... I'm not very good at this." 

"You'll get better, beautiful. Besides, it's tradition." 

"Y-yeah, I know, but I... I don't want to screw up or make you sick." 

"Baby, you're just fine. I know you can do it." He steps closer and puts his hands on your arms, "I see what no one else saw in you, huh? You got potential, you just gotta try." 

"I am. Trying, sir," you say. 

"I know, beautiful," he reaches to tap the end of your nose. "Don't be so mopey, alright? Look at all you got; a gorgeous kitchen, a gorgeous house, a gorgeous man..." 

You flick your lashes shyly and look away. He leans in and you let him kiss you. That's getting easier, even if the other things still hurt. 

"You know, there's nothing else I could ask for," he purrs as he draws back, "well, maybe one thing. Whiskey?" 

He looks at you with his deep brown eyes and that crooked grin. It was that look that comforted you the day you met. When the red and gold receded and revealed the very human man beneath. The first man you knew that didn't loathe you outright. 

"Yes, Tony," you answer and spin around. The liquor cabinet opens as you approach. You thank Friday and take out the dark bottle. A cupboard opens and you pull out a glass to pour. You bring the drink to him and smile nervously. "Here you are." 

"You know, seeing as this is your first Christmas and all, you're learning all my traditions," he leans a hand on the counter and sniffs the whiskey before he sips. You watch him tentatively, "we could start a few new ones." 

"New?" You echo curiously. 

He winks and takes another swig, "yeah, all this sweetness," he looks around at the cluttered ingredients, "I'm thinking something even sweeter."  

"Oh?" You bring your hands together and wring them. "What's that?" 

"Friday, scram," he looms close to you and sets his glass down.  

"Reconfiguring to standby," Friday responds promptly. 

He steps up and frames your hips with his hands. He sucks his teeth as he looks you up and down. You shiver as you're reminded of the night before. 

"How about you hop up here?" He keeps one hand on you as he sweeps aside the bag of flower and canister of baking powder with his other. "And feed me another kinda dessert." 

You look at him. You think you know what he means but you’re not sure. You’ll be embarrassed if you’re right. The last time he tried that you couldn’t stay still. 

“Oh,” you bat your lashes. 

“Oh,” he repeats coyly as he squeezes your hip. “You’re doing all this work, baby, why don’t you let me do some?” 

“Um, later... er, the cookies--” 

“I got a hankering for something better than cookies,” he grabs at your skirt and shoves his hands under the hem. He gropes your ass suddenly as he pulls you flush to him. You squeal in surprise. “What are these?” He pinches the fabric of your panties. “I didn’t pull these out.” 

“Uh, I...” you gulp. You didn’t think he’d be unhappy, you can see through every pair he gave you. “I’m sorry.” 

“Take ‘em off,” his voice deepens as he lets you go and steps back. He crosses his arms as his lips straighten to a dire expression. “Now.” 

“Yes, sir,” you blanch and open, your thumbs catching on your skirt before you can get the panties down. 

You teeter as you shove them to your knees and they fall to your feet. You bend to untangle them and stand. Tony takes them from you and flings them without looking. 

“Now, baby, I’m ready for the full course,” He takes you by the waist and turns your back to the counter. “You gonna serve it up to me?” 

You stare at him, speechless. His thumbs curl into your stomach then ease. He trails his hands to your hips and you yelp as he lifts you. You land on the counter and knock over a bowl as you slap your palms on the marble. 

“Tony!” You squeal. 

He hushes you as he raises the apron and your dress up your thighs, “open up for me, beautiful.” 

“Please, can’t we wait--” 

“I’ve been waiting,” he growls and bends before you can stop him. Not that you would even try. 

He grazes your thigh with his lips and his facial hair tickles you. You quiver as he nuzzles along the crease of your leg and against your pelvis. You tense as he grips your knees, holding them wide as he shoves his mouth against your cunt. 

You cry out again. You spasm as his tongue glides between your lips. His flicks around your clit and you whine. It’s so sensitive you could explode. 

You grasp the back of his head and try to push him away, “it’s still too much--” 

He hums and keeps going, ignoring your protests as he suckles on your bud. The pressure is enough to make you buck. You lean back on your arm and hiss. He puts his hand over yours and presses it to his skull, as if to make you urge him on. 

He wiggles his head as he eats you up unabashedly. He snarls and groans and laps. You whimper and shake, your insides consumed in flames. You can hardly stand the heat as he seeps through to your skin. You push your nails into his scalp and murmur his name. 

“Mmm, delicious,” he slithers against your thigh, pressing a wet kiss to your leg. 

You close your eyes as the sight of his head just peeking out beneath the rumpled apron makes you blush. You bite your lip and shudder as he goes back to his eager tending. He clutches your hand tighter as his tongue swirls around and around. 

The smell of smoke tinges your nose again. You sniff and flutter your lashes. You open your eyes and see the silver curls climbing out of the stove. You squeak and try to twist free of Tony. He grabs your thighs and sinks in fingertips in until you ache. 

“Ton-y,” you eke out, “the cook-ies!” 

“Leave em,” He growls as he snakes his hands under your thighs and hooks his arms around them. He yanks you so you fall onto your back, splaying wider as you crush mixing spoons and bags of chocolate chips and sugar. “I got more than enough right here.” 

[aesthetictarlos]

allieeeee!! congrats on 500!! 🥳 may I please request 9 or 13, whichever takes your fancy! 💖

Char 🥹💖 thank you soooo much!!

I've already written prompt 9 here so I'll go with 13.

Tommy’s well aware that his boyfriend is a catch. 

He fell for his gorgeous smile and his bright eyes the moment he met him and he noticed early on that Evan has a sunshine personality that just draws everyone’s attention. Whenever he steps in a room, it’s like time slows and the world stops spinning, so he’s used to catching people throwing appreciative glances at his boyfriend. 

Most of the time, it doesn't bother him that much; he’s jealous, always has been, but he knows Evan only has eyes for him and he feels secure in their relationship. Besides, he trusts his boyfriend so much and he always feels a bit smug when someone hits on him and he overhears him saying that he’s flattered but he’s taken. 

Other times, though, Tommy feels like a character in a cartoon and wonders if other people can see smoke coming out of his ears and notice how he’s looking daggers at the person hitting on his boyfriend. Today is one of those days. 

They're in a pub downtown, listening to a local band and decompressing after a week of long and exhausting shifts. Buck is at the counter, ordering them another beer and chatting with the bartender, a good-looking guy with black hair and a charming smile. A good-looking guy that's clearly giving him a once over and that has already winked at him four times in a row while making cocktails. 

That's not the problem, though. The problem is the tall, muscular guy next to him at the counter; he's leaning more and more into his space and bumping their shoulders together and touching his bicep all the time despite Buck putting distance between them and gesturing his head no. 

Tommy sees red. Guys that can't take no for an answer really piss him off and he can't just stay there and look while that guy squeezes Buck's shoulder and winks and nods towards the bathroom.

“Man, I already told you. I'm not interested, I have a boyfriend and we have no intentions of opening up our relationship,” Buck says right as Tommy is close enough to hear. 

“I'm not jealous,” the guy insists. “Can you at least give me your number? I'm a stylist and a fashion designer, and I work with important brands. I could show you around my workplace, it's cool.” 

“And his boyfriend is a firefighter pilot,” Tommy interjects, curling a possessive arm around Buck's waist and squeezing. 

The guy gives him a once over and whistles appreciatively, smirking. “Wow, are you a Greek God or something? You're a hot couple.” 

“That’s flattering but as my boyfriend said, we're not interested,” Tommy replies firmly, looking the guy in the eye until he takes the hint and disappears into the crowd. 

“Wow, babe, that was hot,” Buck comments suggestively, turning his head to kiss his neck. “You're so hot, like a Greek God.” 

Tommy groans. “Please. That was embarrassing.” 

“He's right though, we're a hot couple. The hottest.”

(Slightly inspired by the Tarlos scene in 2x04)

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF THE BEST AUTHORS ON THIS PLATFORM.

I have a request is there any way you could do the “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and I can’t stop thinking about you" prompt but with Zoro. Having a female reader just recently joined the crew only for them to be enemies. Both of them have a history of being enemies and now the whole crew sees them fight so the other is 5ft feet under. Only for them to be confused as to why their heart beats like crazy around each other.

Would really appreciate it if you did my request! 🥰🙏

Thank you so much for your kind words @mars-mizuko and @beachaddict48 🥰🥰 I love reading your reactions to my little silly stories and I tried my hardest to make you happy with this request! It turned out a bit bigger than the others, but I don't want to limit myself with the story I want to tell and I've accepted that some requests will have bigger fics than others! I do sincerely hope you enjoy this! Thank you for participating in the event and for all of your support!

Source for Pic

Backstabber

Word Count: 3637

Tags: fem!reader; enemies to lovers; suggestive content; implied sex; cursing; sexual tension; idiots in love;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You never thought you'd meet the infamous bounty hunter Roronoa Zoro again after four years apart. Yet here you are, part of his crew, and all he wants is to get rid of you.

|Masterlist|

“No, Luffy.” 

Two words. Just two words and I already want to rip his head off his shoulders. This is gonna be great!

“Why?” Luffy cocks his head to the side, his pinky reaching inside his nose in search of the annoyance there.

“Shut up, Mosshead!” Sanji growls, his face close to Zoro’s closed-off expression. “Luffy, yes. She would be the most wonderful addition to our crew.”

Aw, see, the cook’s nice!

“She’s not trustworthy.” The swordsman has both his eyes closed but you can see the way his jaw ticks as he tries to keep his emotions at bay.

“Ditto, Roronoa, yet I just helped save your ass.” You bite back. Two can play the accusation game. It’s actually been four years since the last time you saw Roronoa Zoro. He was skinnier then, less… bulk. Still the same asshole, though.

His eye snaps open and you notice yet another difference. He’s more dangerous, ruthless, and predatory. “Measure your words, Backstabber. I’m not the same man I was four years ago.”

You inch forward, squaring your shoulders and measuring up to his height, even if you can’t reach it. “It’s too bad I am not the same woman I was four years ago, either.”

Nami and Robin watch the interaction with veiled smirks. Sanji is seething and being restrained by Franky to prevent him from attacking Zoro for speaking rudely to a lady. 

“Welcome her in, Luffy.” Robin says with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I’d say she fits right in, Cap.” Nami says with a chuckle.

And just like that, you’re welcomed into the most dysfunctional pirate crew you’ve ever met.

-*-

You and Zoro don’t like each other. Period. There’s no truce, there isn’t even a semblance of a fake peace. It’s an all-out conflict between the two of you and the Sunny has become an active warzone. 

“I don’t want you anywhere near my space, Backstabber!”

“You don’t own the ship, Roronoa!” 

Nami accepts the refreshment Sanji brings her and sighs, tilting her head up to where the two of you are bickering. You just wanted to train and shake away inertia, and the crow’s nest is where the barbells are. 

But nooo, Mr. Salty claims that this is his space! As if he fucking owns the ship.

“LUFFY!” You both yell out the window trying to get your captain to resolve your issue this time. 

“It’s been a week.” Robin says weakly from her perch on the lawn chair.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Nami whispers back to her.

“Guys, make it stop, they’re so loud!” Chopper whines as he cuddles in Robin’s lap.

Luffy, bless him, doesn’t even move from his spot, so you sigh, pushing your index finger and thumb against the bridge of your nose trying to contain the massive migraine threatening to settle behind your eyes. 

“Look here, Roronoa, we have to make this work. Whether we like it or not, we are now Nakama and-...”

“I could never be your Nakama!” He hisses, dropping the barbell near his feet with the loudest thud imaginable. Sweat drips from his hair and runs down his temples, making the vein there glisten as it throbs menacingly. His (big, muscular, defined) chest heaves from barely contained rage and you force your eyes to settle back on his face because, somehow, the sight of his sweaty, glistening pecs turns you hot and bothered for reasons that have nothing to do with anger. 

“Well boo-freaking-hoo. Learn to deal with it, will you? You’re a big boy.” You say slowly, emphasising each word with a step in his direction. You’re taken aback by your closeness when his scent envelops you and dazes you in more ways than one. 

It’s familiar and comforting: steel, salt, sweat…

But it’s also intoxicating and dangerous and new…

Fuck.

-*-

It’s only been one week and Zoro is ready to throw you overboard. Too bad you don’t have a devil fruit or he could watch you sink without a hint of remorse. That being the case, it would just be funny as hell to watch you get pissed off at him while soaking wet.

Wet like you are now. 

He found you in the middle of your workout in his crow’s nest using his training equipment in his space. You’d been there long enough for sweat to make your hair cling to your forehead, for your top to turn a darker shade and cling sinfully to your curves, and for your sweet scent to mingle with his sanctuary, making his head spin. 

Zoro feels like growling, though he’s not sure if he’s growling for the right reasons. 

And now you’re approaching him with fearless steps, your finger pointing at him accusingly, while your lusciously plump lips form words: ‘boo-freaking-hoo’. And all he can think about is how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“Get the fuck out.” He growls for real this time and you stop pacing. He knows he’s giving off a dangerous aura and he means it. Because his heart is doing some freaking weird shit he doesn’t want to dissect right now and he needs you out of his sight.

Immediately.

It’s a good thing you obey and scurry out - still pissed and calling him all sorts of names, though - because the strain in his pants was about to force him to bend you over the nearest surface and have his way with you.

And he definitely can’t do that.

-*-

Eventually, with mediation from Robin and Franky, you and Zoro settle on a schedule for using the crow’s nest to train. It’s not so hard, since Zoro spends half the morning and afternoon napping, leaving you plenty of time for your daily workout.

“Why do you and Zoro hate each other?” Chopper asks innocently during lunch, and the table falls into an awkward silence. No one tries to change the subject since everyone’s curious.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as memories from the past come rushing back. You and Zoro used to bounty hunt together. You met randomly while tracking the same wanted pirate. After beating the pirate’s crew and helping each other out, you split the bounty and became friends. 

From then on, the friendship blossomed. Zoro had an easier laugh before, he wasn’t so guarded, so closed off. 

Did I cause him to be like that?

You bonded. Actually, so much more than that, you were head over heels for him. The whole works: stomach aflutter with butterflies, fireworks exploding behind closed eyelids, a drum instead of a heart. 

And then there was a misunderstanding. You got a tip about a small-time fry, barely 6k berries, hardly worth your time. But the asshole was harassing a town and you knew you could take him alone. Zoro was collecting a previous bounty so you didn’t even tell him where you were going. 

Turns out the fry wasn’t easy or small. It was huge. It was 16k, not 6k, and he was a tough nut to crack. You could’ve used Zoro’s strength, but you managed. Scraped, bruised but prideful. When you went to collect, intending to share the bounty with him, Zoro was beyond angry. He found out where you’d gone and assumed you’d gone behind his back to collect the bounty and the fame for yourself. 

Things escalated. You fell out with each other.

Over a freaking misunderstanding. 

You were stubborn as fuck. And you soon found out he was equally stubborn, if not more. So here you were. Still mad at each other over something that had happened more than four years ago.

“We just don’t get along, Chopper. We used to be friends, and then… we stopped.”

Zoro’s glass nearly shatters with the force he uses to set it down on the table. “Bullshit, Backstabber.”

“Stop calling me that, asshole.”

“Guys, guys, you’re at the table…” Franky starts.

“Backstabber? Why? You went behind my back and collected a huge bounty without telling me. That sounds like backstabbing to me!”

“You didn’t even let me explain!” You rise, palms slapping against the wood, causing your water glass to turn and spill. 

“What was there to explain? How you got greedy? How you abandoned me without a word? Because that shit stung more than the fucking bounty!”

You gasp and take a step back, grasping the underlying hurt in his words. Abandoned him…? Is that what he thinks happened?

“I… I never meant to abandon you…” Lowering your eyes, you sense the crew shifting uncomfortably under your words. 

Zoro is silent. 

Just as you raise your head to meet his eyes, a cannon blast shakes the ship, forcing the crew outside to battle an oncoming enemy. 

-*-

In the heat of the battle, all animosities are forgotten. You and Zoro move as one, even after four years apart, you can still fight back to back as you used to. It’s both exhilarating and overwhelming. 

Zoro still hasn’t calmed the frenzied rhythm of his heart. You had claimed you never meant to abandon him. Were you speaking the truth? Because, as far as he knew, you had chosen to leave him behind, collect the big bounty and disappear from his life without ever looking back. 

That had been the biggest disappointment he'd faced in a long while. After four years, he thought you were part of his past. No longer a constant presence in his mind, or worse,  in his dreams. 

You were gone, and good riddance.

What were the chances of him meeting you again in the Grand Line, anyway?

The Marines attacking the Straw Hats are predictably weak, but there are many of them and Zoro is distracted by the earlier conversation. Apparently, so are you, because there’s no way in hell four-years-ago-you would’ve let that attack slip through your defences, let alone now-you. 

Zoro grunts and slices through the three Marines in front of him to reach the bastard pinning you against the Sunny’s wall. His sword blade pressed to your throat, your arm laying limp and bloodied, rendered useless for the rest of the fight. 

“I’m gonna count to three and before I fucking reach two, you’d better have let go of her and be out of my fucking sight, or you’ll lose your limbs one by one to my blades. Starting with that hand.” He growls as he notices the Marine pressing his hand against your chest to keep you pinned to the wall. 

-*-

Fuck, that was hot. 

How can your heart be racing this fast when you’re facing possible death at the hands of a freaking weak Marine? You have no idea how you got into this position. You know how to fight better than any of these army fools! 

You were distracted, dumbass.

Yeah, you were distracted. You were thinking about the possibilities and the what-ifs of four years ago, if only you had spoken to Zoro before he thought you abandoned him. And all that thinking got you pinned to the wall with an injured arm and a blade to your throat.  

“One…” Zoro starts counting and you hold your breath. You’ve seen him fight, the Marine better run. “Two…”

His voice is eerily calm, but the intensity of his words leaves no room for argument. He’s dangerous, he’s lethal, and he’s not playing games.  

Even though the Marine drops you unceremoniously and starts to run, you know he isn't getting far. The manic grin on Zoro’s face just before he slashes the Marine makes the critters in your belly flutter and dance all at once.

Fuck.

Zoro did start with his hand.

-*-

“She’s fine!” Chopper exclaims as he steps out of the infirmary with a wide smile, his hoof clasping your uninjured hand as you join your Nakama by the galley. The crew receives you with cheers and you feel a bit ashamed. You wanted to prove your worth but the battle didn’t go the way you meant it to. Still, none of them make you feel unworthy.

Robin fusses over you, Luffy tries to hug you before Nami stops him with a punch, Usopp is already retelling the tale of the thousand Marines who attacked you and Sanji glides to your side with a refreshment and amiable words, worried, anxious and happy you’re safe.

And that’s where Zoro draws the line. “Can we talk?” His gruff voice rolls over you like a caress, and you bite the inside of your cheek trying to snap out of it. 

“Yeah.” You follow him to the crow’s nest unsure of what he wants to say. The entire walk is wrapped in piercing silence, tension hanging like a thick fog. Once you arrive, you’re too wound up to sit, so you start pacing. 

“Explain.” He says, apparently too wound up to sit as well.

The fuck?

“Explain what?”

“What you meant at lunch.”

You try to cross your arms over your chest, but the injured limb is still out of action so, instead, you place your good hand on your hip and stamp your foot. “Listen, honey,” you mock, “you better start using your big boy words because I’m not going to play riddles with you and-...”

Your sentence is cut short when he takes two strides forward, forcing you to step back until you collide with the training bars. Zoro’s face is inches from yours and the ticking in his jaw is back. 

His eye pins yours, and your legs wobble under the intensity of his stare. “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you,” he drawls, slamming his hand against the bars beside your face. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The world spins as you suck in a breath, trying to understand his words. What does he mean?

“I can’t stop thinking about your lips…” His thumb presses against your lower lip, tracing it roughly. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing your neck.” His lips brush against the pulse on your neck, teeth nibbling and pinching. “I can’t stop thinking about you… squirming under me!”

Zoro’s hand gropes the flesh of your hip, his fingers sinking in, pulling a soft moan from your lips. “Tell me to stop.” He whispers, his tongue tracing your earlobe with sinful licks. “Fuck. Just say the words.”

Your head falls back against the bars in abandon as his hand drops from your hips, fingers inching under the waistband of your jeans. 

“Don’t stop.” You sigh.

And he doesn’t.

-*-

“I didn’t abandon you.” You’re still in bliss after the moment you just shared. You had thought about this, fantasied, dreamed, imagined… every possible variation of what just happened. But it was still better. “I didn’t know the pirate had a 16k berries bounty. I thought it was 6k. I was going to take care of him, call it a day and meet you to collect the bounty.”

Zoro’s still, his chest still heaving slightly, sweat clinging sinfully to where your mouth had been moments ago. 

“But then you left, thinking I betrayed you, without giving me a chance to explain before disappearing from my life.” Your legs are still shaking and aching. Zoro was brutal and intense. And you loved every second of it. 

“Well that makes sense…” He says as his expression softens.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your disbelief makes you face him with a scowl and bared teeth. 

“Look at how much fun we could’ve been having for four years instead of hating each other. My bad, I guess!” His cheeky grin only makes you seethe more and you scramble to your feet to collect your clothes and leave him there. 

“Unbelievable! You’re an ass, Zoro.” You state as you open the hatch to leave him and his smugness behind.

“Meet me later?”

The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and then to your ears as you face him. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. You show him the middle finger before closing the hatch. “After dinner in this spot. Be naked and don’t be late. Asshole.”

Roronoa Zoro used to be a friend, then an enemy, then a Nakama… now you can’t deny all the fluttering in your belly when he looks at you. But the fluttering’s fine. You can live with that, it’s actually exhilarating. 

It’s the frenzied beating of your heart that you have a problem with. That, and the clenching in your chest when you and Zoro gaze at each other. 

That’s what scares you.

-*-

Dinner that evening is the tensest meal you’ve had on the Sunny since joining the crew. On the outside everything looks normal. Luffy is eating from everybody’s plate, Sanji is fawning over Nami, Robin and you, and Usopp is entertaining the table with how he single-handedly defeated one hundred marines in the fight you had earlier. 

But every time you glance at Zoro, he’s pinning you under his gaze, an infuriating smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he downs an entire bottle of sake. You try your damn hardest to focus on the food in front of you instead of letting your mind revisit the most mind-shattering and intense moment of your life. 

Nami asks if you’re alright and you weakly respond with a yes, saying that you’re just tired from the fight, but you don’t miss her curious expression when she catches the way Zoro is staring at you. Fuck. If he doesn’t stop doing that, he might as well wear a sign on his forehead saying you just had sex. 

Bastard.

Zoro leaves first and after helping Sanji clear the plates - even if he vehemently refuses your help - you make your way up to the crow’s nest. You told Zoro to be waiting naked, but you’re actually having second thoughts. Has he forgiven you for what happened four years ago? Have you forgiven him for not even wanting to hear your explanations? 

You’re not even sure if you’re friends, acquaintances, enemies or something else entirely. And that needs to be settled. 

Taking a deep steadying breath before opening the hatch, you brace yourself for whatever is coming, but you can’t help a small squeak from escaping your lips as you see Zoro waiting for you, bare-chested, cross-legged and leaning up against the bars.

“You’re late, Backstabber.”

“Your pants are still on, Mr. Salty.”

He chuckles and the sound makes your heart skip a beat weirdly. Should you talk to Chopper about this? It seems like something you should worry about. 

Zoro moves away from the bars and takes a step your way, that smug grin tilting his lips in an endearing way. “You want them off that bad?”

You take another step back, though your legs feel like jelly. “Smug asshole.”

He doesn’t answer you with a cheeky reply and his lips turn into a thin line again. That same closed-off expression he had when you first joined and now it seems like the step back you took was a step back in… whatever this is.

“Look…” He says your name while scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry. About the way things ended between us all that time ago. It seems silly to still be upset about it, especially now that you’ve explained yourself.”

You nod, agreeing and there’s a lightness to your chest that wasn’t there before. A sort of closure to that chapter of your lives, something you’ve carried with you even if you were unaware of it. 

“Also,” he continues as he takes another step forward. This time you don’t back away. “About what I said the other day - about us not being Nakama - I didn’t mean it that way.” He sighs and reaches for your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I was just angry.”

“Are you still angry?” You ask, your breath catching slightly in your throat. 

Zoro’s finger brushes the inside of your wrist, absentmindedly. “I don’t even know.” He lets out a sigh that resembles a grunt and tugs at your wrist, pulling you to him. “But I know I can’t go another day without you, let alone four years.”

Your heart skips another beat as his words sink in, and this time it continues to beat in this weird staccato rhythm. “Then don’t…” You finally murmur, pressing yourself against him, feeling the heat of his skin against your fingers. 

He grins again, that shit-eating grin he used to give you back when things were still fine. “Good.” He drawls out as he pinches your chin and crashes his lips against yours in a desperate claim. His touch electrifies you and tingles in places it shouldn’t, lighting you up from within and making you feel more alive than ever. 

-*-

Time passes and something shifts. The crew notices it since you bicker less. You’re pretty sure Nami and Robin know what is going on between the both of you, though they don’t say anything. But it should be a dead giveaway since you’re ‘training’ together now instead of sticking to your separate training schedule. 

You still argue on a daily basis, though now there’s an underlying understanding that wasn’t there before. You’re not arguing out of past sorrows, hurt, or unresolved conflict. You’re arguing because it’s just your nature. And you notice that there’s something deeper in your connection. Those skipped beats of your heart, that fluttering in your belly… Those are all part of something far more intense that you don’t want to name yet. But you realise that there’s no rush in naming whatever you have. You have time.

Because Zoro might still call you ‘Backstabber’ with an annoyingly smug smirk, and you might call him ‘Mr. Salty’ with equal fervour now and again, but at the end of the day, you’re both exactly where you want to be: right beside each other.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi

[blacktofade]

Gemtho Fortnight Day 5

prompt: rpf Gemtho meeting up at a bar, Gem being extremely nervous and getting really drunk, Etho bringing her back to his place and them drunk fucking as a gemtho fortnight prompt! <33

cw: rpf, nsfw, drinking

The two cocktails before Etho even arrives are a mistake. Which she only realizes when Etho slides into the booth across from her.

She blinks heavily and he glances down at her empty glasses.

“Starting without me?” he asks, voice so achingly familiar that Gem's chest tightens.

“Holy shit,” she says before she can stop herself, and the laugh Etho lets out is as breathy as it always sounds online.

“Hi,” she adds belatedly and Etho’s smile softens.

“Hi, Gem,” he replies, and Gem really can’t believe it.

She’s been a mess of nerves for days, weeks, leading up to this moment, and she thinks the drinks were the only things keeping her from sprinting back to the safety of her hotel.

“I didn’t know if you’d show,” she admits, tongue loosened from alcohol and Etho watches her quietly.

He nudges at one of her empty glasses, not looking up.

“You flew all this way.”

She did. But he’d been the one to suggest it and Gem wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.

She nudges his foot under the table, and he finally meets her gaze again.

“You need to catch up,” she tells him with a grin, and she thinks she might be in love with how crooked his smile is when he grins back at her.

She can’t help but feel like she’s going to make a few more bad life choices by the end of the night, but when he nudges her foot in return, she wonders if maybe he will too.

*

Gem loves being right, but what she loves even more is the way Etho pins her against the inside of his front door, his hands hot on her waist as he kisses her.

He tastes like the beer he’d been drinking and the truffle fries they’d shared — an attempt to fight the amount of alcohol they’d had, though it hadn’t worked.

She gets one hand up the back of his shirt, arching against him as he pulls her even closer.

“Gem,” he groans, and she likes the way her name sounds when he says it like that.

“Was this your plan?” she asks, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before drawing back to meet his eyes. “Lure me out to the middle of nowhere, get me drunk, and see if I’d go home with you?”

“Kind of,” Etho jokes and Gem laughs brightly in surprise at his drunken honesty.

“How about you finish the job,” she tells him, and she likes getting to see his eyes darken, likes how his grip tightens on her.

They don’t make it upstairs.

Gem trips four steps up, dropping heavily, and Etho doesn’t try to help her up.

Instead, he follows her down, getting her onto her back as his mouth finds hers again, his hands tugging at her jeans, like he’s not going to bother trying to get her into his bed.

She feels untethered, turned on by his desperation, and she lifts her hips to help him as he eases her pants down.

“You gonna fuck me right here?” she asks, watching him toss her jeans down to the bottom of the stairs, and it doesn’t quite feel real.

“I could,” he agrees, and Gem thinks she really likes the drunk version of Etho.

He kisses her again, one hand slipping under her to grope at her ass, and she wonders how long he’s been wanting to do that. She wishes she had more for him to grab, but he doesn’t seem upset.

Instead, he shifts, easing her to the side as he sits on the stair next to her, his hands tugging at his belt and his own pants.

Gem swallows, feeling dizzy, and she has no idea if it’s the alcohol or because of how much she wants him.

He’s actually going to fuck her on the stairs and Gem lifts up, just enough to pull her underwear down and off.

Etho spares her a glance, his face flushed, gaze dropping shamelessly between her legs as he undresses himself just enough to be functional.

Gem pounces before he can move, nudging him back as she climbs into his lap.

“Is this what you imagined?” she asks, reaching between his legs to stroke him, and she quickly learns that whiskey dick isn’t a thing for him.

“I thought you’d do something unexpected,” he admits, which is fair.

“Does this count?”

All Etho seems to be able to do is nod, because she eases the tip of him inside her and starts to sink down.

“These stairs are gonna bruise you up,” she grunts, still taking inch after inch, and she knows her knees and shins are going to be all kinds of colors later, the hardwood unforgiving.

He nods in understanding, hands clutching at her hips when she finally settles on top of him.

“Don’t care,” he exhales and Gem has to kiss him, rolling her hips, just to see how it feels.

He groans into her mouth, like he never imagined she’d feel so good, and he uses his grip on her to shift her, greedy for more.

She leans into him, letting him move her the way he wants, her limbs getting weaker as her pleasure grows.

Sitting at an angle in his lap keeps him so deep it makes her ache, and it has no right feeling as good as it does. They're drunk, it's their first time together — it should be a disaster.

But it’s definitely not.

“Fuck,” she exhales as he pushes up into her with a series of thrusts that leaves her breathless, and she blindly reaches to the side, clutching at the banister for purchase, lifting herself enough to ride him the way she wants.

“Gem,” he grunts and Gem curls her free arm around his shoulders, ducking her head down close to his.

“Later, you’re gonna take me upstairs and fuck me the way I deserve,” she tells him, and she’s instantly obsessed with the noise he makes.

He shoves up into her, lifting most of her weight with his hips, and she’s helpless.

“Oh god,” she whines, rolling against him the best she can to get pressure on her clit.

She tightens around him, her whole body trembling as she comes, and she’s almost certain she’s going to find bruises on her waist later, too.

He keeps making breathy little sounds, adjusting her the way he needs to follow her over the edge, and she feels it when he does.

His whole body tenses, grip tightening to the point of pain, before his cock flexes inside her.

“Etho,” she moans, belatedly realizing they probably should have used a condom, but it’s too late now.

He nudges up into her a handful more times, riding the high, and Gem clutches at him, face pressed against his throat as she pants for breath.

“Fuck,” she gets out, and he grunts like he agrees completely.

“I’m going to need a moment,” he tells her, as though half expecting her to immediately start trying to shoo him upstairs, but Gem couldn’t even if she wanted to.

She’s too drunk, too fucked out, too comfortable staying exactly where she is. Though now she knows how strong Etho is, she might just wait and see if he’ll eventually carry her instead.

“Yeah,” Gem agrees after a moment, slumping boneless against him. “Me too.”

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Up Know

Written for @jilymicrofics using April Prompt Know*.

Words: 723

Rating: Gen

------------------------------------------------------------

Lily is a light sleeper.

She always has been.

She doesn’t know why; just some quirk of genetics that curses her to wake easily, disturbed by every little sound, no matter how innocuous. At home, it was Petunia snoring loudly enough to wake the dead in their shared bedroom. Here at school, it is usually Mary talking in her sleep, or restless sleeper Emmeline’s bed creaking as she tosses and turns. 

Tonight, though, it’s neither of those things. Tonight, it’s a soft but persistent tap-tap-tap at the window that rouses her. 

Bloody owl! she thinks, then throws back the curtains of her four-poster and picks up her wand from her bedside table, her whispered “Lumos” bringing a little light to the darkness.

She scowls at the other beds in the dormitory, illuminated by the soft glow of wandlight, and wonders which of her housemates is getting mail delivered in the middle of night. Not that it matters; clearly the job of letting the cursed creature is going to fall to Lily, despite the fact that the letter won’t be for her. After all, she’s only one of them that never gets mail by owl, lacking either a pureblood family or a Hogwarts-graduate boyfriend to do the honours. 

It is, therefore, quite a shock to throw open the window and find, not an owl waiting outside the window, but her own boyfriend, sitting astride his pride and joy, the Nimbus 7 he got for his seventeenth birthday. Except sitting isn’t entirely accurate, is it? He’s somehow managing to lounge on it, as though he isn’t basically sitting on a twig, several hundred feet in the air. Just looking at him is making her feel dizzy (though in fairness, that isn’t actually down to the aforementioned mile-high twig-sitting, as much as it’s just a standard side effect of looking at him these days).

“Alright, Evans?” he enquires, with a grin that speaks to exactly how pleased with himself he’s feeling right now.

“James!” she hisses, in a passable imitation of being cross with him, despite the way her stomach is doing flip-flops. “What the hell are you doing knocking on my dormitory window?”

He shrugs, making the broom wobble alarmingly, not that he appears to notice. “Well, I couldn’t get up the stairs to knock on the door, could I?”

Lily rolls her eyes. “Not what I meant, Potter.”

“I wanted to see you,” he tells her, and oh! His eyes are so dreamy, aren’t they? Brown and green and melted golden caramel and all hers. She could drown in them, and she’s sure he’d let her.

“You’ll see me at breakfast,” she reasons, not yet ready to capitulate, because where’s the fun in that? “Now bugger off, before you wake everyone else up.”

“Come with me,” he suggests. “It’s a beautiful night for a fly.”

He isn’t wrong. The cloudless sky is scattered with starlight, like a handful of sequins scattered across velvet, and the pearly waning gibbous moon is matched by its twin, reflected in the glassy surface of the Black Lake. It is breathtaking.

“Absolutely not!” she scoffs, but he hears the playfulness in her tone, and instead smirks at her, offering his hand.

“Come on, Evans,” he coaxes her. “Jump on.”

Finally, she surrenders, letting the smile spread across her face. “Okay,” she tells him, and he looks so thrilled that she realises that actually, he wasn’t sure she’d agree after all. It’s all kinds of adorable. He’s all kinds of adorable.

She’s got one foot on the window ledge before she hesitates. 

It isn’t because doesn’t want to, or because she’s trying to make a point, it’s because… well, it’s because it’s a very long way down, and she’s never felt all that stable on a broom, and now that she’s so close to the edge, she’s been irrefutably reminded of these two facts.  

Somehow, though, he seems to know that. 

“I won’t let you fall,” he promises, gently and unprompted.”Jump, and I’ll catch you.” 

And she knows he will, because that’s just one of the fundamental rules of the universe, isn’t it? When Lily Evans jumps, James Potter will catch her. 

She looks at him, his patchwork eyes, his reassuring smile, his outstretched hand, and she knows she’s safe. She’ll always be safe with him. 

And so—she jumps.

------------------------------------------------------------

*I always intended to use the prompt Know. I absolutely did not write it using the prompt Up only to realise it wasn't actually on the list when I came to post it, and anyone that suggests otherwise is merely spreading a scurrilous rumour.

[dandylovesturtles]

this is a brain worm that spawned as soon as I read the second injury prompt, bad future timeline, from the prospective of someone outside the family (civilian, fellow resistance fighter, etc), where one of the brothers/april/or either of the casey’s are injured, “Someone get the medic. Get the medic!” and the medic is leo, unknowingly responding to a gravely injured loved one

shit this is a good prompt anon, thanks

credit to @promptsbytaurie for the injury ask meme!

cw: ROTTMNT bad timeline, mentions of blood and injury

———

He finds her leaned against some rubble, the carcasses of four krang hounds strewn around her. They don’t bleed like earth creatures, but the stringy bits of their mutilated bodies are strewn across the ground, and all he can think is, Good.

There is blood, though: her blood, gushing from a set of lacerations in her side. She’s so still that he thinks, for one awful minute, that she’s dead.

Then she shifts and groans and he stumbles quickly to her side, dropping to his knees and putting pressure on the wound, the way he was taught in ROTC a million years ago.

She sucks in a breath, gritting her teeth, and then her eyes open. They rove the battlefield with a dazed confusion, and he wonders if that’s a concussion or just the blood loss. Or both.

“Commander O’Neil,” he says urgently. “We need to move you.”

Her head turns and her searching eyes find his face. She blinks rapidly and squints at his face.

“Who…?”

He smiles, because it’s a kindness he can give her. Kids in school used to make fun of his buck teeth. Weird how an alien invasion makes some things easier. “Jake West. I joined your squad last week.”

“Oh, right.” She grunts and starts to shift. “New guy. Help me up, will you?”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t think you can walk with that wound.”

“Well, I’m not letting you carry me out of here like some damsel in distress,” she says stubbornly. She slings an arm over his shoulders, gritting her teeth. Her brow is sweating, but she repeats, “Help me up.”

Jake’s only been part of this resistance colony for two weeks, since the tattered remnants of his last group was found by one of their scouting parties, but he already has a lot of respect for O’Neil. She’s a foot shorter than him, but she embodies toughness in the set of her shoulders and her refusal to back down. She’s more fearsome than most of the old military guys Jake’s ever met.

So he helps her up.

She stumbles when she’s on her feet, and he moves in to keep supporting her. The blood drips down her side, and she hisses when she sees it.

“Can’t believe I let those hounds get a piece of me. Dee’s gonna be insufferable.”

Jake wonders who “Dee” is, but doesn’t ask. They have to get out of here - the onslaught may have calmed for the moment, but the krang always come back.

O’Neil can’t move very quickly - Jake finds himself dragging her more than he helps her walk. He suggests carrying her again and she turns it down, though only with a shake of her head this time. They stumble through the rubble in mostly silence, making for the base’s hidden entrance.

Above their heads, there is a noise like a sonic boom, a streak of orange lighting up the sky as it goes past, latching onto an approaching krang drone ship and pulling it out of the sky.

“There goes Mikey,” says O’Neil, without even looking up.

Right; Master Michelangelo, one of the turtles. Jake had felt a little trepidation, when he had first learned this resistance group was full of - and even run by - inhuman mutants.

Then he’d seen what they could do, and that feeling faded fast.

He hasn’t actually met the turtles, only ever seen them in passing. He’s heard from those have been here longer that they’re actually really friendly, or at least all of them but Master Donatello are. More importantly, they put their lives on the line every day for what remains of the people of earth. Jake hasn’t needed to be here more than a few weeks to see that.

They fight like they have everything to lose. Jake respects that.

Master Michelangelo’s cover makes the trip back to the base easier, even as O’Neil flags more and more against his side. By the end he’s carrying her whether she wants it or not, draped half across his back in a fireman’s hold. She’s too out of it now to object. He hopes that doesn’t mean he’s too late. He’s so tired of losing people, even those he hasn’t known long. He likes Commander O’Neil.

He stumbles through the tunnel and into the bright synthetic lights of the entry checkpoint. Most combatants have already returned by now, but there are still people milling around, checking for any signs of krang infection in those coming back.

“Someone get the medic!” he hollers as he enters. “Get the medic!”

There’s a few echoing shouts, and then a door flings open and out walks Master Leonardo himself. He’s wearing a makeshift surgical apron, covered in blood, gloves, and a mask hanging loose around his neck. Jake’s never seen him this close, and now he’s a little taken aback, the way the turtle towers over everyone, moving so lithely despite the bulk of his shell, a commanding but easy air to his presence that seems to demand respect but also offer reassurance to everyone else in the room.

Every time Jake’s seen him from afar, he’s been grinning, laughing, smiling. He isn’t now.

“Don’t yell unless someone’s dying,” he says, eyes scanning the room until his gaze locks with Jake’s. He sees the body slumped across Jake’s back and grimaces. “I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.”

He crosses the room and directs Jake toward one of the cots. “Alright, put ‘em on the triage bed and let’s see what we’re working with.”

“Lacerations, sir,” says Jake, as he lowers O’Neil to the cot. “She was conscious when I found her, but she’s lost a lot of blood. Maybe a concussion.”

He trails off as he turns back and sees Master Leonardo’s state. His eyes are locked on O’Neil’s face, like he’s only just recognized who it is on the cot. His mouth hangs slightly open, and there’s an open, vulnerable devastation, a naked fear on his face. One Jake recognizes too well.

Even the mutants, with all their powers and all their strength, can be afraid.

Then, just like that, he pulls it together again for a fleeting glimpse Jake saw Leonardo, but now the Master is back, and barking orders.

“Marta!” he calls, turning his head to address a woman standing at the inspection line. “Prep OR now! And get us ready for a blood transfusion- B positive if we have it.”

“On it,” says Marta, and she’s gone just like that. Jake turns his attention back to Leonardo, who has taken O’Neil’s wrist in his, feeling for a pulse.

He’s quiet for several seconds, then he nods to himself and starts asking questions.

“Any idea what did this?”

“It was hounds, sir. I found her with several dead ones.”

“Sounds about right.” Master Leonardo sounds almost amused, though he doesn’t stop his work. “Any sign of infection?”

“No. She was talking and able to walk most of the way.”

Krang infections take over the host so quickly, they would know by now, with a wound like that.

“Hounds can only infect with their bites, and these look like scratches from claws.” Leonardo comes out again, as he reaches for O’Neil’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Knew you wouldn’t let them get a bite in.”

The way he looks at O’Neil is so tender. They clearly know each other, and not just as fellow resistance commanders. Jake can’t help but wonder how they know each other; how a human and a mutant came to have a bond this close.

He doesn’t have time to ask, of course. Seconds later, O’Neil is being moved to OR, and Leonardo is making to follow them.

“Sir!” Jake calls after him. “Is there anything else I can do to help the commander?”

Master Leonardo barely pauses. “Get yourself checked for infection, and donate blood if you can. Then get some rest. You’ve done enough today.” He glances over his shoulder. “And stop calling me ‘sir’. Makes me feel so old.”

Then he’s gone.

Jake watches the door Leonardo just disappeared through for a second, then moves to do as he was told. He thinks about the way Master Leonardo looked at Commander O’Neil. Like she was part of what he was fighting not to lose.

And he thinks, maybe, that they’re lucky here. That this just might be the resistance that saves the world.

[rei-rei-writes2039]

heyyy i was wondering if i could request this prompt “that warm feeling they get when they successfully make the other laugh out loud” with cole caufield

Of course my wonderful Miracle !!

Sun To Me - C.C

Summary ࣪ ִֶָ☾. You and Cole being silly before he leaves for morning skate

Wc ࣪ ִֶָ☾. 1000

A/n ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Did more on this one than I expected and I really like it so i hope you all do too!

5:30am

An irritating ring comes from Cole's side table. Unfortunately it was time for him to get up for morning skate.

He rolled over and turned off his alarm, but not before reluctantly letting go of your sleeping form. He decided at the last minute to snooze his alarm instead of turning it off so he has more time to relax with you.

He put a hand on your waist to attempt rolling you towards him without waking you up just yet. He eventually succeeded before…

5:35am

It's been 5 minutes. He snoozed his alarm and it's telling him to get up…again.

He decided on turning it off fully today and skipping his pre-skate shower which isn't necessary anyway since he's gonna go sweat for a while anyway.

He looked at your peaceful face and smiled to himself before combing the wisp of out of place hair away from your face. “C'mon dummy…wake up…” He whispered. Trying in vain to wake you up. “babe…Pleaseeee…” Yet again, trying to wake you to no avail.

He tried more for a while before giving up on the soft whispers and touches to lull you out of your sleeping state. He resorted to rolling to lay on top of you.

“Babe. Babe. Baby! Babe. BABEEE.” He repeated in a different annoying tone each time he tried rousing you from your lack of consciousness.

He sighed when he realized there was no way he was going to wake up just from him calling out a bit. So he started wiggling like crazy. Left, right, up and down. He just wiggled. He eventually wiggled so much you let out a small whine.

“You awake, dumdum?” He cooed at you as you covered your face with part of your pillow. “C’mon babe, up!”

You groaned. “Cole Caufield. I am not getting up this early.” You saying that made him frown. He sighed and laid his head on your shoulder whilst still fully on top of him.

“But babe, no pre-practice-pillowtalk?” He looked up pleadingly, puppy dog eyes on display. He was pouting his way to you folding, but you persevere.

“Coley, it's not even 6am yet!”

“I don't care, I want to cuddle and talk before skate, pleaseeee.”

You sighed. He's so lucky he's cute. “Fine… what do you wanna talk about, cole?” You smiled at him sleepily.

He took a minute or two to think of what to talk about with you at the ass-crack of dawn. “Hmm…jokes?” He suggested in a tone that sounded playful but you knew was completely serious.

You laughed sarcastically. “Funny, no…” You booped his nose before threading Your fingers through his hair. “Be serious, honey…”

“I am being serious, dummy, let's tell bad jokes…” He subconsciously leaned his head I to your touch but not before bringing his hand up to get more messed up hair out of your face.

“Like what, coley?” You inquired, smiled a bit bigger after he fixed your hair.

“What has four legs, is green and fuzzy and if it fell out of a tree would kill you?” He said while pausing between every word to giggle about the joke.

You rolled your eyes. “A very large Key-lime green dog?” You suggested.

“No silly! A pool table!!” He giggled again, making you laugh loudly and genuinely, which made his heart, eyes, and voice soften. “Aw babe…”

“What, baby?” You asked, noting the change in his demeanor, wondering if anything was wrong, which it wasn't.

He smiled at your worry. “I love your laugh…it gets me all warm and fuzzy, I guess.” He then blushed and laid his head, face down, on your shoulder.

“Well I'm glad you like it, if you didn't I'd be scared you'd get tired of hearing it forever and ever.” You cooed softly at him, as if he was a baby.

“Forever and ever? You mean it?” He grinned, making you smile from his eagerness.

“Yes, coley, forever and ever. You're stuck with me.” You assured, much to his excitement. You stopped playing with his hair randomly to look at your phone.

He frowned again, the second time this morning. “Why'd you stop?” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes, yet again. He wanted you to keep playing with his hair, but apparently you had other plans? Unfortunate.

After checking the time you rested your arms around his shoulders. “It's almost time for you to get up, cole…” You mumbled with a slight frown. “Y'know I wasn't particularly happy you woke me up but…I've had fun, even if I'm still sleepy.”

“Yay! That was my goal, baby.” He grinned even wider than before, glad he's made you have fun, despite exhaustion. He wiggled closer to your face to kiss you gently. “I love you, ya know?” He smiled.

“Yes, coley, I know…and I'm forever grateful you do. I love you too.” You kissed his nose instead of his lips, which made him frown. At this point, him frowning before morning skate is a routine.

He eventually did smile again and relaxed against you with a content sigh. He looked at you, simply admiring his favorite girl. “You're so pretty…”

You giggled, making his heart warm again. “You are too, Cole. Thank you for loving me.” You whispered back before yawning.

He laughed lightly before rolling off you and sitting up. “I'll let you sleep, baby, I've gotta go soon anyway.”

You smiled sleepily at him, sitting up to kiss him goodbye. “Have fun today, yeah? I love you…"

He kissed you back and rubbed your back. “I love you too, baby. I'll see you when I get home, okay? Go back to sleep, beautiful…” Once you laid back down and got comfy he kissed your forehead before getting ready to go.

He thought of you the whole time he got ready, the girl he'd do anything for, the girl that makes him the happiest, and the girl that makes his heart melt whenever she laughs because of him.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Taglist: @heartsforjh @emsdevs @beenucks @mainly-miracle (you already get a notification for this though)

[serensama]

A Word with Friends: Of Houses, Hearts and Hidden things

My eternal thanks to @hedwigoprah for this wonderful game and to @jenn2d2 for assisting and giving me such a juicy word to use. Thank you to @woundedsoul12 and @davrinsleftpectoral for your tags- Bless your cotton socks <3

I promise, prompt willing, the next chapter will not get away from me. Approx 1.8k.

Read on Ao3

Word prompt given: Mendacious 1. (adjective) Given to or characterized by deception or falsehood or divergence from absolute truth. Additional context: Mendacious and lying have very similar meanings, but the two are not interchangeable. Mendacious is more formal and literary, suggesting a deception harmless enough to be considered somewhat bland.

---

Illario pulled at his gloves and thumbed them into his belt, taking a moment to breathe before entering the lion’s den. Villa Dellamorte. His grandmother had ordered both he and Lucanis to attend ‘family’ dinners on the 10th of every month, and they were unbearable. Even when one of them was out of town, it was still expected for the other to attend. Thankfully, his cousin had returned two days prior, and he wouldn’t have to face the old woman alone, especially with everything that had happened with Lilya. 

How he was going to survive between the antipasto and the digestif was completely up to the Maker. Knowing his luck, he’d unwittingly look at Caterina wrong and the old battle-axe would somehow kill him with a hairpin. Or perhaps just try to drown him in the soup. Illario had his hand up and ready to chime the bell when Bernardo, the majordomo of the household, answered the door. A genuine smile tugged at the assassin’s lips at seeing the kindly old man. 

Growing up, he was one of the only people who showed both he and Lucanis kindness. Well, as much as one could whilst under the employ of the First Talon. He would turn his eye whenever possible when the maids would leave leftovers in the kitchen, or buckets of water around the house when they were cleaning, just to make sure they didn’t die under Caterina’s draconian regime. He was the one who remembered that Lucanis liked churros whilst he preferred cannoli. He remembered that he liked his espresso with a slight hint of sugar, but none for Lucanis. He remembered it was Lucanis who broke the priceless Nevarran vase in the music room when they were sparring, and he who broke the window in the first-floor study playing kickball… and he remembered the amount of whips they each got for both offences.  

“Master Illario, welcome home!” he beamed, opening the door wide and bowing low. Illario stepped through the door and clapped the man on his shoulder fondly, careful not to show too much affection, lest it seem unseemly. 

“Thank you, Bernardo, though this has not been my home for many years,” he replied. Home in name only, never in warmth or welcome. It never really delivered on the word’s meaning. “How are you? Has your knee been giving you trouble? Is my cousin already in?”  

“I am well, Master Illario. My knee has seen kinder days, and your cousin is already in the main dining hall with Madam Caterina. They have been expecting you for some time,” his voice dipping to a knowing tone, eyes with a subtle look of warning. Be careful, she’s in a mood.  

He almost rolled his eyes. Of course, she was in a mood; he was, after all, unravelling her carefully laid plans for the glory of their House. He half figured she’d be happy that he was living up to her very low expectations.  

“Thank you, Bernardo.”  

He walked the halls without thought, knowing his way around the Villa from the time he and his cousins could walk. It had seemed so much bigger then, so much more than the cavernous, lonely space it had become, when there were more of them around. If he thought hard enough, he could remember his grandmother joining in on the games of hide-and-seek they played when he was barely four. The idea more than laughable now. It seemed more likely that it was Bernardo in a wig than Caterina.  

He could see the candelabra’s glow emanating from the main dining room, and he almost stopped, knowing that his grandmother would be watching him like a hawk, even more than normal. Bernardo walked ahead of Illario and introduced him, as if he were an honoured guest instead of the screw up grandson, but still- he had to play his part.  

He walked in and immediately clocked his cousin standing at the large bay window, leaning against the frame as he looked out over the gardens. The moment he stepped through the doors, Lucanis’ eyes swung to him, a tightness in his shoulders as he almost smelled the air like an animal. He wondered what he smelled- fear? Anger? The way he turned his body toward him, he knew it was neither. Lucanis could probably smell the scent of vellum, ink and dust on him. And if he could…  

Caterina’s expression did not change. She sat at the head of the table, her hand on her cane like she expected to stand up and leave at a moment’s notice. Illario gathered his emotions and made his way to his grandmother, leaning in to kiss both cheeks, just as he'd been taught. He still loathed it. He hadn't forgotten the wounds she left- on him, on both of them- yet he was still expected to press a kiss to the cheek of the woman who caused them, as if in thanks. At least the fledglings in the Capital weren’t expected to do that. “Good evening, Caterina, Lucanis. Apologies for the wait,” he said smoothly, picking up the bottle of wine that sat in front of Caterina and topping up her glass before filling his. Illario took his seat to the left of her and felt his cousin walk behind him and clap his hand on his bicep before moving to his seat on her right side. “We were beginning to wonder if we needed a seat for you at our table, Illario,” Caterina said, her words chosen perfectly, each one wielded like a blade aimed for him.  

“Now, now, Caterina, he was only 15 minutes late. He’s made us wait longer for dinner when we were growing up just because he was fixing his hair,” Lucanis cajoled, doing his best to cushion the ire that had already reared its head… and the antipasto hadn’t even been served yet.  

Caterina let go of her cane and balanced the polished handle against the edge of the table. “And where were you that was so important that you were late for our meal?”  

You will find out soon enough. 

“I lost track of the time, the Treviso skyline is so beautiful this time of year, I sat atop the Chantry for hours watching it before I realised I was starving.” Lucanis chuckled, obviously knowing he was lying. “Not your best effort, cousin, but commendable nonetheless.” Illario tipped his glass toward him and grinned. “My thanks.”  

She did not bring it up again.  

The three shared what was one of the most uncomfortable dinners they had in recent memory. The only chatter was between Illario and Lucanis, or Caterina and Lucanis, with Caterina pretending her only other living relative was magically absent. And if Illario were being honest, that suited him much better. It was not until the main course was served that she chose to look over at him, cutting off Lucanis, who mentioned that the courtyard was looking a little worse for wear and wondered where their gardener had gone. 

“He had a family emergency in Arlathan, apparently. He’s been away for the last two weeks- I thought he’d be back by now, but I suppose he’s been detained. Perhaps it is time for me to find someone new to replace him,” she said, her keen stare focused solely on Illario. “It’s strange, how some people drift out of our lives so easily… almost as if they were never meant to stay. Don’t you think?” 

Maker. His grandmother was such a bitch. If she hadn’t been his grandmother, perhaps he would have appreciated her brand of brutality a little more.

“Some departures are necessary.”

“Mm. Necessary,” she nodded, taking a long sip of wine. “Like pruning a garden is necessary. You don’t hate the creeping, flowering vine that’s grown over your fence, but you cut it anyway- to keep things where they’re meant to be, and for the health of the tree.”

Lilya was not a fucking vine. 

“Is the garden in that dire need of a trim? Perhaps Illario and I should attend to it in the meantime,” Lucanis interjected, hoping to salvage the rapidly declining mood, not that it started particularly high to begin with. 

“And sometimes, when you cut it away, the tree bleeds,” Ilario said, finally meeting his grandmother’s eyes. She laughed, a harsh, cold-sounding thing with a throaty rasp of someone who had spent too long laughing at things others would have wept over. 

“Oh, Illario. Trees don’t bleed. They adapt. They survive. That’s the point,” she paused, watching him over the rim of her wine glass, lips stained with deep red as if she’d spent the evening feasting on his heart. “I hope you’re not… harbouring sentiment. For a vine. It’s a dangerous thing, sentiment. You know how it can cloud judgment.”

Illario bit down hard on his fork to stop himself from screaming out. “Sentiment is weakness. You taught me that.”

Caterina nodded once. “Yes. I did. And you were always a sharp student.”

The silence between them stretched on. Lucanis’ gaze flitted between them, as if ready to leap in should a dagger be thrown. Illario sipped his wine calmly and deliberately, not wanting to show any further vulnerability. She circled the truth like a vulture: never landing, but always watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike, to tear him to shreds and then blame him for making her do it. Her words were laced with sweetness but reeked of poison. Mendacious. That’s what she was. Every practised smile, every gentle tone paired with a piercing gaze- each one a lie stretched thin over her brittle bone. “Pretty, flowering things don’t belong in our world. They wither, break, get torn apart. Better to cut them off cleanly- enjoy them and be rid of them before their beauty rots, and we forget it ever existed.” “I agree. Better for everyone when things are… clean. Simple.” Illario remembered his training; he could not allow his emotions to muddy his expression. He unclenched his jaw and loosened the grip on his cutlery. “Good. I knew you’d understand.” 

She reached out, and for a second, he stiffened, thinking she was reaching for him. He wanted to scream. She noticed his flinching and would find some way to make him pay for it. For feeling something for Lilya. For failing to hide it better. For showing her a crack in the armour she put on him. 

“I knew you’d see reason and make good on the Dellamorte name.”

She thought she’d won, that he was still hers: loyal, obedient, unquestioning. But she didn’t see it- that her lies had weight, and eventually, that weight could be used against her, to trap her. He would prove that even the First Talon wasn’t beyond the reach of the consequences she brought upon herself. Her downfall wasn’t a matter of if, but when. A blade pressed to her skin, sinking in so slowly she didn’t even realise she had been cut.

Illario nodded, eyes fixed on hers as she cut into her steak, the light red juices slowly eking out under her knife. “And I always will. Just as you taught me, Caterina.”

Softly tagging: @rookamell @hightowerqueen @mythals-whore @thedissonantverses @jukkaricity @talkmagically @kabsey @skullypettibone @brennacedria @basedonconjecture @the-sparrohawk @seaglassmelody @trash-nerd @gingervitus @the-font-bandit I can't remember who has done what, so if you have already done this, please tag me so I can read it!!! And of course, anyone else who wants to play too!!! <3

[ellouchi]

One-shot: "Forget me not"- Jimmy (gn/nsfw?)

Disclaimer: unreliable narrator, Jimmy being Jimmy, implied SA in the ending.

Side notes: I knooow I've said I'd post it yesterday, but I was on four hours of sleep and completely exhausted from work so sowwy guys. I've tried my best to fix as many mistakes as I could so sorry again if you see any, I'll probably edit this fic again later but for now... enjoy!

Today, Jimmy would make sure you would never forgot him again.

First he just had to wait until it was the night time on the ship, when it was darker and quieter, without any extra pairs of eyes and ears putting a wrench in his plans. Standing in the doorframe, the man observed you like a beast it's pray — you were writing a report about your performance in the common rooms. You often got out of your own room to sit there, same old walls giving you an eye sore, you once said. You used to turn around, wave at him when he passed by, but now you didn't even acknowledge him when he finally entered the room — Jimmy had to tamper the sudden pang of annoyance that shot through his body and instead appear to be as nonchalant as he could master.

Turned out there really was just a single step between love and hate, Jimmy though to himself. It was a shame things couldn't be the way they were at the beginning.

Before all that, when you first boared Tulpar, you were just a temporary crew member assigned to be babied with until the management decided to throw you on another ship. Something instantly clicked for Jimmy when captain Curly introduced you to the crew, and no wonder: you were smart enough to stick to Jim — not too close to the sun, but not crawling in the dirt.

Jimmy didn't show it, but he quickly noticed how you sought after him more often than the others, turned up to him for advices about work related matters and laughed at his quips and jokes that he made. Hard work really does pay off, Jimmy would think to himself, while laying on the bed with his brand new piloting license gleaming like a precious gem in his hand. Unlike with other people, everything about you felt so genuine, so seamless and easy, Jimmy didn't need to try hard for you to look up to him. He could be himself.

Best thing was, the signs told Jim that the feeling was mutual. You were the first one to greet him with a good morning, last one to part with a good night. Looked at him with shining eyes, smiles lingering longer than they should. If you sitting almost thigh to thigh next to him on the couch wasn't the obvious signal from you, then Jimmy didn't know what was.

Even ship's underwhelming conditions turned out to be a blessing in disguise when the AC system broke down, forcing you to work with your blue jumpsuit peeled off from your shoulders. The man never missed the way you tugged at your yellow t-shirt, suddenly his own coveralls feeling a bit stuffy and uncomfortable to be in. At his playful suggestion for both of you to strip you merely laughed, but never disregarded the idea...That evening Jimmy, however, let his hand and imagination run wild with the thought of your hands exploring everything covered by the pesky blue suit and a plain white shirt he wore.

Problems started to arise when Swansea took a note of your budding chemistry. He usually would run his trap hours on end, complaining about this and that, patronising as ever with his "age and experience" seemingly giving him permission to preach and lecture others.

"If I were a green fool like ya I would stay a mile a way from our "watchful" co-pilot. He's more bark than bite, but all the pain in the ass." Jimmy overheard Swansea call out to you when you two stood together to get the melted sweet treats from the vending machine. Said co-pilot clicked his tongue in annoyance, throwing back a jab at the uninvited mechanic, fortunately prompting a laugh from the old man. Ignorant of both men's concerns you simply chuckled at the sight, not digging any deeper. Despite this, you begun dressing a bit more modesty, robbing Jimmy of the opportunity of gawking at you. That damn Swansea.

Days, turning into weeks passed uneventfully. You concluded your training, which meant now you were officially just another cog in the corporate machine. Same all routine settled on the same old freighter ship, except for a few things. The captain seemed to finally acknowledge his esteemed co-pilot by dropping onto him his own "important captain assignments". Which was false, Jimmy knew Curly was just growing too exhausted to fulfil his daily quota, though the reason eluded him. Another odd thing was regarding you. Jimmy had a feeling he saw you less and less with each passing day, without counting the times you spent actually performing your work. You were the first one to finish the meals, the quickest one to get out from the shower and the space ship manual practically never left your hands. Jim hated it to admit this, but he missed you.

The pieces fell right into their places when Jimmy entered cockpit one ordinary shift to hand in the paperwork he did in captain's stead.

To be frank, Curly was slowly getting on Jimmy's nerves for some time already, this whole "all capable and reliable" act seemingly never ending. However, no feeling of irritation could compare to only what could Jimmy describe as betrayal running through his veins when he saw you bowing and shaking captain's hand with "thank you". His "friend" was standing way too close to you and you — to him, no, straight up leaning in.

Suddenly snippets of you two hanging out in the common room flooded Jimmy's mind, you skipping out of the cockpit with a smile on your face a few days ago, you asking Jimmy out of blue what Curly was like when he was younger and Curly praising you for your efforts during the piloting--

"Am I interrupting something?" escaped Jimmy's mouth faster than he could register. His nails left marks on cheap rough papers he clutched, sweat blurring away the ink, all the boring tedious work done for nought.

"Oh hey Jim. No, not at all. Just helping out our new college with excess workload." Jimmy gaze hardened over the fact that it was Curly who stepped up first to clear things up. "You know how it is with Pony Express: setting high standards with small deadlines and...." Jimmy stopped listening to anything else that left Curly's mouth, his focus shifting entirely to you. You refused to meet his gaze by staring dumbly at the metal floor.

Why were you silent now?

Why did you avoid looking in his direction?

Why did you turn up to Curly for help and not him?

You, who followed Jimmy like a puppy prior, buttering him up with empty talks, asking him a favour after favour. In the end only to abandon him when you raised high enough on the ledder to turn up with your issues to the captain himself. And Curly, whom he considered his closest friend, instead of helping Jim tried to snatch you away. Being well respected captain wasn't enough, he had to lure away you too....

Jimmy should've figured it was all too nice to be true.

The man didn't wait for Curly to finish or you to start, instead he just threw the papers onto the fax machine and waved his hand in dismissal as he left, lessons learnt and mood completely spoiled for the rest of the week.

It hurt. But Jimmy had to keep going forward. Curly crawled back to him eventually like he always did — reminiscent of a dog with its tail hidden between the legs. At least Curly seemed to take the hint and grew distant from you, pushing the professional approach all the way. The captain managed to make amends, he had to, if it meant keeping the peace on the ship.

No, Jimmy didn't care about his friend's betrayal. What drove him up on the wall was your reaction, or the lack of it. Because you pretended like nothing happened, resuming your busy day to day life, but this time avoiding Jimmy almost entirely. Ignoring you in return wasn't an option as the relationship between you two didn't reach the point where you'd feel anxious without his attention. Jimmy felt sick — he grew too comfortable around you and it bit him back in the ass.

Here he was, struggling to keep his composure without hearing a familiar lazy "good morning" coming from you at the dinning table every day. Any attempts at catching your gazes never resulted in anything other than a pit heaving in his stomach. Jimmy begun skipping game nights altogether when you found yourself a new spot at the armchair near the massive screen. The man grew desperate enough to eavesdrop on your unimportant daily chit chats in distant hope to get anything out of them to use. Rummaging through your stuff also proved to be fruitless. Everything to no avail.

Jimmy grew sick and tired of waiting for you to come to him. It was time for him to come to you.

"We've got a fax message from the corporate. You might wanna check this one out."

Luring you out was too easy, the man almost felt bad for abusing your innocence. But it was your fault for being an ignorant fool and trusting a person you slighted. Jimmy never said it was an update about your placement, just a message from the management — everything else was your wishful thinking. You proded co-pilot for any information on your way to the cockpit, but the later remained tight lipped and instead chatting you up about the most mundane things happening on Tulpar. If you hadn't lowered your guard down, you would hear the click of the lock sealing your fate.

"Alright, let's have a look at what those higher ups prepared for me" you said with a sigh, landing on the free seat with a paper in hands.

Jimmy humoured you a little further, standing right in front of you with his arms folded in the waiting stance, observing impatiently how your eyes skimmed through the text.

"Uhh...Jim this is just a general reminder that our haul is reaching it's destination in 30 days."

"I know" he flatly replied.

"Sooo why did you invite me here then?"

"Man, I can't believe some people can be this dense. Goes to show we can't trust others with anything. Even reading the room." Jimmy grumbled, yanking the document from your hands and letting it settle down onto the floor. Suddenly the man buckled over the pilot seat you were sitting on, both strong hands forcing your wrists down on the leather armrests. "Do you still not understand why I've dragged you here?"

This got your full undivided attention — you shrunk in the armchair, trying to slip your arms away from the bruising hold. You were akin to the fish thrown out of water with how your mouth opened and closed, before you gathered back your thoughts to respond.

"W-wait what are you talking about. I don't understand...." Jimmy searched for anything that could resemble a lie in your frighted eyes, but came up with nothing. You really were painfully oblivious to all his suffering this whole time.

"Is it that easy for you to discard people from your life? Hm? Must be nice to go about your day without a care in the world while I'm left to wonder what I have done wrong to be treated this way."

You remained silent, simply staring at the man in front of you in disbelief. God, just why he had to deal with someone as slow as you.

At last it clicked in your mind, your brows knitting together.

"...you don't mean us spending less time together right? Or is it about that one time with Curly? I just have my own work to take care of, and the captain has already told you that we were j--"

A heavy slap landed on you cheek before you had any time to finish. The sting wasn't going to hurt as much as other things Jimmy had in store for you — you didn't know it just yet.

"Don't try to bullshit me now. I know exactly what was your plan from the very beginning" uttered Jimmy, bringing his face right in front of yours. He wanted to see you cry so badly, beg for his forgiveness — Jimmy was almost willing to beat you up with his bare fists if it meant getting what he desired. "If you really think you can screw me up and not suffer any consequences you are dead wrong. I was being nothing but kind and patient, even taught you things no-one else would, and that's how you repay me? By going behind my back to fuck your way up by using Curly? Sorry to disappoint you, but you're not even in his taste."

Once again the man could read complete bewilderment from your facial features alone. Burning pain on your cheek all but forgotten, you raised you face to meet Jimmy's. Tiny drops of glistening tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, you lower lip instinctively bitten and chewed on from the tension. It had to be one of the most beautiful faces you've ever made: full of confusion, fear and submission.

"Jimmy... you got it all wrong, please just listen to me." You've tried, earnestly tried to calm the man down, to find a way out of the situation you were forced into. But there was no reasoning, no bargaining, nothing left.

Jimmy leaned in to where your ear was, letting out hot puffs of air as he spoke. "You had a chance to explain yourself, but you've missed it. Don't forget that you brought this upon yourself. You"

Jimmy saw you gasp in horror before he smashed his mouth against yours with such force your head hit the back on the chair. Your lips have already been parted so he wasted no time tracing your lower lip with his tongue, hot and slick from all the waiting. That wasn't what Jimmy initially planned, but it felt right at that moment. All pent up emotions suppressed for god knows how long suddenly taking a hold of his better judgement. Actually, this would work too — it would make you never forget about him ever again.

You squirmed against Jimmy's hold once again, trying to turn your head away to the sides. Jimmy had to crawl on top of you to secure your head against the leather pad of the seat, fully inserting his tongue to violate your mouth. He lapped at you like a starved man, not caring about his stubble scratching at your skin or about the saliva seeping down your chin.

Jimmy caught a sights of your eyes squeezed shut which he didn't like at all. It seemed like his words didn't get through your thick skull after all, so he dug his knee right into you groin, making you jolt, stilling your struggles momentarily.

"Don't. Ignore me." Jimmy growled staring straight into your eyes. "If you want this to be over then just do what I say. Understand?" he finished, waiting for your response.

If it wasn't for the twisting ache in your throat, you would say something to Jimmy, but instead you gave a jittety nod.

This prompted Jimmy to finally smirk: a dark variation of a smile you were used to seeing whenever the man was about to say something witty. You instantly regretted your choice, cruel hand zipping down the fly of your blue uniform in a swift motion — from your chest to your abdomen, only setting the regret deeper and deeper...

"Then do me a favour and stay still, will you?"

[pars-ley]

Title: I still want you (part one)

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

Summary: Legend has it that there's a being of nightmares residing in a dark castle deep within the woods. But...what if the man who roams those halls is not the monster he's made out to be?

Genre: fantasy au / cursed jimin / strangers to lovers / fated lovers / angst / fluff

Rating: 18+ (sfw) (part two will have smut)

Warnings: mentions and descriptions of demons / description of murdered character (not main character) / talk of curses and spells / really insecure Jimin / 

Word count: 7.3k

Banner: @caelesjjk is the G.O.A.T for this perfect banner 

Moodboard: Me

Beta: @anyamaris @colormepurplex2 @heathfritillary thank you so much for all of your help, suggestions and endless cheers for this!!!

Authors notes: for @ksmutsociety ’s ‘the velvet vault’ event with the prompt dark academia. Inspired by “the truth untold” song, mixed with Beauty and the Beast meets Tim Burton. The poem at the end was written by the wonderful @colormepurplex2 thank you so much.

My playlist:

The truth untold - BTS

Who - Jimin

Not by the moon - Got 7

Dopamine - Jackson Wang

Like crazy - Jimin

Scene one

Hearing tales about this infamous garden is one thing, but seeing it before you, that is something else entirely. 

Your eyes must be deceiving you, for such beauty couldn't exist in just one place; especially within this dark, cruel town. 

People here have long given up on happiness, love, even decency. With more magical creatures being discovered and invading the town, some wreaking havoc and others spreading fear like wildfire, a lot of people feel trapped here. 

You, being one of them. 

Living a life constantly looking over your shoulder is not ideal but it is something you have come to accept. Especially after the death of your mother, which has shaped you into a much more vigilant adult.

One evening, she failed to make it home before the darkness blanketed the sky, your mind raced throughout the night, until first light peeked through the trees and illuminated your answers.

Her lifeless body; strung up in the centre of town, by those demonic, soulless beings, hung for everyone to view and gawk at. The image still haunts you almost four summers on and so does the comprehension behind her death.

Your mother had been a powerful enchantress, having regular visions that, more often than not, came true. She could charm objects with magic to bring a variety of privileges; protection, love, knowledge, luck, anything to help ease the wickedness of the world. She made potions from the plants that grew on your windowsill, all medicinal and all made with heartfelt care. 

All of this made her more capable of protecting herself than anyone in this town and yet, she still ended up dead. 

Her dagger, laced with a protection spell, had still been tied tightly to her thigh, not even an attempt to be taken out of the harness. Had she even had the chance to try? 

You had removed it from her lifeless body and kept it close to you ever since. 

You did not know what she had been doing in the woods, or what kept her out so late on that fateful day, but you knew that whatever it was, surely involved magic. If she pushed herself too hard with spells, she lost too much energy and wasn't able to use more if needed. 

The questions around her death have plagued you ever since. 

Here in the garden, however, you feel an odd sense of peace, something you haven't felt in a long time. However reckless it may be for you to enter, you slowly open the unlocked gate. The loud creaking of the hinges makes you pause, frozen in panic while you scan your surroundings. Your hand moves to your mother's dagger that now resides hidden under your skirt, tied to your outer thigh with a makeshift holster.

When nothing moves or makes a sound in return, you slide yourself in through the small gap and step onto the stone pathway.

The smell hits you like an summer breeze; intoxicating fragrances swirl around you, trapping you in a cage of flowers. One that you would gladly lock yourself into.

Your feet seem to move of their own accord as you stroll through the abundance of colourful flowers, softly skating your fingers along velvet petals with a ghostly touch.

As you walk, a little basket full of berries in hand, you realise how much lighter you feel, as if you were lifted on a floating cloud, carrying you along in the wind. Your aching heart feels calmed; soothed just by being in here. 

In closing the distance between you and the rose bush, you also edge much closer to the tall, round tower that stands alongside it. Surrounded by a wildflower floral blanket and yet, the dark, unwelcome castle looks out of place in all this beauty, and a shiver cascades through you. 

The variation of flowers is unlike anything you've seen, every colour you could think of in so many shapes and sizes it is hard to fathom them all. But it’s the white rose bush in the centre of the garden that catches your eye and draws you in further.

As you had given in and succumbed to the temptation, trespassing onto the grounds of the large, ornate castle your town spoke about frequently. The fear and the guilt, however, had left you as soon as you entered. 

Unsure if your mind is playing tricks, you glance up at the windows, searching for any sign of the eyes you can suddenly feel upon you. Every part of the castle seems thick with shadows, empty and un-lived in. But you have heard many rumours of the man within. A twisted man who stays hidden away inside, so grotesque and sinister he hides from the world. Many stories shrouded in mystery, kept the village alight with curiosity, but all of them had the same message. 

Stay away from the castle.

Maybe you're a fool for coming here, although searching for the reality from the tales was not your initial intention, but admittedly, you are surprised by your surroundings. It’s as if two different worlds coexist within the outer walls.

A garden so beautiful it wouldn't be unbelievable to see cherubs and angels holding hands and dancing around the shrubs, but with the backdrop of a dark secret dwelling and housing an angry beast.

Seeing no movement or signs of life in the many windows, you continue on your venture.

Your footsteps make no sound as you tiptoe carefully across the grass to the roses.

Such a simple flower but your unmatched favourite.

White roses remind you of your mother, a delicate, breathtaking woman who stood out everywhere she went, but with a natural, understated beauty. 

Leaning down to deeply inhale the familiar scent, the promise of satin petals on your fingertips grew too much as you reached out to touch one. Your fingers glide like silk along the curled edges, tiny dew drops still inside from the morning's breath.

What you wouldn't give to just have one of these roses in your pitiful garden, but it would be too out of place and unbelonging. Much like yourself in this garden.

Placing your basket on the ground beside you and kneeling down to the bush, you want nothing more than to crawl inside its stemmed cage and stay there. 

The sounds of birds chirping echo around you, as the orange afternoon sun breaks through the clouds, glowing and warming your skin slightly. Angling your face up to it and enjoying the feeling on your skin, you sit humming peacefully to yourself.

The sudden sound of a gasp from above silences you. Your eyes fly open and your head snaps up sharply to an open window on the first floor of the tower.

You manage to catch a glimpse of someone before they retreat out of sight and back into the shadow. You bolt upright to stand, frozen in place. Your eyes remain fixed in the same spot, looking for any sign of movement. The ability to call out is swallowed by fear in your throat, and so you stay silent and unmoving for what feels like an eternity before half a face peers out at you from behind the window frame. 

There were many tales of the grotesque character that resides within these walls, but no mention of a man so breathtaking he could be a fairytale prince. 

Perfect skin that glows in the peachy sunlight and smooth, plump lips that could make the beautiful roses in front of you envious beyond measure. The one visible dark eye, a hidden jewel in a cave of wonders, widens briefly as he meets your gaze before quickly retreating back into concealment.

"Hello?" you call out softly, finding your voice but not wanting to startle him further. "I'm sorry for intruding, but your garden is so beautiful I had to see it for myself.”

Silence.

Worrying you've made a grave mistake, you're about to turn away and leave for fear that your presence is not welcome, when a shy and yet alluring voice sounds; echoing around you.

"Please, stay and enjoy it."

Turning back up to the window, your eyes find his half-form, noticing his ivory knuckles as he clings to the window frame as if forcing himself in place.

“Thank you.” You nod and sit on the grass once again, your skirt billowing out around you. Your eyes remain stuck on his statuesque stance.

“I had no idea anyone actually lived here,” you say into the thick silence, your voice echoing across the empty grounds.

The one eye of his that you can see darts around at the woodland area beyond the walls before returning to you. Not even a whisper of a response, and so, you continue to try to find out more.

"Are you alone?" you ask, eyes roving around the castle windows once again, waiting for the beast you've heard so much about to appear.

He nods. “I've been here for many years.” He finally speaks up, but with wavering hesitance you can hear as his voice trembles.

Your brow furrows as you try to piece together this puzzle in your mind. 

What could this man have done to warrant such hostile tales being told about him, or is it simply because he hides himself away that the townsfolk fear him?

He doesn't look much older than you, if he had ventured into your town you would remember him. You can't help your curiosity. “Why have I never seen you?” you question innocently.

You're not certain, but it seems as if he grimaces, shrugging into the shadows for a brief moment. “I don't really venture out much.”

How lonely he must be. Alone, in such a vast castle, hiding himself away, what a sad existence.

You are in no position to talk about anyone else's existence, as you're not exactly jumping for joy about yours, either.

Shrugging those thoughts away, you realise how impolite you're being, especially after breaking into someone else's garden and you introduce yourself.

His cheek reddens as he stammers out, “I-I’m Jimin, P-park Jimin.” 

Unable to help the smile that stretches across your mouth from this endearing, timid man, you reply, “It's nice to meet you, Jimin.”

A furious blush spreads to his hairline and down his neck, a sight that not only intrigues you but warms your chest, too. Your gaze stays locked on the sight until you see his eye drift out, looking over at the expanse beyond the castle.

“The sun sets, you should not be out in the woods during darkness.”

His warning is apt and true, you know that better than anyone. Since the world of magic had taken over, nighttime is when the most demonic creatures come out to do their bidding.

Glancing back towards the gate, you know you should leave, your head screams at you to go, but something else pulls you to stay.

Almost as if he senses your hesitancy, he asks, "Will you come back again?”

A strange tightness pulls across your chest, a feeling you've never experienced before. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes," he responds, nodding eagerly, and with that one-word answer, your mind is made up.

“I can return tomorrow?” you suggest bravely, hoping you're not overstepping his boundaries, but pleasantly discover the opposite, with a half smile so breathtaking you're almost blinded.

“Tomorrow it is, then,” he says simply, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. 

A distant cackle snatches your attention away, a stark contrast to the sound of his melodic voice. You collect your basket and whisk yourself away, out of the garden and into the dusky woods, leaving just as quietly as you entered and running home as fast as you could before nightfall envelopes you. 

Before all the monsters come out to play with the mere mortals, unable to resist their sadistic and seductive ways.

That night, you lie in bed, listening to the havoc created outside around you but unable to stop thinking of Jimin.

Seeming so meek and sweet you wonder what he's doing there all alone. Why do the village tales only ever speak of a monster who hides within the castle and not angels who could be guarding it?

He seems so desperate for company and yet, so afraid at the same time. Questions race in your mind, unable to silence them as you wonder about his story.

Who is he? Why is he in that castle all alone and hiding from the world?

You’re consumed with him until sleep takes over, and instead of the usual terror that frequently haunts your dreams, you are visited by the beautiful man in the dark tower.

Scene two

The following day, before the noon sun reaches its highest peak in the sky, you begin the journey to the castle in the woods. 

Your feet seem to move of their own accord, faster than usual, with nothing but the image of the mysterious man from the tower in your mind.

The gate creaks open as you push through it, and your eyes go straight to the tower window. 

You're met with only darkness. 

Stepping quietly into the garden, you make your way to the rose bush, bringing you directly in sight of the window. That's when you notice them. 

A bunch of five white roses, tied together with a pale pink ribbon, lay on the grass in front of the bush, the stems perfectly trimmed and now beautifully symmetrical. Gently, you skate your fingers lightly over the petals. 

“Do you like them?” a soft voice sounds from above.

Your mouth pulls into a smile upon hearing his gentle tone echo around you, comforting you in an unfamiliar embrace. Although, he'd conquered your waking and sleeping thoughts since your meeting yesterday, you had not done his angelic voice justice in your mind.

You turn to greet him. “I do. Are they for me?”

Half peering out at you like before, he nods, his left cheek glowing pinkly in the sunshine.

“Thank you. I will cherish having a part of your beautiful garden in my home.”

He beams at your words and hides even more of his face further behind the wall. “They will protect you from evil.” 

Glancing down at the flowers in your hand, you notice nothing out of the ordinary and wonder what he could possibly mean. “How so?”

“M-magic,” he whispers, although even that seems to echo into the silence around you.

A bird flies out of a tree nearby, squeaking loudly, and you both look over to it. The atmosphere seems to change by the mere mention of the word. Magic. Most folks tend to stay well away from anything involving that. It wasn't easily accessible or cheap to purchase, which leads you to wonder how this could be possible. 

“Are you a sorcerer?” you ask, pondering the idea.

He laughs, “Unfortunately not. I was given some seeds bewitched with a spell from an enchantress. No evil can enter this garden or my home while these flowers grow here.”

Mulling that over, you stroke the petals of the flowers in your hand, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia. His words are like a blast into your past, making you miss your mother’s magic, something that, unfortunately, does not come as naturally to you. 

So, as long as you have these, you will be safe from the evil that roams in the dark blanket of night. Relief fills you, alongside a hope you thought was lost long ago. 

“Thank you, this is a very kind gift.” Smiling up at him, you set the flowers back down on the ground. “Speaking of gifts, I also have one for you.” Squatting down to your basket, you lift the handkerchief off to reveal the fresh loaf of bread, the mouth-watering smell hits you, but you ignore it. “I baked this loaf for you this morning; it's still warm.”

He stares down at you, still half hiding but trying to get a better view into the basket. “F-for me?”

You nod. “Would you like me to bring it to the door?”

The silence stretches on, as his eyes bounce around the garden, looking everywhere but at you. Instantly, you panic that you've made him uncomfortable, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and quickly, you interject, “I could just leave it in the doorway, and you can collect it when you like.”

Waiting for what feels like an eternity for a response, your feet welded awkwardly to the ground, until you hear him let out a heavy sigh. “N-no, wait by the door, I'll just be a moment,” he replies quietly, as he whisks himself away back into the shadows of the tower.

Heading in the direction of the large main doors into the castle, walking slowly along the pathway through the garden, your heart beats hard within your chest, the sound echoing in your ears, and possibly loud enough to be heard on these grounds.

Slowly, you ascend the steps and wait in the large arched doorway. The wooden doors are old and carved with grotesque faces. Leaning closer, they look to have been carved crudely and without care, seemingly having been placed out of anger or fear instead.

The sound of the wood creaking makes you jump, as the door opens just enough for you to place your basket through it. An elegant hand comes out to greet you and as you place the basket handle in it, your fingertips graze his. A vision hits.

A scene playing out before your eyes.

Images flash quickly in your mind. All of you and him. A hooded Jimin. 

At first, they start off with smiles and light touches before evolving into passionate nights and warm embraces. A heat cascades through your body that you've never experienced, your face feeling aflame under his hesitant, one-eyed gaze.

“Is everything ok?” he asks, concern etched in his furrowed brow. 

Swallowing hard, you nod. “I'm fine.”

You do not wish to tell this stranger about your own powers of clairvoyance. If the wrong person knew, you would be punished and left outside at night for the demons. Besides, you need to determine the meaning behind this vision first, unlike any other you've had before, they are very rarely about you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, snapping you out of your thoughts as he begins to withdraw.

“Wait,” you say urgently, “won't you come and walk with me? It's a beautiful day, and I would love a tour of the garden.”

Your eyes search the dark gap in the opening, but are unable to find anything.

“I can't.” His voice is barely audible.

“I would like it very much, if you would join me,” you ask again gently, but not wanting to push or make him uncomfortable.

“No, you wouldn't, not when you see me.” The sadness in his voice makes your chest tight.

“Jimin, I don't care what you look like,” you stress, “I do, however, want to enjoy your garden, it would be a shame if I can't have the person who created such a paradise show it to me.”

You're met with only silence until you hear a long, sad sigh from inside. “I'm sorry, I can't. Please enjoy it, I need to return to my tower.”

Before you have a chance to respond, the door is closed, and you're left longing to get to know the man who could be your future.

Scene three

Several sunsets pass, each day involving a visit to Jimin’s garden where you spend your time sitting in the floral atmosphere, letting the calmness wash over you and enjoying the sun on your face. 

He stays up in his tower, watching, while the two of you speak endlessly. Exchanging tales of your childhoods, memories you’d long forgotten coming to the forefront of your mind and escaping past your lips. 

You explain your love of drawing, anything you see beauty in, which nowadays isn’t much, so you drew your memories and your mother. 

He expresses his love of poetry, often reading by the fire every night before bed, sometimes writing his own. Whenever there’s silence it is never uncomfortable, just more time to sit and enjoy each other's company.

You discover he’s an author, having written many stories of his own. He gifted you three of his books to read after you had begged to know his writing; embarrassing him and turning his cheeks pink until he agreed.

His way with words is like nothing you have known before. Every sentence enters through you and embeds itself in your soul. Every word is a caress to your heart, feeling his poetic prose touch places inside you never knew existed. 

It inspires you. 

Before you can process the thought, you reach for your last bit of charcoal and let all your emotions illustrate the page, continuing on until the morning.

As soon as the sun appears over the hill beyond the view from your window, you get ready and leave, bringing your picture rolled up and tied with the same pale pink ribbon that bound your magic, undying roses.

You can’t wait to gift him a piece of your art, and if you were honest, a piece of your heart. No feeling could describe the way your entire body felt fit to burst, with the way this man made you feel. Your heart previously only beating out of necessity rather than desire. Skipping through the gate to your usual spot, you call out, “Jimin!” 

Your heart pounds wildly inside you in a rhythm that is a personalised symphony just for him. You wait only a moment before he appears, smiling out at you.

“Someone is up bright and early today,” he remarks joyfully.

Seeing him, you’re always taken aback by how your memories have not done him justice at all, especially in the bright first light of morning, his flawless skin illuminated gold from the rising sun.

“I have not yet been to bed.” You laugh.

Worry creases his brow. “Whyever not? Is everything alright?”

Holding your hands up to calm his concerns, you add, “Everything’s fine, better than fine, actually.” Your feet begin to pace in circles around the white rose bush. “When I finished your books I-”

“You finished all of them? Already?” he interrupts, bewildered.

Nodding, you continue on, “How could I not? Jimin, they’re beautiful.” 

His entire face reddens before he shields it with his hood, the sight makes you flustered in a way that surprises you. Making your own skin feel hot, even on this chilly morning.

Clearing your throat and swallowing to try and ease the tightness you feel, you pull your scroll out of your basket and hold it up to him. “Now, it is my turn to give something that lasts longer than a loaf of bread.”

He peeks out from his hood, eyes widening with curiosity.

“Can I?” you ask, pointing to the main wooden doors.

He hesitates briefly. “Give me a moment.”

Rushing to the entrance, almost tripping up the steps in your impatience, you wait, fiddling with your skirt nervously. When the heavy door creaks open, your heart deafens your ears, the erratic beating the only sound you can hear momentarily. You place the scroll through the gap in the doorway and watch as his slender hand comes out to take it gently from yours, his half-face appearing from the shadows.

He pulls the bowed ribbon and you watch as it falls silently to the ground. When he unrolls your parchment your eyes remain fixed to him, observing his reaction. Watching as his apprehension turns to astonishment has your heart singing with relief. His fingers reach out, kissing the paper briefly. He stutters, then stops, words disappearing into the thin air, the breeze carrying them away. 

His cheeks turn scarlet again and you watch as his eyes take in the close proximity of the two of you sketched out on the paper. Inspired by the many emotions that have been building a slow crescendo inside you for the past few weeks of being in his company. You let a story of your own play out on the page, one full of hope.

The two of you; surrounded by fragrant blooms with his tower far in the distance. Your hands entwined, with your eyes on him as he looks out of the page, hood up covering half his face in shadow.

“I-it’s beautiful,” he whispers, eyes not wavering from the picture clasped tightly in his grip. “You are very talented.”

It seems to be your turn to blush now, as you glance away shyly, mumbling a thank you. 

“I will frame this and hang it in my bedroom, so I can look at it every day.”

This makes your heart soar. 

“Jimin?” you speak up hesitantly, not wanting to spoil his mood or ruin the moment but unable to restrain from asking again. 

He meets your eyes then, “Yes?”

“Will you please accompany me in the garden today?”

His brow furrows, expression pained as he looks back down at the picture and returns his gaze to your face. Just when hope starts to fade, he sighs and nods. “Just a moment.”

Your heart jumps gleefully, rattling your chest like a caged animal desperate to escape and be reunited with its owner.

The door closes for a few minutes and, just when you think he's changed his mind, disappointment seeping in, it opens again.

Hesitantly, he steps out. His hood is pulled up over his head, as he’s focused solely on the ground, casting his whole face in darkness. You are desperate to see him, his pillowy lips and crescent moon eyes.

Slowly, you reach out and entwine your hand with his, slotting perfectly together. He stills briefly before squeezing yours in return. That confirmation is all you need. Closing the small amount of space between you and cupping half of his face, you whisper, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he does so. You’re surprised to see his visible eye watery with tears, almost brimming over the edge, and your heart breaks. Unable to stop yourself, you wrap him in your arms and hold him tightly, cradling him close to your body. His scent swirls around you, taking over your senses and replacing the floral scent of the garden; fresh, clean and woody. Alluring in the most intense way. 

His arms wind around your waist hesitantly, and when you feel him relax in your embrace, you, too, feel the swell of emotion inside. While he had not yet spoken of what had happened to him in the past, you were hoping that one day he would trust you enough to tell you his story. Who knows, today might be the day of many firsts for you both.

Scene four

Walking hand in hand, followed with sounds of the chirping birds surrounding you through Jimin’s garden, is something you didn’t realise how much you craved, until you were doing it. 

Having his hand in yours feels like a dream, after so long of waiting for this bridge between you to be crossed; unable to keep the smile off your face as you tread carefully through the grounds.

It wasn’t until this day you realised you had seen only a part of this estate. Jimin leads you through a walkway enclosed with tall rose bushes, surrounding you in a floral cage. 

“Did you make this yourself?” you ask, admiring the wicker trellis.

He nods shyly, glancing slightly across at you. 

You are in your element here. The days spent with him are your brightest and most enjoyed, but when the walkway ends the sight that greets you has your mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Jimin,” you gasp, “this is beautiful.”

Your eyes scour your surroundings. A beautiful pond covered with lily pads and pink water lilies, is encircled by large rocks and such a variety of vibrant flowers a rainbow would be envious of the colours.

“Shall we dip our feet?” you ask, childlike excitement evident on the wide-eyed look you give him. He smiles, unable to stop, but you can sense his slight hesitation. Pulling his arm, you lead him to the edge of the water where you slip off your shoes. Sitting on the stone ledge, you gently pull him down to you. Obeying your request, he timidly joins. The water is cold as you dip your toes and as you look down into it, you’re surprised by how clean it looks; able to see right down to the bottom and the fish residing there.

“You must be in this garden all the time?” you ask, stroking his hand with your thumb.

“I used to, before…” He stops himself, and you can feel him tense beside you, turning his head away slightly.

“Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

A frustrated breath leaves him, his head hanging in defeat. “I do want to. I want to tell you everything,” he admits, ���but I must confess, I’m not used to being around other people.”

That much you had gathered, but hearing it breaks your heart just the same.

“And,” he continues, “I have never been as close to anyone as I am with you.” He glances at you then, attempting to gauge your reaction.

Smiling, your cheeks warm from such an admission, you toy with the words you should use to respond. “I’m glad to hear that, Jimin. I can assure you, the way you feel is very much reciprocated.”

He scoffs, and the sound confuses you as you attempt to find his eyes within the darkness of the hood, but to no avail. His head hangs low. “I think you underestimate my words.”

Frowning, you grasp at what he could mean by this, and panic sets in, thinking you may have the wrong idea about the direction your relationship is heading.

“I don’t expect you to mirror my feelings and believe me, you are under no obligation to keep coming here, I do not want your pity.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Jimin, I do not pity you. I’m here because I want to be.”

He finally meets your eyes, desperately searching yours. “Really?”

Taking his hand and placing it on your chest and over your pounding heart, you say, “I have never known anyone like you. Someone so…” You search for the right wording, wishing you were capable of his prose, “fascinating. You are truly an enigma to me that I'm more than happy to keep trying to figure out.”

He looks out at the water, the sunlight highlighting the pink glow of his cheeks. 

“I come here because I want to spend time with you. I wake up and look forward to seeing you everyday and I will continue to come here until you are bored of my company and turn me away,” you add teasingly, but a real fear lies underneath somewhere. You silence it by looking at your hand still wrapped with his.

He laughs, “You will never have to worry about that, I could never tire of your company, you mean far too much to me.”

Your chest tightens with an emotion you cannot hide as you lean your head on his shoulder. He moves taut under your action, but quicker than you could imagine, he softens under your touch and leans his head atop of yours. You sit there for what feels like hours, talking and basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun until the skin of your feet turns pruned and your stomach grumbles, breaking another comfortable silence. It is only when a demonic screech echoes from the woods outside of the walls, do you realise the time. 

Jumping up, water splashing as you do, you look at the setting sun and gasp. “Oh, no.”

The darkness has begun and you will not have enough time to make it home. Images of your mother’s lifeless form haunt your mind briefly before you force them away.

Jimin is up and at your side in a flash, arm cradling your shoulders. “It's ok. You're safe here,” he says gently, rubbing one of your arms with his thumb. The action soothes you and brings you comfort. “Come, you can stay with me tonight, I have many rooms.”

You relax slightly in his embrace and find yourself sinking into the crook under his arm, relishing in the close contact you've been craving. He pulls you closer, a firm grip around you and pins you to his side. 

Your arm ventures under his cloak and winds around his waist, holding yourself against him.

Glancing up, he's already smiling down at you and you can't stop the blush that heats your entire face.

You both head back towards the castle, you nestled against him as the darkness slowly envelopes you. When you head up the stone steps to the castle, nerves turn in your stomach, the realisation of spending the night in his home dawning on you. 

Watching the doors close, shutting out the night and the chaotic noise from outside, you sigh to yourself, feeling surprisingly at home with his warmth and presence by your side.

Scene five

The tour of the castle is long but riveting. So many rooms to explore, and he shows you every single one. Pointing out various art pieces handed down from his parents, endless novels in the library, and even an old dungeon below, unused and dusty.

He discloses that his father had died when he was little, too young to remember him, but that he has a portrait of him in his mother's bedroom he often looks at. His mother had passed away when he was fifteen, after becoming ill during a harsh winter and grew too weak to recover. He has been alone ever since. Your heart aches for him. To have been alone since then must have been truly isolating, but you could relate to him in more ways than you care to admit.

You share your story of your beautiful mother, enchanting to everyone who knew her, who had been killed by the demons just after your 18th birthday. A father who you have never known and, as far as you had been told, had never been in the picture. All you knew about him was that he was a sailor and from what your mother expressed, was more in love with the sea than her. 

You learnt not to ask questions about him as it only made her sad and distant.

Your shared experience with loss and loneliness cements your bond further as he shows you the room you could sleep in, adjacent to his.

“You will be safe here. I will be right across the hall if you need me at all.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand as your fingers stay entwined the entire route through the castle.

“Jimin?” you interject.

He looks over at you, hood still pulled over, casting half his face in shadow.

“Will you take this off?” you ask, fingering the soft velvet of his cloak.

He stares at you but his eyes soon turn distant as a frown furrows deep in his brow, a scene playing out in his mind that you are not privy to. “I cannot let you see,” he whispers.

You turn him to face you, cupping his visible cheek in your hand. “I promise you, Jimin, it will not change how I feel about you.”

He laughs sadly, “It will.”

“Park Jimin, are you calling me shallow?” raising an eyebrow, you challenge him.

He simply shakes his head. “I'm a monster. You shouldn't even be wasting your time here with me.”

“You could never be a monster, your soul is far too pure and good.” 

Slowly leaning up on your tiptoes, you place a chaste kiss against his cheek. “Please, don't hide from me anymore,” you beg.

His eye widens from the touch of your lips and he can't help but turn towards you, focused on your mouth. When his hand comes up to stroke your hair, you lean into his touch and before you know it, your lips are connected. Heat races through you, making your limbs move without thought, hands sliding inside his hood and around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you.

His arm winds around your waist as he moans into the kiss, desire and love vibrating through you. His soft, pillowy lips mould to yours, moving with fierce determination as your back suddenly meets the doorframe of your bedroom. His hands slide up your spine, pinning you against him. You luxuriate at the feeling of the strong muscles of his body pressed against you.

Wrapped up in his scent, with the feeling of his mouth on yours and his hands embracing you so tightly, your bosom grows with the love your heart has housed for him, still expanding tightly inside you.

You pull away slightly only to gasp for air, and that's when you notice his fallen hood. His body stills when your eyes connect and you see the panic in them, but before he can move, you grab his hands and entwine your fingers with his.

“I hope you are planning on kissing me again, because I don't plan on moving just yet?”

He doesn't respond, but his gaze drifts to your lips and you can see the conflict in his eyes, between running away and giving into temptation.

Detangling your fingers from his, you cup his face with both hands, your thumb strokes the puckered skin on one side of his face. The scars appear like burns, covering one side of him, marring one eye so bad he could barely see out of it. Your fingers go to his thin hair on that side, patches of it missing beneath your fingertips, he looks down and away from you but you steer him back.

“This doesn't change anything, Jimin. You're still the most beautiful man I've encountered.” 

His eyes flit from each of yours, tears brimming the edges, searching for truth within them.

“I would like you to kiss me again,” you say, your voice thick with want, “please.”

Leaning in slowly, he surrenders to your request, pressing his mouth against you once more.

Scene six

When your desire subsides somewhat and your head clears, the two of you manage to part from each other, your growling stomach interrupting the shy silence.

“Shall we eat?” he asks, before taking your hand and leading you down to the kitchen. 

Sitting at the table, you watch in awe as he prepares fresh tomato soup to go with the second loaf you had given him yesterday on your visit. All vegetables grown in his garden and picked by him.

You eat together in silence, exchanging flirtatious and sometimes shy smiles. When your stomachs are full, with night truly closed in, he lights a fire in the drawing room, closes the curtains, and beckons you to join him on the fur rug. 

Watching him in the orange light of the fire, you feel overwhelmed with need. The need to be close to him, the need to take care of him and protect him, even the need to claim him, something you have never felt before. 

“Will you read to me?” you ask, as you join him.

“If that is what you wish of me, then of course.” He grins, and you get lost in it for a moment. The way his two front teeth slightly overlap, his eyes narrowing and his cheeks rounding, everything about him draws you further into the opening blossom of love. 

“May I lay on you?” you ask, pointing to his lap.

He stares at you hesitantly for a moment, before nodding and moving his hands out of your way.

Positioning yourself comfortably on the rug, you lay your head on his legs, feeling the way he tenses slightly from the action but soon relaxes under you.

His hand lingers by your hair indecisively before he pushes any apprehension away and plays with the strands loosely between his fingers. “What would you like me to read?” his voice whispers pleasantly above the crackling firewood. 

“Something you've written.”

“Would you like to hear the poem I wrote for you?”

Your heart soars, hammering wildly in your chest. “You wrote something for me?”

“Hmm-mm.”

You nod frantically, nerves suddenly drying your mouth and rendering you speechless.

He clears his throat quietly and starts,

“In the quiet din of morning's light,

You creep silent and curious into my domain,

An alluring spectre; a breathtaking sight,

Welcomed like that first sweet kiss of spring rain.

The roses bend to catch your gaze,

And the dainty lilies stretch in quiet grace,

As if the garden, in silent praise,

Seeks to beholden the awe of your face.

Your fingers brush the leaves so light,

A touch that makes the greenery hum,

Like a velvety kiss of soft delight,

Or warmth from the day to come.

You pause to take in your fill,

Ivy curling in lazy spirals at your feet,

And for a moment, time stands still,

Even the songbirds pause their larking for a beat.

I watch you, quiet like a shade,

As you explore the blooms beyond my window,

Careless and free, with no mind paid,

Like a beacon of light against unrelenting shadow.

With every glance, you draw me near,

But still I keep my secret held tight,

Afraid you’ll flee if you could hear,

The pain that shapes my heart at night.

Yet in your eyes, I see a spark,

A light that calls to me, calm and clear,

A love that could find me in the dark,

And chase away my most crippling fear.

I wear this pain, my broken mask,

Staying hidden within my castle walls,

But it's in your warmth and light that I wish to bask,

A blue flower in your garden; no longer a ghost of these hallowed halls.”

A wet trail down your cheek spills onto his trousers, a swell of emotion that you could no longer contain. His angelic voice quoting such beautiful prose from memory creates a whirlwind of feelings inside you. Seeing yourself through his eyes and hearing his feelings, so raw and open, moves you in ways you could never have imagined. 

You feel beautiful and emboldened. 

Sitting up, your eyes meet. He smiles sweetly when he sees your tears and gently wipes them away with his thumb. Pressing your lips to his, the inability to stand the distance between you any longer overwhelms you. 

As he holds you in his arms and you lose yourself in the kiss. A vision snaps behind your eyes, removing you from the moment entirely. Unlike the first one, full of love and happiness, this one freezes the blood in your veins and stops it cold as you take in every detail of the horror behind your eyes.

Fire wilts the flowers in the garden, petals curling and turning to ash. Orange light blinding and thick smoke choking, tightening your heaving chest. Demons running rampant through the grounds as you wander unsteadily to find him. And when you do, everything else around you ceases to exist, as your heart splits inside you.

Jimin's lifeless body, upturned and suspended from the tower.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine? Epilogue

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Summary: her heart is so full.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 975

A/n: we are done with this series... I CANT BELIEVE IT OMG WERE DONE WITH IT 😭

THANK YOU TO YOU ALL FOR COLLOWING THIS SERIES EVEN THOUGH IT TOOK ME MONTHS TO FINISH IT ASJHAJDHDF 😭 ILY ALL SO MUCH ILY ILYY

im so happy heheh 🥹

anyways, enjoy!🥹❣️

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Mommyyy."

Y/n sighed, bowing her head and rubbing her eyes, water dripping from her fingers. She had only just gotten into the bath and Adelaide already missed her?

"Yes my love?" she called out.

"Where are you?"

"In the bath, baby."

Adelaide’s response was only the soft pitter patter of her feet as she ran into the bathroom, the door unlocked because Y/n knew her little girl loved following her around and if she had locked the door, it would have resulted in a tiny tantrum.

"Mommy, where is daddy?"

Adelaide had returned from school half an hour earlier, the car ride back home filled with her babbling about everything that had happened that day. Y/n had no choice but to nod along like she understood it all, while half the stuff she could not even make sense of.

It made her wonder if she even knew english.

Y/n raised her brows at her five year old. She only just remembered that her daddy was not home?

"Baby, daddy had some work. He will be returning soon."

Adelaide pouted, leaning against the tub and swirling her finger through the milky water.

"I miss him."

Y/n nodded solemnly. "Do you want me to call him?"

Adelaide’s eyes lit up. "Yes momma! Please."

Y/n wiped her hand on a nearby towel and picked up her phone to dial up her husband’s number.

"Hello?"

Y/n had the call on speaker phone, so before she could respond, Adelaide did.

"Daddy! Where are you?"

Y/n could hear the smile in Grayson’s voice. "I’m just parking the car sweetheart. Come greet me?"

Adelaide only giggled and ran off, leaving the bathroom door open. Y/n sighed again, shaking her head.

Adelaide was a daddy’s girl through and through. And he was just as smitten by her as she was him.

Y/n would never want it any other way.

"You there, love?"

Y/n blinked, turning her attention to her phone. "Yes."

He paused for a moment. "I forgot what I was supposed to say." he exhaled a frustrated breath, prompting Y/n to giggle.

From the other end, Y/n heard Adelaide’s voice squeaking and squealing and smiled, deciding to end the call. Her husband would soon be coming to say hi anyway.

My husband.

Despite being married for four years already, the thought made her blush every time.

The two had gotten married almost a year after he had proposed. It took the two almost twelve months to convince Liam and her father that Grayson actually loved Y/n. Y/n’s mother, despite being disappointed in Grayson, had forgiven him quickly.

Maybe she saw the way Grayson looked at Y/n, or maybe it was her mother’s heart that only wanted happiness for her daughter. Whatever it was, she had accepted the two’s engagement within the first month. It was the men of the house who still held a grudge.

Y/n’s father and brother would constantly poke at Grayson, at times borderline bully the poor man. But Gray did not budge on his decision to marry her, even knowing that there was a chance that her family would never accept him and always hold animosity towards his very existence.

And that very determination of his to stay with Y/n swayed her father and brother, and while they still weren’t too friendly with him still, things were constantly getting better.

"Mommy’s in there." Y/n heard just a moment before Grayson appeared in the doorway, Adelaide in his arms.

His brows rose the tiniest fraction when he realised Y/n was in the tub. "Well, hello mama. How are you?"

Y/n shook her head, suppressing her smile at the way he shot her a suggestive smirk. "Good."

Adelaide squirmed in Grayson’s arm before he could say anything else, attention already drifting.

"Daddy, I drew you in school today. Let me show you."

She was gone then, leaving Y/n with her husband, who’s lips spread in a flirtier smirk.

He walked closer to her, leaning in while eyeing her shoulders. Y/n could already see the gears in his head turning, already thinking of ways to persuade Y/n to let him join. He began leaning in when she splashed some water on him, making him jerk away.

"Y/n! What was that for?"

She giggled, leaning back in the tub, shaking away the few tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun. "Just felt like it."

He scowled at her, then before Y/n knew what was happening, he began tickling her.

Well, I didn’t think about the consequences.

"Gray- Grayson stoop."

He finally relented after a long moment of making Y/n laugh hysterically, her stomach squeezing.

If anyone who had known Grayson five years ago saw him now, so happy and warm, they would not believe it. But Adelaide had somehow, without even knowing, healed her father. He was happier now, he did not hide his emotions behind a mask, he smiled at everyone he talked to.

"That’s what you get for being mean to me."

She just smiled at him, her heart so full, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, not caring that she left behind prints of her hand, and tugged him close.

He let her do so without a complaint, smile on his lips when she finally kissed him.

"Daddy!"

Y/n pulled away, laughing lightly. "Go, daddy, your princess has summoned you."

He chuckled back, standing straight, but seemed to change his mind as he pecked her lips once more. "I’m yours."

Random confessions of love had become a habit of his now.

Kissing her forehead once he jogged out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Leaving her to smile to herself like a giddy teenager.

Mine.

He’s mine.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Mine taglist: @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @blocked-zombieartist @lillycore @lanterns-and-daydreams

@bubybubsters @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @thena101

@imaseabear @book-nerd-emi @cassie6392

The Inheritance Games Taglist: @dahliawarner @thena101 @yucanbmylxdy @sheisntyou @kitkatlover015

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

a heart that's mine completely (Obey Me!)

A/N: Day 4 done! Later than yesterday but I'm just glad I got it done cause I'm tired, lmao. Funnily enough, my brain kept insisting on making this one longer and if I wasn't on the verge of falling asleep, I probably would've made this longer. But alas, sleep is calling me, so I must hurry up and get this posted. Happy reading!

Pairing(s): Satan x MC

Prompt(s): 4. Satan

Summary: MC invites Satan to bake cookies with them and Satan's love for them grows even more.

Tag(s): Fluffy, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end!

Word Count: 656

Song Inspiration: Underneath the Tree by Kelly Clarkson

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

~*~

“You want…me to bake Christmas cookies with you?” Blonde hair shifts as the Avatar of Wrath tilts his head to the side in confusion, just like a puppy, ironically. “Why not ask Beel, or Barbatos, or Luke, or Simeon?” His words aren’t meant to be harsh or negative in any way. He’s genuinely wondering why he was chosen for this particular activity. Out of everyone, he’s not some baker or chef or foodie the way those other four are. So…why?

The human standing in front of him just shakes their head with a chuckle. “Because it’s one of my favorite Christmas activities and I wanted to share that with you. I figured it could be a chance for you to try something new and a chance for me to share a piece of myself with you.”

His eyes widen slightly before he smiles, his cheeks turning pink. “Heh. Well, when you put it that way, there’s no way that I can say no, now is there?”

MC beams at him in reply, embracing him tightly. “Good! I already have all the stuff we need gathered, so we just have to start putting it all together now!” And with that, the demon is dragged into the nearby kitchen, where many ingredients are already out and waiting to be put to use, just like they said.

Satan looked at everything before turning to the other. “Are these all from the human world?” He questions curiously.

They nod at him. “Yep! I wanted to make some traditional holiday cookies from the human world, if that was okay?”

The blonde demon reaches over and brushes the back of his hand down the side of their face. “I’d love to. Please, teach me.” He gestures to everything in front of them. “I’ll hang on to every word you speak.”

It was MC’s turn to blush now, shaking their head at him. “Well, we better get to it, then.”

A few hours later, they had multiple dozens of both sugar cookies and gingerbread cookies, either cooling on racks or being actively decorated by both of them. Or, mostly just one of them, considering Satan couldn’t keep his eyes off of the human dancing around the kitchen and using a bag of icing as a microphone as they sang along to the human world Christmas carols filling the room.

They seemed so…free. And he found it absolutely mesmerizing. Do they really not know how enchanting they are? Who can focus on anything else when they’re here looking like that?

Satan thought he had been doing pretty well at attempting to focus on the task at hand, actually getting quite a few cookies done himself, but it seems his thoughts have caught up to him, as now he’s been caught red-handed, MC’s eyes locking with his as they turn back to their decorating station, a pretty blush lighting up their cheeks, which in turn causes the same reaction on his face. Well, too late to hide it now, he supposes.

Before he even realizes his feet are moving, he’s rounding the corner of the island and walking up to them, cradling their face and pulling them into a loving kiss. MC returns his kiss immediately, wrapping their arms around his neck. Satan sighs happily into the kiss, wrapping both arms around them and pulling them close. It’s MC who chooses to deepen the kiss and he’s all happy to oblige, feeling a sudden need to have them as close to him as possible. To feel all of them against him. And because of this rising need within him, all it takes is a playful nip to his bottom lip and he’s lost. He gathers his human up in his arms, their legs wrapping around him automatically, and quickly carries them out of the kitchen, heading straight for his room, the cookies long forgotten. No one will see either of them until the next day.

~*~

A/N: Satan, my love, please come romance me <3 Thank you all for reading!! See you for tomorrow's story!!

~*~

Taglist:

@dutifullyuniversallykingdom

@om-adventcalendar

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!